Epilogue

It was a dark and cold night in Winterfell, at the eve of a very long Summer – a summer some said was ending, with a long Winter looming over the 

horizon. Eddard Stark was restless in his sleep. One would expect he would sleep soundly, after roleplaying Servant and Dothraki Horse Lord with
his wife the previous evening, but in his dreams he was restless. Finally he awoke from his restless slumber with an audible gasp, one that woke
up his beloved wife as well. “Something the matter, Ned..?”

“It’s nothing,” he sighed, , rubbing the sleep and confusion from his eyes, “Just a very odd dream, that’s all…”

“Dreams are the way of the Old Gods to tell us about our future,” she warned, sitting upright, “Or dreams are the messages they try to send.”

“Not this one,” Ned said, shaking his head, “No, gods know what the message would be in this one; It was a really mad mixture of things I’ve
never ever seen before in my life, or that I could ever imagine begin real; dreams of Dothraki invaders and Jon Snow being some green kid, that
imp Tyrion a Lannister, Titans attacking the Wall, A skull faced sorcerer in the North, and a construct of the mad king coming to claim its
vengeance.”

There was silence.

“Maybe it was just a silly dream after all,” his wife finally said. She could make as much of this madness as he could: nothing.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” she repeated with a snarky grin.

“Okay,” he laughed, “So it’s basically a complete mixture of moments of insanity with no plot or purpose whatsoever! Must have been the wine…”

“With you it’s always the wine,” she laughed, “The wine gets the blame of everything that doesn’t go quite well overnight, or in the evening.”

He glared. She giggled. “Sorry, dear.”

“I’ve had odd dreams before,” Eddard replied, “Sometimes I can even remember them; but never something like this, something so… well, mad. What
does it mean? What can I possibly make of this?”

“Perhaps you’re just nervous because King Robert is coming here and you already know what he will be asking of you,” she said, “Have you already
decided what your answer is going to be?”

He remained silent for a while. He already knew and there was little left to change his mind; he had doubted if he should tell her, she could
react strangely to these things, but finally he decided she would need to know sooner or later, or she would find out sooner or later – so better
than she hears it from his mouth directly. “I have,” he finally said, “And I’ve decided to accept Robert’s offer, and become the new Hand of The
King.”

“Are you certain about this?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” Ned grinned, “I mean… what’s the worst that could happen, right?”

(final word count: 50032!) 

Chapter XXVII – EPIC! Final Battle of Battles!

While the battle raged outside, someone was still left behind in the citadel inside King’s Landing. Yes, the one known as The Master did not like 

these massive fights, the last ones didn’t end so well for him. But he had a different reason to remain behind, a reason Megatron couldn’t
possibly comprihend. But then again, he also did not comprehend why they were here in the first place. And that made him the perfect tool to
manipulate.
Before him someone was stirring, someone or something. After the Dothraki invasion there were barely any people left in the city, but this man
was, hiding deep within the citadel, waiting for the right moment. “I knew I would find you here.”

“And I knew you would come,” The Doctor said, turning around to face him, “Who else could manipulate the Dothraki so?”

“Who else could feign his death so,” The Master grinned, “To fake a beheading… Impressive!”

“A sillicone based copy,” The Doctor explained, “A fellow Time Lord might have noticed the difference, but these primitive apes sure wouldn’t.”

“Good thing I wasn’t there then.”

“Have you come here for me?” The Doctor asked.

“Have you come here to stop me?” The Master smiled.

“Have you not harmed so many innocent by trapping them here, in this world of Westeros?” The Doctor retorted.

“Games with words and questions is so beyond us, Doctor,” the Master went on, “We both know what brought us here, and we both know what we will
find if we return to our own place and time.”

“For someone who calls himself ‘The Master’, I am surprised you’d be such an obedient lapdog. Are you really content with that?”

“I am content with living, and living as myself!” the Master shouted back, “Not like these pitiful puppets out there, thinking they are part of
this Game of Thrones, while really they are defeated pawns in a far greater game; helpless figures with other people’s thoughts, their own minds
locked away!”

“Defeated?” the Doctor smiled, “More like… strategically withdrawn for another battle, in another time.”

“You are the mad schemer as always, Doctor,” the Master grinned, raising a weapon of sorts, a laser screwdriver the Doctor recognised, “But our
enemy is powerful, and you know it; who else would destroy so many, yet let his opponents live – trapped in a distant world in their own bodies,
their thoughts and memories not their own.”

“Do you think he would?” the Doctor replied, pulling out a similar device of his own, “He would have destroyed us, had I not sent everyone to
safety somehow. It was the only way to hide everyone from their view.”

“So it wasn’t him,” the Master hissed, “I was lied to.”

The Doctor seemed puzzled. Not only did The Master, his mortal enemy, not know the truth about the master he was serving, but he had also been
lied to; by someone. “Lied to? by whom?”

An energy blast struck the Doctor in the back, sending him to his knees, screaming in pain. “By me,” Skeletor grinned, holding his staff in both
hands after his sneak assault, “Really, Master, you disappoint me, talking so much to your enemy when you could kill him so easily.”

“We always talk, it’s what we do,” the Master said sternly, lowering his laser screwdriver, “And we certainly do not shoot each other in the
back; well, not always; I might, sometimes – but he wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t lie to me, like you did, Skeletor; it was not that dark villain who
sent us here – it was the Doctor, in a foolish attempt to save us – me as well!”

“So he did,” Skeletor cackled, “But would you have cooperated if you knew? Trust me, this is all about your survival, as well as mine.”

“So you lied about how we ended up here, but you really are just following orders,” the Master grinned, “Do you know why The Doctor was here
then? Because I still do not.”

“To wake his army,” Skeletor said, “I do not know, but the key lies hidden in this city somewhere. Our master… My master, he fears what the
Doctor is plotting, that he might actually try to fight again; but kill The Doctor, and no one hear will remember. It’s as good a victory as
any.”

The Master raised his screwdriver again suddenly, pressing a button. It flared with a strange light and the staff was knocked from Skeletor’s
hands. “It is not a victory for me,” the Master said, “The Doctor is my opponent to defeat; but today will not be that day, for today we escape
this slavery and I shall be The Master once more!”

“Always the modest one,” the Doctor said, getting back to his knees, “Now, to the throne room!”

“Of course…” Skeletor gasped, before another pulse from the screwdriver knocked him back and out.

They hurried to the throne room as fast as they could, two sworn enemies now working together to face an even deadlier foe. The throne room was
abandoned, Megatron had taken his entire guard with him, but the one thing that mattered still stood there: The Iron Throne. “Looks like they
melted it and reforged it,” The Doctor said, “Oh how could they… to do such a thing to something so precious…!”

“It wasn’t a pretty thing to begin with,” the Master commented.

“Oh?” the Doctor replied, spinning towards him, “It wasn’t a pretty thing as it stood here, no, but it certainly was a pretty thing to begin
with!”

The Master’s eyes widened: “You don’t mean…”

“Oh, I mean,” the Doctor grinned, activating his own sonic screwdriver. Immediately the Iron Throne responded to it and began to vibrate, no to
change… then it faded and in its place stood a blue police call box. “What better disguise than something everybody in the realm knows and
respects?”

“Clever, Doctor, Clever… your TARDIS – but what will you do with it?”

