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Chapter Text

The first time Harry knew that her family was irreparably broken was when her brother was born. She was three years old when she was led into her mother’s chambers to see her brother for the first time.

It’d only taken a look for her to know they did not share a father. Not just because of his golden hair, but because she knew. The way she knew so many other things, because she was magic.

No one could know about her magic, or they would fear her and possibly kill her. And no one could know her mother had betrayed her father.

‘Treason. It’s treason.’

If this came out, it would cost her mother her head. She frowned, and grimaced. And her uncle Jaime, too. She shivered in disgust.

What could she do? She couldn’t save her family from their own stupid choices. Unless she were willing to put them under the Imperious and she was not.

Her father had shown little interest in his heir, and yet he doted on her incessantly. It made her mother furious and Harry was only glad it didn’t make her turn away from her completely.

Even so, from the moment her brother was born, her mother kept him close and lavished most of her attention on him. Harry didn’t mind much, she loved her mother and she knew her mother loved her too, but her attention could be a bit much.

Harry remembered being a grown woman and the lack of control over herself annoyed her. So she didn’t mind sharing her mother with her brother. After all, she had her father to herself, guilty as it made her feel. King Robert favored her openly.

It only got worse and more blatant when Myrcella was born in 288 AC, when Harry was six years old. Her sister was as golden haired as Joffrey, there was not a drop of Baratheon blood in her either. Father had come back from his hunt, taken a look at her and then gone on his way.

He’d gifted Harry a pony a few days later, and she had despaired over her parents. She really had.

—

288 AC

At six, she was still spending her days in the nursery, or wandering the castle with a Kingsguard following in her steps, being cooed at by her mother and her ladies, and any courtiers she ran into.

Thankfully, no one paid her much attention, the nobles had little interest in a girl child. A princess was only useful to be married off, apparently, and even that was her Father’s decision, not hers. It was mind boggling to her.

She hadn’t even had lessons yet, she was already six and no one had even taught her how to read. There were no books lying around that she could look at either. Books in this new world were precious, expensive things.

When she asked for lessons her Father seemed baffled. She caught him talking to Jon Arryn and had latched onto his leg before he could run off.

“Lessons? Aren’t you too young for that, princess?” He picked her up and held her up on a single arm. Her father was a big man.

She frowned at him, “I’m six already! I want to read.”

Her father raised his eyebrows, “We can get you a maester, I suppose, and a septa.”

She scowled, “A septa? What for?”

King Robert laughed, “Girls are usually taught by a septa, or a governess, Harry.” It was her father that first started calling her Harry, instead of Hariel, which pleased her.

“Then I want a governess instead.”

Her father shrugged, “Fine, a lady from the Stormlands perhaps. Jon will arrange it.” He threw a look at his Hand, who nodded.

And that was that. A month later, she started lessons with Maester Alyn, sent by the citadel to teach the royal children, and Lady Jocelyn Buckler, a minor member of that house, recommended by her Uncle Renly as particularly knowledgeable in feminine pursuits. How her uncle knew that, she could only guess.

Her lessons also got her away from the nursery for several hours, which was another bonus. Joffrey was a fussy toddler and she needed some peace.

The lessons themselves were interesting enough. She was kept very isolated as a princess, and most of her knowledge of this world came from the people immediately around her, which gave her a very limited view of the world.

The writing system of this land was very similar to her own, and she picked it up with prodigious speed according to the maester. She’d actually tried to feign ignorance at the beginning but had quickly lost patience with it. And so the maester thought her a bit of a prodigy, not that it meant much, being a girl, which made her roll her eyes to herself.

Lady Jocelyn was actually as good as she’d been told. She was a graceful dancer, and had charming manners. She could paint, sing and play the harp. Aside from the basics like sewing, embroidery and household management, at which she was particularly skilled.

To Harry, she seemed a bright, intelligent woman that could have done more if not held back by this world’s strict societal rules. She could foresee a lot of frustration in her own future because of it.

—

As tempting as it was to simply magic things to her own liking, she didn’t want to fall into that trap. Fixing everything with magic to suit herself could not end well. Not if she meant to actually be a part of this world. So she had to be subtle.

Her future already seemed set in stone, her one purpose in life was to get married and have children. Such was the lot of all princesses. But Harry was not sure if she could go through with it.

In her long life as Harry Potter she’d never married, and never had children. She’d always longed for a family, and never got one. This was her chance to fulfill that dream. And yet, marriage here was not the same as marriage back in her old world.

She was supposed to simply accept whatever man her father decided on. Marry him, bear his children and follow his lead in everything. Anyone who had known Harriet Potter even marginally well would have laughed at that.

She would have to marry, that was certain. And she would play along, but only so long as it suited her. She would wait and see who her father decided on. If she disliked him, she would take matters into her own hands.

It was very unlikely she’d actually fall in love, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t find a man that was both appropriate and she liked well enough to marry.

So she’d marry, build a family, and take care of her people. It would be a good life, because she’d make it so. There would be trouble to come, she knew, thinking of her siblings, but she’d deal with it as it came. For now, things were as pleasant as they could be expected to be. It had to be enough.

—

Harry ran down the corridor, heading towards the family’s chambers after lessons when she ran into one of her uncles.

“Uncle Renly!”

He smiled at her and picked her up, “Hello, princess. Where are you running to?”

She gave him a hug and leaned back to smile at him, “I’m going to dinner. Are you joining us today?”

He gave her an apologetic shrug, “Sorry, my dear. Not today. Maybe in a few days, hmm?”

