This is a fic idea that I've had for a long time now, ever since reading Faust: The Horseman Gamer by Forzarismo here on FF. I kind of set it aside for a year, because I wasn't very confident in my writing ability and the setting I had chosen was proving difficult for me to write about. But now I'm back to try it again, this time in the world of A Song of Ice and Fire, and Forza himself has even taken an interest in helping with the project! If you haven't read his stories yet, then I highly suggest that you do. They are really good.

So here's hoping everything goes well, people.

Chapter 1: Risk vs. Reward

My eyes opened. Doesn't sound all that impressive, but it was certainly a shock to me considering I was declared blind just yesterday. Was in a car accident and both eyes were badly damaged. In all honesty, it was a genuine miracle that I came out of it alive and I was even luckier to not be paralyzed, but it's hard to focus on the positives when you hear that you'll have to spend the rest of your life unable to see anything.

Though… I guess that isn't true anymore.

Because what I see in front of me, is a mountain range as far as my eyes can see. I can see that their tops are blanketed with snow, and the layer of green starting on the lower side no doubt is the lush foliage that has become part of the mountain's ecosystem.

Though, my awe at such a wondrous view didn't last long, as an abrupt loud neigh or whinny or some kind of horse noise behind me made me jump and spin around to see what exactly is there.

All I can see for miles upon miles is an ocean of green and brown grass. More shades of color on the blades than I was aware could exist in nature, and all of them seem to glow as an orange, dusky sun shines down upon them all. It looks like a painting of an ideal rural western America, brought to life before my eyes.

Well, it would be if I were to ignore the giant flaming horse with more visible muscle than an olympic bodybuilder.

"Uh… hi?" I finally managed to force out as the very intimidating animal stared me down. I can worry about where the hell I am once I'm safe from the immediate danger.

The horse finally breaks eye contact and shifts his body weight slightly to the side, revealing a ranch in the distance that he'd been blocking from my vision. A huff escapes his nostrils, accompanied by small flames, and then he sways his head as if nodding towards the place.

Deciding not to question the creature I started walking towards the horizon, eventually reaching the gates that lead into the farmyard. A large metal sign sits embedded in the soil to the right of the gate, weathered and damaged by time but still proudly declaring the property as Herrera-Cortez Ranch with the spanish word for 'memories' crudely carved into the bottom of it.

Opening the gate and closing it behind me, I realized that the horse didn't follow me. This shit just gets weirder and weirder. But I turn back to the house and suddenly see a mexican man in a comically large cowboy hat sitting in a rocking chair on the porch. With no better option coming to mind I just walk up to the guy and lean gently on the railing near him. Nobody speaks for a while, but I can tell that he knows I'm here.

"Y'know, it's not polite to enter a man's property uninvited, doubly so if you don't introduce yourself." He states with a flat tone, granted he doesn't actually sound angry in all honesty.

"Uninvited? I think that horse made it pretty clear that I didn't have any choice but to visit. And no offense intended stranger, but I went to bed in a hospital with both eyes missing from my skull and then woke up outside your home with eyes again. I think you must know who I am and how I got here. That or I'm dead." I throw back with more confidence and spirit than I should honestly have right now.

"Ah, you met Guerra out there, did ya? Well congratulations on not getting turned to mush, he's not the friendliest stallion to people we don't know." He tips the brim of his hat up before continuing. "Name's Faust, but I also answer to Cowboy, Bruh, Ese Pendejo Over There, Jefe, and pretty much any racial slur you can think of."

The shit eating grin on his face makes me think he really doesn't care either, must be a pretty laid back guy.

"I'll just stick to Faust, thanks. My mother would probably hunt me down and tan my hide if she found out I called you anything rude. You can call me Fred, but I still think you already knew that."

A brief flash of pain is visible in Faust's eyes before his overly jovial attitude comes right back. "You too huh? My mami's weapon of choice was a chancla, what about yours?"

I don't know what the hell a chancla is, but I answer all the same. "Her purse. Never made fun of people for carrying them or messenger bags, or whatever else ever again. Those things are heavy, and weapons of war in the right hands."

A laugh escapes his lips as he leans back in the chair. "Oh I'd bet money on a horde of angry mothers beating trained soldiers any day, especially if they're the soldiers' own mothers." Suddenly, he rocks forward and stands up on his feet, his face hardening into a more serious expression as I realize the size difference between us. "Alright, I've made my decision."