“This baby can do more than just travel through space and time and you know it,” the Doctor said, dashing inside, and seemingly randomly pulling
levers and pressing buttons, “It is what held this stasis of personalities active, and now it’s tend to end it! Time for everybody to remember!”

And as he threw the final switch, a wave of dim green light erupted from the TARDIS, making its way through layers of stone, wood and more,
shooting out in all directions and covering the entire realm. And as it washed over the fighters outside, they finally began to remembe -really
remember- and for a moment the fighting dimmed.

And what a brutal fight it had become outside, for Little Lucy, Jack Sparrow and Piccolo had already falled, to both the Dothraki -who still
wanted their fight- and to the Dalek’s untargeted mass genocide. “Sam!” was the last thing Dean called out, finally recalling the truth about
himself and his brother, just before a Dothraki warrior speared him.

“What in blazes have we been doing?” Megatron cried out, “Who is responsible for this?”

“You obviously are not,” Yuna retorted, “What is this mad world?”

“Clearly we have not been ourselves for a very long time,” Tony Stark said.

“Most of you weren’t, but it seems Gandalf and I recall quite well our true selves,” Loki said, “Though only now do I remember how I ended up
here – of almost being so shamefully defeated.”

Even the Dalek had halted its attack, remembering its true origin now, and not knowing for sure what to do next.

“Who is responsible for this?!” Megatron cried out.

“He calls himself Omega,” The Doctor said, walking out of the citadel and past Megatron along with the Master, “Though his real name is as good a
riddle as my own; But powerful he is, and he has some powerful allies – each and every one of you, you’ve faced him before in your own place and
time, and it nearly cost you.”

“I remember… almost dying…” Yuna said.

“There was a battle, a defeat…” Megatron hesitantly said.

“My armor…it shorted out, I think…” Tony Stark added, still searching for the full truth, “Who are you, really?”

“I am The Doctor,” the Doctor said, “I fix things; and sometimes I fight to fix things. I am the one who brought your bodies here and sealed your
consciousnesses away behind fake identities.”

“Why would you do such a thing?” Megatron demanded.

“Because it was the only way I could save you all from death,” The Doctor said, “My intention was to keep you here in this hiding place until the
time was right to strike back, all of you, a unified army of unique individuals, together we’ll surely win against Omega.”

“I had an army once,” Loki commented, “It didn’t go so well.”

“You missed out on some good shoarma,” Tony Stark whispered.

“What about the DA-Leks,” the Dalek asked with raspy voice, “You are the Doc-Tor! The Doctor LIES!”

“You know me well enough to know I do not lie about lives, Dalek,” the Doctor replied, “The Daleks are gone, so you are alone; but back in our
original universe you may find a way to save them, even though the universe is as doomed with them as it is with Omega.”

“Acceptable,” the Dalek said, “Omega will be exterminated!”

“Except he already knows,” The Master said, “Don’t ask me how, but he found out about this place, and send his agents, like that Skeletor.”

“He found out because we returned,” The Doctor said, “This is all happening in his future, our past; soon we will all return, and wage battle,
and Omega will conquer some of us as his own agents and send them here.”

“It’s a time travel thing,” Loki sighed, “It always is.”

“So how do we leave?”

“There’s only one way to leave this place,” the Doctor said, “Death. Those who died, really already went ahead, and we will soon join them, all
at the same moment in time. It is the only reaction strong enough to sever the link with this one, to wake one up…”

“Cruel,” megatron smirked, “So we start killing each other?”

“No,” the Doctor said, “I will.”

“The oncoming storm!” the Dalek squeaked.

“You’re plotting something nasty, aren’t you?” The Master asked.

“I’ve overloaded the Eye of Harmony inside the TARDIS,” The Doctor said, “The resulting explosion will start a chain reaction which will erase
this entire world from time itself. Is that cruel enough for you?”

“Eradicating an entire world?” The Master purred, “Oh, it certainly is… didn’t know you had it in you, Doctor; oh wait, I did…”

The Doctor glared at him. “This world is also a copy of a real world,” he said, “A collection of light, shadow and energy mimicking an existing
world far away; nobody will dies but the people who don’t belong here – and they will not die either, but return to their original selves. The
ultimate cleansing, you might say…”

“Very well, Doctor,” Yuna said, “Please, proceed…”

“Already did. Temporal explosion in five… four… three… two… one…-“

And indeed did part of the citadel explode at that point… but it was nothing compared to the explosion that followed afterwards, releasing an
enormous ball of light which engulfed and consumed everything, wiping it out of existence.

And thus Yet Another Game of Thrones came to a conclusion.
Everybody died.
THE END.

The Doctor is perplexed to hear what the Council has to say.

Chapter XXVI – GREAT BATTLE! It’s where people start dying.

Winterfell_Exterior

Megatron sat on the Iron Throne which had been refurbished to fit someone of his size. Before him the remaining members of the King’s council stood, obeying him now; of course neither of them followed him because they wanted his rule, some were simply frightened and did what they must to save their lives, while others did it for their own selfish motives. Megatron did not care, as long as their interests did not conflict with his; if they betrayed him, they would meet Starscream’s fate. “So, pitiful human, tell me about the war effort again.”

“The Dothraki, now under your control, have swarmed out from the citadel and have been ravaging the countryside,” Rumplestiltskin summarised, “A vast host has move west to deal with the self-proclaimed Kings. They already crushed King Sam’s army, which was foolish enough to engage us here, and are now dealing with the Lannisters and King Dean’s forces. It will be a short battle, after all exepectations. However we’ve lost contact with our army.”

“Now this is what makes me curious,” Megatron glared, “The Dothraki aren’t an army, they are a horde upon this land; how does one lose contact with such a massive force?”

“Perhaps someone is intercepting our scouts,” Rumplestiltzkin suggested, “Or maybe the entire army has been eradicated?”

“Stop coming up with such nonsense, Spider!” Megatron hissed, “Obviously someone is disrupting our communications; we’ll need some reliable Dothraki and some men of our own; where is that envoy Starscream trusted? This Master character?”

“We have not seen him for some time, Megatron.”

“That does not give me much comfort either,” Megatron grumbled, “I like to keep my enemies and allies inself, especially when I’m not sure if there’s a difference between them. Very well, we’ll deal with the most pressing matter first.”

A scout came rushing in. “Lord Megatron, I bring news from our armies west!”

“See?” Megatron grinned, “Nothing to worry about – just a few spies that were intercepted, incapable troops that are now no longer hindering me.”

“The Dothraki western force has been completely obliterated, miljord,” the soldier reported, “We’ve lost contact with the army marching against King Dean as well; we suspect their fate to be the same.”

Rumplestiltskin giggled, but Megatron did not hear it, or chose to ignore it: “What of the enemy?”

“The Lannisters and Dean’s army are both advancing on King’s Landing. It seems the Starks are on the move now as well.”

“Impossible!” Megatron protested, rising from his Throne, “What about the treath to the North? Are they simply ignoring that?!”

“It seems something happened overnight, Milord,” the soldier said, kneeling deeper, “The Wall has been restored and the Rangers hold it stronger than ever. Winter, as the Starks say, is no longer coming!”

“I’ll be the judge of what’s coming and what not!” Megatron shouted, tired of the report and firing his energy cannon at the unfortunate messenger, who was obliterated in an instant, “And I will not accept this!”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Rumplestiltskin purred.
Megatron responded by blasting him to pieces as well.