She gave a disappointed sigh but was not surprised. Dinner with her family was often nerve racking. When they were both in attendance, her parents ignored each other and focused completely on their children. She spent most dinners either eating quietly or speaking to her father, who was not a great conversationalist.

He mostly regaled her with stories from his youth, and would often forget to censor them, and so her mother would become upset and things would devolve from there. It was exhausting. Having guests, like one of her uncles, would help, but not always.

Her uncle pinched her cheek and she laughed, brushing his hand off, “Maybe one of these days you can join me for dinner instead. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

She beamed at him, “Oh, please. Can I?”

“We’ll have to ask the queen.”

She sighed, “So, no.” Cersei liked to keep her children close, even Harry, who was likely her least favored child.

He sighed back, “Maybe once you’re a little older.”

She nodded and gave him another hug, and he set her down on her feet. She kissed his cheek and ran off again.

She stopped before entering the dining hall and smoothed down her dress, then walked calmly inside. Running would get her yelled at by her mother.

Her mother was already there, feeding Joffrey. Baby Myrcella was probably with her wet nurse.

Cersei looked up, “Hariel, where have you been? Sit down.” Her mother always refused to call her Harry, finding it too common.

She took a seat and a servant came over to serve her a plate. She knew better than to thank the servant, as Cersei would scold her, but she made sure to smile at him, and saw a softening in his eyes.

Having Cersei as a mother was difficult for Harry. The queen was very self assured of her place in the world, which was above everyone else, and she acted like it. Harry could never follow her lead. She could still remember vividly being the one doing the cooking and the cleaning, her raw fingers from scrubbing, and the hunger.

She had to contain herself, to keep the peace, but she would not allow this place to irrevocably change her nature. She could be ruthless, this she knew very well. But she would not be cruel for cruelty’s sake.

—

289 AC.

When she was seven years old, her father went to war.

She’d just been moved to her own rooms in the family quarters, as befitted a princess now growing out of childhood, when the Red Keep was suddenly thrown into chaos. The banners were called and the realm prepared for war.

Within a few weeks, her father and his army were ready to depart. Harry tried to contain her worry while watching him prepare to mount his horse. It was early morning and the royal family was waving off the king and his banners.

He shared a cold farewell with his queen and patted her siblings’ heads, then he reached her and picked her up in his arms.

She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and closed her eyes. She had anguished over using her magic, and finally made up her mind. She laid a protection enchantment over her father under the guise of her hug.

When she finally leaned back and kissed his cheek, she felt better. The magic would last as long as she willed it so. And it would also allow her to know he still lived. She was too young for great displays of magic, but she could do this.

Her father bounced her in his arms, as if she was still a baby and kissed her cheek, setting her down on her feet.

“Be good for your mother.” He patted her head and then he was gone, hollering for the army to get a move on. He mounted his horse and very soon there was a great line of horses filing out of the keep.

Harry waved after him and saw her mother turn around and stride away, while the nurses started ushering them after her.

—

The very first magical thing Harry made in this new life was an expanded chest. Father was still away at war, and she had plenty of free time aside from her lessons. And now she had her own rooms, which meant her own things.

She chose a large, sturdy chest, one of many in her belongings. She emptied it and started carving all the necessary runes, starting with strong wards to keep people away. Then she expanded it and finally had a safe space to practice magic again.

She ran through spells, and started squirreling away things into her new space. Ink and parchment, forgotten furniture which she could transfigurate to suit her tastes. Even books, once she started magically duplicating books from the libraries and hiding them away. She’d eventually have her own personal library.

All this had to be done slowly. Though she had plenty of free time, she was constantly surrounded by people. Between her governess, the maids, the guards and whatever Kingsguard was assigned to her at any given time, she was constantly watched.

Even inside her own rooms there were usually servants around. She could not simply disappear whenever she wanted. She’d once taken too long to hide away a new book and had found the maids in a panic. She had to be patient.

—

Near the end of 289 AC they received the news that Lady Selyse had given birth to a daughter. Harry wrote her aunt a congratulatory note and received a formal, cold response. She was not surprised by that. Aunt Selyse was an unpleasant woman, unfortunately.

Her coldness to her family could somewhat be understood, considering what had happened at her wedding to Uncle Stannis. Her father sometimes made her want to hide from the world from sheer embarrassment, he really did.

Either way, her aunt’s attitude did not stop Harry from offering her well wishes. Her new cousin, Shireen, deserved them, and Harry wished to meet her. Though she knew it might be a while before that happened. Both Father and Uncle Stannis were still at war.

Surely, at some point, Uncle Stannis could bring his daughter to King’s Landing. He was the master of ships, after all.

—

290 AC.

Her father came back from the war several months after his departure, and Harry was finally able to let go of the protection charm. King Robert came back in good spirits. It would seem war agreed with him.

He regaled her with all the gory details whenever her mother was not present. Harry had to hold back a grimace often, but she appreciated his uncensored view of events. If only because she needed to know the realities of this world.

The truth was that war was brutal. Harry knew this very well. And war here was different. The rules, the weapons, the strategies, it was all different. It was an ugly, cruel business. And no one was safe from it.

Harry Potter had been a warrior, and she decided Hariel Baratheon would be too.

—

Father was speaking of the war again. Harry listened while she ate her meal. She’d been taking meals alone with her father often lately.

