281 AC

"I wouldn't do that if I was you."

Lyanna Stark found herself frozen, having been in the middle of attempting to armor herself in the mix-matched pieces that her little brother Benjen had helped her to acquire. She was to defend the honor of a crannogman by defeating three knights whose squires had bullied the small man. She would ransom back their armor and horses once she won, requiring that they chastise their squires for the behavior in order get them back. So that she could dress without anyone interrupting her, she'd chosen this dark empty room.

She didn't expect someone to walk in on her.

He was sick looking, his skin scaly like that of a lion-lizard, making her worried that he suffered from greyscale and his eyes were a bright yellow, nearly shinning in the darkness of the shadow that he sat in. He wore clothes that were similar to what she'd seen from some of the Dornish men that were here at the Tourney, though with far darker colors that looked to seep into the shadow. He looked to be between her own age and that of the Crown Prince Rhaegar.

"Who are you?" Lyanna certainly wasn't going to be caught on the back foot by some scaly southerner. "How dare you enter this room! Leave now and I won't tell my father of this." Part of her was annoyed that she needed to bring her father into a conversation as a threat, she would prefer if she was just taken as one.

"I apologize for my inappropriate arrival, Lady Stark," He smiled and his dirty teeth made the young girl's skin crawl. "I just thought to warn you that such armor was dangerous to use, its fit may just cause you to stumble at the wrong time." Even with his fiendish features, the man looked to be genuine in his concern.

"I thank you for the advice, but you have no right to be here and to voice them."

Suddenly the man clapped his, within a single second dark purple smoke cloaked over Lyanna and her set of armor. It felt like tingles ran up her spine as she watched what was once a mix-matched armor set, that truly was an ill-fit for her, was turned into a matching green set that fit her like it had been made for her. All set to match her new shield, still engraved with the image of a white weirwood with a laughing red face.

"There we go, much better." He stood up, his height was around that of six feet. Towering over the young girl but he was so limber and thin that Lyanna wondered if the man had been eating well. "I don't like bullies and this armor is much less likely to catch the attention of the… Mad King."

"Then I offer you my thanks," Lyanna was confused and a bit ashamed. If it had been any other man she wouldn't have been so taken back his physical appearance, but her state of dress played a role in that. "But just who are you to have magic like so?" From what the Maesters had told her, magic had disappeared from this world with dragons. This whole meeting started to take on a whole new aspect for the young girl.

"Oh, just… a friend of the downtrodden," He told her, a twirl of his hand and the room was lit with light. She could now see his features in a much clearer light. No longer was she worried that he was sick with greyscale, but instead, she was thinking that he wasn't a human. "But another word of warning for you, Lyanna Stark." It was almost spoken as a question, was she willing to heed his next words.

"I am willing to listen." The man had done her a boon with this armor especially if it kept away the attention of the Mad King from her. Him being some magic creature just added to his mystique.

"No doubt you've listened to the beautiful voice of Prince Rhaegar?" Lyanna nodded at the man who frowned at this news. "I wouldn't trust the man, he's as mad as his father, but with a different flavor."

"I've heard no such rumor."

"That is because the arrogance of men," He scoffed sitting back on his shadowy seat. "They see only what he does, and don't think about what he's said in the past. His obsession also appears more benign than his father's brand of paranoia. He believes his son Aegon is the Prince that was Promised."

"I-" Lyanna wasn't sure how to take such news. While this could be a lie, there was very little reason for this magical person to make one. "I don't understand how that's as bad." She eventually replied. Believing in some nonsense like that didn't sound any different than listening to the Southern Gods instead of the Old Gods to her.

"Because he mixes it with other prophecies, ones about three-headed dragons. Which he links to sisters that will be his son's wives."

"Oh," That sounded a bit worrying to her ears. While it was standard practice between the Royal Family, it wasn't something that other families liked or even smiled upon. "I'm glad for the warning but I'm unsure why you've given me it."

