AN: Thank you all for your patience in waiting for this chapter. If this is my only story that you read, please refer to Chapter 40 of KOT, Archer vs Archer, for an explanation.

If you do not need one, then let us return to Superpowers in Westeros.

HORN HILL

SAMWELL TARLY

The Cooks always took the time to make extra batches of sweets for everyone when Lord Randyll Tarly went off for a hunt. The Lord of Horn Hill despised sweets and viewed them as too womanly, blaming Sam's love of them for one of the reasons he was a failure as a son.

Sam had long gotten used to the looks of disapproval and hatred. Not that he was immune to the pain they caused him, just that he could minimise the amount his father focused on him. And one of those ways was to save these small pleasures for when Lord Randyll was away from Horn Hill.

Grabbing one small lemon cake off the tray as he brought the rest to his sisters, he was able to relax. Dickon and Father would be gone for however long it took them to hunt something, which could range from a day or two to nearly a month. Especially since this was their first hunt since getting powers. Knowing his father, Sam doubted he would be back till they caught some dangerous prey, if only to show how great their powers were. It would also be their first time travelling a significant distance away from Horn Hill since the Powers emerged, so even if they found a giant stag the moment they got there, Sam would have some time to relax.

He found himself returning to his favorite spot in the library after handing the rest of the sweets off to Talla.

Using his mind to pick up the book he was most recently reading, he turned the pages until he found an illustration that was familiar. Knowing he had time to just relax and do as he pleased, he began rereading this section to get into the right mindset for the information that would be truly new when he reached those pages.

In Sam's mind, everything was finally starting to return to normal after the Powers finally appeared. A few of the small folk had tried to make trouble, but had been dealt with as the Brigands and Thieves that his father saw them as. From what Sam had heard, none of them had been able to match their boasts with their actual might.

Sam found himself engrossed in the book quickly. He was still focusing on books that detailed historical people with magical powers, thinking there was a connection between them and the current changes in the world.

The Children of the Forest seemed to be the main topic of such examples in this ancient book. Along with the Maester's own theory that magical powers first began appearing in the First Men after they began intermarrying with the Children of the Forest. The ability to enter the minds of animals seemed to be a recurring element in the old stories that had been passed down from the Dawn Age.

But Sam knew that could not be the answer to what was currently happening. Even if the Old Gods of the Children and the First Men were behind this, the powers were far too random for it to be from just the ancient blood of the Children. Even those in Essos' far east who would never have a reason to interact with Westeros outside of the occasional sailor have gained powers. Whatever the answer was, it did not appear to lie in any specific blood line or ancestry.

Sam turned to the next page when suddenly, the door to the library burst open, and his Father, Randyll Tarly was standing there.

Sam's book fell out of the air as he stumbled over himself in his chair, trying to stand at attention to give his father his respect.

What was happening? His father was supposed to be gone. This was his time to not have to worry about being a constant disappointment.

Lord Randyll said nothing for a full minute. Instead he just opened and closed his hand into a fist, as if it was the first time he realized he had a hand. When he finally did speak, he grunted in disgust first.

"Of course it would be you."

With those words, Randyll Tarly walked out the Library, leaving Sam alone once again, but completely shaken out of the comfort of his sanctuary.

KINGS LANDING

LYSA ARRYN

"Are you sure he will be able to drink it like this?" Lysa asked Maester Coleman one last time. Her eyes focused on the cup in the Maester's hands.

"My Lady, I assure you that Sweetrobin has finally gotten used to using cups but he is still having trouble controlling his powers. It is too dangerous for you to feed him…directly from your bosom." Coleman said, getting a bit nervous towards the end.

Typical of a man who took his vows before he could understand the joys of love.

Unfortunately, he was correct that her poor baby's powers were a problem. Along with his shaking sickness. He had nearly torn off her breast when she first tried to feed him after powers appeared, as he began to shake and lose what control a little boy held over such great power.

"Thankfully, he is finally getting his powers under control. And his body is looking much better. His Shaking sickness has been gone for weeks!" Coleman continued.

"Don't think that means you can not look out for the signs!" Lysa nearly threatened the Maester. "They could begin again at any moment. We have to protect him."

"Of course Lady Lysa." Maester Coleman accepted the Lady of the Vale's words easily enough. "Why don't you get some more rest, I'll be sure to bring Sweetrobin here once his lessons are complete."

Lysa wanted to argue, but knew better. Sweetrobin was having lessons with Prince Tommen. Thankfully Tommen was much gentler than his evil brother Joffrey, but they were still brothers. Anything Joffrey did, Tommen was more than capable of. But if she protected Sweetrobin from Tommen, then that would just draw the Queen's wrath upon her. It hurt her so much her gentle son had to endure lessons shared with such a vile child, but it was the lesser of two evils for now.

