Inspired by 'Event Horizon Book 1: Autumn's Frontier', but very different in execution. About the only thing the same is Westeros being visited by people of Earth. Just felt like posting it, not sure I'll continue it.

The great keep of Winterfell was a bustling hive of activity. On top of the usual organized chaos involved with running the seat of the North's power, preparations were being made to host the King himself and his sizeable retinue. House Stark had always been good at managing resources and weathering hard times, always remembering their family motto of 'Winter is Coming'. At any given time, the castle had enough stored away to feed its inhabitants and that of the nearby townsfolk for three years. However, by even the most conservative estimate, the King would be arriving with at least a hundred men. And these were Southron men, made glutinous by a long summer and full of the self-importance of the royal court. They would expect feasts, not bare-bones meals meant to appease hunger rather than beat it into submission. The King's party were likely to consume in a day what would normally feed all of Winterfell for two weeks.

Livestock were being herded in from nearby towns and the households of minor lords. Barrels of ale and wine were being counted in the cellar with more called for from any tavern in easy reach. Squires labored to polish armor and weapons to a gleaming shine. Stablehands brushed steeds' coats to a rich gloss while blacksmiths toiled away making new shoes. Women dusted and washed great tapestries that had hung untouched for years. Knights and men-at-arms worked on formation and maneuvers, determined to impress with their discipline. Jugglers, singers, and other entertainers were already practicing in the town outside the gates, preparing for a performance worthy of the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. The cries of animals and the banging of metal mixed with the din of voices calling out to be heard over all the other voices.

"It's only been a week," muttered Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North and foster brother to Robert Baratheon, the reason for all this clamor. "We've almost a month more of all this to look forward too. And then the madness will really start."

"It cannot be helped," said Catelyn, his lady wife and formerly of House Tully. With her flaming hair and sky-blue dress, she made a sharp contrast to his black furs and dull coloring. They walked unimpeded through the courtyard, the smallfolk and vassals making way for their lord and lady. Even as they talked, they gave nods and smiles to those around them. Ned believed that the man people served should never be a stranger and made a point of being seen and asking about his people's work. When Catelyn first arrived in the North, she preferred to issue orders from an office based on figures on paper. But she'd since come to see that there was something to watching the action happen in front of you and seeing faces light up when you took notice, so she now joined him on his walks.

Catelyn paused to give a kind of word of encouragement to a girl patiently dipping wicks into melted wax to make candles. A fair percentage of the King's party were bound to be literate and mayhaps desire to read during the night. She continued her conversation with her lord husband after returning the girl's beaming smile. "The King shall expect and deserve a king's welcome. Better to overprepare and be admired for our hospitality than to underprepare and risk his ire."

"Robert would be content with a full tankard and a spot by the fire. It's the rest of them we have to go to all this trouble for," Ned countered.

Catelyn suppressed a sigh. She adored Ned, but he was definitely a Northman. He simply didn't understand the point of all the ceremonies and pandering of the court. And he didn't even think that the boy he once knew and the king on his way could possibly be two different people. The North may be resolute and unchanging from year to year, but in the South change flowed as fast as the rivers of the Trident. Just because Ned hadn't changed all these years, it didn't follow that Robert hadn't as well.

"They are accustomed to a certain standard of luxury, my love. The closer we come to meeting their expectations, the less trouble for us all," she said, continuing her earlier point. "By the time they arrive, Winterfell should feel no different than King's Landing."

Ned grimaced with distaste at the very thought of his ancestral home sharing any resemblance with, in his own words, "that rat nest we call a capital". Catelyn tried not to giggle. His frown turned more somber and he said in a whisper, barely heard over the bustle around them, "If he's coming this far north, there can only be one reason."

Cat too suspected there was much more to this visit than a desire to see an old friend on the King's part. With Jon Arryn's recent death, the position of Hand of the King was now vacant. Cat personally thought it a great honor and opportunity to advance their family. Their own daughter Sansa might be Queen one day, if she drew the crown prince's eye. And there would no doubt be consequences to denying the King after he'd gone to the trouble of asking in person. But she also knew Ned had no desire for any more power or responsibility than had already been thrust upon him with his father's and brother's deaths. In the end, it was his decision to make.