Mother was with child again and would often eat in her rooms. And if Mother was not present, then her siblings were also not allowed to attend. Too young, was Mother’s excuse. Harry knew Mother was simply being petty, or wishing to keep her children to herself.

In this instance, it would work to Harry’s advantage. She waited for an opportune moment and then brought up the subject she wanted to discuss.

“Father, why do you prefer the warhammer over the sword?”

He blinked at her and smiled, delighted to speak of weaponry, “I carry a sword too, but the warhammer suits me. I’m stronger than most men and bigger too.” He flexed his arm to make her giggle.

“I’m not going to be very big. Can I learn the sword instead?”

That shocked him, and he stared at her for a moment, “But you’re a girl!”

She scowled at him, “I’m a Baratheon! And there are plenty of women that bear arms, too!” She hated to do this, but went on, “Like the northern ladies of Bear Island, and the warrior queens of the past.”

His face turned pensive and then he looked very sad. He reached over and ran a hand over her head, very gently, and when he spoke, his voice was uncharacteristically soft, “Yes, northern ladies sometimes bear arms.” His gaze turned sharp, “Why do you want to learn the sword?”

She bit her lip, “I want to know how to defend myself. I know I will always have guards, but I do not wish to always depend on them. I simply wish to know, I feel I might enjoy it.”

That made him smile, “You very well might.” He laughed and slapped the table. “Your mother will hate it.” That made him smile meanly and she winced.

“I know, but I promise to do my best in all my lessons. I’ll not turn away from feminine pursuits, I simply wish to also train at arms.” He was thinking about it, she could see. “I will even stop if I see no improvement after some time.” She shrugged, “I might have no talent for it.” She doubted that very much.

He thumped his fist on the table. “Ser Barristan!”

The old knight approached from where he’d been standing guard against the wall.

“Your Grace?” He’d obviously heard everything.

“You’ll train my daughter yourself. There’s no better man to entrust her to. If she shows no promise after three months, then the lessons will stop. Is that clear?”

Ser Barristan bowed, “Yes, Your Grace.”

Harry stood from her chair and threw herself at her father, hugging him around the neck. Only possible because he was sitting down. “Thank you, Father.”

He squeezed her and she leaned back to grin at him. He grinned back, “Don’t thank me yet. Wait until your mother hears of this.”

Harry winced and felt dread creep up her spine.

—

Harry stood outside her mother’s rooms and shared a look with Uncle Jaime, standing guard outside her door when a crash sounded inside.

Her parent’s voices were muffled by the thick door but they were yelling so loudly it still carried over.

“It will ruin her, you great buffoon!”

“Dammit, woman! It’s just a few months–”

Uncle Jaime looked entertained, “What possessed you to ask for sword lessons?”

Harry scowled at him, he enjoyed needling her, she’d found, “I wanted them. I’m nearly eight, more than old enough to start learning.”

He snorted and chuckled softly, “Sometimes, you remind me of your mother when she was your age. She wanted to train too, you know?” He ruffled her hair and her scowl softened.

She didn’t like being compared to her mother, knowing what a terrible person she was. But for once, this seemed a harmless thing.

“She did?”

Uncle Jaime’s smirk softened into a smile, “Oh, yes. We used to exchange clothes and take each other’s place, so your mother could attend my sword lessons.”

Harry covered her mouth to smother her laughter, “And you had to wear a dress and learn how to curtsy?”

He mock-scowled at her, his eyes glittered with his amusement, “I’ll have you know I do a perfect curtsy.”

She giggled softly and hugged his waist, he wrapped an arm around her and held her back, before pushing her away. That was enough emotion for him then. She held his hand and swung it childishly, “Thank you for telling me.”

He nodded and took his hand back, returning to standing guard. She knew he was simply embarrassed at the display of affection. It made her smile and take his hand again, waiting quietly for her parents to finish fighting.

Chapter Text

Harry ran through her sword drills, sweat trickling down her face. She groaned when she reached the end of the set, massaging her aching arms.

“Again!” Ser Barristan was a harsh task master, but he was every bit as good as expected, so she paid close attention to everything he said. He was a fountain of good advice.

She started the set again.

“Watch your left foot.” He walked around her, “Better. You will do this until it’s ingrained in your muscles. There is no time to think in battle, your body must already know what to do.”

“Yes, Ser Barristan.” She gasped out, short of breath.

It’d only been a month. And yet, she had the feeling Ser Barristan was pleased with her. He probably expected a great deal more whining on her part. But she knew what a great opportunity this was. She would not waste it.

He handed her a waterskin at the end of the lesson and she drank greedily.

“You’re doing well, princess.”

Especially for a girl, was left unsaid, but she knew they were all thinking it. All the knights that sometimes stood around to watch her practice, and even her parents, who had probably expected her to give up quickly.

“Well enough to continue after the three months that were agreed upon?” She grinned at him.

He smiled back, “Perhaps. We shall see. Same time tomorrow.”

She nodded and ran off to clean up.

—

Harry rarely saw Uncle Stannis. He was away often, on a ship somewhere, and sometimes in Dragonstone, his seat. She caught glimpses of him sometimes, though she had the feeling he didn’t really know how to talk to her. Still, he was always kind in his own gruff way.

And so, she was distraught when the news reached them that cousin Shireen had somehow contracted greyscale. Everyone seemed to immediately give up on her, sure she would perish.

Harry thought to ask to visit her, and secretly see if she could cure her, but her father had forbidden that firmly, to mother’s approval. Everyone feared the disease spreading and Harry knew that she would likely not meet her cousin for a long time, if ever.