She dismissed the Maester so he could care for her son. She began to pace around the room, unsure what else to do.

She moved her way over to the window. Looking down, she had a clear view of the Training Yard. Ser Jaime was taking on both his sworn brothers Ser Boros and Ser Meryn.

Having no interest in the art of combat, nor any of the men in her sight, she began to turn away when her eyes were suddenly drawn back as Jaime moved strangely.

One moment, he held his blade up to lock Ser Boros' up. The next, he was behind the man, and hit him on the back of the head with his sword's pommel.

Lysa frowned at that. She had seen Jaime move using his speed before. Even when he was faster than the eye could see, you could still see him before and after he moved, and make out a small blur. But this moment was different. It was like…

Like he was standing still at a high speed? Was that the best way to describe it?

The sound of a knock on the door of her chambers took Lysa's attention away from this strange sight.

Mainly, because it was the sound of the knock coming from inside the room.

Turning around, her fear turned to joy at the sight of her true love.

Petyr was there, standing with that intelligent smile, and Lysa went into a fit of girlish giggling.

"Petyr!" She nearly squealed in excitement as he walked closer to her. "How did you-"

He put his finger on her lips, and she quieted down. "Don't worry my favourite little trout, the Castle is vast, but somewhat at the cost of thick walls that protect against eavesdroppers."

Lysa kept quiet then. She understood that if they were found out, it would be the end of them. Her husband would probably put her Sweetrobin to death as well besides them, just so he could have an easier time finding a new bride to disappoint and make miserable.

She would never let that happen.

She imagined the perfect life that would soon be theirs. She and Petyr married, Sweetrobin as Lord of the Vale, and a dozen younger half siblings of his to fill his court with trusted advisors when they grew up.

"So then Petyr." She whispered. "What brings you to the Tower of the Hand?"

"Right to the point I see." Petyr chuckled. "Just goes to show how smart you truly are."

Lysa beamed at the praise.

Petyr was always kind to her, ever since they were reintroduced through his success in Gulltown's port. His praise always lifted her up when she was going through trouble of any kind, whether it was Jon's failures as a husband, or her fears for her child.

Petyr made a show of looking at the sides of the room before speaking. "It seems that your dear younger brother has found a healer capable of undoing your father's ailment."

That was enough to wipe out Lysa's good mood.

Her Father would soon be alive and well. Cured of the stomach illness that had rendered him bedridden.

That would never suffice.

Hoster Tully murdered his own grandchild, he should not be allowed to leave his personal rooms. It was so unfair. He needed to stay in that one singular room, and then die a pitiable death, seeing just how small and insignificant he truly was at the end. Not a great lord who helped topple a madman, but a weak old man who deserved no sympathy from anyone.

She had considered just letting him rot away in his bed, ignoring any calls for help he made, but she wanted him dead more than she wanted to stay away from him. If she had to go back to her childhood home in Riverrun to do the deed herself, that was a small price for justice for her murdered son.

Her sweet Petyr put his hand on hers. She didn't realize she had clenched it into a fist.

"Worry not my dear." he comforted her. "Think of it as an opportunity. Before, he was dying because the gods decided he had enough of life. But now, his fate is in our hands."

Lysa smiled. Of course. Petyr would solve all these problems. He always did.

Soon their revenge would be complete. And then they could be together forever.

She closed her eyes and leaned in for a kiss, her mind going back to the games she and Cat played with Petyr, and what those games eventually led to.

THE WALL

JEOR

"It's official." Benjen said as Edd handed him the cup of ale. The First Ranger had returned not even an hour ago, his face smeared with blood. "The Weeper has joined with Mance."

Jeor felt his heart sink at that. The Wildlings were definitely planning an attack.

"Any idea of what their powers are?" Jeor asked Benjen.

While every man of the Night's Watch was training with their powers, Jeor had no doubt the Wildlings would be doing the same. Jeor doubted there was a power that could single handedly take down the Wall, but not knowing the enemy's capabilities is one of the greatest mistakes a leader could make.

Benjen merely shook his head. "There was a battle there, I could tell that much. But nothing really that stood out as the work of a specific power. If anything, I'd almost say they fought each other tooth and nail, and didn't use their powers at all. That or they cleaned up any obvious signs. If I stayed longer, perhaps I could have found something else, but three Wildings were left behind. Perhaps they were cleaning up. Killed one before he could do anything. The other two though, one ran straight at me, trying to bite me. His teeth were fangs, but they still couldn't pierce my armor. A knife to the head finished him off. The other jumped above the trees and ran. Probably went straight back to Mance."