"You can always say no, Ned."

Ned gave her a grateful smile, and she felt her heart warm. He may not have been her original intended, but she couldn't imagine life without him now. "Let us get through the preparations for his arrival. Then I can worry about what he might say. Come, Jory wants us to review the men he's picked for the honor guard. They must leave today if they're to have any hope of meeting Robert before he reaches Moat Cailin."

The two changed course towards the armory and guard's hall. When they drew near, they found all five of their children in the same area. Each of them was accompanied by their new 'pets', though Catelyn felt that was far too gentle a word for such beasts. She'd had strong reservations against letting her children near an animal as dangerous a direwolf, even if it was just a newborn pup. But she'd been unable to resist the pleading and the longing she'd seen in each of their eyes. So far, the direwolves had proved remarkably well-behaved. None of the children had been injured, and the other dogs of the castle gave them a wide berth. Robb was sparring with Theon Greyjoy, his wolf watching patiently from the side. Arya, Bran, and Rickon were all chasing each other, giggling and shouting like the children they were, their wolves barking and jumping in their wake. Sansa sat off to the side, refined and ladylike as always, pulling a brush through her own wolf's fur. Out of the corner of her eye, Catelyn saw her husband's bastard, Jon Snow, swinging his sword at a training post. His own pup, an albino that never seemed to make a sound, sat at his master's feet.

Cat felt her mouth twist at the very sight of the boy. She'd never liked him. Or perhaps it was better to say she'd never liked what he represented: Eddard Stark being unfaithful. Still, she could have forgiven Ned for fathering a dozen bastards while fighting in Robert's Rebellion (they had barely known each other before he left her with Robb quickening in her womb), so long as those bastards stayed out of sight and unacknowledged. Jon Snow was far more than just acknowledged. He was treated as all but equal to his trueborn siblings. They considered him a brother. And that was something Cat could not stand. It was made all the worse by the fact that Jon looked more a Stark than Robb, the true heir to Winterfell. But none of her arguments had ever swayed Ned, and she was not about to start again now.

Her brooding and all other thoughts fled her head as all of a sudden Winterfell seemed to explode with noise.

"By the Seven!"

"Others take me!"

"Fucking hells!"

"The moon is falling!"

More than one woman screamed out high in terror.

Catelyn's eyes jumped to her children. Robb had dropped his sword. Even as Theon Greyjoy seized the opening to knock him down, his eyes remained locked on something behind Catelyn. The three youngest had stopped what they were doing to gape and point. Sansa had covered her mouth to muffle her own shriek. The pups all had their hackles raised.

With a feeling of dread in her heart, Cat turned to see what had affected her babes and the rest of Winterfell so.

What she saw very nearly made her faint.

A great white orb was falling from the sky. Yet even as Catelyn watched with disbelieving eyes, the fall slowed until the large sphere simply hung there in the air. She saw no wings or any other obvious means of flight. All the same, the sphere did not move from a spot one hundred feet above Winterfell. A man standing atop the tallest tower might have been able to reach out and touch it, but the orb was nowhere near it. As seconds passed with no sign that it would begin falling again, the Lady Stark took the time to examine this orb that was unlike anything she'd ever seen. Contrary to what some of the men were shouting, it was not the moon. The moon had craters and mountains and was made from some kind of stone, as Catelyn had seen herself one night looking through Maester Luwin's far-eye. It was also a great deal larger. This object, whatever it was, was perfectly smooth and round. She could not see a single imperfection on it wherever she looked. It gleamed in the weak northern sunlight like some kind of metal, though none that Cat had ever seen. Were the courtyard to clear of men, it could likely touch the ground and not reach any of the walls.

