4 Magic Bringer

AN;TRIGGER WARNING FOR RITUALISTIC SELF HARM AND BLOOD AND A PERIOD I GUESS THOUGH IM NOT SURE IF THAT LAST BIT IS ACTUALLY TRIGGERING BUT JUST IN CASE

Ahem, sorry about the caps lol

Heyooooo. I'm here. Graduated and all! Sry this should have been out earlier, but shit happens. Hmm, not much to say, really. Just, thank you guys so much for the support you give this fic and all the other ones in the series. It means so, so much. As always, leave a comment and let me know how it's going or what you want to see. I'm still new to the fandom so I'll take suggestions.

Thx again, and hopefully I'll see you soon! ? ﾟﾒﾙ? ﾟﾒﾙ

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"Here are the texts you requested, My Lady. Every book on magic and runes I could find in Winterfell." Maester Luwin points to the vertible mountain of books taking up a significant portion of the library. Honestly, it was more than I was expecting. "As ordered, they are separated into categories, such as lore or magical history, or these, which seem more instructional. These over here translate various runes and their meanings and purposes. Several of the books are in the Old Tongue, and are in regards to the magic of the North and the First Men, but there are a few Valyrian ones, and even one that talks about the water mages of the Rhoynar."

"Excellent," I beam, bouncing on my toes. "The gods seem to be on our side. What of the people we are poaching from the Citadel?"

"Those who studied but did not take vows, yes? My contact in Old Town has found several without attachments that were happy to come to the North with the promise of work and compensation. My friend has also secretly asked them to copy any books on magic to bring with them."

The Citadel is meticulous about hoarding knowledge, something that I found extremely suspicious. The Conclave, the council of maesters, would, however, allow handmade copies to be made when lords requested, for exuberant fees. Instead, Luwin's friend was having those who came North make the copies themselves to avoid having to pay for them.

"Your…contact seems to have the money to provide paper for the copies….and the influence to collect promising acolytes that need work after they are finished forging their links." I narrow my eyes at the maester in front of me. "Are you sure this person is trustworthy?"

Technically, we weren't doing anything wrong. Those who forged links, but didn't become maesters weren't beholden to the Citadel, and they were free to make copies to take with them. However, we were exploiting the system in an unintended way and snatching up a lot of skilled workers, especially those who studied "the higher mysteries." If anyone looked too closely, suspicion would fall upon us, and for now, we needed the other kingdoms to keep ignoring us. The north was about to go through an era of revolution and development. We didn't need greedy eyes on us while we built up our power and wealth.

Luwin winces. "…I had to tell him about what you were trying to accomplish." I shoot the young maester a sharp look, and he hurriedly continues. "I explained how you were trying to create a new education system that allowed for more freedom of knowledge. Please don't be worried, my lady! When I studied at the Citadel, this was something he often complained about. His view is that the other maesters are but "gray sheep." His relationship with the Concave and the other archmaesters is not…. good. He rarely likes to interact with them at all. I promise he is trustworthy."

I frown, but I trust Lewin's judgment and intentions, and I can't sense any impending doom, so I am optimistic. "Alright. But does he have an issue with magic?"

Luwin actually snorts. "I assure you, my lady. There will be no problem there. I didn't initially say anything about magic in the north, but the rumors have spread these past several months, although, as you predicted, not much stock is being put in them. When my contact asked for confirmation, I did give it to him. He was…enthused." A look of vague horror appears on his face. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he came to see for himself."

Before I can really think too hard about that reaction, small paws are scrabbling at my legs. I smile, unable to stop the flush of affection that comes with seeing my furriest companion. Frostbite is the largest of the direwolf pups. He is pitch black excluding the silvery markings of tips of his paws, tail, ears, and muzzle, like creeping frost, and his icy blue eyes. He is floofy and and I love him.

I scoop the pup up, letting him sniff the dragons nesting in my braids as per usual, although, they were starting to get too big for that. Bran had gotten the next biggest, a russet female called Bloodbringer who liked to try and eat any and all flesh in her vicinity. Ned had named his female Snowfall for her nearly completely white fur. Lya's gray-black male received the name Darkdancer due to its hyperactive nature. Benjen had a male that was just as chaotic, and with a coat of grays. He named it Stormfang. The last pup was the runt, a little female of grays and whites that we had collectively decided to name Softpaw for the babe since we had to start training it and it had to be named for that. Lastly were the two mothers belonging to our parents. The one that was golden-red was mother's, and she was named Dawnchaser. Father named his black wolf Nightclaw.

