Crossover fic: A Plethora of Piglets

[meridian_rose]

Title: A Plethora of Piglets
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker/Game of Thrones
Author: hrhrionastar and meridian_rose
Pairing/Characters: Young!Zedd/Salindra, a whole host of characters from the Midlands and some surprise guests from pre-series Westeros
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2000 approx
Notes: A birthday fic for pristineungift
Summary: During 'Wizard' Young!Zedd gets tipsy and works his Powerful Magic. Piglets ensue.
Warnings: None

Also at at LJ: The Palace of The Prophets and AO3




Zedd was enjoying himself. Everyone was having fun, and why wouldn't they be? His castle was filled with revellers, enjoying the young wizard's hospitality. The food was being consumed as quickly as he could provide it, and the drink, well, the kegs and pitchers were being filled by an automatic replenishing spell.

He raised his mug and smiled at Salindra; she nodded back, even as a young man whirled her around in a jig. Zedd didn't mind her dancing with anyone else here, so long as she didn't sleep with them. No more whoring for her. She was his now, his beloved, his queen.

"Who's in charge here?"

Zedd rolled his eyes. Someone annoyed about the noise? The last disgruntled guests who had turned up grumbling on the dance floor were currently dozing in one corner of the room. Their annoyance had been quickly soothed by cake and wine. This gentleman shouldn't be any different.

"I am in charge, good sir. I am Zeddicus Z'ul Zorander," Zedd said impressively. The man – a farmer, with worn clothes and filthy boots – appeared unmoved by Zedd's magnanimity in introducing himself. The world should know him already—soon there would be no one unfamiliar with the Great Wizard.

"Well, Zeddicus Z'ul Whatever, what do you think you're doing with all this racket? Whole bleeding castle up out of nowhere and all this grousing. It's upsetting me animals," the farmer complained.

Grousing? Zedd frowned. Carousing maybe? Perhaps if he hadn't imbibed quite so much already he'd have a better grasp of his vocabulary. "Animals, yes. And?"

"The cows won't come to be milked and the sheeps are all cowering in the bushes and all me pigs are run off, nowhere to be seen."

"Sheeps? Oh, sheep?" Zedd said, amused. A smile crossed his face at the mental image of tiny terrified lambs quivering in bushes, only to leap out at passersby.

"It's not funny, young man," the farmer said, glowering. "Pigs aren't cheap, you know."

"No, I'm sure they're not." Zedd had never had to consider the monetary value of swine before. "Look, have a drink and help yourself to the –"

"Ale isn't going to bring back me pigs."

Some people were so tiresome. Zedd sighed. "I'll give you pigs," he said, and muttered a few syllables of magic.

Piglets.

There were piglets everywhere. Piglets amongst the dancers. Piglets on the tables, knocking over mugs and scoffing down pastries. Piglets running and shrieking and oinking.

"What happened?" Salindra asked, lifting her skirts and carefully making her way over to him.

The man she'd been dancing with was shrieking as a piglet clung to his trouser leg with its teeth. Did piglets even have teeth?

Salindra rescued a piglet that was trying to drink what was left of Zedd's ale and had gotten its snout stuck, with all the aplomb of one born to rule.

Then she fixed Zedd with a meaningful look, half glare and half indulgent smile. "Well?"

"I think I spell got a bit muddled," Zedd mumbled, wincing as a piglet cannoned into a candle holder and it fell to the floor. "Bit too much wine had?"

"Yes," Salindra agreed. "I think you have."



Elsewhere, Zedd's companions were on their way to rescue him from the consequences of his own folly, witchwoman in tow.

Kahlan nearly tripped over the piglet suddenly in her path—Cara caught her arm, and the piglet happily started nibbling the hem of Kahlan's skirt.

Shota shrieked. She was looking white around the lips, and her hands were extended to send hostile magic toward the piglet. Apparently it frightened her even more than Cara's agiels did.

"Poor thing," Richard exclaimed, bending down to rescue the creature from Shota.