My confusion must be clear on my face because he laughs heartily and slaps me on the back, sending me crashing to the ground. Granted he did have the decency to pick me up after I fell, a sheepish smile on his face as he readjusts the hat on his head. "What decision, you may ask? I'm gonna take a chance on you, and give you a small portion of my power." He begins, walking over to the railing and looking at the horizon.

"It's a big world out there kid. You think a planet with roughly ten billion people on it is huge? What about an average that ranges around a couple thousand planets like that per universe? And billions of universes per multiverse? And even further layers beyond that? It's hard, and I ain't always done the right thing with these powers I was… given. But, I don't have to anymore." He turns to look at me with a soft smile.

"All I ever wanted in the end is to protect my family, you know? Along the way I've helped a lot of people in need, hurt a lot of bad folks, hurt a lot of innocent folks, and broken the very morals my mami and hermano taught me so many times, the sheer number is more than I'd like to admit…" Faust gains a wistful expression as he gazes towards the horizon one final time before looking straight at me with honest eyes. "But I would do all of it again, no matter the number of times, even if it were infinite. Heh, and I've had all too much time to think about that. I know what The One wants me to use all of this power for, but I just can't anymore… not alone. So I'm looking for people to do it for me. And you're the first person outside of my own friends that I'm giving this chance to. It's a risk, but not much of one. If you abuse the power for something too evil then I'll just kill you, and if you don't then everybody wins."

The sheer bluntness and honesty in his voice as he talks about killing me sends shivers down my spine, but I can't fault the logic. "So you brought me back to life, or maybe just warped my body to whatever this place is, and fixed my eyes all so that you could offer me a job?"

He smiles, nodding his head while he pulls out two cups of… hot chocolate? "You got it all in one. Here you go by the way." He affirms, passing me a cup while he begins sipping his own.

I sigh as I run my hand through my hair, genuinely considering this. "What power are we even talking about here? Being essentially a superhero is a tall order to ask for, Faust." I inquire, taking a moment to taste this hot chocolate he has given me.

…

Holy shit, this is fucking good.

I think I just overloaded my tastebuds for an instant, because I felt my mind blank as a wave of pure warm goodness flowed within my body.

Turning my attention back to Faust, he is just smiling at me, more than likely aware of what I am experiencing, before his smile breaks into a light chuckle filled with mirth. "Ever heard of the Four Horsemen of The Apocalypse? From the bible in the Book of Revelations? Granted there are more than four types in a sense, but the name is way catchier like this. I'll give you the aspect of one of the horsemen. You'll find out which ones when you wake up in your first world, if you accept."

That makes my eyebrows furrow in both confusion and wariness. This guy is a bringer of the apocalypse? Or maybe…?

The Horsemen in the Darksiders games were supposed to protect humanity by fighting the demons and angels during the war right? I don't remember for sure but either way the offer of powers and a purpose in life is really hard to pass up, I've kinda got nothing right now.

"Alright, I'll do it. I owe you one anyway for helping me, and I'd be lying if I said I never dreamed about being a hero and helping people." The words have barely left my mouth before my senses start to blur. But I still make out what Faust is saying.

"Consider this a trial run for now. We'll see how you do in a couple worlds, and how you handle an apocalypse, and then we'll meet again to discuss business arrangements. Buena suerte!"

And then my eyes were flooded with a storm of colors before everything went black.

The first thing that happens when I regain consciousness, is a sudden influx of knowledge getting shoved into my head. It seems like Faust decided to give me almost all of the information I could possibly need about the Horsemen while he was already making the other changes.

The reality of the Four Horsemen in the multiverses...multiversae...whatever the plural of multiverse is, it's a little different than the stories. Every unique name given to a Horseman at one time or another is included, but they are simply smaller aspects of the greater whole. Death is a Horseman all it's own, as one would expect from such a concept. War is mostly alone in its position as well, but Fury seems to be a portion inside of it. Thinking about characters like Ares, Kratos, and Doom Slayer...yeah that makes sense to me. And then Conquest seems to be another solitary Horseman, but for some reason Faust neglected to give me any info on it besides the fact it exists.

Wonder why that is?

Eh, not important for now anyways.