Despite us not having them long, the bond came naturally. Even without trading, the direwolves seemed to understand intent and were fiercely intelligent. I'm fairly certain this is due to our families ability to warg and our inherent magic. As it was, both Father, Lya, and I have already started having wolf dreams.

"My lady?" I blink, and stop booping Frostbite's nose as I remember I'm in the middle of something.

"Right. Sorry, Maester Luwin." He just chuckles and waves me off.

Nahsa appears from around a bookshelf. "Milady, it's time for your next appointment."

My eyes widen, and I hurriedly head for the door. "My apologies, Maester! I must take my leave!"

Luwin chuckles. "I see you are as busy as always, Lady Lunarya."

"Of course!" I yell back cheerfully.

XXXXXXXXXX

"-It's incredible! It's as though the gods have blessed all the crops of Winterfell!" babbled Arneld, the Head of Agriculture.

I rest my chin on Ser Cregan's shoulder, taking in our surroundings, my energy spilling into the air so that I can feel the thick vibrancy or life infusing everything around us. Arneld wasn't exaggerating. Trully, our house hadn't seen such fruitful crops in a very long time, if ever.

Wiggling, I get Ser Cregan to set me down as I decide to explore the fields I had received permission to visit, Nahsa not far behind me. I dart around the pathways of tall wheat and crouch, admiring the strong stalks and lush grains. While the North did have many farms, somdething like 60-80% of our food had to be imported due to your harsh environment not lending to adequate resources, especially when winters were particularly harsh or long, and even then we still have food shortages and the inability to widen our options because the food won't stay good long enough to actually reach our borders. As a result, the other kingdoms kind of had us by the balls, particularly the Riverlands and the Reach. So much of our money went to lining their pockets that we had nothing to develop our lands and improve the lives of our people. If we could solve the food problem, however, everything else would come more easily.

That said, even though the crops of Winterfell have seriously improved, it was still nowhere near enough to feed our people since most of the kingdom's farms were still in parts of the north that were magicless. Also, we could only grow the hardiest of crops in our cold environment, which means we lack the ability to grow a lot of important everyday foods, one's with certain nutrients that keep humans healthy. For example, we couldn't really grow much food with Vitamin C, so our people would face a scurvy epidemic if we didn't import the right foods. There are some more fields with more options in the southern border, but still, it wasn't much. This is especially problematic considering the winters last literal years in this outrageous world.

"Welp, time to get started," I murmur. I had, after all, come to try my first experiment to solve our food issue. Nahsa hovered like my shadow, dark red her spilling over her shoulders and blue eyes gleaming. The young servant had become somewhat used to my shenanigans already, and had learned to take it in stride. These days, she just accepts everything I throw at her with a morbid kind of curiosity.

Closing my eyes, I reach for the magic in my veins, unable to help the giddiness that accompanies it, the feeling of being one with the world. Like unending warmth and the buzz of electricity, it flows down my chest and through my arms and hands, through my fingers and into the earth they were presssed to. The world lights up, my magic sight extending, showing me everything from the roots in the ground to the birds high above me. Unable to stop the gleeful giggle from slipping out, I turn my head to the sky, letting the sun warm my face as I pull out a small knife and make a shallow cut along my palm, letting the blood drip to land below me.

Grow, I plead with the field, grow. Be ripe and abundant with your bounty so that my people can flourish as you do. Take my magic and blood and grow.

The earth trembles, and I have to bite my lip to keep from cackling since there are too many people around to get away with that. I ignore the shocked exclamations and running feet, feeling my Uncla Cregan appear hurriedly beside me, his hand landing on my head, but he does not try to disturb me further. The knight now knows better than to interrupt me while magic was involved.

Around us, the plants bloom higher and thicker, the field widening as more plants sprout. Remembering myself, I abruptly halt the flow of energy, realizing I need to stop before I collapse from exhaustion. Ugh, I should know better, I groan, crossing my legs and sitting on my butt, Frostbite settling into my lap immediately. Even after so many lives, I still get lost in my magic as easily as my first. I check my palm discretely and find the skin unblemished,though I'm not surprised by that.

