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Rating:
Explicit
Archive Warnings:
Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character DeathRape/Non-ConUnderage Sex
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Harry Potter - J. K. RowlingGame of Thrones (TV)A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
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Ashara Dayne & Harry PotterHarry Potter & Jon SnowArthur Dayne & Harry Potter
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Harry PotterAshara DayneNed StarkJon SnowArthur DayneOswell WhentDaenerys Targaryen
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Published:2023-06-17Completed:2024-12-27Words:182,365Chapters:21/21Comments:460Kudos:2,656Bookmarks:1,040Hits:130,318
Dragon of the morning (abandoned)
Clephne
Chapter 2: Chapter Two
Notes:
I hope you enjoy the bonus of the day,
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
281 A.C
Starfall
Finally, they had arrived.
Harry could not have been happier for that, while the knight that carried him took the utmost care in making him comfortable, he was still strapped to a man's chest as they rode on horseback.
His position allowed him to see little other than the blue, cloudless sky, and the red-colored mountains on the horizon, but the excitement transmitted by his companions of travel was enough to let him know Starfall was in sight.
Whatever Starfall was.
While Harry's trouble of being a man in a baby's body was nowhere near its end, it was still good to know he would be traveling no longer.
He would still have to suffer the shame of being breastfed, having to be cleaned, and having no control whatsoever over his own body.
It took them no less than another hour to reach their destination and they dismounted their horses.
"Follow me," Arthur said, and soon Harry caught his first glimpse of the castle.
Had he been able to gasp, he would have, especially when he realized they were walking on a wooden, not stable at all bridge.
Still, he could do nothing. And so, he left himself to be carried toward their destination.
They finally stepped out of the dangling bridge, and he was glad to be back on firm ground, where he knew there was no chance he'd be dropped.
"Let me explain," the knight carrying him instructed again.
He could hear doors creak as they were opened.
"Brother!" A woman exclaimed and Harry tensed, hearing hurried steps quickly approaching and not recognizing the voice. "I thought you dead!"
"Ash," Arthur answered with a smile that he could see from his position.
Seconds later the woman, Ash, entered his field of vision. And once more his breath caught up, she was perhaps even more beautiful than his mother, Lyanna, had been.
Her raven hair complimented her pale complexion perfectly well but what he found most captivating were her haunting purple eyes.
"What's happening? Who is this?" she asked looking at him and Harry could not help but smile, which she returned, only increasing her beauty.
"We should go inside, a lot has happened sister and we need your help,"
She eyed her brother, before turning her head and Harry was sure he could see anger for a moment as she looked at her brother's companions of travel, before it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
"Very well, but no sword enters Starfall but Dawn,"
Though he was sure they would argue, having realized how important those weapons were to the men, none did, and they were soon led inside.
Though he could see little, it was enough to let him know the people leaving here were wealthy, chandeliers lined the corridors, along with various paintings and tapestries.
The sound made by the armors hitting on the stone floor was annoying though, Harry thought. Did they really need to keep it on all the time?
Still, there was nothing he could do but watch and wait, hoping sleep would not come to claim him.
Finally, they entered a room and all took a sit, though to his disappointment, it seemed it was still not the time to be freed of his bundle.
"Explain, now," she said and Harry could not help but feel that the three other men were feeling lucky Arthur had told them to let him do the talking. "Why weren't you at the trident? Or at King's Landing? Have you heard what they did to Elia? My best friend?"
"I know," he sighed, "trust me, sister, I know… But my prince had ordered me elsewhere, me, Ser Oswell, and Ser Gerold, to guard the princess,"
"I don't understand…"
"Not Elia sister, Lyanna,"
Harry could make little sense of it, it was not the first time he heard the name Elia. From what he could understand, Elia had been a princess, just like his mother.
"But…"
"The prince took a second wife, sister, and he ordered us to protect her, her, and his sons."
He could hear her gasp and she soon entered his field of vision, as she came to stare at him and then moved, likely to look at his brother.
Something he had not been able to do, not since they had left their mother's arms.
"What happened?"
"Princess Lyanna died giving birth to his grace, Aemon Targaryen, the first of his name, and to the Prince, Daemon Targaryen,"
The fact that he was their king was still a hard pill to swallow, did he have to? Really?
And yet he could not help but figure it was done by design, that Death had meant for him to be born as he was. Maybe it would help him achieve his goals much more easily, but it would undoubtedly attract countless troubles as well, many vied for such positions, and most were ready to kill for it.
"You speak the truth?"
"Always, sister, always," Arthur answered.
"Gods…" she whispered but it was loud enough for him to hear. "What are we supposed to do?"
It was easy to see the man was reluctant to speak the truth, the entire truth. It had not been hard to see the chasm between the two groups of two men.
"Lord Stark will take the prince with him, to hide him in the North," Arthur began, and while he wanted nothing but the opposite, there was nothing he could do.
He hated feeling so powerless.