“Gather all remaining Dothraki Horse Lords,” Megatron commanded, “I am going to command this battle myself; perhaps they’ve braved an army of barbarians, but let’s see how well they fare against the most sophisticated piece of weaponry this world has ever known!”

* * *

Once the city of King’s Landing had been one of the gems of Westeros, a beautiful city to behold. Now it had become so much less
than that, a ruin of a city, with smoke still rising from fires that were still burning in parts of the city, a ravaged city and a
shadow of its former self. Before it a massive army had gathered, though it was less massive than it originally had been. Truly,
the Dothraki host had been reduced in strength, but was still a formidable force, at least as great as the allied armies combined.

Set up further away were those armies, now joined together with a common goal: the defense of Westeros against the barbarian
horde. Tony Stark, Piccolo, Loki, Superman, King Dean, Yuna, Captain Jack Sparrow, C3PO and even Little Lucy, Juvia and Goku had
joined together, wanting to see this battle through to the end, each of them feeling that they needed to be here, together, to
accomplish something great.

“Incredible to see so many Dothraki together,” Piccolo said, “You did well to summon me here, The Wall is well under control, but
this… you will need some muscle.”

“Pesky barbarians,” Dean sighed.

“You of all people should know better than to underestimate them,” Loki protested, “After all, didn’t they decimate half of your
army.”

“Looks like something else that’s troublesome appeared,” Jack Sparrow called, pointing at the town gates, “What in blazes is
that.”

At the town gates a silver metal giant appeared, Megatron himself, as promised, who had come to end the threat to his conquest.
“That’s not the one who drove us from the city, but he is alike it,” Loki said, “An ancient construct of the Mad King, come back
for vengeance. But this one is more fierce looking than the other… I’d wager its the real leader.”

“That is Megatron,” Gandalf explained, walking up to them, “Like you, he is out of place and out of time and does not know it; a
weapon no, but villainous more so. Megatron was a leader in his own time, so it’s only natural he’ll pursue the same goals here.”

“Out of time? Maybe he is, but we’re not,” Yuna said.

“You seem to remember quite some interesting things,” Loki said to Gandalf, “Out of place and time eh?”

“I see you understand well,” Gandalf smiled, “Even though you may be considered a rotten apple, you are more bright than the
others here to know of this already.”

“But what of them anyway? We’ll need their true selves, their true power,” Loki said, “How else can we take this army.”

“Another visitor arrives,” Gandalf suddenly said, ending their conversation.

Up in the sky a tiny speck had appeared, hovering high, too big to be a bird and too small to be a dragon, but it certainly did
get the attention of friend and foe alike. “Dalek…” Gandalf whispered, just as the thing swooped down, shooting its bolts of
enerygy at the Dothraki army below going “Exterminate! Exterminate!” – however it did not stop there, on its next attack run it
swooped down on the Lannisters, mowing its way through as well, killing many innocent men, only to fly over to Dean’s army, where
it landed and systematically began to eradicate everything in sight.

“That thing,” Tony Stark said, “It’s killing everyone indiscriminately! What kind of mad weapon is this?”

“Worse than that,” Gandalf said, “It’s lost in time and place, just like you, and without its true memories, but it remembers its
basic instinct: to kill everything that is not Dalek. To think such a monster would exist here…”

“How do we stop it?” Piccolo shouted.

“We don’t,” Gadalf said, “From now on it all depends on the outcome of a different battle, one fought deep inside the citadel
itself. It has begun.”

Piccolo wanted to ask, but for some reason felt like he would find out soon enough. All he could do was gaze at King’s Landing and
wondered what sort of battle was going on there, and most importantly, with all key players out here, who was fighting it?

Chapter XXV – DESTINY! On this day mankind received a grim reminder why we can’t have nice things

While everyone in Westeros knew the stories about the lands north of the Great Wall, there were far little tales about the icy 

lands south of Westeros. This was mostly because they were uninhabited and there was little interesting to tell, and few who
ventured in too deep returned from those lands again.
And yet a small convoy was now traveling there, headed south by southwest, their destination known to only one of them. The group
consisted of Magneto, Lex Luthor, Draco Malfoy and a few expendable soldiers. Jack Sparrow and Loki had remained behind to keep an
eye on the Lannister forces, using their old alias as Lannister brothers as a means to keep the soldiers in check – after all,
they now knew who they really war, but as far as the rest of the army was concerned they were still two Lannister brothers.

“How much further is it?” Draco complained, “Surely this cold cannot be worth all this?”

“The cold will very much be worth all this,” Magneto said, using an odd magnetic barrier to keep the snow from falling on him and
staining his clothes, “We need a potent weapon to beat the Dothraki, and we can find it here.”

“The boy’s original question is an interesting one however,” Luthor interrupted, “How much further do we need to travel? Not all
of us have a mutant power to keep the cold at bay, and we’re out in the open – anyone could attack us.”

“Not much further, I assure you,” Magneto said, “And don’t worry, there are no attackers here; hardly anything lives out here.”

They went on silently after that and pretty soon their patience was rewarded as a small metal something doomed up in the distance.
Lex Luthor smiled. Finally this whole mad expedition was getting somewhere.

* * *

Clark Kent listened attentively to what his bannermen and scouts had to say. When he had gotten up that morning, he had expected
reports of Lannister troop movements and threats from the King, not a Dothraki invasion. And yet that was what he was listening to
at this moment. King’s Landing had fallen and Malfoy had been driven off. King Sam’s army had been crushed trying to take the
invaders on, and the rest of the Kingdom was now suffering attacks by the horse lords as well. The lords of the North held their
ground, but only because the Dothraki were focusing on the south, hitting the Lannisters and King Dean particulary hard. It seemed
folly to wage war on so many fronts at once, and yet the Dothraki had the strength of numbers to easily do so.

“It looks like the other lords may thin out the enemy a little bit, Milord,” Gandalf said, “But they will still be an army which
easily matches ours; combined with the news of the North of the breach of The Wall and the invasion there, I fear our options are
very limited.”

“We have but two options and neither of them is very good,” Clark replied, nodding, “We either focus our attention on the invasion
in the North and hope the Dothraki will leave us alone until then, and that we can take them when the time comes; or we join
forces with the Lannisters and try to crush the horse lords between our two armies, but that means abandoning the North to
Skeletor and the soldiers of Winter. I must confess, I am not in favor of either option.”

“It is a difficult choice, Your Highness” one of the noble lords agreed, “Victory seems slim either way.”

“The King will retreat for now,” Gandalf interrupted, saving Clark from forcing a decision, “Unless something changes and the
Dothraki march against us, he will make his decision tomorrow.”

They nodded and left, leaving Clark alone with Gandalf. “Neither really is an option,” Clark admitted, “The Lannisters can’t be
trusted and I can’t abandon the North, but we’ll be overrun if we need to face those horse lord barbarians alone.”

“Perhaps there is a third alternative you have not considered yet, milord?”

“There is,” Clark replied, “And I have considered it. But it means doing something you discouraged me from. It means facing the
enemy alone.”

“Ah,” Gandalf said, “You mean your new strength..?”

“Exactly. But as you said, that’s not really how it should be used…”

Gandalf smiled. “To use your strength to conquer the throne, no. But to use it to protect your people and the innocent… now that
is a noble cause. One I will gladly support.”