Where things get interesting is with the final one, which my new benefactor has referred to as Famine. In truth it seems to be the culmination of Famine, Pestilence, and Strife. It also happens to be the one that he gave me the powers of.

They don't have the same physical might inherent to them that the other three horsemen possess, at least at first. No, their power lies in the use of special abilities relevant to their namesakes.

The core of them all seems to be based on the concept of transferral. Pestilence allows the wielder to drain any disease, infection, illness, ailment, etc. away from the target and store it within himself. This includes curses, hexes, jinxes, and so on; which surprised me a little but I mean if you think about it they are basically magical diseases. You can then use it to send the diseases you've stored into other targets. And it's all intent based, so you can't miss or hit the wrong person.

Strife follows the same formula, but based on swapping around injuries. Even fatal wounds can be manipulated, as long as the targets are still alive. If they die then that's too late, I've got no domain over death. Which does mean that this ability is the most limited in terms of ammunition, if I leave the injuries in place long enough to kill someone, then I permanently lose access to those injuries and can't pull them back to me for storage and future usage. I'm not even entirely sure if this can apply to any other type of "strife" a person faces in life, it honestly seems like Faust never experimented much with this one.

Famine's main ability is nutritional manipulation. You could bring famine to something by draining it of all vitamins, minerals, calories, moisture, mass, and so on; basically slurping everything like Cell did when he stabbed people in DBZ if you push it hard enough. The energy that gets drained can also be sent back out to replenish other targets. You could drain a wheel of cheese from across the room and then magically feed it to an orphan. Famine seems to also have broader abilities that haven't been explored thoroughly yet, related closer to the idea of making things "barren" or "fertile" in various ways.

That's not everything though. Somewhere inside my mind's eye I can see three reservoirs, likely where the things I drain away with each power are stored, but on a small island between them all is a massive list. I can see everything from strength to speed to flexibility to magical resistances to adrenaline levels to muscle density, and just so much more. It feels nearly infinite in length, naming off every aspect of the human body that can be theoretically improved. And it seems like I can spend my stored energy from the reservoirs on improving these aspects. This is the roadmap for how this Horseman catches up to the massive growth and enhancements the others receive.

Finally opening my eyes, I find myself laying on my back on the street of a city that has clearly seen better days. There is literal human feces a few feet away from me, the buildings look slightly rundown and are mostly made of what looks like red clay, the people all seem miserable, and the awful smell of the place is burning the inside of my nose the longer I lay here.

That gave me a solid idea of where I had been dropped off honestly, but it wasn't enough to confirm anything. I felt something grab at my pockets so I looked down and saw a couple things.

My clothes had apparently been exchanged for a medieval tunic and breeches both made out of brown wool. And more importantly, a child was picking the pockets on my pants to look for anything to steal.

I reach out and grab the kid by the shoulder, causing him to go stiff in my grip. "Where are we right now? What year is it? I need to know."

The kid struggles to escape for a moment before giving up. "Mama told me not to talk to strangers, homeless people, or crazy folk. And you are all three." He says firmly.

"And I normally don't strike up a conversation with thieves. There's a first time for everything, kid. Now what is it gonna take to get some answers?" I try to bargain with the little boy, before noticing that he has some bruises on his face and arms.

The boy goes to talk, but I interrupt him. "Shut up for a second, kid. Those look pretty bad, are you okay?"

He looks very annoyed at my conflicting demands, but the way he tries to hide them with his sleeve afterwards is very telling.

"Accident when doing something your mother said not to do? Or somebody else hurting you?" I ask him more pointedly.

He blushes slightly and admits that it was the former of the two. I remember those days; being an innocent idiot kid, getting yourself hurt, and caring more about staying out of trouble than about getting help. This could be a good opportunity to test out my new powers.

I snap my fingers to get his attention, before hovering my hand over one of the bruises on his arm. I move it away and the bruise is still there. "Now you see me." I say before quickly swiping my hand across to the other side of his arm. "Now you don't!" In the brief instant that the bruise was hidden from his sight I had activated Strife's power just by thinking of it, and the bruise had vanished. Thankfully I don't have to actually be injured now myself, instead it just goes straight to the reservoir.

I then repeat my theatrics for all of his bruises and scrapes.