"Are you sure? We could…"
"It's been decided," Arthur interrupted her, "our priority has to be with the King sister, he has to be kept safe from the Usurper, his hate for Targaryens knows no bounds, and the North will keep the prince safe, few visit it and none that will recognize him,"
"I'll raise him as my bastard…" his uncle began.
"You will certainly not!" Ashara exclaimed and Harry could not help but feel a bit lost. What was the issue?
"How would you have me justify his presence?"
"If you bring shame to your wife, she'll make his life miserable, he'll grow up hated in his own home,"
Harry felt the need to slap himself, though he could not, it was obvious now. To have a child out of wedlock was a huge thing for muggles in that time, wars had been fought over that kind of thing.
Immediately he felt the need to protest, and as had become the norm, he could do nothing of the sort, they would have his brother grow up under that stigma. People would look at him weirdly, call him names, say he was a freak, he knew all too well what that was.
"Say, he's mine and Brandon's, I…" she continued but for some reason, hesitated. "I was with child, his, but he was…"
He could see her brother wanted to react but restrained himself and instead went to lay a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"Say he's Brandon's bastard,"
Harry felt awful for the woman, to go through that must have been terrible, and here they were profiting from the situation. All the while he could not help but feel his eyelids grow heavier and heavier, but he managed to resist.
"Harrenhal…" Arthur whispered. "But what about you, sister, your reputation?"
"My reputation doesn't matter," she snapped, "we'll need to go into hiding if you're to have us raise the rightful king, you'll say I died in childbirth and that you and Lord Reed were the only survivors, and we'll organize a funeral for Arthur and me."
It was becoming hard to fight the tiredness from forcing him to sleep when they discussed his future.
"Very well, sister,"
"Lord Reed and I would ask to stay for the night, Lady Dayne, before we're on our way,"
"Of course," she answered, and finally, it was too much for Harry and he fell asleep.
281 A.C
Riverrun
For moons they had traveled, first taking a ship from Starfall's harbor to Oldtown and then to Lannisport. And from then on, they had ridden the River Road to join his goodfather's castle.
Though Eddard could still feel his skin crawl at the thought of what the Old Lion and his dogs had done and what Robert had allowed to go unpunished, rewarded them for even. He had kept his feelings at bay and focused on making sure his nephew was safe.
He could not have been more grateful for the wetnurse, Wylla that had accompanied them. Ashara having just been pregnant, was capable and willing to feed Aemon.
The more he thought about it, the more he became conflicted, he was his nephew, and it was his right to seat the Iron Throne, the law was clear. And yet, would he fight another war? When the last one had been so costly?
Besides, Robert would be a good king, he had his flaws but with Jon by his side, he would rule well, better than the mad king had.
All his thoughts were taken out of his mind as the doors of the keep opened to reveal the lord and his daughter.
Catelyn Tully, Stark, he corrected himself with a smile that only got wider as he realized whom she had in her arms.
"My lord-husband," She smiled and approached him, her father right behind her, "Lord Stark, I'm happy to see you return well," the broad-shouldered lord greeted him.
"Lord Tully," he greeted the man but all his attention was focused on the bundle held by his wife.
"May I present you, your heir, my Lord, Robb Stark," she held the babe and Eddard marveled at the blue eyes of his son.
"He is perfect, my lady," he said before realizing he had forgotten something, "I apologize, my lord, my lady, I forget myself,"
"No harm done, lad," Hoster Tully chuckled, and Ned clenched his teeth, "I understand you were eager to meet your son,"
Eddard nodded while gesturing for Howland to step forward.
"May I present you, Lord Howland Reed, Lord of Greywater Watch,"
"And who is that?" his lady-wife asked, her voice had grown cold as she pointed to the babe in Howland's arms.
"And who is that?" his lady-wife asked, her voice had grown cold as she pointed to the babe in Howland's arms.
"Jon Snow, my son," he breathed out through clenched teeth, going against what he had agreed to. It had been a good plan, in theory, but if he had learned something during the war was that no plans ever held completely, and often it was better to follow one's guts. By naming the boy his, and after the current Hand of the King, he ensured suspicions were kept low.
Still, from the look on his wife's ashen face and the simmering anger in her eyes,
he guessed it was not going to be as easy as he had thought.
281 A.C
Starfall
He looked so peaceful, the image of purity and innocence itself, how could someone ever want to harm such a sweet babe?
Ashara often pondered that question in the past three moons. Especially when she found herself observing said babe as he slept.
It was barely half a year since she had lost her babe, the only thing left of the love of her life, what she hoped would soothe her through those lonely nights as she thought of the fate her love had endured.
Several times, she had come close to taking her own life, it would not be so hard. A simple dive from the Palestone Sword Tower, and it would all be over.
Yet she had resisted, in the hope to see her brother come home.
Had he not, she did not know what she would have done.
As they grew up, he had been her best friend, her confidant, the one she could tell everything. He had left to become a knight and then a kingsguard but they had never stopped exchanging letters.