She decided on writing Uncle Stannis and offering her support, meager as it was, and even commented on her attempt to visit. Her uncle had sent her a blistering letter back, scolding her for the attempt to visit. It might have hurt any other child’s feelings, but Harry could clearly read the concern between the lines. Her uncle was afraid she’d become sick too, if she went.

She responded with her well wishes for Shireen’s recovery, and finally received a response months later, with the news that her cousin would live, if scarred for life.

Harry decided it was time to begin experimenting with potions. Plants here would likely not be the same, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t find alternatives.

—

Harry began by interrogating Maester Alyn on greyscale.

“And so you see, princess. There is no cure for it. The afflicted skin will remain. Lady Shireen was very lucky the disease could be contained and rendered dormant.”

Harry hummed pensively, “Is there anything that can be done for her? I understand there’s no cure, but the skin on her face must feel terribly uncomfortable. Is there anything that would serve to soften the skin or provide some relief?”

The maester looked surprised for a moment, and then deep in thought. It was likely no one had thought of Shireen's comfort at all. Simply on her survival.

“There are creams and unguents that can be applied to soften skin and reduce scarring, but they are unlikely to make much of a difference, princess.”

“Please, maester. Could you tell me about them? I would like to do what I can for my cousin.”

The maester looked skeptical but indulged her, as he often did, and launched into a lecture on known topical remedies for the skin and their ingredients. He also gave her a few books on the subject.

Harry left the lesson satisfied, and went directly to the steward, requesting everything she needed to make a remedy for her cousin.

Now, everyone would know of her efforts to help Shireen, and whenever she requested ingredients, vials, and everything needed for potion making, there would be a ready explanation.

She only needed to experiment and see what happened when a witch attempted the recipes. With some luck, she would find something that would be of some use.

—

Harry stirred the potion carefully, and paid close attention to the color and texture. This was her fifth attempt at a scar reducing cream. The ingredients were actually very similar to a simple moisturizing potion from her old world. So it was likely it didn’t do very much for scars.

She was attempting to turn it into something actually useful, but the lack of magical creatures and plants made things really difficult.

She’d tried to follow the recipe exactly and the result looked as expected, though she was certain her magic would improve the cream’s results. But it was not enough.

She sighed and took a seat in a stool. She had made herself a little lab in one of the rooms in her chambers, and had warded it extensively to contain any accidents. Not that anything like that was likely to happen with the lack of magical ingredients.

She couldn’t disappear into her magic chest, not if she meant to invest several hours into her potion attempts. So this would do. It allowed the maids to check on her, and yet the wards encouraged people to not linger. They also prevented tampering, which was a real concern in this mad world.

No one could enter her lab without her knowing about it. And no one had paid any attention to it so far, thankfully. Her parents were disinterested in the whole venture. Though it had gained her the reputation of a sweet child, so concerned for the welfare of her cousin.

“Maybe if I tried adding a pain relieving aspect to it? Or treat the affliction like a wound!”

Harry jumped up and started cleaning up for another attempt.

—

The fifteenth attempt at a scar reducing cream was good enough that she felt confident in sending it to Dragonstone. It looked like a pale green unguent, and had a minty smell. Similar enough to a recipe from one of the books. Her uncle’s maester should hopefully agree to at least try it out.

She hired a messenger herself and wrote her uncle a long letter detailing the ingredients, as far as they would be able to tell anyway, so that his maester could verify her claims that it was just scar reducing cream that helped keep skin moist and would hopefully alleviate some of her cousin’s discomfort.

She sent the messenger off with a small chest with several tins of it. With that, she could say she’d at least tried to do something for her cousin. Until the moment they could meet and she could see if she could heal her properly.

—

Two months later, her uncle came back to the Red Keep. Harry was in her lesson with Ser Barristan when she noticed her uncle in the walkway above the training yard. She waved to him and saw him nod, and went back to her lesson. When it finished, her uncle was still there, and made his way down when she was dismissed. He must have been there to see her.

Harry felt baffled but happy enough for the opportunity to talk to her most reticent uncle. She walked up to him and smiled.

“Uncle Stannis!”

He nodded formally and gestured to the side, “Hariel. Walk with me.”

She fell into step with him, wishing she’d had the chance to wash up. She was sweaty and probably smelled. She kept her silence and wanted to ask after Shireen, but whatever her uncle had to say might be important.

He led her to the nearby gardens, which probably meant he wanted to keep their conversation somewhat private. She was glad there was no Kingsguard trailing after her today. Once they stepped into the wide paths amidst the flower beds he finally spoke up.

“I have to thank you for your concern over my daughter, niece.”

She beamed up at him, “Of course, uncle. How is my cousin?”

His hard face softened a fraction. “She’s well enough. As recovered as we can expect.” He fell silent and to anyone else might have appeared coldly indifferent. She knew he was simply hesitant. He plucked something from his pocket and showed it to her. It was one of the tins for her scar cream. “Where did you get this?”

She frowned in confusion and met his eyes. They’d stopped walking. “I made it. I told you so in the letter.”

He frowned and fidgeted with the tin for a moment before putting it away and holding his hands behind his back. He grit his teeth for a moment, “It has worked better than anything else we’ve tried to soothe Shireen.” He held back some great emotion and went on, “Some of the edges of her scars have flaked off. Maester Cressen thinks it might help reduce the scar further if we continue applying it.”

Harry gaped at him in bewilderment. That was much better than she’d expected. How could that be?

