The room was dead silent, save for the occasional clink of armor as one of the Stark warriors shifted nervously. It was like I had just dropped a dragon egg in the middle of their feast and told them it was a new delicacy. Fear, awe, and a healthy dose of confusion rippled through the delegation. Lady Meera Stark, for all her bravery, looked like she was one bad joke away from shitting herself.

And, boy oh boy, did I have plenty of jokes.

"W-what sorcery is this?" one of the Stark Warriors stammered, his voice cracking like a teenager hitting puberty. Man, that was pretty funny, because he actuallywas a teenager that looked right in the middle of puberty, huh... Eh, whatever. "This is... this is witchcraft! The work of demons! My Lady Mormont, you consort with denizens from the Seven Hells!"

I almost laughed out loud. Witchcraft? Really? It's like they had never seen a necromancer before. Oh wait, they probably hadn't. Yeah, no one in Planetos, I think, had ever even heard of a Necromancer, though I suppose there were plenty of weird stories about the Long Night and how the dead were brought back to life by the Others or some other shit like that. Fortunately for them... no, not really. Unfortunately, for them, the Others were very much real and I'm almost pretty sure of the fact that they've, at the very least, noticed me or my use of Necromancy.

"Calm yourself, Ser," Meera said, her voice steady but her eyes still wide. Goddamn, she was hot. I could almostsmell her fear, which was weird, but true, and yet she carried herself like a leader of men, someone they could look up to, someone who could make them shut the fuck up if they were being too noisy. "We are guests here; remember your courtesies."

Another warrior, older and more experienced but clearly just as freaked out, pointed a trembling finger at my skeletal minions and then at me. "He's raised the dead! This... this is an abomination! The gods will curse us all for being in the presence of such unholy power!"

"Oh, come on," I said, rolling my eyes. Okay, this wasexactly the sort of drama I was hoping for – fuckingbliss. I mean, a little drama made shit more interesting, especially for me. Dark Fantasy? Fuck that, I'm turning ASOIAF into a fucking telenovela. "Unholy? Really? These guys aren't even the creepy kind of undead. Look at them! They're practically model citizens compared to your average Lannister. And they don't smell bad, unlike some people!"

I glanced at Lysa, who was watching the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. She gave me a small nod, silently urging me to dial down the theatrics. Yeah, okay, point taken. I didn't want to give the poor bastards heart attacks. A part of me wanted to double down and make things even harder for myself in the future, but... eh, what for? I'd rather make friends than enemies, despite my love for drama and theatrics. Also, I couldn't turn ASOIAF into a telenovela, until I brushed up on my Spanish.

But, yep, that was definitely one of my main goals now: make everyone in Westeros and Essos speak Spanish and have them all act over dramatically. Surely, I'd find a spell for that eventually.

But, first things first.

"Listen up," I said, letting the necrotic glow in my eyes fade a little. "I'm not here to curse you or whatever weird superstition you've cooked up in your heads. I'm here to help. I saved Bear Island from the Wildlings, didn't I? You think that was an accident?"

"Help?" Meera finally found her voice, though it was tinged with uncertainty. "How can we trust that this... power of yours won't bring more harm than good?"

I spread my arms wide, the dramatic flourish accentuated by the fact that my robes were still billowing slightly from residual necrotic energy. "Have I harmed anyone here? Look around. Bear Island is still standing because of me. Lysa Mormont's people are alive because I stepped in. They have food to eat and shelter to live under, because of my unpaid interns!"

"Your what?"

"My skeletons! They have all that because of my skeletons!"

"But at what cost?" an older warrior muttered, glaring at me like I was the Night King himself. No no no no, I'm the upgrade. I'm better. But also probably worse, depending on my mood. Or, depending on how much the people of Planetos annoy me. That said, I expected all of this already. Magic, at least in Planetos, wasn't exactly useful or reliable, hence the saying that using magic was like using a sword without a handle or some shit like that. But my brand of magic was, frankly, fucking overpowered.

Honestly, who knows what I would've already done if I'd been an edgy, power-tripping teenager?

"At the cost of my time and energy," I shot back, grinning. Still, having said everything, arguing with people for no particular reason, especially when they were upset with me, was quite fun. "And believe me, my time is valuable. Look, I get it. Magic freaks you out. But you need to understand that it's a tool. Like a sword or a hammer or a cock. It's how you use it that matters."

Meera Stark took a deep breath, clearly trying to process everything.

"Very well, Sorcerer Supreme... Jason," she said, the title sounding strange coming from her lips. Fair enough. But it's not like there's a Doctor Strange in this world, ready to slap some sense into my nonsensical ass. "We will take your aid of House Mormont into consideration. House Stark has no quarrel with you, Sorcerer. I have no quarrel with you. But make no mistake, we will be watching closely."

"Knock yourselves out," I said with a grin. "I've got nothing to hide. Well, except maybe a few skeletons in the closet. And you can watch me as closely as you'd like."

I winked at her, enjoying the way her face flushed with a mix of irritation and something else I couldn't quite place.