When her other best friend had become betrothed to the crown prince, it had been the perfect opportunity to get closer to her brother once more, so she had joined Elia as her lady in waiting in King's Landing.
If only she had known all that would happen…
Could she have done something? To prevent it all? The harsh truth was that no, there was nothing she could have done.
She had been blind to it all, to Aerys' madness, to Elia's misery, and now, almost everyone she had ever known was dead.
Either burned by the mad king or killed in the Usurper's rebellion.
In truth, the only thing that had stayed her hand, that prevented her from taking her own life, was the small babe her brother had brought back.
Her king was perfect, he hardly ever fussed, never cried nor threw tantrums as babes his age were wont to do. He slept full nights and always listened to her or his kingsguards.
Granted she had only been around two babes in her life, she had never seen one so well-behaved, one so aware of himself and his surroundings.
At times, his attentive gaze convinced her he understood everything that was being said, and even some things that were unsaid. It was uncanny to see one so young seemingly so intelligent.
Only time would tell if it would be so but there was no doubt in her mind that her boy would be extremely clever.
For Aemon had become her son, in all but blood, she could not have been more thankful for the ability to feed him. Though it was a reminder of what she had lost, it was truly a blessing considering who had been brought into her life.
While she did not wish to replace his mother, a boy needed one. And if she was honest with herself, she needed him just as much.
"Do you still want us to move, sister? Go into hiding?" her brother whispered, startling Ashara, silent as he was.
"Will it be safe for him? To stay here?" she whispered back.
"With the maester gone, I think so… For a time at least,"
"Why do you mistrust maesters so much, brother?" She asked, she had not protested when he had her send Maester Orson back to the Citadel on the day of their arrival, and taking care of Aemon had been a full-time job since, but the question had remained.
"Rhaegar did not trust them, I could never get him to tell me why…"
"We still need a healer, were they none he trusted?"
A babe was as fragile as one could get, diseases were easily caught and hard to heal, especially if not caught in time, and not having a healer on hand was too dangerous.
"The one on Dragonstone, perhaps," Arthur replied, "I know he was the only Rhaegar allowed close to his children,"
Their fate was a subject they avoided mentioning, she knew how much her brother blamed himself for it, and she could not find the strength to comfort him, not yet. The loss was still too raw, too recent, their fate far too horrible. Especially in the presence of a babe.
"Do you know his name? Where he is?"
"Julian was his name, but sister, there was no word of him after Stannis took Dragonstone…"
"Did we receive word of their fates?" She asked, it was a recurrent question of hers.
"Still nothing, they escaped but…" Arthur sighed, "I will continue looking,"
"We could hire healers from Essos…"
"I'll send word to Ser Oswell, he should arrive in King's Landing before the moon has passed,"
She had been against it, contacting their former brother was risky, extremely so, as he had bent the knee. His oath forced him to end all threats to his king, and yet both her brother and Ser Oswell had been convinced. Convinced that Barristan the Bold had only knelt out of despair, that he had and would always serve the Dragons.
She could only hope Ser Oswell was tactful enough to not reveal their hand before having made sure of his loyalties, if he did not, it was likely they could not stay here much longer.
"We need more men, we need an army, brother…"
"In due time, sister, but if the Bold can be turned, we will gain more soon enough…"
282 A.C
King's Landing
The smell was the first thing to let Oswell know he had arrived at his destination.
The stench of the capital was infamous, and it had only seemed to get worse since the last time he had been there.
How things had changed. It was enough to make him lose his footing as he stepped off the merchant ship that had agreed to transport him.
Ships were the easiest way to travel, not that he found it agreeing with his stomach, the sea sickness having taken hold of him on the first part of his trip, from Starfall to Planky Town.
It had forced him to lose a few precious days in the Dornish harbor before he could embark on another ship to his destination.
But to see King's Landing adorned, not by the Dragon's banner but by the Stag's banner enraged him, the streets still bore the marks of the fighting that had taken place during the sack, of the carnage that had been committed, but no sign of the dragons remained.
It begged the question, what had they done with the banners? Had they been burned? Or were they stored somewhere?
He should endeavor to find out, but this was not the reason he found himself seated in the Dragon's Eye Inn in Eel Alley. The street located on Vysenia's hill was famous for its many inns and high-end brothels, though to his disappointment the name of the inn had recently been scrapped.
It seemed the dragons were no longer popular in this part of town nor in many others.
He had spent some time in every district, the street of Steel was as bustling as ever, merchants and traders not known to care about such things when profit could be made. The same could be said for the Street of Silks, the more popular brothel location and it was even more so for the area around the Great Sept Baelor, the septons and septas that could be seen milling around were all wearing wide smiles, an oddity for any familiar with the represents of the Seven.
The only district that brought him any semblance of normalcy was also the poorest, there he had heard the Targaryen name being mentioned, where none of the Baratheon and Lannister guards could hear.