"Oh, look, there's another one!" Kahlan exclaimed, pointing upward.

A piglet blinked down at them from its perch in the tree just above their heads.

Richard handed the first piglet to Kahlan, who cradled it against her chest a little doubtfully. "I'll have to rescue our little friend," he said, preparing to climb the tree.

Cara rolled her eyes.



In Caddock, Queen Corah entered her chambers to find a piglet wearing her Rada'Han. The creature was small enough that the Rada'Han was loose around its middle.

It oinked when it saw her.

Corah laughed.



Children weren't allowed pets in Thandor, so Renn was surprised when a piglet popped into existence next to his goblet during lunch.

It knocked over his drink, spilling milk all over the tablecloth.

Renn wondered whether the Sisters of the Light had decided to celebrate the Westland custom Richard had told him about, 'Abrilfule' – a day of jokes and laughter…and piglets?

They had seemed a little disapproving when Renn suggested it, but maybe they'd changed their minds.

Renn wished he wasn't wearing his Rada'Han, so he could just look and see. Either way he'd just had a great idea for an Abrifule prank involving the piglet and Sister Marianna's bedlinen.



"Oh!" Annabelle pulled away from Flynn's embrace in surprise. A piglet was snuggled up in the tiny space between them.

She eyed it quizzically. It squirmed free of Annabelle and Flynn's entangled limbs, sniffing almost disdainfully.

"What do you think just happened?" Annabelle demanded.

Flynn shrugged easily. "One learns not to question these things," he said, but he got out of bed and shooed the piglet from their room at the inn.

Annabelle sat up, wrapping the sheet around her chest. "Don't you wonder?" she asked.

"After weeks travelling with the Seeker, the Mother Confessor, the First Wizard and that Mord'Sith," Flynn explained, "it'd take more than a spontaneously appearing piglet to surprise me."



Denna was just considering how best to capture General Grix when a piglet appeared on her desk and oinked at her.

She picked up her agiel without looking.

The animal's screams of agony were brief. Denna returned to work.



"Oh, where did you come from sweetheart?" Jennsen approached the piglet slowly. It tipped its head to look at her and grunted.

"There's some apples over here," Jennsen said encouragingly. "I'll look after you. If no-one claims you, I'll take care of you."

Which was good enough for the piglet; it waddled over and nuzzled at her outstretched hand.



In the Underworld, Darken Rahl was just giving some teenagers the once-in-a-lifetime offer of a return to the Land of the Living as banelings ("You'll only have to kill one person per day, and you can drive your chariot off a cliff into a rushing river and be washed up on a shore conveniently near where the Seeker and his merry band are taking their sweet time about finding the Stone of Tears any time you please! It's a bargain!"), when a screaming pink piglet appeared.

Darken raised a sardonic eyebrow. A piglet. The Underworld was for the souls of sentient lifeforms, although admittedly he had his doubts about those teenagers.

Regardless, animals of any kind were not permitted. The Keeper would be most vexed.

The piglet saw Darken, stopped screaming, and looked at him expectantly.

The teenagers had already disappeared, off to try and fail miserably to kill the Seeker and his companions.

Darken sighed, watching the piglet. "I suppose you want the deal?" he drawled.

The piglet made an inquiring snuffling sound and inched closer to Darken, its liquid eyes filled with worshipful adoration.

Here at least was a creature who understood Darken's superiority.

The greatest tyrant the world had ever known succumbed to the inevitable. "What shall I call you?" he mused, snapping his fingers.

The piglet followed him happily as he strode through the green fires and rocks of the Underworld, to the accompaniment of the screams of the damned.



Sometimes, magic crosses boundaries, not just the physical but also the mystical. It crosses veils between not only the Land of the Living and the Underword, but between the Land of the Living and the Land of…a Slightly Different Sort of Living, Really the Same Sort of Thing, complete with Air to Breathe, Ale to Drink, and Small Children Yelling at the Top of Their Lungs.