As the Stark delegation slowly began to relax, albeit still wary, I noticed a few of Lysa's people peeking in from the doorway, their eyes wide with a mix of admiration and fear. Yeah, the word was out now. The sorcerer of Bear Island was not just a rumor. But I fucking swear to god if these dumbfucks started calling me the Boner King, I'd straight up lose it... right after laughing and probably pissing myself.

Lysa stepped forward, her voice calm and authoritative. "Thank you, Lady Stark, for your understanding. We welcome the aid of House Stark, and together we will ensure Bear Island prospers once more. To celebrate this... joyous occasion, I have prepared wine and food aplenty – as much as Bear Island can offer in these trying times, at least."

There was a murmur of agreement from the Stark Warriors, though many still glanced at me like I might sprout horns and start spitting fire at any moment. I gave them my best reassuring smile, which probably looked more like a hungry wolf baring its teeth. Still, they quickly relaxed, somewhat, when I had my skeletons back away and the servants walked in, carrying trays of wine and smoked meat, lobster, crabs, and whatever else I'd gathered for the people of Bear Island with my undead minions.

And, soon enough, the tense atmosphere devolved into a somewhat tense celebration as the Starks began eating and drinking, alongside Lysa's new household servants and warriors. The local wine was pretty good – very strong, but pretty good. It wasn't the kind of stuff you drank for the taste; nah, you drank that shit to get absolutely shitfaced.

As the festivities began, Meera Stark took a single step towards me, quite the contrast to everyone else in her party, who looked like they'd rather melt into the wall than be in the same place as me. Her eyes were narrowed with suspicion, but her skin remained pale with fear. And I was pretty sure her left hand shook. When she spoke, however, Meera spoke loudly, for all to hear, and there was no break in her voice "Sorcerer Supreme Jason... what are your intentions?"

Huh. Hmm, should I be honest or-? Eh, whatever. I'm probably the strongest motherfucker in this world now, especially with Nightfury and a distinct lack of dragons on the Targaryens' side. And that meant I could say whatever I wanted and not give a shit what anyone thought of me or what I said. So, I spoke truly and freely. "Well, first and foremost, I'd like to sleep with you, because I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, thus far."

Meera's eyes widened and, despite everything, even a blind man could've seen the rush of red that suddenly appeared on her cheeks, like a fucking anime character. Not sure why she'd react like that, though, since I was pretty sure she looked at me the same way I'd look at a polar bear – with a fuckton of caution. But, damn it, it did look cute on her. I continued. "Aside from that, I'd like to explore the mainland, see its sights. Actually, I've heard many stories of Winterfell and I'd like to see it for myself."

The show made Winterfell look like a fucking joke, honestly. The books described it as a fucking epic place with tall and thick walls, and cool towers and shit. The one in the show was a damn disgrace. It didn't even have a damn moat. Castles were supposed to have moats! "After that, I'd move from one castle to another, one city to the next, see the world – see everything that can be seen. I'm an explorer at heart, Lady Stark. I'm not one to settle in one place or do just one thing."

Meera's cheeks burned red, a stark contrast to her usual composed demeanor. Her eyes darted around, catching the curious and amused glances of her knights. Despite the embarrassment, she squared her shoulders, meeting my gaze head-on.

"You wish to explore Winterfell?" she asked, her voice tight with restrained irritation. "And then what? Do you plan to charm your way through the North with your... powers?"

I laughed, a genuine, hearty laugh that caused a few nearby servants to jump. "Charm? That's one word for it. But no, I'm not looking to win a popularity contest. I just want to see the world, experience it. Maybe even find out what else this place has to offer."

"And what of Bear Island? Will you simply abandon it once you've had your fill of adventure?" Meera's tone was sharp, cutting through the laughter and conversations around us.

"Nah, Bear Island's in good hands," I replied, glancing at Lysa, who was overseeing the feast with a proud smile. "Lysa's got things under control here. Besides, I'm not planning on leaving them defenseless. I've got... measures in place."

"Measures?" Meera repeated, skepticism etched into her features.

"Yeah, measures," I said, leaning in slightly. "Let's just say, if any Wildlings or Ironborn decide to mess with Bear Island again, they're in for a nasty surprise. I've got a few tricks up my sleeve."

And what was that trick, you might ask? Well, that trick was a single Skeleton I'd leave behind to act as my... metaphysical eyes and ears on Bear Island. If the discount vikings or the barbarians from the beyond the wall came knocking, then they'd be in for a very fun dragon-sized surprise when I came flying back on Nightfury.

Meera's eyes narrowed, but before she could respond, a loud, drunken voice interrupted us.

"Oi! Sorcerer!" one of the Stark knights bellowed, swaying unsteadily on his feet. His face was flushed with alcohol, and his words slurred together. Wait, the festivities only started like... thirty minutes ago. Was he already fucking drunk when they came here or what? "What... what gives you the right to speak to Lady Meera like that, huh?"

I turned to face the knight, keeping my expression neutral. Inside, however, I was giddy as shit. Drama of this caliber was precisely what I needed to turn Planetis into one big Telenovela. "Just having a conversation, bitch. No need to get your balls in a twist."

The knight staggered forward, knocking over a goblet in his path. "No... no, I don't like it. You... you're not one of us. You're... you're a damn witch! A demon!"

Ah, perfect.

AN: Chapter 29 is up on (Pat)reon!