How he wished he could tear them apart for what they had done, but the thought of his king steadied his hand more than once. His king had no need for him to seek vengeance, no need for him to get caught and executed. For it would be justice they thought, and though it was a long time coming, Oswell had no doubt it would come to pass.
To achieve this goal, men were necessary, truly leal men, that would give everything for his grace.
One such man, or at least he hoped he was, had just entered.
The servant girl directed him to where she had been told to do, where he knew Ser Barristan had his habits anyway and he could not help the small gasp that passed his lips at the sight of his mentor.
Still, before the Bold had the time to widen his eyes at the sight of someone else in the boot, Oswell lay his sword across the knight's thigh, pointing to where no man liked a sword being pointed at.
"What…" he began before Oswell dropped the hood of his cloak for a second, his eyes widening even more. "Brother… How?"
"Not here, meet me on the docks, at the hour of the bat…" Oswell quickly said before taking his sword back and leaving before anything else could be said.
If one thing never changed in King's Landing, it was the number of eyes and ears walking around, ready to listen to every worthy piece of information, needless to say, what he knew was simply priceless.
It took him a few hours to arrive at their meeting point, making sure to take very different paths that would ensure anyone looking he had no precise goal in his mind before going through a passage that quickly led him to the docks.
There had to be an advantage in having lived so long in this shitty city after all.
Ser Gerold had forced them to memorize perfectly several routes of escape for the royal family. Every day he felt the painful grip on his heart at the memory of his fallen brothers, to think of what they had been, just moons ago, possibly the fiercest kingsguard in history. And yet, they had failed, the dragons had been hunted and killed.
Not all of them, he reminded himself as he waited in the shadows, he still had a purpose.
He could not even picture what would have become of him had he thought he had none left.
"Old friend," he got out of the shadows as he saw Barristan approaching, "follow me,"
He did not wait for an answer and simply advanced, trusting he would follow as he led him through narrower streets, ones where one could and should expect an ambush.
Still, he kept on, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his sword.
Finally, he arrived at his destination, an old, abandoned house that had once served as an exit point for the Targaryens before being replaced during the Conciliator's rule.
He turned around and watched as his old mentor entered the room, closing the door behind him, the man seemed to have aged ten years, if not more.
"How? I heard you had died along with Arthur and Gerold?"
"Rumors of my demise were overstated old friend," Oswell chuckled, "I live still, and so do the dragons,"
Barristan's eyes widened, "you have found them? Viserys and Daenerys?"
Oswell nodded, doing his best to control his reaction, it was the first time he heard the second name, so Rhaella had given birth. It was good, more Targaryens was good, he could only hope Ser Darry and their mother could keep them safe while they organized.
It was better to leave him thinking he was talking of them.
"I serve the rightful king, old friend, always," As Oswell spoke, he could see it in his eyes, Barristan was still loyal.
But that was not enough, Arthur had been clear, he was to have him prove his loyalty.
"The king knows you bent the knee," he said and immediately the shame was easily seen on Barristan's face as he lowered his eyes to the ground, "but the king will forgive, in remembrance of the service you have provided his family in the past, and if you are capable of proving your fealty still,"
It was immediate, Barristan dropped to a knee, "I will, there is nothing I want more,"
"Rise, Ser Barristan, it is not to me you need to kneel to, but the king has a mission for you,"
"Anything," he said as he stood once more.
"The men that refused to kneel, the king would see their loyalty rewarded, I need to know where they are,"
"The last group passed the Neck a moon ago," the Bold offered immediately, and Oswell smiled, among the many things they needed were leal men and it meant there was still enough time.
282 A.C
South of the Wall
Alliser had never thought he would travel to the Wall in his life, having never ventured north of the Neck, it was reasonable to think that.
One could say even normal, considering it was rare for most to leave the village of their births and even rarer to venture beyond the borders of the kingdom they had been born in.
But he was not like most men, he had been knighted during an Ironborn rebellion almost twenty years ago. Since then, his duty had been to the dragons, his oath obliging him for life, or so he had thought.
He had never questioned his oath, never wished he had not. He had never thought it would one day be the reason for his sentencing to the Wall.
An oath was an oath, if one could not trust in them, then how could anyone trust anything? The day he appeared in front of the Father, it would not be with the black mark of the oathbreaker, Alliser knew that.
Still, knowing he was sent to the Wall and seeing it were two different things.
Having seen the Hightower, he could say which was taller, there was no doubt in his mind it was the Wall.
It had appeared on the horizon at the beginning of the day, and the closer they got, the more immense it got.
There were simply no words he knew that could describe exactly how tall he was, but with no less than a few miles to it, it filled the horizon.
As such, it was no wonder he collided with the prisoner in front of him as the column came to a brutal stop.
"What's stopping you, you fuckin'…" Alliser began to snarl as he righted himself and avoided the fall before he spotted the reason for their brutal stop and lost his words.