By the time I finish, the kid is staring at me with both eyes wide and his mouth agape. I just smirk up at him. "Just be careful next time you little brat. Parents are always gonna worry too much, so don't give them a real reason to." I say before finally sitting up and then getting to my feet on the dirty street. Oh no, no shoes...well I know one of my first priorities.

"T-That was magic! You're a wizard mister!" The kid's voice bursts out, startling some other people around us.

I look down at the boy with a smug smile on my face. "How kind of you to notice~. Now all I ask as payment for that casual use of magical healing is some answers to my questions. Come on kid, you know how dumb old people can be! Why, I'm a whole ten and nine years old so I'm practically ancient already! It's a wonder that I haven't forgotten my name." (Idk if this is actually how people on Planetos format their age, but I've seen it in a lot of fics.)

The little boy giggles at this and finally sheds some light on my situation. "You're in King's Landing, Mister Wizard. How could you forget that? And it's 279 AC as of yesterday."

Bingo, there it is. I'm in one of the five largest cities of Westeros, and easily the nastiest of them, which means that my first world I'm being tested on is… A Song of Ice and Fire… The Game of Thrones itself… the world where ninety-nine percent of people are shitty and scummy in one way or another, almost every named character has more arrogance and self-entitlement than advised, there are too many factions to keep track of, slavery runs rampant in the east, and an army of frost demons are waiting to butcher the people that don't kill each other first...and I'm expected to save this place somehow?

"Fuck."

"You said a curse!"

"And I'll fucking do it again."

After getting away from the kid, I was left with my own thoughts. Plans being made and tossed aside fairly quickly as I debated how to fix this world.

Well considering how deeply entrenched Westeros has been in it's "game" for the past two hundred and eighty years since Aegon and his incest wives flew in on dragons and crushed all of their armies, the only way I'll be able to get these egotistical lords and ladies to listen to me would be if I've got more political power than them.

Or I could technically just murder all of the noble families to the root and then win over the smallfolk population by actually giving a damn about their quality of life. But that is...way too much murder for my preference. Just because I could do something, doesn't mean that I should or that I want to. That's gonna be Plan Z, just in case everything goes to shit.

It would probably be way more extreme than needed anyway, I mean the series has like two hundred or more small background noble families and I find it very hard to believe that all of them would be evil or corrupt, or at the very least on the level of horridness of the Lannisters and Targaryens. Would be pretty helpful for me to map out who all of the major players are and which ones are likely to try to make things difficult for me, but I need to actually get a position of power first before any of that would matter.

The only thing on this continent that's high enough in the chain of command for the princes, wardens, and lord paramounts to all listen to would be the Iron Throne itself. Or actually the Small Council would be good enough too. The current king should be Aerys Targaryen and he gets followed up by old Bobby B, and frankly during both tenures of leadership it was the Council running the nation. But if that's the case, then how do I get a seat on it?

Jon Arryn got his seat by raising Robert for years as a father figure, not really an option for me. Tywin Lannister was a war general for decades, Ned Stark was Robert's childhood friend, the dickless dude I think was named Varys had a spy network, Pycelle spent decades of time studying and becoming a grand maester, and Stannis was Robert's brother; none of which would work for me here.

...I could take Davos' place and smuggle food into Storm's End for Stannis? I'd have to wait several years for the opportunity though, and I want to get started now. So what does King Aerys like? Pretty much only Valyria, as far as I'm aware he was obsessed with the old place.

So Valyria. They had dragons, they had blood magic I think, they had special steel, they had wildfire, they had silver hair, and they had purple eyes. Wait, magic. I don't have any of the local brands of magic, but that kid called me a wizard. Nobody is gonna be able to tell the difference between me and some ancient spellcaster from the storybooks. But for him to even give me time to speak, I'm gonna need rumors spreading around fast.

(If you want music, play Drive That Funky Soul. Or just watch the Spider Man 3 Bully Maguire dance scene.)

With a small grin on my lips I start walking forward down the street again. It's time to make a scene.

With some swagger in my step I hold my left hand down near my waist and start snapping my fingers in time with every other footstep. With my right hand forming a finger gun I point at various things the same moment that I affect them, alternating whether I have one or two fingers extended at random.

At first bruises heal or a piece of shit on the ground fades away to nothingness, but slowly the acts get greater and more eye-catching.