"My lady?" I blink up at Nahsa and Gregan, but just shoot them a thumbs up. Confusedly, Cregan checks my raised appendage, prodding my thumb like he's looking for splinters. "Did you hurt yourself, my lady?"

I snort, startled by the realization that the gesture isn't a thing in this world. "Ah, it means that I'm well, that everything is alright." I demonstrate, and both the knight and maidservant unsuredly offer a thumbs up back, and I bite my lip, doing my best not to fall into hysterics at the hilarious sight of their befuddled faces.

"I'm fine," I tell them again, the slight shake of my limbs hidden by my cloak, dragons also resting safely beneath.

"Ser Cregan! Come look!" Arneld dashes around a corner. When Cregan hesitates, I wave him off ginning, my thumb up again. He huffs and goes, and I just know that the report he will make for my father will likely earn me an ear full about safety when magiking.

Sensing something odd, I dust myself off and wander around another corner in the wheat rows. A man knelt there. He is handsome and strong looking, his hands buried in the earth as he examines the wheat. The most striking of all, however, was his green hair.

Hmm, he must be from White Harbor. Papa said that many people dye their hair green there as a sign of reverence to the Merking.

"This is excellent work, Little Wolf," The man says. "A blood offering to the land is the Old Way."

I tilt my head, walking closer as I sense nothing malicious. I can tell he has magic, but it's hard to discern when he feels so much like the rich earth around us, like he's a part of it. The sensation is rather warm and comforting, and even oddly familiar, and I find myself kneeling at his side.

The man chuckles warmly, and pulls some seeds from a canvas bag at his side, green eyes sparkling as he plants one into the earth. "How refreshing it is to feel magic in this land again. It has been many, many years since I felt even the hint of it in Westeros outside of the godswoods."

I glance at him, curious. I don't know of anyone who cruelly has experience with magic to the degree this man implied. It should have been dormant in all living memory. Perhaps I should recruit this man? His aura feels nice. Shrugging, I pull my little knife and cut my other palm, watering the seeds with the crimson droplets and the cut close quickly once more.

The man smirks, patting my hand with a soil covered hand, something oddly proud in his demeanor. "I have a gift for you, Magic Bringer," the man informs me as he riffles in his canvas bag again. Magic Bringer. It was not the first time I'd heard the moniker. Word of my deeds spread across the North by the small folk, and I was quickly gaining notoriety for it as a divine messenger. I wasn't concerned, however, since such had always been a part of the plan in the first place.

The strange man produces a beautiful flower crown, one of blue winter roses. The sight makes me laugh out loud. How is it I always end up with flower crowns? The sight is nostalgic and brings me sincere joy, and the man gives me an oddly knowing smile.

Frostbite, apparently done being patient, tugs on the man's tunic with his teeth, to my shock. Frostbite is rather indifferent to anyone not Stark, yet here he is, pawing at this stranger. The man laughs deeply from his belly, petting the pup and tugging on his tail teasingly. I watch, admiring the odd peace that the man exuded.

Deciding it is time to ask the man his name, and hopefully coerce him into becoming one of my minions, I'm interrupted by Nahsa worriedly calling for me, "Miady! Oh gods, where has she gone!"

My nose scrunches in confusion as I get to my feet. "Nahsa! I'm right here!"

Nahsa and Cregan bolt around the corner, alarm obvious. "My lady! Where were you?"

"What?" I ask, bewildered. "I was here the whole time, right where you left me."

Ser Cregan kneels in front of me, hands carefully patting me down, but avoiding the dragons resting around my neck and collarbone. He holds my arms tightly, face rather pale. "Lady Luna, we have been looking for you for over 15 minutes. And we already checked this row twice!"

"What?" I ask again, genuinely baffled. "I was here the whole time speaking to this man-"

I turn, but the green haired man is gone. I stare, looking at the empty spot, a bell ringing in my head telling me I'm missing something. Green hair, canvas bag, flower crown, farmer- oh. Oh!

Oh, shit!

XXXXXXXXXX

"Are you sure?" My father asks, hands crossed under his chin.