They had traveled as quickly as possible, sailing from King's Landing to White Harbor and then to Eastwatch-By-The-Sea to intercept the group before they reached the Wall.
Unfortunately, given the task at hand, an immediate departure had not been possible.
The Bold had sent him a raven, waiting in White Harbor to indicate they had just passed Winterfell.
If Oswell was honest with himself, he counted himself lucky ser Barristan had kept true to his king and though he felt guilty for lying to the face of his mentor, he knew the mummery was necessary.
At the moment, he could count on one hand the people who knew of his grace's existence, it ought to remain that way.
Especially when the Bold had informed him of the Usurper's reaction to Aegon's and Rhaenys' bodies.
'I see no children, only dragonspawn,'
Those words were burnt in his mind, how could anyone think that? Much less say it? About a babe and three namedays old little girl?
He could feel it coursing through his blood, the hatred he felt for those responsible, for the monsters who had obeyed but also for the monsters who had ordered.
The fact that these men had been rewarded for it, that Tywin Lannister's daughter became queen over it, that the monstrosity that rides and Amory Lorch were knighted over it, all of it filled him with the urge to hunt them down like the rabid dogs they were.
Oswell still had to tame the urge to abandon his mission and chase after them, to deliver the justice that was owed. No, he corrected himself, not justice, vengeance, there simply was no need to pretend.
But it was not his to deliver, one day when his king was old enough, he would want it for himself, and then, and only then would he be only too happy to deliver.
If that had not been enough to motivate Oswell to do his utmost to see the young Targaryen king rise to his thrones, the tales Ser Barristan told of the Usurper were.
It was tame compared to the murders of the children, but still, it had not taken the Stag more than a sennight to begin shaming his wife and draining the coffers of the Crown.
In the moon after his victory, over two dozen feasts had been held, along with three tournaments. During those, the Usurper made liberal use of the servants' willing and unwilling bodies.
Though his vows prevented him from fathering children, Oswell knew perfectly well that had he been blessed with a daughter, any man treating her that way would lose his head faster than he could scream he was the king.
But the true king was currently a babe, and there was no doubt in his mind that the Crowned Prince's son would be everything his father was promised to be.
Another subject of shame for his old mentor had been the recruitment to fill the ranks of the Kingsguard had been quick, and Ser Barristan had not found the strength in himself to oppose the nomination of men like Boros Blount, Preston Greenfield, or Meryn Trant.
None of these men deserved to be knighted in the first place, much less to be kingsguards. To be a kingsguard was to represent something none of these men could ever hope to be.
After all, how could any hope to compare with men like the Sword of the Morning or the White Bull?
His king had already a better kingsguard than the Usurper, Oswell thought with a snort.
Still, there were too few of them and they needed more men, which was the reason he found himself wrapped under a layer of furs, farther North than he had ever been.
The legendary Wall built by Brandon the Builder to protect the realm of men, or so the legend went. It truly outclassed all he had ever seen before, and it had not left his line of sight for days.
While he would have rather dispensed himself from dealing with the type of men that accompanied him, he could not simply go and attack a convoy of prisoners on his own, thankfully for them, House Dayne had extensive resources at its disposal. Which had allowed him to hire the twenty sellswords who were now galloping behind him.
The hooves of the horses left behind tracks on the coat of snow that refused to leave the northernmost lands of the realm even during summer, much less during spring as he had seen white ravens travel only a moon ago.
The group they were looking for was traveling on foot, which was the only reason they had been able to catch up to them after having purchased the services of a crew and its ship along with the many resources they would need for the freedmen.
With a gesture of his hand, horses were made to slow down, advancing to a slower pace so as not to make as much noise.
The group they were tracking had been spotted a few hours ago by their scouts, which had allowed them to choose the best place to intercept.
He could hear them now, with another gesture of his hand, they surged and the sellswords encircled the small column.
Oswell sighed, there were only two brothers of the Watch, along with half a dozen guards and the prisoners were all chained.
"Name yourself friend," one of the brothers asked, all having tensed as they warily observed the men surrounding them.
"Ser Oswell Whent," he called loudly and could hear the excited whispers coming from a part of the prisoners, "I come on orders of his grace, the King Viserys Targaryen," he said, keeping to the mummery, the king would no doubt hear of this.
"King Robert seats on the Throne!" one of the guards sneered.
"I do not see King Robert here today, friend," he answered, almost spatting the name of the Usurper. "And it is not his to sit."
"The Night's Watch plays no part in the fight for the Throne, Ser Oswell," the same brother said, preventing the first guard from responding.
"You do not," Oswell nodded, "but some of the men you transport were wrongly convicted, by a false king, leal men that stayed true to their houses and their oaths, men that my King will not see unjustly punished,"
He could see everyone was tensed, ready to fight, he could only hope it did not come to that.
"I only seek those men, Ser?" Oswell pressed on.