“Ah…” Clark said, “In that case, come, Gandalf; we have preparations to make…”

* * *

“What is this?” Lex Luthor asked, staring at what they had found, an odd cilindrial form, stuck in the snow, “Is this it..?”

“This is it,” Magneto confirmed, “Malfoy, touch it. It needs your wizardly strength to activate.”

“I should.. touch..?” Malfoy asked, approaching the odd form and placing his hand on it. For a moment nothing happened, but then
it began to vibrate, glow warmer. “External energy source de-tec-ted!” it spoke, “Converting magical energy to Atron Energy!
Recharging! Recharging!”

“What the hell is that?” Luthor asked, stepping back.

“The deadliest creature in the universe,” Magneto grinned, “A Dalek.”

“EXTERMINATE!” the Dalek replied, shooting a green energy beam from a small mixer-like arm attached to its body. The energy blast
hit Draco, who instantly died and collapsed to the floor.

“It shot him!” Luthor shouted, “What in blazes did you unleash, Magneto?!”

“The only thing that can resolve our problem,” Magneto said, approaching the thing, “A Dalek. A genetically engineered alien
mutant who exists only to purify the universe of anything that is not Dalek. Now embrace your destiny, Luthor. It’s for the
better.”

Luthor opened his mouth to utter a curse, but his words were cut short as the Dalek fired another energy blast, killing Lex Luthor
as well. “Well done,” Magneto purred, spreading his arms as he stood before the Dalek, “Now! Travel north and do what you do best!
But first, do not forget the one who released you! You know what I mean!”

A green flash illuminated the surrounding fields as the Dalek fired again. Magneto never gave a single cry.

* * *

Loki stood atop Oakshield Hill, a hill named after a famous hero who once surveyed an ancient battle that took place here from
this very spot, and began his final charge from here as well. He wondered if the hill would ever be renamed after him after this
battle or in the future after all this was over. Behind him lay the Lannister camp, a combination of two shattered armies,
mercenaries, and local roughians who had joined the army for a chance of loot, glory or to protect their own homes. Before him,
down the hill and in the distance, lay a large encampent of the Dothraki, a savage camp without any walls and with only minimum
sentries – the horse lords apparantly did not think anyone would be foolish enough to assault their vast host out in the open.
Lex Luthor’s final order after his departure had been to engage the Dothraki in the field, to make them thing the Lannisters were
as foolhardy and proud as they were and believed in open battle. To offened them as much as possible, then lure them back to
Lexhold for a sieged battle – for the horse lords were not familiar with this type of combat, and thus had a disadvantage during a
siege.
But this plan had backfired, because the Dothraki advance army, which he was looking at, had been closer than he feared. They
could still withdraw to Lexhold, but the enemy would most likely overtake them on horseback which would lead to slaughter. The
alternative was to stand and fight, but this too would lead to ruin.

“Sir, an envoy has arrived,” a soldier reported.

“The Dothraki?” – it would surprise him, it was not their style.

“An envoy from Lord Dean, his army is camped just south of the Dothraki and southeast of us.”

“Very well,” Loki said, “I’ll go see them. Be sure to alert me at the first sign of movement from the horse lords. I want no
surprises today. No more.”

There were three soldiers, all riders by the looks of it, who had managed to sneak around Dothraki patrols to seek out the
Lannister army. “Very well,” Loki began, approaching them, “Tell me why you’ve come. Does Lord Dean propose an alliance against
the Horse Lords?”

“You are perceptive,” one of them replied, “Indeed he does. The Dothraki are numerous and swift; retreating now will cost both our
forces dearly, and weaken our strength for a counter attack. The only option we have right now is to attack first, create disorder
in their ranks and then retreat – but our army alone is too small. Perhaps together we can…”

“It is still a suicide mission,” Loki interrupted, “But you are right, we have little options at this point. The Dothraki can
attack any moment.”

“It’s a pity we can’t reach the Starks in time,” the envoy said, “Even though it’s uncertain they will help us, their numbers
could certainly help in this battle.”

“It is how it is,” Loki said. Then they were interrupted by a soldier who came rushing towards them, Loki recognised him as one of
the scouts that he had deployed to keep tabs on the Dothraki host. “Bad news is coming sooner than we thought, I fear.”

“The Dothraki have split up,” the scout reported, “A small detachment of seasoned warriors is headed towards Dean’s army to harras
them. The main host is headed this way!”

“Bastards,” Loki cursed, “So despite their incredible odds, they still decide to take us on one at a time. At this point there’s
no helping it. You lot, you won’t have time to return to Dean!” he said to the envoys, “You will fight under me, not for Lannister
or Dean, but for survival! This is going to be quite a challenge!”

He returned to Oakshield Hill afterwards to command the battle from there, but met Jack Sparrow halfway. “Going to find a hole to
hide in?” he taunted.

“Actually, finding you,” Jack replied, “I figured these men would rather have you leading them, than me. And you know, with our
memories restored, fighting a close battle with horseback riders is even less my thing than it was before.”

“Rally the troops from the back lines if you must, but do your duty, Sparrow,” Loki hissed, “And watch how I’ll make these
Dothraki regret even raising their arms against Loki!”

Not much later the battle was joined and Loki watched from atop the hill as the Dothraki clashed with his own forces. The soldiers
tried to hold their ground and possessed superior training, but they were no match against the savagery and sheer numbers of the
horse lord horde. However Loki was not done yet; once this battle may have seemed hopeless, at least for an ordinary military
commander of the House Lannister. But now he remembered his true self, his heritage of no less than a god, and he would not shun
using that against his foes.

“Ride, Dothraki, and meet your Doom!” Loki hissed, raising his scepter. A dense fog came rolling in from the side of the
battlefield, obscuring part of it. The Lannister men acted as instructed, avoiding the fog and retreating sideways, so that the
fog came between them and the Dothraki. The Dothraki in turn assumed the Lannisters would use the mist for cover, and decided to
try the same trick first, charging in with their entire host. Only after one third was already consumed in the fog did they
discover that this was no ordinary fog, but a poisenous mist devoid of oxygen. The sound of dying enemies was music to Loki’s
ears, but he knew this was only a temporary victory.

Finally the horse riders came again, from several directions and charging Oakshield Hill. They were not fond of sorcery, and
Loki’s act only drew them towards him like moths to a flame. “So be it,” Loki said, intensifying the grip on his battle spear, “If
this is how I shall fall, then so be it; at least I will perish with the pleasurable knowledge that I have outlived my cursed
half-brother Thor.”

“Do not give up on life just yet, Lannister.”

Loki looked over his shoulder, only to find one of the Stark sons standing behind him – Clark Kent! Or rather, someone who thought
he was a Stark but was someone else just like him; did he know as well? And what was he doing here? “Stark,” Loki called out.

“In the flesh,” Clark replied, “I see you’re having some new talents, but also a good load of problems to come with them. I
propose a truce, including no unannounced attacks on any Stark forces or their allies – and I will help you. Do you accept?”

“I am not in the position to..” Loki began.

“Don’t use your tricks on me, Loki,” Clark interrupted sternly, “With Luthor away, you have full authority over his forces – he
trusts you with that. The question is: Do you accept?”

Loki grinned. “And how do you propose to help me? Even your army can’t help deal with those Dothraki.”