I spin on my left heel before thrusting my open right hand towards a man so hopelessly drunk that he had been thrown out of a nearby bar, and in less than a second he's been sobered to full clarity. I dramatically shrug my shoulders with my arms splayed out, and my left hand points a finger towards a limping man who suddenly finds his leg twisted back into peak performance. At the sound of his cheap crutch falling to the ground in his shock I start walking backwards, sensing and erasing the piss and shit from the streets before it gets anywhere near my feet.

Two fingers pressed to my lips and the next moment I blow a kiss towards a brothel worker who looks like she was beaten half to death, where her friend suddenly jumps back in surprise as the woman is healed faster than the eye can perceive.

My feet turn as I slowly twist mid step to face forward instead. A man is on his knees a ways down the road, cradling a bleeding stump on the end of his wrist and futilely trying to stick his hand back in place, even if he knows it wouldn't work.

Time to work a true miracle.

With a casual flair of my arm, I wave hello to him and entire crowds react in shock as his hand reattaches itself, blood and all.

By now the streets are clean for as far as the eye can see from my position, likely the cleanest it has ever been since its conception.

People are stopping and staring now as they put two and two together. The cry of a child catches my attention and with a cocky flip of my hair I turn over to see a toddler whining and holding their stomach while their mother tries to comfort them. With a conspiratorial wink at the woman, a loaf of fresh bread disappears from a traveling wagon and the underweight little kid's stomach visibly fills out a bit.

Kitchens and pantries all find themselves slightly lighter, but between the food stolen from them and the meager nourishment taken from the waste on the ground, all of the peasants that I pass find themselves feeling healthier. And by now word is already spreading and people are rushing over with their sick and injured to be healed.

One woman tries to offer cookies in exchange for the service I was providing freely, so I happily take them and start passing them out as I go. A broken arm mended, an old tournament scar healed over, a harsh cough suddenly vanishing, rashes disappearing, and thousands of stds being healed from the various whores and customers they attend to.

Out of the corner of my eye I spot a tailor, so I strut over with my smug grin in place and finger snaps continuing. A customer walking out complains about the squeaky door, which draws my attention to the rusty hinges. My smirk deepens as I stop and think.

When you truly think about it, a fair number of illnesses are caused by a chemical imbalance. Oxygen is a chemical, and rust is the byproduct of metal being oxidized right? Exposure to too much of it causes the metal to rust. I can't exactly restore any material that chipped away or eroded, but I should be able to revert the rust on the remaining stuff.

Slapping the door dramatically I push it open with no squeaks, it's restored hinges swing as smooth as a spring breeze. The old man behind the counter looks up as I swagger over to him with a horde of people looking in through the open window. One of his eyes looks cloudy and unfocused, probably turned blind from either an injury or a sickness caused by diet. I think gout can make you go blind?

My powers confirm it to be an injury as I grab him by the shoulder after healing his eyesight. He stiffens in my grip and blinks rapidly, stunned by the sheer miracle that has happened before him. "Think I could get some shoes, friend? Good thick boots preferably?"

A few minutes later I walked out of the store wearing a pristine white silk shirt, dense sturdy leather pants that make denim feel like string cheese, and the finest boots he had. I clap my hands in front of my face and start doing a little dance in front of the store, as everyone who finds themselves within a hundred feet of me gets healed and fed.

By the time I leave and start strutting my stuff down the street again, I've amassed a small army of people following and cheering. This continues street by street for many hours, before I've finally covered the entirety of the civilian areas of King's Landing. Every man, woman, child, priest of the seven, guard, traveler, and merchant have all been helped. The city is devoid of all human waste, and most other forms of garbage too. And while smells do indeed tend to linger for a while, the sheer difference that has already been made in the unique scent of this city is mind-boggling. All that's left now is to go see the Red Keep.

It can't be understated just how large King's Landing really is. Sure the landmass isn't necessarily huge, and it can't even be compared to something like New York from my old world, but the buildings are densely packed and there are thousands of alleys and side streets flowing between and around the various structures. No land is wasted in this place.

Which is why I now feel like a complete idiot. It took me from the moment I woke up in the morning until the sun was starting to set, just to cover everywhere. I must have been walking for ten hours, and by now my entire body feels like one big sore. Thankfully I can absorb even my own injuries if anything happens, but I guess muscle fatigue doesn't count? Something to improve later on I suppose, I'll have a lot to learn during my stay here anyway and physical training was already on the list. But all of this could have been avoided if my dumb ass had remembered a basic thing about horsemen.