"...They knew you were nearby." Jeor thought aloud. "It was good of you not to reveal your powers. They will not reveal theirs until they are ready. Meanwhile we have new recruits who just want to show off for all to see."

"Speaking of, how are all of the recruits coming?" Benjen asked. "I doubt they are happy about having to train under Ser Alliser again."

The recruits they spoke of were not only the ones brought in by the Wandering Crows, but rather the Builders and Stewards whose powers made them far more suited as Rangers. While every brother was expected to defend the Wall in times of need, the Powers had made Jeor regret the placements of certain men.

"Left Hand Lew and Borcas are nearly ready to become Rangers. Orphan Oss and Maslyn need more training. And Old Henly should remain a Steward. If he became a Ranger the stress of the travel will kill him before he can put his powers to use. And Kegs is still a better builder than a fighter."

"And green recruits?" Benjen asked. "Yoren should have returned from Lannisport by now, right?"

"Nearly empty handed." Jeor sighed. "He had a good number at first, but the Powers appeared, and a bunch of them ran off. Not much he could do about the willing recruits. But the criminals? They mostly got caught again, and killed. I fear to say, but this may be the end of us getting criminals. From what I've heard, some lords are letting those with strong powers get away with some despicable acts as long as they remain loyal."

Benjen clutched a horn of ale and started to drink from it to keep his emotions in check.

Jeor could not blame the First Ranger.

It mattered not how many actual swords a lord could bring to their king when called upon. Unless the lord had enough men to wield them, the steel would not matter at all.

The Night's Watch had been dwindling since before Jeor was born. But to think the current recruits could be the last large group…

No, The Night's Watch would not fall on his watch. He would not allow such a thing to pass.

At the very least, he prayed to see one person join.

'Jorah… where are you now? The disputed lands? Slaver's Bay? Dead in a random alley? Just come here, let me see you one last time.'

Aemon sighed. "Times like this, I wish that all those who managed to evade saying their oaths would realize the importance of manning the wall and rejoin us. I'd even settle for Qyburn just to have help with the ravens!"

"Qyburn?" Dolorous Edd's copy questioned the name.

"Oh?" Aemon looked over before realizing the Valeman would have no context for the name. "Ah, apologies Ed. Qyburn was a student of the Citadel. He was very close to forging his Maester's chain when he was discovered to have been performing… unspeakable experiments on lives he should have been caring for. While it was decided that he would simply be stripped of his chain, there was talk of sending him to the Wall with us, largely to aid me in my duties as I grew more frail."

"A pity." Jeor muttered. "We could use as many learned men as we can get our hands on up here."

"Perhaps." Aemon said half heartedly. For the first time in a while, Jeor saw not the new younger face of a Targaryen Prince, but the tired old face of the Maester who helped guide him when he first became Lord Commander. "But honestly, if even half of the things I heard about Qyburn are true, I would have preferred they sent him to a headsman. What they said in those letters… Bloodraven and Maegor combined if they chose a Maester's life. That is the best way to describe how I felt about hearing about him. And yet I fear that is still far too mild a comparison."

Jeor shuddered at the thought of someone who could be compared to Maegor so easily.

Still, could he truly be that dangerous? If he was, surely they would have had further word of him from after he was banished, wouldn't they?

Jeor shook the thought out of his head. Thinking of a single failed Maester would not fix the many problems at the Wall. That was a trial he must do alone.

THE CITADEL

PATE

"Pate? Are you here?" The kindly voice called out, waking the Novice up.

Pate shot right up to his feet, initially nervous that he would get in trouble for falling asleep when he was supposed to be categorizing more powers that were coming in by Raven.

That nervousness soon subsided, but was replaced by fear. He felt an overwhelming feeling of dread as he was still half asleep. Not from a nightmare or anything. His dream had actually been quite nice. But in those moments of conscious and dream thought, some forbidden knowledge had been whispered from his dream into reality. And now he felt a great sense of danger approaching along with the footsteps coming closer. He felt a light buzzing start inside his head, almost as if a bug was stuck in his ears. He felt around the table, searching for something he could hold as a weapon, but the only thing was the candle, which would do no good against such a terrifying foe, even if Pate himself did not understand the danger fully.

He wanted to bury himself in his arms, to feign sleep again, but he would never have even wanted to be a Maester if he completely lacked a sense of curiosity. As such, he found his head turning slightly so his eyes could catch a glimpse of what the threat was.