“Have you noticed the difference in my garments recently, Loki?” Clark asked. Indeed, Loki noticed he was dressed considerably
different, in some sort of blue leather tunic, a golden S on his chest, and wearing a bright red cape. He had thought it was just
mad Stark fashion sense, but given the way Clark emphasised it, it was obviously something more. “We both have learned some new
talents,” Clark continued, “Our armies can’t beat these Dothraki, this massive force… but one who is different can, a Superman
so to say.”

“A Superman?” Loki repeated, “One man, against all the might of this army?”

“One man,” Superman grinned, and with one leap he was gone, landing in the middle of the advancing horse lords. Loki could hardly
believe what he was seeing. Clark Kent, nay, Superman was moving through the enemy faster than the eye could follow, hitting them
hard, throwing them off their horses, even taking their horses from them and delivering them behind enemy lines. Within minutes
this great horde was reduced to a group of horseless men, broken and injured. In their confusion they immediately began to
reatreat. “One man,” Superman said again, landing next to Loki again.

“Impressive feat,” Loki said, “Really a feat for a man not of this world, wouldn’t you say?”

“So you knew,” Superman replied, “Leave it to a Lannister to find out such great secrets so easily.”

“Indeed,” Loki grinned, “So you remember as well, eh? That you are not of this world? But trapped in a foreign body?”

Clark stared him, baffled; they would spend the next few hours discussing. Old alliances shifted and new ones were born as the
truth finally surfaced.

The Superman.

The Superman.

Chapter XXXIV – GREAT SCOTT! The Wall is breached! Again!

Following the raid deep into the northern lands and the rescue of Tony Stark the Rangers had retreated once again back to the safety of The Wall. 

Piccolo had expected at least one more attack by Skeletor or the barbarians of the north, but to his surprise neither happened and they withdrew
behind the tall gates safely.

Of course there were many questions asked about what had happened but the tale of Commander Venkman’s death, Piccolo’s heroic battle and the
rescue of Tony Stark quickly spread. Soon the whole Wall was abuzz with rumors and tales both fiction and truth.

Following their return to The Wall, Piccolo and Tony Stark had retreated themselves to the Commander’s office. They needed to discuss in detail
what had happened, and they needed to work out what to do with this new threat in the North, and how to gain support for their cause -especially
with the Kingdom essentially already at civil war, it would prove a hard thing to accomplish.

“Do you remember anything about being taken captive?” Piccolo asked, pouring his uncle some tea.

“Very little,” Tony replied, “I know we were overtaken; they say the Ponies were just a legend? Well, I’ve seen them. Ponies and the undead
together, they killed my men, and took me prisoner. I’m not sure what happened afterwards because I lost consciousness.”

“They used your men against us,” Piccolo said, “More undead; they made it difficult.” – he left out how they’d been defeated them by burning them
completely. He did not need to know those details, especially not about men he respected and had worked with for so long. “This is a dangerous
situation.”

“It is,” Tony agreed, “It’s the days of old, of legend, come back to life and worse. The Doctor sure picked a great moment to die, and Draco
certainly picked an awesome moment to throw the realm into civil war.”

“There was a red comet in the sky a few weeks ago,” Piccolo said out of nowhere, “Some say it was prophetic, announcing blood and fire.”

“Superstitious fools,” Tony grumbled, “Just a painful coincidence; no, this is something which has been slumbering for a long time already. But
what a time for this mess to wake up..!”

There was a knock on the door. “Enter!” Piccolo shouted.

“So the rumors are true after all,” Severus Snape said dramatically, stepping inside the commander’s office, “Poor Commander Venkman, he shall be
missed. A great loss to The Wall, no Commander who shall ever be his equal, no matter how hard he tries to..”

“Snape,” Tony Stark interrupted his rant, “Welcome.”

“Tony Stark,” Snape said, “I honestly did not expect to see you again, at least not with this complexion. I welcome you back among the Rangers.”

“I did not expect to see you again so soon either, Snape,” Piccolo wondered, “Commander Venkman sent you on a mission to King’s Landing; to
inform the King about the undead incident here and convince him to do whatever he can to assist the Rangers.”

“The situation in the south has changed,” Snape reported, “At the moment I am not even sure if King Malfoy still lives.”

“The situation in the south seems to change every week,” Tony Stark commented, “What was it this time? Poison? An assassination?”

“As I was traveling I stumbled across a group of horse riders of the east, Dothraki; I found it odd to find them here in Westeros, especially in
large numbers, but it turned out they were only an advance scouting party. I don’t know how they did it, but pretty much every Horse Lord of the
eastern lands is here, in Westeros. They devestated King’s Landing in a day and made their camp there; I have no idea what happened to Malfoy,
but rumor has it he escaped.”

“Lannister Luck,” Piccolo grumbled, “And just what we needed, an invasion army. Sufficient manpower to throw against Skeletor’s forces, but not
on our side, and impossible to ally with.”

“Skeletor?” Snape asked.

“He calls himself the True King of the North an is responsible for unifying the barbarians and creating the undead,” Tony explained, “Also the
one who held me captive; not a pleasant fellow.”

“You two spin quite the tale,” Snape said, “And you actually met this guy and lived to tell the tale? And he did as well? That’s not something a
Ranger should do.”

“Don’t judge the lad on circumstance if you were not there, Snape,” Tony warned, “We’re dealing with powerful sorcery here.”

“Ha! There is no such thing as magic!” Snape said.

In the distance they heard a rumbling sound, and briefly the ground seemed to shake. “What was that?” Tony asked.

“I don’t like it,” Piccolo said, “I don’t like this at all.”

“Commander!” a soldier came rushing in without even knocking. He looked completely upset, “The wall, it has been breached! Again!”

“Again?” Snape queried.

“What happened?” Piccolo asked, ignoring Snape’s remarks.

“A man in dark purple robes came riding in on a giant wrecking ball. He crashed it into the wall, cracking it wide open. It was right at a guard
post, we have casualties!”

“Skeletor,” Tony deducted, “Snape, find some armor. We’re getting out there.”

“Assemble as many men as you can find,” Piccolo commanded, standing up as well, “Tell them to prepare for battle. For an invasion of the south.”

Snape looked as if he had wanted to say something, but he held his mouth shut and they all left quickly, knowing that a battle seemed inevitable
this time – wrecking the Wall was like an early announcement for what was yet to come.

It took remarkably little time to set up a defensive force around the breached wall. Of course everybody was already on edge after the last
attack on the Wall and after meeting the enemy in the northern lands, but even Piccolo had not expected so many of their men to be battle ready
yet. Snape had joined him at the breach as well, donned in a black armor with an equally dark helmet to wear on his face. “Any sign of the
enemy?” Piccolo asked.

“None,” Snape reported, “Skeletor apparantly disappeared again after cracking the wall, and we’ve seen no movement since; no undead, no
barbarians, nothing.”

Piccolo nodded and looked in the distance. “It looks like they were waiting for us to assemble,” he said, gazing into the distance where a large
group of men was now approaching from the far north, “There they are. As if taunting us. As if telling us that we can’t win, no matter how much
we prepare.”

“Arrogance has always been the barbarians’ undoing,” Snape hissed.

“Not just of barbarians, Snape,” Piccolo corrected sternly, “Stay on edge.”