This sounded like it should have been given to her father as a warning for how to treat with the future King. She couldn't imagine that she'd be meeting with him often, even if she did become Robert's Lady.

"Because if you go through with this plan of yours, he'll name you the queen of love and beauty."

There was a bead of silence in the room. Lyanna found herself flattered at this thought, that the handsome Prince would choose her over his wife but with the recent knowledge of this 'maddness' the Prince had. She could connect the dots.

Elia Martell couldn't give birth to another child… and Rhaeger needed another girl for his son.

"Once more, I will take this warning with some clout." As she looked back into the shadowy corner, she only found that man was no longer there, he vanished into thin air. But she was a young girl, her head full of tales and deeds. Of stories about men and wizards.

282 AC

There he was, deary laying down on a bed, near death and going in and out of awareness. This was an event that was going to stay with Petyr Baelish for the rest of his life, the pain from his wounds was far beyond the worse thing he'd felt in this short life of his. He had challenged for the hand of his beloved Cat. Catelyn Tully, who had been promised to a Northern Barbarian of House Stark.

The Heir, Brandon Stark.

Sadly for Petyr, the man that some called Littlefinger, he had not the training nor the age needed to kill or even defeat the Nothern Heir, and it was only thanks to the kindness of Cat, who begged for his life that he survived the duel. Though the Maester told him, while he was awake, that he'd be scarred for life.

But he'd gotten something out of this affair. The first night of Catelyn Tully.

That was something that those barbarians would never be able to take from him. Though his actions had angered Lord Hoster Tully, not the bedding his daughter, he wasn't aware of that. No, his challenging Brandon Stark for Cat's hand. That was something the Lord had made clear and he was being sent home for this.

"You know, it didn't happen?" A cold voice spoke out. Petyr looked over to where it came from, only seeing cold yellow eyes. More animal-like than human, it caused a sudden shift to Baelish's mind and now the young man was wide awake. "Sleeping with Catelyn Tully. That never happened."

"Oh, is that so." Petyr could feel himself clam up, he could only go along with this stranger. It might have been someone those barbarians sent to finish him off. "I've never thought I had."

"Don't play games with me, LittleFinger." The figure stood, his frame was bathed in shadow. "I know what you're thinking, I can read your mind as if it was a book."

"This man must take me-" He began to think, but found something that took his breath away.

"-For a fool!" The stranger finished his thoughts at the same moment he had them. "You're an open book to me, Littlefinger. Every little secret you have. I already know it, even the secrets that you don't know."

"And why should I believe you over my own memories?" Perhaps it was the Milk Of the Poppy that was stopping him from panicking from that point on. This was something if it got out, would end in his death… and perhaps Catelyn's own. It may be better if he was not to argue this with this stranger.

"That matters not," The figure shook his head, long brown hair, it was well-kept, and tied up shook along with it. "What matters is what you want… future Lord Baelish?"

"I want Catelyn," The young man from the Fingers whispered, "To be happy with me." Tears had started running down his eyes and his vision become blurry.

"I can do only one of those things," The figure stepped into Petyr's vision fully now, their form ghastly. The skin of a lizard and eyes to match, combined with bags under those man's eyes, that even though he was a man not any older than he, the man was skinny too, it all made him look sick and underfed. "But for a price."

"Why should I believe that you could even grant me that?" Even drugged as he was, Petyr Baelish had a mind for manipulation. He wasn't going to be played by some freak. "Why should I think you can do anything!" It was nearly a yell from his mouth, but with a flick of this man's wrist, he found himself incapable of speaking anymore.

"Eh, eh, ah," The young man waggled his finger at the future Lord. "We don't want any unwelcomed company do we?" He sat on the very bed that Baelish was laid out on. Though just on the side of it. "Now, I don't think that the little mute treatment I gave you will be enough to convince you of my power?"

Petyr found himself nodding at this statement. After all, this could just be a well-timed coincidence of drugs and injury coming together in order to look like magic. Make it look like this mysterious stranger had taken his voice.

