Chapter Text
The last sight Violet Finch had of her home was the startling bright green eyes of a young man looking up from his phone before the silent electric car ploughed into her and she started flying. In her last moments of consciousness, Violet cursed herself for not looking as well as listening when she was crossing the road...then again she could cut herself some slack. What kind of fucking moron was on their phone whilst driving at that kind of speed through a residential area. She had the briefest moment of regret that she'd never be able to play finish her Baldur's Gate 3 characters story. Would her friends do the Elder Brain fight without her?
Violet Finch impacted the low brick wall of the street and something very important snapped. The darkness came quickly, thankfully before the pain could get its claws in her.
When Violet awoke, a pretty weird thing to be happening already...she was awake for all of three seconds before a tidal wave of information quite promptly dropped on her and her brain shut down again to keep her alive. She wasn't quite sure how long passed after that, but as her brain worked to sort through the information, she found herself standing in a void filled with stars that seemed to stretch out of sight. It was very pretty but she only had a few moments to admire it before she heard a throat being cleared behind her.
Spinning around, Violet found herself looking at a figure dressed in white though...a figure was the best description she had for it honestly as the entity kept shifting height, face, width and gender between every blink of her eyes. The figure raised a hand and then swept it across their waist and bowed. "Greetings Violet Finch, we...are the Seven Who Are One. Just one..or Seven if you will...of the Gods of Westeros, one of our aspects plucked you from your destination to grant you a chance to live the life you wanted..with the hope that you will in turn..." the figure frowned a little, cocking it's head to one side "...do us a solid?"
Violet couldn't contain the snort of laughter at this...well it might be a hallucination but if it was the idea of a God of Feudal Westeros trying to use modern slang was fucking hilarious. And...well if it was a hallucination...it was pretty wild.
The figure briefly settled on the face of a matronly looking woman with laughter lines at the corners of her mouth and crows feet, her smile warm and genuine. "I can confirm that we are not a hallucination Violet Finch. If it makes it easier to accept this reality though, you may think of us as such."
Violet shook her head a little with a little titter of laughter, feeling the warmth radiating from the figure as warm and gentle as a hug. "Ok...so..right let's assume I accept this is really happening and I'm not just dead or in a coma or...I don't know bleeding out and my brain is stretching out my last moment...what do you want me to do for you?"
The figure's form shifted, starting to cycle through each of the Seven, then changing further and taking on different aspects. A buxom maiden with the face of a Crone...a majestic Lord with the rough hands of a smith..."We want you to exist..and do as conscious dictates. Humans have free will...yet if what will take place follows the path the song has lain out..we fear the decline that will follow. We hope your very presence will change the world to be something else, we may not be able to interfere directly..but we have held our ability to alter the world in reserve for quite some time."
Violet's mouth opened slightly as the realisation hit. "That's it...that's why your priests can't do magic or miracles....you were..what..saving power?"
The figure nodded and shrugged at the same time. "Whilst R'hllor allows his priests to access power at a constant stream so it never builds up...and the Great Other continues to pour everything she has into their great gambit..we have saved and scrimped and done little so that when the time comes we may not only bring our chosen forth...but also equip them with the power they need."
"Ok? And what power is it you are giving me? Also...the whole being a woman thing isn't going to help me get anything done. Thanks to your fucking book..."
Violet's face twisted into a frown at the thought of what she knew about the Faith of the Seven from both the books, show and wiki which was hardly presented in a positive light.
The figure seemed to slump. "We confess, the rate at which our original words were adapted to serve the agender of the Septon's was surprising even for us. Our original intent was.." the figure stopped and shook their head. "..it hardly matters now. The faith of the Seven in this world is not something we recognise for all that the prayers of the true faithful still empower us. As to the power we will grant you..." the figure held out their hand and what looked like a flaming twenty sided dice formed hovering a few inches above their open palm. With a flick of their fingers, the D20 closed the gap and struck Violet in the chest where very suddenly she felt like her veins were filled with fire.
"The power of your...'modded'...forgive me I do not understand that word...persona you invested hours of time and love into. You are intimately familiar with your new capabilities and unless we miss our guess....the length of this conversation has given enough time for the soft meat of your brain to absorb the knowledge of the soul you will be replacing." The figure gave her a smile, the face settling on that of the comely maid once more, her skin youthful and filled with the lustre of life.
Violet shook her head wildly. "Hang on! Replacing a soul? i'm not fucking killing someone by coming into this world am I?"
The figure..the Seven Who Were One..she supposed smiled sadly and shook their head. "No, Violet Finch. The young man who's body you will be inhabiting is the second grandson of Lord Lyman Beesbury, originally the young man fell sick of the red pox and died but in this case...our aspect of the Stranger has whisked his soul away and will be putting your soul back in it's place."
Violet nodded before what the figure said fully registered. "Young MAN!..." Before anymore words could be spoken, the figure snapped their fingers and Violet found herself feeling the sensation of a reasonably soft bed beneath her and a body that felt strangely big...also...what the fuck was that feeling of pressure around her groin?"
"Oh fuck me." her voice was different, deeper and raspier and damn she was thirty. Opening her...well...his eyes Violet looked down at her hands, larger than her original ones and rough with dozens of tiny scars and rough from handling sword, lance and polearm. Memories hit her, she was Bernard Beesbury...though more commonly known as Ben and she was sixteen years old. Well, six and ten if she was going to talk like one of the locals. She had been knighted a year ago after squiring for Lord Donald Tarly for four years and now...now she had arrived at King's Landing to participate in the Wedding Tournament of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen at the behest of her Grandfather Lyman Beesbury the Master of Coin.