The barbarians attacked without introductions, demands on warnings and simply stormed the breach right away. The Rangers fought valiantly and
violently and despite the overwhelming odds they managed to stand their ground, using the advantage of being inside a small passageway to their
advantage. At one point the battle seemed to turn in the barbarians’ favor when several undead joined the fray, but Tony Stark swooped down from
the sky just in time, assaulting the undead enemies. Apparantly he’d found time to repair and improve his battle armor and was now using it
agains the undead foes – the energy blasts from his hands, a variety of the chest beam he’d used on Skeletor in his previous battle, proved most
effective against the zombie enemies.

Finally the barbarians withdrew and their leader stepped forward. Piccolo recognised Conan the Barbarian and stepped forward as well, meeting his
opponent halfway. “You still live, Green One,” Conan complimented, “I am impressed. And I am happy.”

“As am I,” Piccol replied, “But I see you still follow the orders of a mad regent. It will bring you no glory, Conan, only ruin. This wall cannot
be taken by your men alone.”

“You know the one who supports us, no, rather who drives us forward,” Conan said, “His pale followers are coming. If we don’t break through now,
they will overrun us, and then you.”

“I will not permit you to pass,” Piccolo said, “Will you truly sacrifice all your men?”

“My honor will not allow me much choice, save one. Duel with me. The winner shall slay the other, the loser’s army shall withdraw and not engage
its opponent again for at least a full week.”

“A dangerous proposal,” Piccolo said, “If I lose, I risk not the safety of the men, but rather of the people behind the Wall who we protect. But
I know I will not lose. We shall duel.”

“But you must dual with honor,” Conan demanded, “Not with the mysterious power you used against the Titan, the one I do not possess. Fight me
with equal power and I shall respect our fight.”

Piccolo considered his words for a moment, then drew his sword and nodded: “Very well, I accept, in the name of our honor.” – and to the rest of
his men he shouted: “Rangers! Stark! Stay out of this! I shall duel their leader and this outcome will decide all!”

“Likewise!” Conan shouted to his men, “This is the Duel of Lords, and I have accepted it! You shall respect its rules, my men!”

Conan drew his swords as well and they clashed, crossing swords and trying to overpower each other with strength alone. When that did not work
they backed off again, taunting each other, giving jabs and thrusts in turns, looking for an opening. They were evenly matched and the duel
continued for a long time with neither getting the upper hand. Then Conan seemed to slip up, leaving an opening which Piccolo spotted and he
rushed in to attack. However it had been a feint by Conan who quickly retaliated, cutting the Ranger Commander’s arm open. Piccolo staggered back
while Conan renewed his attack, however this time the Ranger was ready. Piccolo blocked his attack and retaliated immediately, slashing the
barbarian’s left thigh open. Again they continued to test each other with a series of quick thrusts and blows, until finally Piccolo was the
lucky one. He took a slash from Conan’s sword, injuring his shoulder, but only so he could strike back twice as hard, cutting the barbarian’s
hand deep and striking the sword from his hand. Conan fell, and Piccolo was upon him immediately, bringing the sword to his neck. “Well fought
with skill, strength and honor,” Conan said with a grin, “Now finish me off and show my men who has won this duel. Then the day will be yours.”

Conan.

Conan.

“I will not,” Piccolo said, “Instead, your life is mine and I shall claim it, but differently. I ask for you and your men to join me.”

“Crom…” Conan gasped, “I cannot…”

“You heard the man, he said take his life!” Skeletor cackled jumping in on the battle, though Piccolo had no idea where the madman had come from,
nor could he prevent what happened next. Before he could raise his sword or before Conan could move, Skeletor struck, plunging the tip of his
staff through Conan’s chest, piercing or damaging at least two vital organs. “But since you seem to have other plans, allow me to uphold the
honor of this duel for you.”

Conan gargled, and jerked the staff from a surprised Skeletor’s hand, then stood up, jamming his sword deep in Skeletor’s chest. “You fight
without honor and without skill…” he gasped, “This is the fate you deserve!” -and then he collapsed, and did not get up again.

“Pitiful…” Skeletor gasped, sinking to one knee, obviously injured from the attack, no matter how undead he looked, “And utterly useless.”

“Strike him down now!” Tony Stark yelled from above, “While he’s injured! End this!”

“Not today, my friend,” Skeletor grinned, forcing himself upright and leaping backwards with several large leaps, ending up back with the mixed
army of confused barbarians and stoic undead, “And not tomorrow,” he added.

“You have not won yet, nor will you, Skeletor,” Piccolo growled, “Not with your allies gone!”

“Allies? You mean puppets,” Skeletor cackled, “And you’re right, these puppets will be gone – DESTROY THEM!” – and by his command the undead in
the mixed army suddenly sprung to action, turning on their former allies and attacking the barbarians viciously. Some of them managed to fight
back, but without fire they could do little against the undead foes. In minutes most of the barbarians had been eradicated and part of the undead
army split off to hurl itself at the Rangers. Snape was one of the first to fall, taking no less than two swords to the chest, and the other
Rangers fared little better.

Two days later news would reach Winterfell of the attack on the Great Wall, and the greatest defeat the Rangers had ever known. The news would
tell of the undead roaming the north lands of the new Stark Kingdom, as well as giants, and of how Piccolo and Tony Stark had gone missing.

(word count: 43834)

Chapter XXIV – FINALLY! With 10000 words left, the plot begins to thicken!

There was a gloomy and uncertain atmosphere in Lexhold, as Lex Luthor had renamed the abandoned citadel they were now occupying. 

At the head of the table sat Let Luthor himself of course, and opposite of him the enigmatic advisor of King Sam known as Magneto.
Also attending where Captain Jack Sparrow, Luthor’s trusted vassal Hannibal Smith, Loki and the young but dethroned King Malfoy.
Loki and Malfoy were still devestated at the loss of King’s Landing and Luthor felt uneasy with these recent developments as well.
Magneto had come to offer help and possibly an alliance, but until recently he had been a most cunning enemy. A lot of emotions
were present at the meeting table, but trust was not one of them.

Lex Luthor.

Lex Luthor.

“Quite the group we’ve gathered here,” Jack sparrow began, but was glared to silence by Lex Luthor.

“Why have we gathered here anyway?” Malfoy grumbled, “Why are you not assembling our bannermen? Why are we not marching on King’s
Landing to take back my throne and burn these Dothraki scum out of Westeros?!”

“Calm, please, my dear Ex-king,” Loki whispered, half-taunting. Draco gave him an angry glare.

“I take it you are aware of the situation in the east as well, Magneto?”

“All too painfully,” Magneto replied, “Following our declaration of war we marched on King’s Landing as you know. What you didn’t
know, because I spent quite a lot of time fooling your scouts and spies, is that our advance had already begun very early and that
we were already close to starting our attack at the moment you first learned of us marching out.”

“Crafty,” Luthor complimented, though his face betrayed no sentiment of surprise, respect or annoyance, “And yet you ended up
being the one surprised.”

“We did lose some scouts on the way to the city,” Magneto admitted, “But I thought they had run into patrols, so I sped up our
march so we could still reach the city before it was alerted, keeping the element of surprise; I never would have expected to
expect an invasion army with such formidable might there.”

“I don’t think many did,” Loki commented.