"Qhorin, I'm no Ser, Ser, only a brother of the Watch,"
"Very well, brother Qhorin, only those men, all those convicted for other crimes you can keep,"
When one of the guards went to move, he unsheathed his sword and simply waited.
"I won't fight a Kingsguard for the Crown's business," the second brother of the Night's Watch said to his counterpart, pronouncing his first words since they had arrived.
"Those four at the front, the last two, and the group of four in the middle," Qhorin said and Oswell sighed in relief.
"Sir!" the same guard as before exclaimed but the glare he soon found himself the target of was enough to quiet him.
"Ser Alliser," Oswell greeted with a smile, it was good to see a familiar face.
"Ser Oswell, I can't say how good it is to see you," the usually serious man said with a smile as he offered his forearm in greetings.
It took them another half hour to have the men ready to leave, all having to double up on the horses, now armed and ready to be of service to their king.
"Farewell brother Qhorin of the Watch, please accept this gift from my King, in thanks to the services rendered by the Watch to the Seven Kingdoms," he gestured for one of his men to carry the chest to the black-clad man.
It was filled with gold, enough to cover the cost of the Night's Watch for years he had been told. It also contained a letter, one addressed to the maester at the Wall, one of the last Targaryens alive.
282 A.C
Castle Black
Aemon Targaryen's joints cracked as he rose from his bed with ever-increasing difficulty.
After over eighty namedays, it was no wonder, and sadly none of the remedies he tried worked as intended anymore. He was simply too old.
Still, not old enough he could not take care of himself, Aemon thought as he dressed.
And yet, he could not help but feel like it would have been best if he had not lived for so long. At least he would not have had to watch his family's downfall from the northernmost point of the realm. Isolated and powerless, only able to feel the anguish of knowing everything his family had done for three hundred years only came to a brutal end with the senseless killing of Rhaegar's children.
Only Viserys and Rhaella remained, but maester Aemon knew it serve no purpose to hope. One day, Robert Baratheon would take Dragonstone and the Targaryen line would fall with them, as he was bound to follow in just a few years.
"Maester," a voice called from the other side of the door.
"Enter," Aemon sighed as he attached his chain behind his neck, he would still have to serve for the years he had left.
"The Lord Commander is asking for you, maester," the newest steward informed him.
"Thank you, Hake,"
With that, the young man was gone and Aemon added a fur cloak to fight off the ever-present cold.
Even if the days were beginning to lengthen, the cold never left the Wall.
It was only truer at dawn, still, the Lord Commander's rooms were only a short walk away and despite his slow walk, he soon reached them and knocked.
"Come in," a gruff voice answered and the Targaryen maester followed suit, finding the Lord Commander seating around a table with two brothers.
Rangers Qhorin and Cotter Pyke, both were experienced men that had been sent to retrieve a large group of recruits from King's Landing.
But what attracted his attention were neither the rangers nor the Lord Commander Qorgyle, it was the chest filled with gold dragons stamped with his nephew's face.
It had been a long time since he had seen such a fortune, not since he had left the capital.
"Maester," Qorgyle nodded and the two rangers followed.
"How?" he could only ask, not understanding how so much gold could have come into their possession.
"We have your nephew to thank for this it seems, maester,"
"My nephew?" he frowned, "Viserys?"
He was the only one left.
"Aye," Cotter confirmed, "he sent Ser Oswell Whent after us, took ten knights from us he did,"
For the first time in moons, he felt hope, if the Kingsguard survived, then there was hope Viserys and Rhaella could escape to Essos. They could still live and maybe one day reclaim the throne.
"And he left us with all this," the Lord Commander gestured at the chest, not sounding as elated as he should, but then again it was not truly gold they needed, it would take time to exchange it for more valuable resources for the Watch. "As well as a letter,"
The lord commander handed him a sealed scroll, one with a very recognizable sigil.
Tentatively, his trembling hands got hold of it and Aemon broke the seal, unable to wait though he would have liked to preserve the three-headed dragon.
The message was short and to the point, but with every line his eyes grew moister.
He could not help but read it again, not caring what others could see as a tear escaped his eye. Though it was not one of sadness instead one of happiness for a son of Rhaegar lived, and suddenly, the future did not seem so bleak anymore.
282 A.C
Starfall
Six months, six fucking months.
That was the time it took him to finally do better than crawl and babble. The time it took for his vocal cords to develop enough that he could talk and for the muscles in his legs to grow strong enough that he could stand.
Well, talk was a strong word to describe what he did, he could not just go from saying 'mama' to the woman that was raising him to fully-fledged sentences. Still, he made sure to appear as advanced as a babe could be. With every day he pronounced new words and let his caretakers be amazed by his capabilities.
With some luck, in a few months, he could begin to form phrases and finally let himself be understood.
Walking was easier to handle, for months he made sure to practice every day, as to make the muscles grow stronger, he had never thought he would ever have to resolve to crawl to move himself.