They ride horses.

Faust's steroid demon he calls Guerra was confusing at first, but I understand now that he must have been his horse. The one tied to these powers of his. And when I try to sense inside of myself, I'm pretty confident I have one too. There's some kind of tension around where I think my liver is, fitting enough for a disease creature I suppose. It feels like he wants out, to be free from the confines of my soul. Would have let it out sooner so I could ride through town, but I never even thought about it.

After a few moments of focusing, the crowd of people that had been following me all day step back in unison, creating a ring of empty space around me, as a horse springs up from the ground in a burst of flames. The colors of the fire are mesmerizing; rapidly dancing between a ghostly necromantic green, a purple that somehow reminds me of both royal tapestries and infected wounds all at the same time, and a sickly yellow on the verge of turning white.

When the flames fade away they reveal fur of a pale gray covering every inch of the animal. His muscles are leaner than that of Guerra, looking almost malnourished or decayed and yet he stands tall and strong. His flesh doesn't look diseased, but rather he is covered in a litany of scars. His ribs are visible, his mane and tail are unkempt and frayed, his eyes look bloodshot, and the soil beneath his hooves seems to be rotting away into cracked dusty earth as his power is active.

Yet when I approach him and tentatively touch his forehead, a connection seems to flow through my brain. He senses my thoughts and seals his power to stop killing the area. In what I've immediately decided to call his incognito mode, his fur is a cleaner and more vibrant shade of gray. His body looks better fed, uninjured, and his hair has recovered as well. His eyes are better, but his irises are still a deep ruby red.

Without even thinking I place my foot in the stirrup hanging from his side and hoist myself up into a saddle that has materialized on his back. "Plague. That will be your name. Like a pack of rats or a swarm of locusts, you ride tirelessly in the end times and infect everything in your path. You'll… have to learn some self control, partner." I whisper to myself, thankfully unheard by anyone but my new companion, who huffs in annoyance.

If anybody still had doubts about my powers before, then I think the sight of a horse rising from the ground and shapeshifting at my touch was enough to really sell it.

"You folks might want to clear the road if you don't want to get trampled, I'm late for a meeting with the King, you see?"

At my cheerful jest, everyone immediately parts to the sides of the street. Not quite sure what to make of the messiah treatment, but one problem at a time. I don't even have a chance to grab the reins and urge Plague forward before he reads my desire and charges off down the path.

The wind blowing around us sends a few sweaty strands of bright blonde hair into my vision, and I realize another priority to address soon. Bathing.

PoV: Barristan Selmy

Life as a kingsguard is a life of duty, honour, and commitment. All towards a family that you respect and care for, and would protect with your very life. We forsake all chances at a normal life, no lovers, no children, no lordships, no titles. Once you don the white cloak, that is all that you are.

But as we always learn when we get older, life is not so simple. To claim that none among our number have ever had doubts would be a folly of the highest order. When I was appointed to this position by King Jaehaerys, I was but a young and eager lad. Those days feel like a lifetime ago, when my thoughts are regularly filled with the screams of King Aerys' victims.

The days were not always so dire, his rule had seemed promising at first. But the man I pulled out of Duskendale is simply not the man he was before those traitors kidnapped him. Something within the king changed during that time, he became paranoid and wrathful at everyone around him. He turned cruel and coldhearted. And I'm sure many of his subjects secretly wonder what Westeros would be like if I had failed to save his life.

Wildfire… truly if there was ever an item to prove that the faith's words about the evil of magic might have truth to them, wildfire would be it. A concoction that brews a storm of swirling fire that consumes even the wind and spreads nigh unstoppably, who could ever have need of such a tool of destruction? There is no honor in it, especially not when his grace uses it to burn people alive for entertainment.

Prince Rhaegar simply cannot claim the throne quickly enough. My vows are like steel, and I will see my duty done as long as I draw breath, but I could never fault my fellows for disagreeing when we serve such a tyrant. The entire realm is rapidly losing their patience with the man, and praying for his demise. I will just have to pray for forgiveness, when I choose to follow and protect the prince and the rest of the royal family instead of this madman.

From my post outside of the throne room, I spot a few maids scurrying by and gossiping to each other.