He calmed down upon realizing who had woken him. "Maester Qyburn, apologies. Uh, late night, you know?"

Qyburn let out a small laugh of agreement. "Oh my dear boy, you need not worry about that. I myself have spent quite a few nights falling asleep at my desk. As have most of the Maesters here, even if they would never admit to it."

Pate smiled. At least Qyburn was not going to get him in trouble. And that strange buzzing was getting quieter with every word the older man said.

"Marywn is preparing for the next report to Lord Leyton. Apologies that you have to keep up with the new information while he does so. It really should not fall on a simple novice to do so. Why don't you return to your room? Get some actually good rest. I just woke up myself, so I'll handle this for you."

"Truly?" Pate asked. "Well, you have my thanks Qyburn! I'll owe you an ale at the Quill and Tankard."

"Oh no need to thank me." Qyburn said. "I must admit, this is partially my own selfishness in wanting to do this. It truly is the most exciting part of this whole project in my opinion. Oh, if only we could actually go out there ourselves, instead of having to rely on the words and estimations of other Maesters. To be out there and see all these amazing abilities with our own eyes! Oh, I know I chose to come to the Citadel, but I do miss being able to move about freely."

Pate thought about his dream of riding off on a horse. He felt he understood what the older Maester meant.

"Well, I suppose I'll be off." Pate said as he grabbed his personal things. "Don't let me forget to get you that ale."

As Pate walked off, he imagined sharing a drink with Qyburn. But strangely enough, he could not picture the older man there with him. Which was rather strange. He had been at the Citadel for several years. At one point or another, he had seen nearly every Maester in the Quill and Tankard, even just once. But he never thought he saw Qyburn.

In fact, he never thought he saw Qyburn ever outside of the Citadel. That seemed strange, but Pate could not figure out why. Especially not with that annoying buzzing sound in the back of his head returning.

He returned to his room, and tried to drift off to sleep. Before sleep took him though, he stared at the wall next to his bed. Although he would not be able to see them till morning, he knew there were letters engraved on the wall by his half awake mind. It started out with just one, but he found a new letter every few days. He wondered what part of his dreams were so terrifying he lashed out in such a way.

He traced the letters with his finger. It fit perfectly, as his finger was what had dug the letters into the stone.

QBN

XILD

RMBR

As he finished tracing them, sleep finally took him.

AN: And another chapter is complete.

I hope you all enjoyed this addition to the story. Now for my traditional breakdown.

First up we have Sam, Happy to have some time he knows will be free of his Father, but it gets cut short. Anything I wish to say about this section will just be explained later on, so not much to say about it now. Though there is an obvious mystery that I believe should be theorized.

Next up we have Lysa Arryn. For such an important character, I think I've only ever seen one or two other fanfics that try to show things from her perspective. The powers basically disrupted her usual influence over Sweetrobin, which has put her on a bad edge as she deals with the realization that her young boy is going to grow up and there is nothing she can do about it. Thankfully, the honorable and selfless Petyr Baelish is here to be her comforting knight who will make all her problems go away.

Next up we have Benjen pop up and inform Jeor and Aemon about the Wildlings movements. The Wildling army is a much greater threat now than it was in canon, and the Night's Watch may be similarly empowered, but knowledge is the key to any warfare. And Lords are much less willing to send prisoners to the Night's Watch when they can atone by serving in their own lord's armies.

And that leads us into the final POV of the Chapter… Pate the Novice.

Yeah… So this is one that I admit I had actually lied about in a previous AN. When I first went to the Citadel, I mentioned in the AN that Qyburn had not been kicked out yet. Well, more specifically, it's that no one remembers kicking him out. At least, they don't remember while they are fully conscious. I'm not going to give a full breakdown just yet, as explaining it in detail will give away too much. But it is definitely ranked B+/A- in terms of power, compared to the previously shown Bronn's E rank memory erasure that only works on the last 10 seconds.

So… We have a mad scientist who can alter the memories of the people around him, and is actively receiving reports about all the significant powers of people in Westeros.

Eh, I'm sure he has only the best of intentions.

I do hope I was able to build the suspense with Pate's thoughts, and his semi-conscious warning.

With all that said, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Next up is a Pokémon: Ice and Fire update.

In other news, I made a TvTropes page for A Song of Ice Stone Wind and Flame. I'll link it to my profile page, feel free to add all the tropes you can think of to it, I only put a few to get it started. I plan to eventually make pages for all my multi chapter works and put them on the author page of FF.

With that done, I wish you all luck in all your endeavours.

Jaehaerys . Joestar