Practicing also meant exploring, which he had found himself enjoying doing, in some way, Starfall reminded him of Hogwarts. While the castle was much smaller, it had many crooks and crannies waiting to be discovered.
Though his favorite part happened to be the many gardens housed inside the castle. For the many fruit trees that easily grew in the warm climate of Dorne, but most importantly for the stunning views of the Summer Sea.
The sight of the sun setting on the horizon was truly unparalleled.
His exploration was never unsupervised though, wherever he went, so did one of the knights, it alternated between Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell, but it had been a few days since he had seen the latter. He could understand why he was followed everywhere, given what he meant to them, but it was bound to become annoying the more he grew up.
But what took most of Harry's days as a toddler was his practice of magic, whenever he could, he tried to make things move, just by the sheer force of his will.
The elder wand having yet to come to him, there was little else he could do but to try to practice his wandless magic, to little effect, in half a year he had made little progress.
Still, he persevered, he simply had no other choice.
In that period, he had also learned about the new land he found himself in.
It was named Westeros and was composed of Seven Kingdoms. He still ignored more than half of them, but currently, they were in Dorne, the warm climate told him they were somewhere in the South. There was also the North, where his brother was to be raised, as well as the Stormlands, from which the King that sat on the throne came.
As Harry had gathered during his first month traveling, a war had just been fought, and the result was that his family had been deposed, and the throne that should have been his, had been taken by the man his mother called the Usurper.
Not that Harry had any other name than that.
Ashara Dayne had become his mother in all but blood, while he knew he was too old to need or want a mother anymore, being stuck in a babe's body forced his hand.
Ashara had been the one to care for him, to feed, to clean, to play with him and she was the one telling him stories every night.
And while part of him could not help but scoff at it, having long outgrown that period. Another part of him could not help but relish it, this was what he had been denied in his previous life, and what he realized now, all children needed to grow up.
282 A.C
Starfall
Ser Oswell had been gone for much longer than he had first thought, at times he had even thought the knight would not come back. Life was harsh and dangerous in his new world, and the knight could have lost his, or so Harry had thought.
Aemon, he corrected himself, he had to get used to it after all.
Harry James Potter was dead, even though he would never forget who he had been, he needed to focus on who he was now.
It would not do to slip and not recognize the name given by his birth mother, so he had started to refer to himself as Aemon, even in his thoughts.
It would take time, after having spent so long as Harry Potter, but it had to be done.
The more time that passed the easier it got, and the less he felt like Harry Potter, the fact that he was in a babe's body certainly helped him feel the difference.
He would not pretend it was easy to reconcile his mind and his body, but slowly he did, and he had no doubt that in time, it will no longer feel so strange, especially as he grew up and regained control of his body.
It turned out his vulnerable state had also been the reason for Ser Oswell's disappearance.
It took time to learn the entire truth of it, having to piece information by information as he listened to the discussions his mother and Ser Arthur shared. But eventually, he, the knight had left to rescue men that were loyal to him and that had been sentenced to the 'Wall'.
Whatever that was, it was still a large issue for him as many of the words they used, he ignored the meaning of. But in this case, he could only assume that it was some type of prison.
The men had arrived a month or so ago, but without Ser Oswell who had departed for a place called Essos, to find healers for him.
He could have simply told them that there was no risk, it was extremely unlikely that any of their diseases could affect him, the magic coursing through his body more than strong enough to repel any viruses and fight any infections.
Besides, if he ever were in danger, he knew his magic would protect him.
Despite his lackluster efforts in using his magic, it was there, under the surface, waiting, growing.
If only it would do so faster.
The only result he achieved in his training was to have a small object, like one of the toys they had given him, wiggle.
Maybe if he got extremely emotional, as babies were wont to do, the accidental magic would kick in. But there was nothing accidental in what he wanted to achieve. For accidental magic could not be relied upon, he needed more.
But as with everything else, it seemed time was the principal factor.
Still, he could not pretend he was not enjoying his time in Starfall. While his movements were still heavily restricted the fact that he now walked allowed him to fully enjoy the peacefulness it concealed.
It allowed Harry, Aemon he corrected himself once, it allowed him to think. On what was needed. There was a reason for his presence, he knew that, but Death could not have been more succinct on the information she gave him.
He had two main goals, defeat the dark wizard, the Great Other as she had called him.
He also had to bring back magic.
If only it was as simple as that, the fact that he had been born as a king, well not a king of much from what he understood, but a king nonetheless. It told him he would need to reclaim that throne, if not Death would simply have not bothered with it.
It was likely it would help him achieve one or maybe both of his main goals.
She had also spoken of dragons, ones large than anything he had ever seen. She had called them the keepers of magic.
If so, they were very different from the dragons he knew. While extremely powerful and intelligent, the dragons of his world only reached a few dozen feet for the largest of them. A few capable wizards could put one down, easily.
Still, how was he to go about bringing the dragons back?