"Very well," With a single clap of this man's hands, the injured man found himself engulfed in smoke. It felt being washed by a warm stream and his flesh felt was being pulled back together. "Hows the chest feeling now, Littlefinger?" He ended this sentence with a gleeful laugh that sent chills down Petyr's spine.

It sounded like strangled cats.

The young would-be lover of Catelyn suddenly felt refreshed, like he had when first looked at Catelyn and knew that he loved her. He tore through is bedclothes, expecting to see the blood or even the stitching of his wounds over his torso. The wounds that Brandon Stark had called a 'Token', but they weren't there. Only smooth skin greeted his eyes.

He was fully healed, not even a mark. This man was truly magical.

"A small taste of my power," Another laugh that shook the young Baelish, who only found himself growing tired suddenly, his eyes shutting slightly. "But how about it," There was a bang on the room's only table, causing Petyr to reopen his eyes fully and there in front of him was a sheet of paper. "Do we have a deal?"

"I get what I want?" Petyr asked, his mouth suddenly dry at the thought.

"More," Dirty teeth grinned at the formerly injured man. "There's a price, but it's only working for me on the sly for a… few years. And for that, you get money, you get power and you get her happiness." It was phrasing that Petyr didn't think about.

Petyr found himself taking the quill without thought. His soul had been hurt by this, by his dear Cat being forced to leave him because he hadn't been good enough to defeat a barbarian. It wouldn't happen again, not with this deal. Petyr never did think about why him, he never thought about what reason would a being like this want from him? But he was too taken by the power placed in front of him, if he could take it for himself, then he'd have everything.

"What may I call my new lord?"

"Peader."

It would take some years, but eventually, Petyr Baelish would realize that he never did read that document he signed. But by then, it was already over.

276 AC

Two young girls entered a tent. It was a way into a forest located somewhere in the Westerlands. The duo was here because rumor had a witch lived here, and she could see into the future. The two girls names were Cersei Lannister, daughter of Tywin Lannister, Lord of the Westerlands and Warden of the West and the other was Melara Hetherspoon a friend of Cersei and a daughter of one of Lord Tywin's banner loads.

The tent that they entered was dark, so dark that they could only make out the yellow eyes of the sole occupant in it. For a moment both of the girls were frightened, but then one of them remember just who they were.

"Are you the witch?" Cersei asked her chin sticking out in a display of bravery. "I was told that you could see into the future. Tell me mine!" She demanded, standing out straight in what only a young child was think was intimidating.

A mad crackling coming from those eyes caused Melara to flee from the tent in fright, the sound was that chilling, it was that dreadful. But for Cersei, she could do nothing but feel her feet rooted to the spot. Like the air had frozen her solid.

"Are you sure, Dear?" A shill Male voice asked the remaining girl. "Futures change with the breeze, but once told they get harder to change." There was a teasing air to this tone, but even with all that Cersei felt the need to ask.

"You're not a woman, are you even a witch?"

"Oh, the last owner of this place was, she just left me… with her secrets," Then came that dreadful laugh once more, as this man came from the shadows. He looked to only be her senior by five years, barely on the cusp of being a man. He seemed to suffer from greyscale, though he was an odd color of gold. He was wearing nothing but animal cloaks on his person and they looked to be of poor cut and stitch. "So if it is the future you seek, I can give you it."

"But you won't?" Cersei could tell that this man was trying to stop her from getting what she wanted. "My Father owns these lands, tell me what I want or I'll have your yellow eyes taken out of your head."

"Oh dear," He walked towards her suddenly, his golden scaled skin glittered in the suddenly lit candlelight. "I suppose that I have no choice but to tell you. Come here then, child." He stopped at a basin. A full one, filled with water.

"You have three questions," He told her, rolling his head as he did so, his short brown hair suddenly jumped up as he did so. Cersei felt a giggle come to her, the scene looking funny to her young mind as it broke her image of this man so unexpectedly. With a hand, the man-witch gathered a bit of water and stroked his hair back down.