Even as Cat noted these details, part of her mind seemed stuck on the fact that the orb was floating. No matter how she blinked or focused her eyes, the sight remained the same. In defiance of every other object that was pulled down to the ground, the orb did not move from its spot in the open air. As she stared, someone loosed an arrow at it. The lethal projectile closed the distance quickly to hit whatever this strange thing was. The arrow fell back to the ground in splinters. A few more were fired in the space of a few seconds. All of them were similarly destroyed. Whatever substance composed this object, it was incredibly strong.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE!" Ned bellowed from next to her. Only he was not Ned, he was Lord Eddard Stark. His voice carried throughout the yard and perhaps the whole castle and keep. "MEN OF WINTERFELL, HOLD YOUR FIRE! I GAVE NO ORDER TO ATTACK! TAKE HOLD OF YOURSELVES!"

The men were shaken from their fear and shock by the sound of their lord's voice. The few that held bows lowered them, vague looks of shame on their face. Those that had drawn swords brought them down, but they did not sheathe them. Catelyn looked to her children again as Ned called out further commands, bringing Winterfell back to some kind of order. Robb had come back to his feet and was looking to his father for instruction, though his eyes kept drifting back to the orb. Sansa was cuddling her wolf in muted terror, though she was no longer screaming. Bran and Rickon had moved to Jon's side, she noted, and seemed torn between hiding behind his legs and appearing unafraid. Arya was hastily dropping a rock, no doubt intending to lob it at the orb just as the men had fired their arrows. That girl was too fearless for her own good. Theon Greyjoy was swearing off to the side, a look of angry confusion on his face.

"Greyjoy, enough with that filth! Robb, take the children inside!" Catelyn ordered, coming back to herself. She was the Lady of Winterfell, and she was to be obeyed. And she wanted her children safe inside until whatever was going on resolved herself.

"I should be here with Father," he protested. But he was still just a boy, not a man, and his defiance withered in the face of his mother's ire.

"Your father and I can handle this. You must protect your brothers and sisters. Now get them inside!"

"I don't wanna leave! I want to see what's going on!" Arya called out, eyes blazing brighter than Robb's ever had.

Mother give her patience, Catelyn could have taken Arya over her knee right then and there. "This is not up for discussion. All of you get indoors, NOW! So help me, Arya…"

"Look!" Bran called out, pointing at the object.

Catelyn turned again. At a point on the orb closest to the ground, the surface was moving smoothly as water. An opening perhaps ten paces across appeared. The innards of the sphere were shrouded in darkness. Catelyn tensed, even as the yard once again exploded in noise. But Ned maintained order, and the men did not succumb to panic once more.

All of Winterfell seemed to hold its breath, waiting for whatever was coming next.

The last thing Cat expected was for people to emerge.

There were nine of them, five men and four women. They all stood on a flat metal disk that seemed to float the same way as the orb. The men and women were paired: two in red, two in grey, two in green, and two in blue. The final man wore white, and the rest seemed arranged behind him with some deference. Their clothes were like none she'd ever seen, hugging the whole body with no visible seam or join, leaving only the hands, feet, and head free. Some small part of her felt scandalized at seeing the women's bodies so fully displayed, but that part was lost in the sheer amazement and confusion of seeing people standing on a flying circle of metal. They were all different builds and colors; the man in red had the ebony skin of the Summer Islands, while the couple in blue seemed to hail from far off Yi Ti. The man in white was the strangest in appearance: being totally hairless and having skin almost as white as the snow that clung to the ground. The disc descended until it came to a stop a few inches above the ground of the courtyard, never touching the earth.

Then the man in white called out, in strangely accented but perfectly understandable Common Tongue, "Greetings! We come in peace. May we speak with your leader?"

Catelyn felt as if all reason had abandoned the world and she was living one of Old Nan's fantastic stories. Her eyes turned to Ned. He presented a strong front for the men, but she knew her husband. He was tense, wary, as close to fear as he would allow himself. His eyes met hers. A thousand words passed between them without need for speech. Then Ned turned away and walked forward. With a gesture of his hand, none of the men followed him. He kept one hand on Ice belted at his side, but did not draw it. He came to a spot a few steps away from the disc and the people upon it. Ned had to look up slightly to meet the eyes of the one in white.