“We stumbled upon one of the groups that had already swarmed out of the city to ravage the countryside,” Magneto continued,
“Bastards took us completely by surprise but wasted no time in gettin acquainted. They burst straight through our army, leaving a
trail of destruction. Then, as we were licking our wounds and regrouping, they returned with some of their friends. The horde that
met us in battle was close to three times our size. We fought, and we killed a good deal of the Dothraki scum, but in the end they
completely eradicated us.”

“And King Sam?” Loki asked.

“Dead,” Magneto said, “He perished in the second attack; I buried him myself.”

‘One less opponent to worry about at least,’ Luthor thought, but kept those thoughts wisely to himself; it did indeed make things
more likely that Sam’s bannermen could now become unexpected allies, having lost their precious leader and all. “That trick you
used getting here,” he finally asked, refering to Magneto coming in out of the sky, “Is that how you got away?”

“It is.”

“Can you teach us?”

“No.”

An uneasy silence fellow. Then Magneto explained: “It is not something learned, and it’s no form of magic; it’s a form of a talent
I have – and as such it cannot be transferfed or taught to anyone else.”

“A pity,” Loki said absently.

“I think we should focus on the matter at hand,” Luthor suggested, “Which is why we’ve gathered here. Magneto has a proposition to
make, and at this point I am very tempted to listen, as long as the Lannister Family ultimately benefits from it.”

“The Lannister Family indeed,” Magneto said with a snarky grin.

“Is there a problem, Magneto?” Hannibal asked, somewhat agitated at Magneto’s tone of voice.

“The reason why I’ve come here isn’t to drive back the Dothraki invaders,” Magneto continued, “Or rather, that is only part of the
reason. The real reason why I’ve come is because we are all kindred spirits, except for one thing: you do not yet remember.”

“Remember?” Luthor asked. The others had no no idea what he was talking about either. An agitated Draco Malfoy spoke up, slamming
his fist on the table: “Are we going to sit here and listen to this loon? He’s talking nonsense, that should be obvious! Why do we
listen to this instead of marching on King’s Landing?!”

“You’d do best to respect your elders, brat,” Magneto said, silencing the boy with a deadly glare, “You may have been a King
yesterday, but today you are little more than a spoiled brat. If you hope to reclaim back the past, you would do wisely to listen
when people speak, instead of making up your own mind without knowledge.”

“Draco, if you so much as speak again without my consent, I’ll have you tossed out the window directly,” Luthor spoke, making sure
the boy stayed silent, “I for one am still interested in what Magneto has to say; remember what, old man? It’s time you start
making sense.”

Magneto nodded and looked at them one by one, addressing them as he made eye contact: “Lex Luthor, CEO of LexCorp. Hannibal Smith,
leader of the A-Team. Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy and Wizard of Slytherin. Loki Laufeyson, Trickster God and enemy of Thor.
Captain Jack Sparrow, of the Black Pearl, pirateborn.”

“Well, that didn’t make any sense at all,” Hannibal said, “A-Team, what..?!”

“He was right about the enemy of Thor bit,” Loki disagreed.

“And the pirate thing,” Jack Sparrow added.

“Wizard? What nonsense!” Draco sighed.

“Why do you give us these titles?” Lex asked.

“Because they are your true titles and identity, the ones you have forgotten,” Magneto went on, “All of you are not of this world;
you were cast here, in different roles, to lead different lives, a prisoner in another life so to say, just like me. You literally
are living a lie!”

Hannibal laughed.

“If it’s a lie, then why do I remember every bit of it so clearly?” Loki asked, “Why do I remember that man as my father? This my
brother?!”

“Do you really?” Magneto retorted, “Don’t you find it strange that you call them father and brother, yet you all have completely
different names? That none of you is even really called Lannister? Don’t you think it odd that the same goes for the Starks? For
the late King? Do you really remember your whole life, your childhood, everything… or are there pieces missing? As if you’re
given a life to lead, but not every detail was fleshed out..?”

There was a silence. He had gotten them to think. That was good.

“Your true selves were hidden… not erased, but hidden, so there is a way to restore you. At least your thoughts, the way I have
recovered mine. It requires me to enter your minds briefly, just superficially, and awaken your slumbering selves. It will be
painful, bot only briefly.”

“As if!” Draco shouted.

“What you say is nonsense, and even if it’s not, I will not permit anyone to mess with my mind!” Loki agreed.

“But I will,” Lex Luthor unexpectedly said, “I sense an odd truth in your words, and I want to know what this madness leads to.
The question is: what do you want in return?”

Magneto smirked. “As I told you: an alliance. To rid ourselves of our enemies. I’ll need your cooperation and unique talents to
uncover a weapon hidden in the war south. One that can eradicate our enemies singlehandedly.”

“Do it,” Luthor said, walking up to Magneto, “But if you lie or trick us, Hannibal will slay you himself.”

“That will not be needed,” Magneto replied, placing his hand to his forehead. He didn’t need to go deep, just to brush against
Luthor’s subconsciousness and find his true self, awaken it… and he quickly succeeded in doing so. Luthor screamed in response,
the pain was sharp… but brief. And then he stood silent, staring at his own hands. “Well?” Magneto asked.

“I see now…” he said, “Not everything, but pieces of it; so you were telling the truth. And we really are so very far away from
home. In a land that is damned.” – he paused. “Awaken the others. Now.”

The others reluctantly agreed, and Magneto repeated what he had done, awakening their dormant selves, restoring their memories.
The confusion and frustration were great. “It is done,” Magneto said, “There are pieces you won’t remember yet, but your full
memories will return in due time. Then you will understand everything.”

“What I understand is that my brother is finally dead,” Loki said, “That by itself is a good thing.”

“What I understand is that someone is not really agreeing with our philosophy anymore,” Draco said, pointing at Hannibal Smith,
who was edging towards the door, “Kill him!”

“Child’s play,” Loki grinned, reaching for his spear and tossing it. Hannibal saw it coming, but it was too late… the deadly
weapon pierced his chest and went straight through him, pinning him to the door he was moving towards. After a few last gasps he
stopped moving. “Back to business?” Loki proposed.

“Indeed,” Luthor grinned, “I love it when a plan comes together…”

Chapter XXIII – SUPER! The truth about Clark Kent! (may contain spoilers about Clark Kent)

Yuna watched from a distance as the royal council was in session, lead by Clark Kent. He truly had come a long way from a young boy to King of 

The North, and yet his destiny had still not been reached, she was convinced of that. Still, with every passing day she could feel him drifting
away from her, further and further, as if they no longer belonged to each other. Sensing her discomfort in this, the household advisor Gandalf
stepped up to them, whispering: “You will have to tell him sooner or later, you know.”

“I know,” she said, “But he’s already so troubled, why should I burden him with this some more; it might upset everything he’s worked for, that
we’ve worked for.”

“So better to tell him now, while his position is still young. He deserves to know, as do the others, in time – but that is his decision to
make.”

“But is he really ready?” Yuna asked.

Gandalf flashed her a smile. “The question is more: are you..?”

She had no immediate response to that and sighed softly. “You’re right as usual. I will tell him after the meeting.”

“Good,” Gandalf said, “But only tell him what he must, I will do the rest – bid him to visit me tonight and I shall make sure he knows of his
destiny.”

She nodded and left at that, needing time to prepare herself as well.

The meeting went well from what she could gather. The North was stabilising, keeping its borders closed while preparing for a bigger war. Winter
was coming, but this time so were the flames of war, and they needed to be prepared. After the meeting was ended and the noble lords began to
leave, she bid Clark to stay a little longer, and so he did, though he was a bit puzzled as to the reason why. “Something I must share,” she
explained.

