Power Shift Chapter 6: Knowledge and Justice, an A song of Ice and Fire + Game of Thrones Crossover fanfic

AN: Sorry for the long wait. It has been close to a year since I started this story, and I am just coming back to it.

Gotta make up for lost time.

MAESTER MARWYN

THE CITADEL

Marwyn stood before the Conclave, ready to present his findings to his fellow learned men. But there was an additional guest here waiting for him to speak. Lord Leyton Hightower, descended from the Hightower for the third time in a decade, and Marwyn's fiercest supporter. He was the first non-maester to be in the Conclave since its founding, due to wanting to hear it for himself, and to show the seriousness of this topic. The other Archmaesters made some objections, but no one tried to expel the lord of Oldtown. To turn on House Hightower would be folly, they all knew that.

Marywn scanned the men who made up the conclave. Some were nervous, others calm. He could tell that some of the more vocal anti-magic Maesters had a constant sense of rage about them, though they hid it well enough to escape the notice of outsiders.

'They tried to rid the world of magic, and just when it seems like they succeeded, magic becomes much more widespread than ever before. No doubt the gods took notice of their actions and decided to remind them that there is still more to learn.' Marywn thought to himself.

"Well Marwyn, you have had several moons to investigate these powers. What have you discovered?" Archmaester Theobald asked his colleague.

"Well, I can tell you that we need a new metal for our chains." Marwyn opened. "Research into powers is vast and complex enough to warrant it as separate from our Valyrian link. However, I have identified several rules that appear to be common throughout most if not all people. There may be exceptions that re quire further study, but it appears to be a good starting point. For one thing, when it comes to upper limits of what people can achieve, the strength of a power is an inverse of the quantity of powers."

Marwyn pulled out two papers. "Lord Tarly has enhanced strength to a great degree. According to his Maester, he can rip a tree out of the ground, and toss it higher than Horn Hill's tallest tower. He has two other abilities, neither to the extent of his strength. Now, compare that to this smallfolk. Some lad from the Riverlands named for his lord Hoster. He has five abilities. Comparing their strengths though, he managed to rip the tree out, but could only toss it about half as high as Randyll Tarly, though exact measurements are not possible when they are so far away. This is but one example, but it is a constantly present pattern. The more powers you have, the less powerful they are individually. Of course, there are other factors as well. Lord Tarly already had a muscular build, whereas Hoster has been described as a stick of a man. Does that mean his Strength Enhancement is actually better than Tarly's, and he would be stronger if he was of the same build? Or can he never get stronger, but maintain this strength under any condition?" Marwyn summarized one of his studies.

"So you can either have a few powerful abilities, or many weaker ones." Leyton summarized. "We know that just from learning how to use ours. I have noticed that among my own family."

"Yes, but there is also an inherent limit to these powers as well. One of our own novices has strength as well, but his strength seems to be connected to sunlight. When it rained last week, he was essentially back to the strength of a boy his own age. But otherwise, he could probably pull a large merchant's cog to shore if he could swim. So, it is possible that he could be stronger than Randyll Tarly, but only under certain conditions." Marwyn explained. "As I mentioned with Lord Tarly, some powers are weaker than others in the same person. There are examples of both 'A single powerful ability, and several others that are weaker' and 'Several powers of equal, middling strength' found in people we have studied in depth. Then there is also taking into consideration outside factors."

"And what of the number of powers? Is there a limit?" Archmaester Gormon asked.

"The highest we could find in a single person is The Hound, Sandor Clegane. Prince Joffrey's sworn shield. According to Maester Colemon- who has become the acting Grand Maester until we can choose a replacement for Pycelle- he has seven powers, all relatively weak. His strongest appears to be what Colemon calls 'Intimidation' It allows him to strike fear into other people, even if they are unaware of him being nearby. But it only works on two to three people at a time, and the more people, the less they fear. Sandor must also focus on them."

"What about the inverse?" Archmaester Benedict spoke up. "Are there individuals with only one power, or any who avoided getting any at all?"

"There are some reports about people with only one power. Ned Stark's bastard appears to only have one, according to Maester Luwin, though it allows him to use the powers of another, but weakened. Prince Joffrey, Colemon claims only has one ability, healing. Though given what Colemon said, it seems too weak to be his sole power. It is possible that the Prince has powers that only work under certain conditions, such as breathing underwater, and as such, is unaware of them right now."