"Now," The man said, a grin of white teeth marked the first bit of pure color in the room. "I was at the three questions, but before you get yours I must get… a lock of hair," he pointed at the young girl's beautiful locks.

Without questioning this, the young Lannister took on stray hair strand off her dress, handing it over to the strange Man-Witch. But he frowned, looking at it with a glare when he suddenly bit it and spat out into the basin.

"Before you start, just a bit of advice."

"What?" Cersei found herself rolling her eyes. After all, what advice a poor Man-Witch give to her, the daughter of the richest House in All the Seven Kingdoms.

"Never give a witch, a wizard or a sorcerer anything from your body willingly," He twirled his hand and then the basin lit up with light. Glowing gold. "They could do anything with it, like a curse but only I can give you this!"

There was a time where there was nothing but silence that was being shared between the two.

"Well," The groaned out, his hand to his face. "Your questions." he drolled out.

"Oh, right!" Cersei looked down at the basin, "When will I marry the Prince…" she continued to look down at the basin, but nothing was appearing. Near busting with rage she looked up to the Man-Witch.

"You could marry a King." He told her, his eyes closed a hand in the basin. "His hair as black as night."

"There is no such Royal family member?" Cersei asked, her voice shill.

"Is that your second question?" He asked, his smile widening.

"No!" Cersei yelled, her fist clenching. The young girl would not be taken for a fool like that. "I want to know how many children we'll have."

"You are at a crossroads with that," The basin water suddenly become like blood, and the Man-Witch raised his hand. It dripped. "Either your children will be three and gold-crowned, or three and black-crowned. If gold… then you find their shrouds of gold too. If black then you will never see their shrouds." The Man-Witch smiled his teeth as bloody as his hands.

"What?" Cersei could feel her veins chill. Even in her young age, she could tell what that meant. She'd outlive them. "How… " The young girl tailed off, unsure what question to ask.

"How do they die?" His smile turned back a frown, as his eyes become softer. "This only applied to those of gold-crowns, just so you realize," then he sighed, "The first of poison during his wedding day. The second takes his own after the death of his queen."

"And the third?"

"Your little girl dies due to her grandfather's sins," Blood water soon turned to normal once more. The Man-Witch's hand drying in a single blow of the man's mouth. "What we do to others, may cause others to treat us like that."

"I don't understand," For the first time in her life, Cersei felt fear. For she could not deny this man. His yellow eyes pierced her very being and conveyed the truth of everything. "What sin does Father do to cause… his own grandaughter's death?"

"That… is someone else's future and I can't tell that," At the girl's tearful stare, the Man-Witch sighed and sat back down on his shadowy throne. "But I will say that if you let yourself be known as a kind lady, from those of the Highest to the Lowest in life, then your troubles may pass."

"Really?" The young Lannister found her self grasping for a breath she wasn't aware that she was holding. "It's that simple?"

"If you make it so," The Man-Witch waved his hand around until it found itself at his chin, "Now away with you, before your friend gets herself lost by straying from the forest's path. She'd still be close enough to spot from this tent if you leave now."

Once Cersei left, she started to think about what the Man-Witch has said. Finding the whole thing ridiculous. How could she ever have believed that nonsense from a Man-Witch? Cersei thought that he must have been a mummer with pretty light tricks.

But there was something about that man. So from then on… Cersei tried to be just a little bit nicer. Mostly she failed at it, but she tried.

Author's Note: So this is from my Big Bluebox of ideas thread over on the spacebattles forums. I liked it enough for me to give its own thread and now it's own place on this site. This here is about three posts that have been combined together, but from this point on, it will be one chapter one time period and not all this jumping around business. Though, chapters will get the 2.1, 2.2 and the like thing up to 3.

So, the premise is pretty guessable by anyone familiar with the crossover material here. I won't spoil it if people don't want to know about the details yet. The story will get into it eventually. Basically, the SI is manipulating everyone into doing certain things. Which is why certain things are weird...

You can already guess what few changes his appearances here have caused like with Melara?

Please review leave with your thoughts, I'd appreciate it.