“What then, mother? You can share anything with me.”

She sighed again. “I know, my boy, but this is something different, for it might destabilise your kingship, as well as this family. In fact I
know it will.”

“Nonsense! Nothing can shake us, mother, nothing!”

“There is something I have been meaning to tell you though,” she said, “And I want you to listen well to what I have to say, for it is the truth
about this family. A secret we’ve carried for so long, but one you must know now.”

Now Clark sat down, realising something was really amiss. “What is it then, tell me and I will accept it…”

“You know how your father returned all those years ago with a green-skinned son, Piccolo. We’ve raised him as our own, but the truth is, he is
not our son.”

“You never did acknowledge him,” Clark nodded.

“No, not just a bastard child, he is a child of neither of us, he was found. And brought in. The Doctor wanted it, but I did not. But we did so
anyway.”

Clark said nothing.

“The truth is, he was not the only one that was found,” Yuna continued, still a bit reluctant, “A few years later when we were riding outside our
horses were alarmed by an explosion, I nearly fell; The Doctor was curious of course, and went to investigate. The one thing he did find that day
was you.”

“Me?” Clark asked.

“Yes. A lone baby, left behind; I felt sorry for seeing it, so I talked to him about it. We decided to take you in.”

“Are you saying you’re not my family?” Clark asked, “It is all a lie… my brothers and sisters, they are not real? Even my claim to this Throne
of the North, it is not real?!”

Yuna shook her head. “No, Clark – that is one thing that is real. The lords of these lands did not accept you because you are a Stark, but
because you lead them against the Lannisters, united these lords under you – that is what it takes to be a king. We will tell them the truth
after you have accepted it, but you need not worry about your throne.”

“I am not, dammit!” he said, “I worry about my family that is not real! About how your children are not my family anymore!”

“Actually…” she continued, “They are nog my children either; Juvia was found, abandoned at our doorstep years ago, so we took her in as well;
and Little Lucy is really Tony’s child – but he abandoned her when he left for the Wall, asked us to raise her as our own. And we did.”

“And Goku,,?”

“Adopted orphan.”

Clark Kent had nothing to say. The truth was hard to him, but he knew it had to be just as hard on her – raising all these children, especially
with the Doctor now gone, and none of them really hers. What a burden to wear. “I am not angry,” he said finally.

“There is something more,” she added, “Something about your true heritage and your destiny; but it not for me to tell. I ask you to visit Gandalf
tonight. He will tell you everything, show you everything. Then you will understand.”

He nodded. “Very well. I will do that then.”

That evening he left the castle, claiming to the guards that he needed some fresh airs. The guards reluctantly accepted that he went out without
an escort or companion, but obeyed anyway. After that he rushed immediately into the Godswood, where Gandalf lived – for he did not like to live
in Winterfell. “Welcome, young lord, I was expecting you,” Gandalf greeted.

“Then you must know why I am here as well.”

Gandalf nodded. “That I do. It is a day I anticipated with both joy and dread, but I knew it would come soon. You are ready to know now, boy.”

“Know what? That I am not a Stark?”

“That you are not one of us men,” Gandalf corrected, “You come from someplace beyond. Someplace beyond even the realm of The Ponies.”

“Excuse me?” Clark asked, flabbergasted, “I found the Lady Yuna’s words hard enough to swallow, but now you decide to spin me fairytales, old
man? I did not come here for that.”

“Take off your shirt,” Gandalf commanded.

“Excuse me?!”

“Do not pretend ignorance, boy,” Gandalf spoke sternly, “I know all about the birth mark on your chest, the one you so desperately try to hide
from your brothers and sisters and all others.”

“I… you do..?”

“I put it there, after all,” Gandalf said, “Now show me. I will need to know if it is still intact.”

Clark nodded and removed his shirt. “Of course it is…” he said, “Why wouldn’t it be..?”

Gandalf inspected the symbol on his chest, a circular sign adorned with trees and leaves. “Because it’s not a birth mark but a seal,” he
explained, “A ward to seal away your true powers. A power that will be needed soon.”

“You confuse me, Gandalf,” Clark said, “What powers? What do you mean?”

“Yuna told you that The Doctor and her found you,” Gandalf began to explain, “And this much is true. They were startled by an explosion, and went
to investigate, finding a crater with a strange pod inside. Inside that pod they found you… they did not know why you were there, or where you
had come from, but two things quickly became clear: that you were beyond this world, and that your power was as well.”

“Again,” Clark repeated, “What do you mean? I get it I am special now, but I have never had any sort of power or whatever…”

“The powers you possess where a strange ability to levitate, and a strength that was stronger than the strongest beast known. It was dangerous,
and you could not control it at this young age, so your parents sent for me and I agreed to seal this power, using a ritual of the Old Gods.”

Now it was beginning to make sense to Clark and he nodded: “The seal.”

“Yes,” Gandalf continued, “The seal was made by me with the ritual of the Old Ones, and only I can resolve it. And now that you know the truth,
the time has also come to do this – and to make sure that you know the truth.”

“What is required?” Clark asked.

Gandalf held up the palm of his hand, pouring an odd liquid over it, then using his finger to draw symbols in his palm, which gave off a weak
green glow. “All that is required for you to not resist, and for me to press this elixer of ancient components to your chest, while speaking the
name of the Old Gods. That will dissolve the seal and restore your true self.”

“Very well,” Clark said, “I accept. Proceed, old man.”

Gandalf nodded and did as he has said, pressing his hand against Clark’s chest and muttering the names of the older gods. The glow spread to
Clark’s chest and seemed to be absorbed by it. Then the light faded and the room was darken again. “It is done,” Gandalf said, “Your true
strength is restored. May you use it wisely.”

Clark Kent put his shirt back on carefully, then looked for something to try out his strength, to see if Gandalf’s eccentric claims were true. He
found a heavy barrrel of water in the corner of the room and tried to lift it with both hands. This went surprisingly easy, in fact he could held
it lifted with one hand alone. “Amazing…” he gasped, marveled at this himself, “You really did mean it…”

“There is no sense in crafting such lies,” Gandalf smiled, “Now, what will you do?”

“End this senseless war,” Clark almost immediately said, “Bring the Lannisters to justice and make sure no one will rise up again.”

Gandalf’s smile remained, but he spoke more seriously: “Are you certain? That sounds more like an usurper than a just ruler to me. Do you really
believe your strength was meant for that?”

Clark Kent had no answer.

“There are enemies in this world that move unseen,” Gandalf continued, “Like you they too are beyond men, and biding their time. With the
approaching Winter they will make their move soon, so they must not know your true strength. It could be a valuable asset. Will you keep your
identity hidden a little longer, Clark Kent?”

“I will keep my power hidden for this purpose,” Clark replied, “But I will tell the lords that I am no true Stark. They deserve to know and make
their decision based on that. Tomorrow I shall inform them.”

Gandalf’s smile grew a little wider. “A wise choice, young lord. You will make a fine king yet.”

Clark nodded and bade his goodbye to the old man, then returned to Winterfell. Today had given him plenty of things to think about, including how
to move forward in the future. Winter was coming, and it would be harsh and full of surprises, this much he knew now.

wayne

Clark Kent.

Clark Kent.

(word count: 40062)