Memories of hours spent in the training yard both learning how to wield sword, axe and hammer alongside even more hours with lance in hand aiming for the small wooden rings that dangled as targets...well she at least had the muscle memory but as Violet...as Ben stood up she stumbled a little, not adjusting for the fact that she was taller and had different weight distribution compared to her previous body which had been...petite.
Deciding figuring out the walking thing could happen first, Violet started pacing a circle around the room at a walk, taking it at a steady pace and relearning how to shift her weight. A sudden knock at the door made her stumble and a voice called through, one of the servants that had been assigned to tend to the young Knights and second sons who had been given rooms on this floor of the Red Keep. Of course it went without saying that Violet had only been given a room due to her connections to Lord Beesbury and his own role on the small council.
"Ser Beesbury? Are you well?" Violet quickly scanned through her memories of the last few days. Ah, yes she had been sick with the red spot...so chicken pox in all likeyhood or maybe measles? Either way, she had been sick and now...Violet realised she was clad only in a pair of sleep pants with a well muscled torso or pale skin exposed to the air. Fuck, she was hot... The skin clear of any marks of Measles or chicken pox..so likely her soul transfer had also been healing then?
"Yes thank you. I am much recovered." Violet became very aware of the hardness between her legs then as the memory of the maid outside the door came to mind and the way she had...well the woman had curves and being fifteen and male apparently an errant thought was all it took for her new body to respond.
"Praise the Seven, your Lord Grandfather feared you would pass. I shall inform Lord Beesbury of your recovery Ser, perhaps if you would like to join your grandfather to break your fast?"
Violet...Ben...fuck she needed to start thinking of herself as Ben. A man. A Knight in Westeros...with magic. She really needed some time to experiment with the magic, well at least she had about fifteen years or so before the Dance started to try to make things maybe a little less awful. If nothing else she would have to stop Aemond from burning the Riverlands to ashes, how many people died in Vhagar's flames or in the starvation that followed. Anyway..."Yes. I shall do so, thank you Sara." Ben heard a slight giggle from the other side of the door as the maid muttered something and seemed to depart.
Turning towards the neatly folded clothes atop the cedar chest at the bottom of the bed, Violet let her body dress itself with the ease of long practise. A white linen shirt with a black doublet over the top decorated with bees stitched with yellow thread, probably took a long time to make but frankly Violet was happy that it probably put some money into some poor smallfolk's pocket. The outfit completed by fitted trousers and a pair of sturdy black boots, the dagger fitted snugly into its sheath at the small of Violet's back and when she picked up the swordbelt it felt incredibly familiar. This was the blade she...well her body...fuck she needed to get a handle on this...this was the blade she had carried for more than a year through every challenge she had since she had been raised to Knighthood.
Buckling it around her waist, Violet...Ben...felt a sense of comfort from the familiar weight of the blade as they left their rooms and sought out the apartments of the Master of Coin. As Violet walked she became aware that more than one maid or other servant had stopped to look at her as she walked past and giggles had followed her. Well, she hadn't seen a mirror yet but if her new face was anything like her body it was probably due to her being the Knighted second son of a respectable noble house with a connection to the Master of Coin and...ah...Sorcerers used Charisma as their primary stat...had that translated into her new form?
Well, she was sure she'd find out.
Lyman Beesbury studied Violet for several long moments before a smile broke out on the old man's face. From from she remembered her new grandfather was only about sixty years old but his responsibility as Master of Coin and likely just life in General in Westeros had made him look far older than that. The table between them was filled with fish, soft bread, butter, cheese, berries, honey and other dishes that remained under covers for now and Lyman eagerly encouraged Violet to fill her plate, which she gladly did. Her body had not eaten much whilst sick and it had burned a lot of energy fighting against whatever had ended up killing Ben's soul.
"It pleases this old man to see you hale and healthy once more Ben, do you feel well enough to participate in the tournament?" Lyman looked at Violet over the rim of his goblet as he took a sip of wine, then starting to slather honey onto a piece of bread and cutting the crusts off.
"I do, Grandfather. I wish to honour House Beesbury and start making a name for myself." Which wasn't entirely wrong either. Violet wanted to make changes and to do that, she couldn't be an obscure second son of a son of a second son. She needed to be known and even if Ben Beesbury had been skilled with lance and blades, she had magic that would tip the scales in a way that was not obvious. True Strike would just aid her accuracy without needing to spend any of her stored magical power and that boost alone would likely see her do better than Ben would ever normally have. Enhance Ability, Telekinesis or even Power Word: Stun were all also tools in her arsenal.
It of course helped that this would be Ben's first outing in a tournament and so any sudden improvements would not be commented on. With the Wedding Feast that very night as well, Violet would be able to figure out if they were in Book-verse or Show-verse, because at that point she could decide whether she could throw herself fully behind Rhaenyra if they were in show-verse...with maybe a few nudges in the right direction...and if they were in book-verse...well there were a few things she would need to do then to maybe nudge Rhaenyra along and let Jace become King.
"Well, I have exchanged Ravens with your brother whilst you journeyed to King's Landing and he has agreed as you have not shown a preference for aiding Alan as Steward of Honeyholt...you shall instead remain at Court here in King's Landing. Hopefully, we shall find you a good match, a good performance in the lists and the melee if you choose to enter it with certainly aid in securing a marriage. A second or third daughter of a larger house...you would have to take their name perhaps..." Lyman looked at Violet carefully as he spoke, popping a piece of honeyed bread in his mouth as he waited for Ben to reply.
"Of course Grandfather, I serve at your pleasure."
Lyman nodded once more, taking another sip of wine and gesturing for Violet to load up her plate. "Very well then, we shall discuss this matter more after the Royal Wedding. For now, eat and then I might suggest heading down to the training yard. I have no doubt Ser Laenor is down there right now and offering a new sparring partner may be just what the future Prince-Consort requires."