"I am Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I speak for these men."

"Greetings, Eddard of House Stark. Then it is with you that we shall discuss the terms of our visit. But first, I am sure you have many questions. Please ask them." The man in white did not move his hands, or shift his weight, or any of the dozen tiny things men do when meeting each other. Other than tilting his head to meet Ned's eyes, he had not moved at all.

Catelyn had so many questions that her head was swimming with them. In Ned's place, she couldn't have settled on one to ask first. But he was calm and resolute, and settled back on the basic rules of courtesy. "Who are you?"

"I am Prophet. These are the crew of my ship: Set, Brunhild, Solomon, Minerva, Vivaan, Harriet, Lao Zi and Inari." The man, Prophet, named the men and women behind him in order, each nodding as he said them. Set was the man in red with ebony skin. His head was bald but he had a small beard. He was easily the tallest man Catelyn had ever seen, towering over even Hodor, Old Nan's simple-minded great-grandson. Brunhild was the woman in red. Her head reached her companion's shoulder, which still made her remarkably tall for a woman, and had the coloring of the North to her. But her hair was shorter than even Ned's, and a blonde somewhere between a Lannister and a Targaryen. Solomon, the man in grey, would not have looked out of place in the Reach. His beard and hair were of a length, reaching slightly past his shoulders, and his green eyes stood out against his tanned skin. Minerva had more of a Dornish coloring, brown eyes and amber skin, and her hair was grey as her strange garment. Vivaan, the man in green, bore some resemblance to an Essosi merchant Catelyn had once seen who hailed from Slaver's Bay. His black hair was cut short, he was clean shaven, and he was the shortest of the group. Harriet, as far as Catelyn could tell, was colored like she had a Summer Islander as a father or grandfather and Westerosi for the rest. Her hair grew in strange curls, hovering about her head like a black cloud. She had a great many freckles across her cheeks, which gave her a cheerful appearance even when her face was impassive. Lao Zi and Inari, the two in blue, were both of a height with black hair and angular eyes. He had a mustache that drooped past his chin and hair pulled back in a tail. Her hair reached all the way to her waist, and seemed to gleam like silk. While his skin had a slightly yellow tinge, hers was pale as milk. All of them seemed to be of an age where the strength and energy of youth became tempered by the wisdom of experience. No less than five-and-twenty, no more than forty.

Ned's head tilted back to regard the giant orb from which these strangers emerged. "Your… ship, you say?" he asked, his tone conveying that the structure was nothing like what came to his mind when he heard the word 'ship'.

"This is actually more akin to a skiff or boat. Our ship is considerably larger. We felt it would cause less disruption to arrive in this instead."

Catelyn gulped. Something about the words made her think that 'considerable' was not the proper word to describe the scale of this ship they claimed to crew. She could scarcely imagine the impact if some mysterious object bigger than Winterfell itself had descended from the sky rather than the orb that had.

"I see," Ned said, clearly not seeing at all. "And where is it your ship came from before you arrived here on my land?"

Prophet's eyes furrowed, the first sign of any emotion Cat had seen since his arrival. "That may be difficult for you to understand. I shall try my best to explain, but you may not want to believe me once you grasp it."

Ned's shoulders squared. "You come from the sky in a 'boat' unlike anything I have ever seen, you stand on a piece of metal that can fly, and you are dressed and carry yourselves unlike any men or women I've ever met. I am willing to believe almost anything so long as it makes some modicum of sense."

Prophet seemed to take no offense to the confrontational tilt to Ned's words. "Very well. You see the sun in the sky, yes?"

Cat saw her husband's eyes narrow. "Yes."

"And you see the stars at night?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"

Prophet's eyes seemed to bore into Ned's. "The only difference between your sun and all those stars is that the sun is the star closest to this world."