‘Unless– Could greyscale be magical in nature?’

She shook away her thoughts and turned back to her uncle. “I’m very happy to hear that.” She smiled up at him.

He nodded and looked uncomfortable, “The maester has tried his own version of the concoction, but it has not been as effective.”

Oh, no. Of course it wouldn’t be. She’d shared the recipe, but it’d be no use without her magic. She realized her uncle was, in his own way, asking for her help. No wonder he was so terribly uncomfortable.

She smiled as charmingly as she could, “Please uncle, I’d like to keep making the scar reducing cream for my cousin myself.”

He nodded and patted her head gently, then strode away at a quick pace. She sighed in relief and made her way back to her rooms for a much needed bath.

—

Tommen was born just as golden haired as the rest of her siblings and Harry channeled all her fury into sword training.

It had been several months since she started. Long past the initial three months of their challenge, but Ser Barristan had made it clear he believed she had promise and so she had been allowed to continue. She was agile and quick, and Ser Barristan was pleased with her dedication.

Harry was now very busy and she didn’t spend as much time with her siblings as she’d like. She had three sets of lessons to attend during her days, with the maester, with the governess and now with Ser Barristan.

She still made sure to attend all family meals and spend time at least every evening with her family. She got to hold baby Tommen and play with five year old Joffrey and two year old Myrcella.

Her mother was still angry that she’d taken up the sword, and yet seemed to preen whenever anyone praised her progress. Harry didn’t understand her mother. At least she hadn’t shunned her. She was still proud, vain Mother, but all her anger was directed towards Father.

—

292 AC.

King Robert had a tourney for Harry’s tenth name day. She could usually persuade him to tone down her name day celebrations to something more palatable for her, usually a feast. But this time he’d been adamant. She had finally reached double digits and her father wanted to parade her around.

Harry found tourneys entertaining enough, but she’d been to so many of them over the years that her interest had worn off. It also didn’t help that she would often have to persuade her father to set the prizes to a more reasonable amount. He was often too generous.

Jon Arryn had realized she was a moderating influence on her father and had started maneuvering to have her close whenever he wanted to persuade him into something he would not like. Like not giving away thousands of gold dragons every tourney.

Harry suspected that if this went on, Lord Arryn would, at some point, try to bring her into more council matters. If only to see if that got her father to show more interest in his own kingdom. Harry doubted it very much. Her kingly father could be managed at most, but he was really not suited to ruling.

And neither was his heir apparent, she suspected. Joffrey was cruel in a casual way that made Harry worry terribly. She suspected he enjoyed causing pain. Thankfully, the nurses were fond of her and would discreetly bring forward their concerns.

It was how she’d found out Joffrey would often bully their younger siblings, and would laugh with relish whenever he got them to cry. The news had made her stomach drop to her feet.

She didn’t need to ask why the nurses had not brought this to her mother. The answer was obvious, her mother would take Joffrey’s side, always. Even against her other children. Mother expected Joffrey to be king, and so she sought to keep him under her control above all else.

Harry clenched her fists and turned back to the nurses, meeting their eyes. She peeked into their minds and confirmed all they’d told her. It made her sad, to have to rely on Legimency, but this was too important.

It also allowed her to realize that the nurses were probably loyal to her over anyone else, even over her mother. She wondered if this applied to more than just them. She would have to find out.

“Thank you for bringing this to me. From now on, try to keep my siblings apart if you are able to. Should my mother ask, tell her it’s so the younger children don’t bother Joffrey. And report to me any other incidents, I’ll take matters into my own hands should things not improve.”

The nurses curtsied and went back to their duties.

She would not allow her siblings to grow up tormented by their own brother. Old memories of old bruises made her clench her fists. Joffrey had the makings of being much worse than Dudley. But things would not be the same.

Tommen and Myrcella had her, after all.

—

The tourney did allow her to meet another member of her family. Uncle Tyrion arrived several days before the tourney, though Harry did not meet him until two days later, when he finally showed up for a family dinner. One of the few where Uncle Jaime was attending as a family member, and not as a Kingsguard.

Her father was missing, but her mother was present, as were her siblings and her two Lannister uncles. Aside from herself, everyone at the table was golden haired. It gave her a momentary feeling of displacement, before she shrugged it off.

Harry noticed her younger uncle was looking curiously at her, and stared back. He didn’t really engage her in conversation, however. Dinner was tense because Mother disliked Uncle Tyrion and made it clear with snide comments.

Conversation was mostly carried between both her uncles and that too died off quickly. The most animated moment was when they complained about her grandfather. That was probably one of the few things all three of them could agree on.

Harry sighed to herself and turned to helping Myrcella with her meal. This family of hers was truly testing her patience.

—

She ran into her uncle Tyrion again, the day before the tourney. She went to the library to return a book she’d just copied and found him engrossed in a book, though he looked up when she approached.

“Hello, uncle.” She took the chair next to him. “What are you reading?”

He looked almost wary, “Niece. A treatise on the Doom.”

She glimpsed the title, “By Maester Warrick? I’ve read it. It’s full of conjecture, not exactly a good source.”

His eyebrows climbed up, “I didn’t know you were an avid reader. And you must be, to have made it through this book.” He closed it, “It’s dry as a bone.”

She giggled, “It is. Not my favorite, as I said.”

Harry could tell her uncle was surprised. Had he expected animosity from her? Neither of her parents were particularly fond of him, she knew. But she was her own person.

He closed the book and sat back, “I’ve heard you’ve taken up the sword. You’re very much a Baratheon, aren’t you?”