"As for no powers at all, one place comes to mind, and we should be thankful. Ghaston Grey, the prison for the vilest of Dorne. None of the prisoners there have developed powers, and none of the guards either. However, when Prince Doran sent men there for fear of what would happen, the envoys themselves lost their powers when they got to the island. One of the people on that island, be they guard or prisoner, seems to have the ability to nullify the powers of those around them. Until it can be determined who has it, no one is to leave that island, else the prisoners break out."

'Thank the gods for that.' Ran through the minds of everyone there. They all remembered the chaos of when powers appeared. How many dungeons suddenly had criminals escaping. They were still looking for some.

It was unspoken at the moment, but everyone knew that these powers had emboldened criminals. The City Watch was pulled thin, having to devote more men to patrols to deal with threats that had not existed before. A thief who could turn into air, a rapist who could change his face, a murderer who ripped men apart with their own hands, or with just a thought. The City Watch had their own powers of course, but they never knew what situation they were going to walk into. Most of these were new criminals. How many bandits had been created when powers were given? How much more dangerous were the Mountain Clans of the Vale? What were the Wildlings going to do? Though that last one was thought more by the Maesters who came from Northern families.

Most smallfolk were still learning and understanding their powers, as were their lords. But once they understood what they could do, how would that change their actions? Already, they had heard about some lords being attacked by their previously loyal smallfolk.

"In any case," Marwyn said, "We need to devote more people to the study of powers full time than what we currently have. I can not just work with myself, Maester Qyburn, and the novices."

It had hurt, to admit that he needed more help. He had been glad to do so with little help at first, but the sheer size of the task was too overwhelming. He still did not trust his fellow Archmaesters, but perhaps some of the regular Maesters could be trusted not to sabotage the research. He was already compiling a list of Maesters he thought he could trust.

"Unfortunately, we do not have the funding necessary to devote too much to your aid. I suppose you will just have to make do with what you have now." Said Archmaester Ryam, who wore the mask of yellow gold, symbolizing his specialty in sums and money. As such, he was in charge of divvying up the funding that the Citadel received from Westeros, making sure they had enough set aside for food or supplies, and also determining how much gold to allow individual researches to use.

Ryam had always had a low opinion of Marwyn, but the idea of him being left penniless for his research was a step too far, as Marwyn could see even other archmaesters look at him as if he had gone mad. Before anyone could speak of it though-

"I'll fund it." Lord Leyton offered. Once again interfering in what would normally be an archmaester only affair. "House Hightower's coffers are full, and have been since we came back from the Greyjoys' Rebellion. I'll have my men discuss how much at a time to send, but if you feel you need more, just send someone to the Hightower. I also expect regular updates such as this. At least twice a moon, or in case of any significant findings."

He turned to address all the archmaesters as one group.

"I consider Marwyn's work to be one of the most significant researches the Citadel has undertaken since its inception. This belief is shared by all of House Hightower, as well as many of the lords I have spoken with since the powers came around. When I came here, asking for you to look into this, I saw you all hard at work. When I came later, I was told it had all been entrusted to Marwyn. I questioned the wisdom of this, but you all said he was the most fitting person to handle it."

'Oh did they?" Marwyn almost chuckled. A hidden insult. A man they considered mad researching a mad subject. That was what they thought of him.

Leyton turned towards Marwyn. "Archmaester, you have my trust. Find out as much as you can about these powers. The sooner we understand them in depth, the better we can adapt to them."

With those words, Leyton Hightower faded from existence, becoming see-through until he was completely gone. Though Marwyn would guess that he had just reappeared in the Hightower. Probably to his Solar.

"That was the plan from the start." Marwyn muttered as his report came to an end. He turned to the rest of the Conclave. "If we have no other business, might I suggest we start debating who should relieve Colemon of his duties as Grand Maester? Or shall we trust him to fill Pycelle's role and make it official?" He asked, a smirk on his face.

At the end of the Conclave it was decided that Maester Gormon would depart for King's Landing within the moon.

ALYN WATERS

RIVERLANDS- ALONG THE RUBY FORD

Alyn jumped as he ran over the body of his brother Martyn.

This was not supposed to happen. It was supposed to be his time.

The Kingswood Brotherhood. A group of outlaws that struck fear into the lords, but had been beloved by the people. Until the Mad King sent their Kingsguard after them. Then they had fallen. But then the Mad King had fallen himself, and a stag took his place.

Alyn had been raised on stories of the Brotherhood's great deeds. After all, he was the son of them. The Smiling Knight and Wenda the White had been lovers, and gave birth to him, before entrusting him to a farming family while they were off fighting. When he had learned what happened to his parents, he had sworn that he would take up their fight, and remake the Kingswood Brotherhood.