Were there dragon eggs he could hatch? If so, where were they? Were they as simple to hatch as Hagrid had shown him so many years ago?
Those were all legitimate questions that ran through his mind as he pondered the steps that needed to be taken.
Still, it was a long time coming, and right now, he felt the usual sleepiness slowly beginning to overtake him.
282 A.C
Braavos
He hated sea travel, the Narrow Sea had proven agitated, and most on the ship had been taken by the seasickness, needless to say, the travel had not been a good one.
The Titan of Braavos was a terrifying sight, he had to give it to the braavosi, never would he wish to involve himself in a siege against the free city. Even more so as he realized what the main purpose of the titan was and his eyes widened as he spotted the hundreds of murder holes on its legs, each standing on a different black-granite isle.
It was several hundreds of feet high, not as tall as the Hightower of Oldtown, but still, it was awe-inspiring to think that men had built such a thing.
The Essosi merchant ship docked in the main merchant port, and he quickly disembarked, not wishing to spend any more time on that accursed ship.
He had one goal and one goal only in visiting the free city, and while he could not help but wonder at the beauty of it, seeing the many different isles that had been populated by the braavosi only reinforced his previous thought.
Any wishing ill on Braavos would find themselves hard-pressed to subdue its populace as they would find themselves in an island-hoping campaign under the pressure of one of the most powerful navies on the continent, if not the world.
Taking Braavos was unthinkable, even for the Usurper and the Seven Kingdoms behind him, which he doubted would be the reality if such a thing ever happened.
Still, with his goal in mind, Oswell did not lose any time in making his way through the bustling city, glad for the people of many different origins that allowed him to stay unnoticed as he followed the instruction given by the captain of the ship to reach the House of the Red Hands.
The establishment was known for its talented healers, as well as their willingness to provide any services, for the right sum.
While he did not understand Arthur's reluctance to rely on a maester, it was not his place to question it, his brother had been much closer to the Crown Prince than he.
Arthur had never failed him, nor his duty, and there was no reason to believe he would start now.
He could not prevent the small smile on his face as he finally spotted the building described to him.
Soon, he would be at his king's side once more.
282 A.C
Starfall
"How are we to fight them, Arthur?" Ashara questioned.
They had been discussing what came next, what had to be done over the next few years to prepare Aemon to take his throne back.
Part of her questioned if it was even possible, her son and king was alone in the world but for her a dozen men, though each were utterly dedicated to him, it was still a small number.
"Patience sister, Ser Alliser, Ser Jaremy, and Ser Jarman will leave in a sennight for the Crownlands, and Ser Wilfrid and Ser Fabian leave on the morrow for the Reach, they will bring more men to our cause,"
"Will that even be enough?"
"No," Arthur conceded, "but with them, we can begin building a company, it will have years to grow, enough to be ready when the time comes."
Ashara bit her lip, had anyone told her that her honorable brother would one day turn to mercenaries, she would have laughed in their faces. But desperate times called for desperate measures.
"Will we have enough gold?"
"Ash," her brother chuckled, "I don't think you realize how much we have, our house is as old as it gets, older even,"
"Right," she blushed, he was right, she had never really cared to know exactly how wealthy they were, she simply never needed to. It would have to change. Though she still had no idea how much it cost to finance a company of sellswords.
"Is his grace sleeping?" her brother asked, and Ashara nodded as she smiled, thinking of the boy that had found his way into her damaged heart and repaired it.
"He is perfect, isn't he?" she gushed.
"He is," he chuckled, "I had never seen a babe so well-behaved; he simply never cries…"
"It can only mean he's happy, brother," Ashara smiled at him though unable to keep the pang of guilt she felt every time she saw the boy that had become her son.
Was it fair of them to plot and plan for the future of a child? An admittedly very bright one, considering the progress he had shown with words in just a few moons, but a child, nonetheless.
One that could not possibly understand what it was that would be asked of him.
One that because of his birth, because of who his parents were, had been saddled with a burden greater than any had a right to.
"When his grace is older, we will need to travel North," Arthur interrupted her thoughts before it got any darker.
"For his brother, you mean?"
"In part," Arthur nodded, "but mostly to see his namesake,"
"What do you…" She began before her eyes widened as she remembered a particular conversation held with Elia, about a reclused Dragon, living in the Northernmost land in the realm, fulfilling his duty. "You think he still lives? He must be…"
"Close to his ninetieth nameday," Arthur finished for her, only making her eyes widen even more. "I gave Oswell a letter for him to let him know a son of Rhaegar survived,"
She could honestly say she had never heard of a man leaving that old.
"The prince often exchanged letters with him…"
"Still…" Ashara sighed, "Do you think he'll wait? Long enough for Aemon to grow? Will he help?" she asked, any help they received was good to take.
"As much as he can," her brother sighed, "He's a man bound by many oaths and we can only hope…"
Notes:
I hope you enjoyed, see you next week for chapter three ;)
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