There was a glint in his eye that let her know he knew, or suspected at least, that her siblings were not.

She tilted her head, “So I am. Though I wield a sword and not a warhammer like my father.” She shrugged, “But that doesn’t mean I have no interest in book learning.”

He hummed in thought, “You’re not what I expected.”

She frowned, “What did you expect?”

“Now that I’ve met you, I’m not so sure. A smaller copy of your mother, or your father, I suppose.”

Harry snorted and crossed her arms, “And you expected me to dislike you. I can tell.”

Tyrion chuckled, “So I did. Can you blame me? In our family, there is only one person that doesn’t find my company objectionable.”

Her lips curled up, “Well, now you have two.” She wiggled in her seat and got comfortable, uncrossing her arms. “Now, tell me about yourself. What do you enjoy? But skip the whores, I don’t need to know about that.”

Her uncle choked and let out a peal of laughter, slapping his knee in mirth.

—

The tourney went by without incident, aside from the usual injuries, but not a single death, thankfully. Her father probably found that a little boring but she was glad. People here died all the time, but that didn’t mean she wanted to watch someone be killed at a bloody tourney of all things.

She also found herself spending quite some time with her uncle Tyrion before he departed back to the Westerlands. She would often find him in the same library she also frequented. She had an inkling he was seeking her out, without being obvious about it.

It made her shake her head. It shouldn’t surprise her that he was just as emotionally constipated as the rest of her family.

Chapter Text

294 AC.

When Harry was 12 years old, Joffrey cut open a cat. She wasn’t present but the story was all over the keep within minutes and she had run to the family wing when she’d heard. She followed the screaming to the dining hall.

She arrived to chaos. Her mother was shrieking at her father, and he was yelling back. The rafters were practically shaking. The grand maester was tending to Joffrey to the side of the room. Her uncle Jaime and Ser Barristan were watching with grim faces.

There was a bloody stain on the floor, but no dead kittens. Harry went over to Joffrey filled with dread, and was glad Myrcella and Tommen were not present. Joffrey’s face was swollen and terribly bruised. She ran a hand over his hair and was surprised he allowed it. There was blood on his hands.

He met her eyes for a moment, but it was enough. He did not regret it at all. He did not even understand Father’s anger. Harry swallowed roughly and took out a handkerchief. She started cleaning his hands while the maester dabbed at his face.

A resounding slap broke Harry from the numbness she’d fallen into. Her mother was holding her cheek.

“Father!” She thundered at him, and saw the fury flee his face and be replaced by regret and shame. He met her furious eyes for a moment and turned on his heel and left. Ser Barristan followed at his heels.

Her mother straightened up and approached them. Her face was cold and her eyes flinty, but she thawed somewhat when she reached them. Her cheek was red and would likely bruise.

Cersei kissed Harry’s cheek and started fussing over Joffrey, taking him away. Uncle Jaime followed after them and the maester shuffled out.

Within moments, Harry was left alone in the room. She closed her eyes tightly and held back the urge to cry. Her family was broken. For a moment, she missed being an orphan, and then felt ashamed of it.

She took a deep breath and clenched her hand around the bloody handkerchief. There was something terribly wrong with her brother, and it was not something she could fix.

—

Harry laid in bed and tried to sleep, but the events of the day still haunted her. She’d given up on her parents a long time ago. She could not save them from themselves, but she’d thought her siblings might turn out better, if she could mitigate their terrible influences.

By all accounts, Tommen and Myrcella were good children, and she kept as close an eye on them as she was able to. But there had always been a distance with Joffrey. Mother kept him close, and still Harry had known there was something wrong. She’d just not known the breadth of it.

Her brother was not simply spoiled, it was worse than that. This was not something she could magic away, or fix. He would not learn better once he grew and was not so closely influenced by their mother. He did not understand moderation.

What would happen if he became king?

The realm could not survive three bad kings in a row. Her father’s reign was stable only on the surface. He had no legitimate heirs aside from herself. And his heir presumptive, her brother, was unsuitable.

A change in regime usually meant the previous ruling family was wiped out. Just look at what had happened to the Targaryens. All because of a mad king and a stupid crown prince.

Should her mother’s treason be discovered, there would be war, and her mother, her uncle and her siblings would be either killed or removed.

Should her father die and Joffrey ascend the throne, there was a strong possibility he’d be another mad king. And then someone would seek to remove him. Again, that meant war and her family dead.

She closed her eyes tightly and curled up. She could not blindly support Joffrey and win his wars for him. She had a responsibility to the people as well. That meant that if he did not improve with time, Joffrey could not be king.

Harry held back a sob at knowing what she might have to do. She could place him under the Imperious, or she could remove him. She did not think she could do that.

There was also the Night’s Watch or the Citadel, either one would remove him from the succession. Placing Joffrey under the Imperious curse only long enough for him to become a maester might be the kindest thing she could do.

That would only work if they were not discovered. What would happen then? She couldn’t allow Tommen and Myrcella to pay for their mother’s mistakes. They were the only innocents here.

She groaned and buried her face in her pillow. This would drive her mad. One thing was certain, she needed to get more involved in the matters of the realm. It was no longer enough for her to blissfully spend her days concerned only with her own interests.

She was only twelve, but that was old enough to at least be more visible in court and in the city. She needed to know what the people thought, and she needed to start watching for threats.

It was time to grow up.