"Not at all. But, I don't have another explanation." I answer, watching Sahaar and Saiya playfight on the floor in front of me, silver and gold scales swirling together.

"Milord, I swear, I was just behind her. She turned the corner and vanished! Trully, I would not have left her alone," Nahsa continues tearfully, kneeling in a plea for forgiveness.

"And I checked that row, Lord Rikard. I checked all of them. Multiple times." Ser Cregan added. My father grunts, examining the blue ring of winter roses in contemplation.

I flinch, my stomach aching, and Nahsa, ever attentive, notices. "Are you well, Milady?"

I frown. "My stomach hurts. Father, I think I'll go see the Maester."

"Indeed. What's done is done, so we shall put this aside now. Your health is more important," My Lord Father agrees, standing as well.

I climb out of my chair, bending to scoop up my dragons when Nahsa squeaks behind me. I whip my head around, and my maid servant is wide eyed, her hands covering her mouth.

"What?" I snap unintentionally, startled by her sudden change.

"Milady, I-I thi-think you've flowered."

I give her an incredulous look, before grabbing and tugging at my skirts in disbelief at the sight of blood. "I've only just turned 8!"

"It appears you truly met Garth the Greenhand," my father states, abruptly reminding me of his presence, as he settles a hand on my head, brow furrowed in worry. "It is said young girls flower in his presence."

I gape, mouth opening and shutting. I want to protest, but the timing was too much to be a coincidence. It was also extremely unlikely for such a thing to happen naturally to one so young. I groan loudly at the thought of having to deal with my period so young, and decide to leave before any useless embarrassment can set in at this ridiculous situation. Snatching up my dragons, and Frostbite on my heels, I say goodbye to my father and Ser Cregan and leave, head stubbornly held high, even as I'm internally reciting a litany of curses to the gods, off to find myself something sweet and a bath. -Stupid gods and stupid periods. Gift my ass!-

XXXXXXXXXX

"IT'S ALIVE!" I roar.

"It is!?" The Maester asks, simultaneously horrified and fascinated by the slush in the cauldron I was having Hugo, the boy that I had put in charge of my trade empire, stir. We were currently in the warehouse my father had given me to conduct my business in. As it was, several people bustled about, doing various tasks in parts of the large building that acted as a workshop more than anything.

"No, of course not. I've always just wanted to say that." I shrug, grinning as I watch Maester Luwin face palm.

"Milady?" I turn to Hugo in acknowledgement. "What exactly is this?"

I beam at the teen, proud of the his progress. Hugo was the boy who was brave enough to question me when I first gathered the whores and orphans and offered them a place in my workforce. The teen was 17 ish, and intelligent and hard working. Upon his request, I named him Hugo in honor of those qualities. In the last few months he had become far more comfortable voicing his opinions, and I appreciated it.

"This, my friend, is concrete, and with it, we are going to build buildings that will touch the sky," I grin wildly.

Concrete was not a thing in Westeros. Most structures were made of stone or wood, making them pricy or prone to burning down. Concrete, however, was basically just volcanic ash and lime mixed together in a boiling pot. We got the volcanic ash near the same place our gold was being mined, both from the northern mountains. The lime was trickier, but the Manderly's had been able to supply it easily enough. Apparently, Whit Harbor and Skagos had large quantities that were rarely used and could be acquired cheaply, and while I was genuinely impressed that the Manderly's could trade in Skagos, I also didn't really want to know how in the hells they managed it.

On the bright side, we also got some unicorns from the trade, although, let's be honest, they were more goat then anything. I wasn't too disappointed though because their fur was about to make the North a lot of money. At this point, my father didn't even question the shit I asked for since I was so accurate about the mines. He has started to simply give me free reign with the condition I keep him informed. My mother is less hands off, but she has still been reasonable. After all, we were still a Great House. What was the price of a few rocks and beasts from Skagos and some dust from the mountains to House Stark? Especially now that the mines had started turning profit?

Additionally, I had added weirwood ash to the mixture at the prompting of some instinct deep inside me. I felt like a bit of a mad scientist, but truly, I had no regrets. I had a rather good feeling about the whole thing, actually.

"Behold!" I whip out my chunk of concrete. "This concrete I left to dry. Yesterday."