"Are you sure of these tales? It just can't be true, they say all magic faded away when the last of the dragons died." One girl says, with her words immediately catching my attention.

"What else could it be?! Marianne says she saw a man's blood lift from the dirt and flow back into his wrist as his own severed hand restored itself! No medicine could do something like that, this healer must be magical."

"And you trust Mari's word? I'd much sooner believe that she foolishly snuck a drink of the milk of the poppy and lost her wits, than I would that a wizard appeared and suddenly healed the whole city."

Sightings of magic? Peasants being healed of incurable wounds? I must admit it sounds far fetched to my ears as well, but his grace would probably wish to hear of it.

…Even if only so he can burn the false magician alive in his court. May the Seven forgive me for the atrocities I have let my liege commit, and the many more I will be forced to ignore before his reign ends.

PoV: Fred

Riding up to the large gates brings a great deal of worry and confusion to me. After all, a contingent of guards waiting for me with weapons in hand was the last thing I expected.

Though that's probably my fault for being too optimistic. I suppose Aerys might have taken my casual improvements around the city as a slight or an insult about his own ability to manage them. Or the general hatred that the population holds for magic could have turned people against me. If I remember correctly Varys and his spies, the entire Maester order, and the priests of the seven all have a deep hatred for it. The fact I was using my abilities to heal and nothing else is probably the only reason I wasn't attacked sooner.

But even in the face of danger, confidence and charisma are powerful tools. You've just gotta fake it until you make it.

"Ho there, friends! What are all of you proud knights and warriors doing here?" I call out with a friendly smile on my face and a wave of my hand, Plague instinctively coming to a halt.

One of the men steps forward, likely a Lannister man based on his red cloak. Which reminds me that Tywin is still the Hand of the King despite Aerys refusing the betrothal of Cersei and Rhaegar. So I guess I'm meeting two monsters today instead of one.

"By royal decree of King Aerys II, and his Hand, Lord Tywin Lannister, you are summoned to the throne room immediately. If you attempt to flee, we will subdue you with force." He says as some of his pals lower their hands to rest on the pommels of their swords.

I don't think they understand who they're dealing with, but if I got pissy with people just for being a little full of themselves then I'd end up fighting everyone I meet in this world. No real reason not to play nice.

As I climb down from Plague's back, a simple command sends him sinking into the ground with a burst of fire and disappearing. Turning my attention back to the guards I see that half of them have gone pale, and the other half have drawn their weapons.

Raising my hands in a gesture of peace I attempt to calm them down. "Whoa, easy there. Nobody needs to get hurt, I'm coming along quietly. Just couldn't leave my spirit horse sitting here."

Walking towards them with my hands above my head in surrender seems to calm them down somewhat, and they start leading me through the keep. The courtyards, gardens, and towers all look beautiful enough; but the architecture really is bland and uniform. Place could do with some more color than just these shades of red and orange.

Eventually we reach the giant throne room and the laughably huge Iron Throne. The fact that nobody has ever cut themselves by sitting on that thing is a minor miracle really.

Casting a glance around the room shows a pretty full crowd, but I guess either everyone wanted to see the miracle worker themselves or everyone wanted to see me die when Aerys roasts me. I can spot the big man on campus himself, his sister-wife Rhaella, Prince Rhaegar, Princess Elia Martell, little toddler Viserys, Tywin Lannister, and all seven of the Kingsguard.

Aerys' voice calls out a command to halt and the guards stop me in the center of the room, parting to go stand by the walls on either side. Looking at the guy who will decide how this all plays out he looks… less imposing than I expected. Madness is clear in his eyes, but he's thin and old. I guess you don't really need to be a warrior yourself when you have armies at your command.

"So, you're the supposed wizard my knights have told me about? Cleaning my streets, healing my people, and all of this after coming to my city from nowhere? I don't know who you think you are, boy, but tribute is supposed to be paid to your king, not lowly peasants. So why did you not come straight to the keep first if your talents are true?" He asks in a slow and droning voice that masks his emotions fairly well.

"Your grace, I think the fact you doubt the validity of my abilities even now should make the answer obvious. If I had come here first then what do you think would have happened? No background, no title, no proof for my words? You would have had me executed on the spot." I say with full confidence in my words. Mostly just because I can see it in his eye that even right now he wants to burn me.

His face contorts into a snarl for a moment, but surprisingly none of the guards react in anger at my accusation. I guess everyone's disillusioned with the guy already huh?