—

The next day, Harry attended her lessons but took breakfast and lunch by herself. According to the maids, the rest of her family did the same. Her mother had locked herself in her rooms and would only leave to fuss over Joffrey in his own rooms. Tommen and Myrcella remained in the nursery, taken care of by the nurses. She guessed the family dining hall would remain empty for a while.

Her father had also been avoiding them. She didn’t know how to feel about everything, aside from being terribly sad.

By the time dinner came around she decided she’d done enough moping and went to see her younger siblings in the nursery.

The nurses currently on shift rose from their chairs in the corner and curtsied.

Harry nodded and smiled at them, “Please pass on a message that I’ll be taking my meal with my siblings.”

One of them curtsied again and left to let the servants know, the other sat back down, making herself unobtrusive.

“Harry!” Six year old Myrcella and four year old Tommen ran over and hugged her.

She made sure to hug them tightly and kiss their heads, “Hello, what have you been doing?”

Myrcella pulled her over to the spot on the floor where they’d been playing, and she sank down amidst the toys strewn around.

Her sister promptly handed her a doll and started explaining the game, but Tommen snuggled into her side instead. She pulled him into her lap and held him close. Tommen was probably the quietest, most sensitive of her siblings.

When Myrcella got distracted arranging a doll’s dress, she turned to her younger brother and combed his hair back with her fingers.

“What’s wrong, Tommen?”

He only shrugged and she tickled him lightly, making him giggle, “No. Harry!” He laughed and wiggled, turning around to wrap his arms around her neck. She rubbed his back and heard him sigh. He laid his head against her shoulder and settled in.

“Harry, here. This is my favorite doll.” Myrcella tugged on her hand and showed off a beautiful doll with an elaborate dress.

Harry spent some time entertaining her siblings, and then ushered them to the table when dinner arrived.

She spent a pleasant time helping them with their meals and listening to their childish babble. It made her really sad to know she was probably the one that paid the most attention to them.

For the thousandth time, she wished her family was not so broken.

—

The day after, a servant brought over a present from her father.

A beautiful gold stag head pendant with emeralds for eyes, on a delicate chain. Harry did not often wear jewelry, even though she had several pieces. They were often too much for her to feel comfortable wearing them often. This, however, was perfect. The pendant was small enough to be discreet and she loved it immensely.

The problem was that it was an apology gift, clearly. If she wore it, she would be signaling forgiveness, but she was not the one Father ought to apologize to.

She sighed and put it on. It would be worse to reject it. Her father did not do well alone. She was the only member of his family he was close to, and she shuddered to imagine what might happen if she turned away from him.

She looked at herself in the mirror. It really was a lovely piece. Someone else must have chosen it, probably her uncle Renly. Her father tended to extravagant displays of affection that often left her feeling rather embarrassed.

She turned and left her chambers. It was best to resolve this directly. They gained nothing by dancing around it. She found her father in the King’s Chambers, drinking alone, as she feared.

It could have been worse however, he could have had company. She grimaced in disgust. At least there wouldn’t be any more abandoned bastard children. She’d made sure of that some time back, by placing a contraceptive charm on the king, as disgusting as it made her feel.

Harry sat down across from him and watched him closely. His eyes were red and he’d obviously been drinking for a while, but he was not drunk. His stubble was turning into a proper beard. He saw the necklace and smiled.

She shook her head, “You look terrible. Drinking so much is not good for your health, and that beard is a bit much.”

He chuckled, “You’re the only one that worries about my health, you know.” He sounded melancholic, and she held in a sigh. The smile fell off his face at her silence and he set the goblet down, “I’m sorry.”

This time she did sigh out loud, “It’s not me that is owed an apology, Father. Did you send a gift to Mother, too?”

He grimaced, “No. If she realizes she can get something from me like this, she’ll start goading me into striking her.”

Harry grimaced back and slumped in defeat. It was true and she knew it. “Just don’t do it again. Our family has enough problems as it is.” She paused and went on, “Please don’t make me think that’s what I can expect of my own marriage.”

He looked shocked, and then angry, “No. Any man you marry will treat you as you deserve. I’ll make sure of that.” He frowned darkly.

She shook her head, “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. I just wish–” She cut herself off with a sad wince.

He looked at her somberly, “I wish you’d been Lyanna’s daughter. You should have been.” He refilled his goblet but she reached across the table and took it away.

“That’s a terrible thing to say. I understand, but it’s still terrible.”

He leaned back against his chair, “I know.” He sighed from deep in his chest, “And I know I’m not a good husband, or a good father, or a good king.”

She reached over and took his hand, “You’re not too bad as a father.” and smiled softly. “I don’t expect things between you and Mother to improve really, but at least have some discretion, please? For me?” He grimaced but nodded, and she sighed in relief. “You should also spend more time in the training yard, you enjoy it and it would do you good, I think.”

He squinted at her suspiciously, “Are you saying I’m getting fat, girl?”

She raised her brows, “Yes, and it will get worse, if you keep this up.”

He scoffed and patted his belly, as if seeing it for the first time. She giggled at his incredulous look.

—

Things did improve after that, somewhat. There was no more overt fondling of the maids during feasts, the way he’d begun to do when she was not present. And he started going to the sparring yard every morning.

The relationship between her parents didn’t improve, but she hadn’t expected it to. It’d been irreparably broken for years. They simply went back to ignoring each other as much as possible.

Harry started having Tommen and Myrcella attend family meals again, along with herself and her father. Mother and Joffrey would attend only rarely. Joffrey more than Mother, wishing for Father’s attention, which unfortunately he never received for long.