"… What?"

Lord Stark's voice seemed to echo across the yard. Everyone had been quiet, hanging on the exchange between Ned and the apparent leader of these strange visitors. But that statement by Prophet, made as simply and assuredly as if stating his own name, shook them all to the core. The idea was… Catelyn suddenly saw what Prophet had meant when he said it would be hard to understand. It was madness, surely. But faced with that floating orb, it did not seem quite so impossible.

Prophet continued in the silence that followed. "The universe is filled with stars. There are so many that there is not a number big enough to describe how many there are. And almost every one of those stars have at least one world hovering around them. A great many of those worlds are incapable of sustaining life. But then there are worlds where life can grow. Your world is one of them. Our world is another."

Ned seemed to regain himself over the course of that calm, measured explanation. "You come from another world?" he asked, incredulity seeming to war with awe and a kind of fear.

Prophet nodded. "Over one hundred of our years ago, my people learned how to build ships that can travel between stars. My crew and I used one of those ships to travel to your star, or 'sun'. And now we have come to your world."

Someone, Catelyn didn't see who, whispered "Gods," in a tremulous whisper.

Prophet looked up as if he'd heard it from that great distance. "We are not gods," he called out in a clear, carrying voice. "We are people, just like you. We simply have better tools and a greater understanding of how the universe works."

Ned seemed to gather himself. And then he asked the question that Cat was sure was on all their minds. "Why are you here?"

Prophet turned back to Ned. Something in his face or stance changed and he suddenly seemed much gentler, less distant. "We are explorers, Eddard of House Stark. We are here to explore. We are here to see all that there is to see in this world. And, if you allow us, we are here to help you. You have no idea how empty the universe truly is; how much of it is nothing but rock and fire and void. You have no idea how tiny and insignificant and rare and precious life is, when placed against that cold, dead expanse. We have come to learn all there is to learn about this new life we have found. We bring with us tools, gifts, and lessons of our people. Lessons that, if you desire, we are happy to teach. Traveling the stars is but one of the wonders our people have discovered. If you are willing, we will share them with you."

Ned seemed to be at a loss for words. Catelyn could not fault him. Despite his vehement denial, this Prophet and his crew truly seemed like gods, beings of immeasurable power descending from the heavens to grace the common man with their presence. Barely audible, she heard him ask "Why?"

Prophet grinned, and it was the grin of a grandfather asked a silly question by a child and was amused by it. "Why not? We are in a position to help you. And to my mind, capability for good and responsibility to do good are one and the same. Of course, this is only if you agree to let us stay. If you tell us to leave, then we shall leave, and we shall merely observe from afar. And again, we shall only provide these gifts if you ask for them. Our purpose, first and foremost, is to watch, to listen, and to learn. Whether we teach is entirely up to you." He paused, and then asked with a certain weight, "Are we welcome on your lands, Eddard of House Stark?"

Catelyn's thoughts raced. She could almost see Ned's shoulders bow under the weight of this decision. This was a choice that would affect everyone in the Seven Kingdoms, perhaps everyone in the Known World. It was a choice she barely understood, with far-reaching consequences. And it was a choice she could not make for him. This was his duty as Lord of Winterfell, to speak for the people of the North. She had never imagined in her most fanciful dreams he would have to make a choice like this, and she doubted he had either. How would he respond?

She should have known, that her husband was a man of honor and thus would never make the choice when it wasn't his to make. "I speak for the people of Winterfell and the kingdom of the North. But the North is but one of the Seven Kingdoms. I cannot decide for the Realm; only the King can do so. As it happens, King Robert of House Baratheon, First of his Name, is traveling here as we speak. I will agree to host you as my guests until he arrives. Whether you shall stay will be decided by him."

Prophet blinked. It struck Catelyn that it was the first time he had done so since he'd called out his first greeting. "Very well. We shall try to be good guests."

And then he stepped off the platform, and Westeros was first walked upon by a being from another world.