Far away in the land of Westeros, which had enough similarities to the three territories to make it susceptible to the magic of that world, piglets appeared, popping up in the most odd places.



"Flame, Balerion!" Robb Stark ordered, holding out a wooden sword like a – an actual sword in front of him. "Destroy all those who oppose their rightful king!"

Jon Snow took a breath and blew imaginary fire at the imaginary town, sweeping his arms upward like wings.

Suddenly a piglet appeared on top of their makeshift city. Jon stopped pretending to be a dragon and stared at it.

Robb put down his wooden sword. The brothers exchanged a look.

Then—"Trespasser on the land of my fathers, do you have any last words?" Robb roared, his young voice not nearly deep enough but otherwise doing an excellent impression of King Robert's traditional war cry.

"Winterfell!" Jon yelled, swooping down on the piglet and holding it high over his head.

So it was that the frantically oinking piglet became a dragon, although it still couldn't breathe fire, unfortunately, this transformation being in the purely imaginative sense.



In a little house with a red door, Daenarys Targaryen was blissfully alone. She sat curled in the windowseat, absently running a lock of silvery hair through her fingers over and over.

Viserys would be back soon. Dany hoped she didn't wake the dragon. There was a mark on her cheek still, from yesterday.

The piglet sat on its haunches between her bare feet and the edge of the alcove like it had always been there. It regarded her gravely.

Dany picked it up, and placed it gently in her lap. "Where did you come from, little one?" she asked.

The piglet had interrupted her abstraction, but it was so cute that Dany didn't mind. Running gentle fingers over the tiny creature gave her, for a while, a different sort of distraction, a respite from her worries.



Varys knew the instant the piglets appeared all over King's Landing. What he didn't know was why they were here—and he didn't like not knowing. This situation was unacceptable.

He lifted his robe. "Shoo," he said to the piglet who was hiding there. Someone would pay for this indignity.



Tyrion was having a lovely dream about two women and a pot of honey. He was rudely awakened when his door was flung open, hitting the stone wall with a clatter.

"Hmphe?"

"Breakfast," Cersei said icily. "We are trying to make a good impression on these people and you being too drunk to show up for their 'famous' quail egg omelettes will be seen as an insult."

"S'can't be breakfast yet," Tyrion moaned. The wine here was amazing, rich and fruity and really strong. He'd had a lot of it. And then some more.

"It will be ready in a few minutes. Oh my – " her voice changed, sinking low with horror. "You – even for you this is disgusting."

Tyrion forced himself to sit up, eager to discover what Cersei of all people could find so repellent.

"Pigs? In your room? Have you no standards?"

Sure enough, two piglets were crouched in one corner by his discarded clothing. And, Tyrion found, one sitting on the pillow where he'd rather hoped to find a young woman.

It must have been a great night, Tyrion thought ruefully. Pity he couldn't remember more of it.

"You're lecturing me about standards?" he said. "Isn't that just the cooking pot telling the kettle it has a dirty bottom?"

Cersei drew herself to her full height. "I don't sleep with – "

Tyrion waited for her to finish the sentence, running through a whole list of creative and insulting rebuttals.

Unfortunately, even Cersei could see what was coming once in awhile. She ruined his fun by realising his intention and changing tack.

"I don't know or care where you got them from or what you were doing with them," she said coldly, "but make sure these pigs end up where they belong. Lannisters are not – pig rustlers."

"I think rustling is only for cattle," Tyrion said. "Perhaps I'll keep this little darling." He reached over and scratched the piglet under its chin. It made piggy noises of delight.

"Keep a pig? To eat, you mean?"

"I'm going to call it Cersei," Tyrion said on a whim. "I won't muddle the two of you up, though. One of you is a sow with no manners and the other is welcome to share my bed."

Cersei glared, turned on her heel, and marched off down the corridor.

Tyrion lay back down and closed his eyes. Cersei the piglet snuggled up next to him and grunted in contentment.