Their eyes widen as they examine it. "It's as hard as a rock! It's only been a day? Trully?"

I smirk. "It is as hard as rock and can support immense wait." I gesture to Nahsa and the girl hands me the scroll I brought with me. "These will be our first two projects. One is an apartment building. It will be 7 stories tall."

"Seven?!" Luwin sputters.

"Don't worry, it will work if it's concrete." I wave off his concerns.

"And the next?" Hugo asks, carefully scrutinizing my meticulously drawn blueprints.

"A road. Well, all the roads," I explain.

"But why?" Luwin asks. "What is wrong with our current ones?"

"Everything!" I nearly explode, this having been a particular point of annoyance for me. "It's dirt! And thin! And full of holes and bumps! Do you know how many carts are delayed or lost due to them breaking and requiring repairs on the road?"

"You want to increase the efficiency of trade and travel!" Luwin states, brightening at the realization.

I smirk. "Exactly!"

Just then, a cat darts into the room, clawing at the hem of my skirts. Recognizing it, I scoop it up, glad Frostbite and the dragons are elsewhere at the moment. I beckon Luwin and Hugo to follow me. "Come. We have someone to meet. We will iron out more details later."

Confused, they follow nonetheless, another worker taking over.

XXXXXXXXXX

When we reach the godswood, I set the tabby cat down, following it deeper. Eventually, it stops, and out of the shadows a cloaked woman appears, both Luwin and Hugo stepping between me and her. I am touched by the display of loyalty, but I had left Ser John Swift not far from here because I was quite sure of my safety.

"Be at ease, this is who we are meeting. Hugo, Maester, this is Bara, the head of our spy network. Bara, these are the two you will be working closely with."

I leave them to freak out in peace as I bounce over to Bara. The woman lowers her hood, revealing lovely blonde hair and blue eyes accompanied by red smirking lips. "Milady, always a pleasure."

Bara was the whore who I saw during the Awakening, the one who ended up stuck in an alley cat for a while. Now, Bara and her partner, the tabby she had rather hysterically, in my opinion, named Streetwalker, have happily joined my rank of minions. The blonde bombshell was as sharp as a whip, and had been very grateful when I had offered her work. She had been working to support her young siblings and my gold was going to ensure none of them would end up in the brothel along with her. She had told me that at least this way, if she was fucking someone, it would be for a greater purpose as a spy, something that had saddened me, but she had insisted that she understood it wouldn't be expected of her to do things like that. She also pointed out that I couldn't be squeamish about such things, especially if I needed tasks like an assasination done.

She wasn't wrong, but I wasn't happy about it either, always having preferred to do my dirty work myself.

"How goes it, Bara?" The woman grins.

"Well, Milady! While most of the magic users do not know their letters or number, those that do have been spending their time teaching the others and reading parts of the magic books you gave us aloud, as you instructed. Also, the wargs have been making good progress!"

"I see that," I tell her, reaching down to pet Streetwalker. "Did you have any trouble leaving her mind?"

"No, Milady. Your teachings have been very helpful. Warging comes easily when you can imagine your magic and how to "pull" your mind back.," she replies earnestly. Of course, it wasn't as easy as that, but it was a good place to start and seemed to work as a useful frame of mind to the wargs.

"And the greenseers?"

"They are learning bit by bit. They are also able to return to themselves using the same method of us wargs. Of course, Elder Ro is still the best at it so far."

Elder Ro was another person I had seen during the Awakening. A devout follower of the Old Gods, he had been praying in the Godswood. In fact, he had ended up stuck in between the weirwood. Lucky for the old man, I came across him only a few days later, so Ro was fine. Unfortunately, that coupled with my new status as Messenger of the Gods left the man a bit too revenant of me, so I preferred not to spend too much time with him lest he start literally groveling.

I am proud, and even prideful, but that was too much, even for me.

"Oh!" Bara suddenly exclaims. "They also asked me to pass along their congratulations, and that blessed objects should be put to use."

Confused, I raise my eyebrows, but before I can question that, I sense Ser Jon racing over. "Go, Bara, hide. Someone comes."

The women bows before hurrying away without hesitation, disappearing into the trees. Just as she vanishes, my escort appears. "Maester! My Lady! Lady Lyarra has gone into labor!"

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