He had wished to do so, but he had no way of doing so until he had acquired his powers. Suddenly, he was able to hear the thoughts of those around him. The first thing he had done with it, was learn that the farmer who raised him had been the same one that led the Kingsguard to his parents. He killed him for that, as the man was still reeling from the shock of his own powers.

It had been justice, but as far as the rest of the villagers knew, it had been kinslaying. He ran, joined by the Farmer's own son, Martyn, whose only regret was that he didn't kill his father himself. They had gone north towards the Riverlands, hoping to gather others to resurrect the Brotherhood.

They had numbered nine when they made camp. He and Martyn were on watch for the night. His father did his part of the regular duties for the Brotherhood, and so would he.

Alyn Mindbreaker. That was the name he gave himself for his main power.

Martyn the Mighty, whose strength could rip a tree out of the ground and toss it like a child throwing a pebble.

Symon the Silent, the youngest, who could take away a man's sound . A perfect way to hide from scouts.

Joyous Jayne, who had said how she admired his own Mother, and wished to be like her. Alyn, who wished to be like his father, was more than willing to help with that. Her ability to burn flesh made it easy to copy his mother's famous brand.

Tommard the Tough, who could break a sword on his skin without leaving a scratch.

Ty the bloodthirsty, who seemed to get stronger the more injured he got in a fight.

Japing Jason, who liked to mess with people by making them see things that were not real. Alyn could do a similar thing, but Jason was more detailed and could allow multiple people to see the same thing.

Purple Pate, named not for his power, but for his eyes, which he claimed was proof that he had King's Blood in his veins, but the most expensive possession was just an old hunting knife. He mainly carried their gains, which he could make small enough to fit in his bag. Tommard had suggested he be Small Pate, which ended with Tommard stuck in the bag for a day.

And Osmond, who did not have any other name yet, having only been a member for two days. He could heal the injuries of others, which had come in handy with keeping Ty ready to fight.

They had just started out. Hit a few farms, grab what little silver they had. They just moved up to small villages. Managed to get some good meat from the butcher, though the man's knife knicked Martyn's face, and they even got a bit of gold from the village. They were in and out before any serious threats could come, leaving some of the buildings to burn. Once they reached a bit of forest next to a brooke to hide themselves in, they had themselves a feast, got drunk off of the wine they had, and then the others went off to sleep, while he and Martyn took the watch.

He did not know what happened. Everyone else was asleep, but the full moon gave enough light for him to see well enough. He thought he had seen something, but suddenly he was a few yards away from where he was standing without him realizing he was moved. He tripped because of this sudden shift, and an arrow protruding from Martyn's eye was his only warning that something had happened. Suddenly the camp was awake, only to get slaughtered where they stood. Only one thing could have hit them so well- Men at arms for a lord. They had been careless, Symon must have gotten too drunk to hide their celebrations.

The lord's men came into sight, Alyn could make out a trout on a red field. House Tully. Alyn's Brotherhood stood no chance. Symon stirred first, only to get a mace to the head, spilling his brain on the ground before he could make a sound. Jeyne screamed, only for an arrow to go through her neck. Osmond, who was sleeping close to her, tried to rush over to heal her, only for his arm to be cut off by a blade of wind. He screamed like Jeyne, until a Tully man threw lightning at him.

Tommard and Ty were roused fully. Even unarmed, they were putting up a good fight. Jason was surrounded by Tully's, but they were stabbing the air, fighting imaginary shades. Purple Pate was nowhere to be seen, and neither was their bag of plunder.

A Tully man on a horse rode towards Alyn, and he jumped out of the way. When he went to turn around, Alyn entered the Horse's mind and attacked it, causing the horse to rear back and its rider to fall on the ground. He ran up to the horse. Martyn's father had taught him to ride. He used his mind to calm the horse down more, and from atop, he looked back.

The Tully men realized that Ty was stronger than them, but he was unarmored. They peppered him with arrows, making him stronger still, but eventually the pain was too much. All that strength was useless if he couldn't get close enough to use it.

Tommard broke any sword that swung at him, but his actual strength was normal. He was wrestled to the ground, then dragged to the brooke they had used for water. A knight pushed Tommard's head down into the brooke. Tommard the Tough fought, but he could not get any grip or footing to pull himself up.

Alyn turned and saw an opening, and forced the horse to run. He fled, abandoning his surviving followers to their fates.