"You dare to slander my name to my very face? You presume to know how the mind of a king would operate? And you accuse me of such an action?" His lips contort into a nasty grin as a man in a black robe brings a box over to him. Likely one of the alchemists from the guild, bringing him his wildfire vials. "Then I think a suitable punishment for your insolence will be to make your words reality. If you truly have magic, then you should survive a little execution anyway."

He throws a glass bottle of a swirling green liquid and it shatters at my feet, and in the next second my gambit of a plan kicks into motion. I had seen fire resistance as an attribute in the list, but really didn't like the idea of using up all of my energy and going into an unknown situation with no way to fight back. He could have easily just had his guards kill me after I shrugged off the fire. But I remembered something basic.

I can absorb my own injuries.

Pain like no other that I had ever felt flares into existence across my entire body as my outsides burn and my insides boil, ear piercing screams escaping my raw vocal chords. But as fast as the burns, blisters, and other damage can appear; it all fades away into the reservoirs of my mind. Tears are turning into steam on my face as the pain continues, and I realize what a stupid fucking plan this was, but the fact remains that it's working and giving me tons more ammunition to throw back later.

The storm of fire around my body seems to increase in intensity, maybe the bastard threw a second vial when he realized my screams weren't ending? I push with everything I've got, but I can only drain away the Strife I'm facing so fast and the damage begins to accrue regardless. Which is when I'm painfully reminded that my body is still that of a baseline human as my vision slowly darkens and my limbs quiver.

But then my body moves on it's own, reaching for something I know instinctively should be there but had neglected to think about until now. A set of scales appears in the palm of my hand, summoned from my soul the same way Plague was. I know deep in my mind how these scales work. There are far more than just two sides to the set, instead being an intricate system of dozens of little plates. All for the purpose of customizing my powers and how they work.

I lower the amount of energy gained from the injuries, allowing me to massively increase the speed of absorption. And suddenly every bit of damage disappears from my body. My pained screams become hollow laughter of victory as the injuries are absorbed faster than my baseline nerves can even register the pain as existing. With every breath I take I can feel fire entering and escaping my lungs, but I feel nothing from it. My emotions slowly calm as I wait for the insanity to end.

Finally after what feels like hours the storm has ended, burning the ground around me to a charred and ashy black. All of the people are now standing on the far side of the room near the throne for safety, and I can see the utter shock and awe on their faces as my unblemished face becomes visible again. Aerys looks absolutely pleased with himself, and would likely give me anything I asked for now that he knows I really have powers.

But I suddenly find myself… unwilling to serve a psychopath like him, even if I do know that it would only be for a few years.

"That is how you treat a guest in your home? That is how you treat a civilian being brought in for questioning? That is how you punish an innocent man who simply had too loose of a tongue? By the seven hells you senile old fuck, that would be too extreme a punishment to give to hardened criminals and scum." I say as my face twists into a deep frown.

"No wonder the entire city wants you dead. No wonder everywhere you go, people cheer and celebrate while thinking of the day your son takes that throne from you. You don't deserve subjects if you treat them with fire like that. I found that I didn't enjoy being burned alive… but maybe you'll like it more?" I say mysteriously before snapping my fingers.

King Aerys' face contorts in agony as a silent coughing scream tears it's way from his throat. He grabs at his neck and falls to his knees as steam rises out from his mouth. His lungs have third degree burns inside of them, his throat is torn to shreds, and he can't breathe anymore. He stares at me in a mixture of betrayal, desperation, and rage as he reaches his hand towards me and tries to rise to his feet, but suddenly finds his legs burned to cinders as they crack and split beneath him, dropping him face first on the ground of his throne room, choking his final seconds of life away.

I feel it the moment he dies, my connection to those injuries being severed instantly. And even knowing what a monster he was, how many other people he would have gone on to kill in that same manner, and how much I'm glad to see him gone; I can't stop myself from turning to the side and vomiting in disgust with myself for what I did.

When I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and look up again, I find every single guard and kingsguard in the room with weapons pointed at me.

Well, shit. "Hello consequences of my actions…" I mutter to myself.

AN: To those who have already read and followed, I'm sorry for FF giving you an alert so soon afterwards. But I realized I forgot to add the line breaks, and needed to edit the chapter to add them.