Her Mother’s absence made things easier, which was both sad and a relief. She even managed to get Uncle Renly to attend dinner with them every fortnight or so, along with Ser Loras. And Uncle Stannis on the rare occasions he was both in the city and could be convinced to attend.

She’d still not met Shireen but was still sending over the scar salve with regularity.

—

295 AC.

Uncle Renly and Ser Loras were in love. This was obvious to Harry. She watched them from across the table where they were taking tea in her uncle’s chambers.

It was ridiculous the way things were here. In her old world, wizards and witches had no such strange restrictions regarding marriage and relationships. Though she knew the muggle world did. Long ago conversations came to her mind.

Loras was speaking of his siblings with fondness, and Uncle Renly was looking at him with such a soft look on his face it was a wonder they’d managed to keep things as quiet as they had so far. Harry was almost three-and-ten and even she could tell.

“Willas is a very skilled horse breeder as well. I’m sure he would be pleased to send you a gift, princess.” Loras was trying to play matchmaker.

Harry smiled, “I’m sure, but there’s no need for that. You do realize it’s my father you’d have to convince?” She smirked and Renly chuckled.

Loras smiled back, “It would help if you liked him.”

She snorted, “Probably, but I’m too young for that still.”

Renly spoke up, “I’m sure your brother is everything a lord should be, but my niece is only twelve, Loras. Let’s wait a little longer.” He made an aborted gesture to reach out, probably to take Loras’s hand.

She made a snap decision.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to hide. It’s only me.” She looked at their hands, lying close together, to make it clear what she meant.

Her uncle blanched and Loras froze, their faces shuttered off and she sighed. She reached out and took both their hands and brought them together, holding them close.

“If this world were fair, you would have married already. I’m sorry that you cannot. But it makes no difference to me.” She turned to look her uncle in the eyes, “You are my family, and I love you. This changes nothing. There’s nothing wrong with you.” She squeezed their hands and turned to Loras, “I’ll call you Uncle Loras if you like, when it’s just the three of us.”

Uncle Renly covered his mouth tightly with his free hand and his eyes went glassy. Loras was still frozen, looking wide eyed with shock. She released them and stood, coming around the table to wrap her uncle in a hug.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap. She hugged him around the neck and rubbed his back when she heard his breath hitch. Sometimes it felt like everyone around her was so very young. She supposed they were, compared to her, child body or not.

She realized her uncle had probably expected to never get any support from their family, with the way they were. She knew the Tyrells were much more understanding.

After a few minutes he let go and she stood, leaning over to place a kiss on his cheek and then walked over to Loras and kissed his cheek too, “Uncle Loras.” She felt him startle, but he didn’t push her away.

When she leaned back to look at him, he looked pleased under the shock. A smile slowly spread across his face and he actually blushed, making her hold back a giggle.

She returned to her seat and drank her tea like nothing had happened. Tentatively, and very slowly, her uncle reached over and took Loras’ hand, holding it tightly.

Harry leaned over the table, “Could you pass me a lemon cake, please?” She couldn’t reach them.

Her uncle laughed joyously and placed three on her plate. She beamed at him and stuffed her face.

—

Petyr Baelish was stealing from the crown.

In her efforts to involve herself further with the court, she’d taken to walking the public spaces of the keep more often. This had caused her to cross paths with councilors and other nobles she’d rarely seen.

After much deliberation, she’d started skimming the thoughts of the people around her.

This had led to several distressing discoveries. The most urgent was their master of coin blatantly stealing from them, and running complicated scams and crime rings in the city, everything from theft to murder, smuggling and slavery.

Harry would have to deal with this. She could either quietly disappear the man, or she could make sure he was discovered and executed. It was an easy decision. His discovery would hopefully increase security and encourage the crown to take greater care. As well as bringing all the stolen caches of gold back into the treasury.

Getting him caught would not be all that difficult. He’d been master of coin for a year, and he already had a long list of crimes she could bring to light.

She sneaked out at night while invisible and waited near his rooms for him to pass by.

Baelish stepped around the corner and she met his eyes across the distance. He could not see her, but that didn’t matter. She dove into his mind and scoured it for all the pertinent details. It had taken only a few seconds and he didn’t even notice, aside from a slight headache that would have suddenly sprung to life.

She withdrew as he went into his chambers and shuddered in disgust. That man was vile.

She turned on her heel and left. He had hidden caches all around the city, both for coin and the paper trail. She would need to either gather enough of it and leave it for someone to find, or plant suspicions in someone’s mind and have them investigate themselves.

It would be better if someone else did the legwork, but whom? The Hand was much too busy, and his mad wife would likely keep him away from investigating Baelish.

Uncle Stannis stepped across the hallway on his way to his chambers and Harry lit up. Who was more dutiful than her uncle? She just needed something to get him on the right track.

—

The next day, she skipped her lessons with the maester, claiming a headache and followed Baelish invisibly. When she saw him receive a scroll from a passing servant and discreetly read it and put it away in his pocket, she smiled.

A peek into his mind told her the scroll was incriminating enough for her purposes. A new shipment was going to be smuggled into the city the next day.

She had to wait while the small council met, and then finally watched them step outside the council chambers. Luck was with her as Baelish and her uncle Stannis stepped outside last, and as Baelish walked away, a spell made the small scroll fall from his pocket.

Her uncle picked it up and read it quickly, and his face darkened. Uncle Renly had lingered and he stepped closer, face alight with curiosity, “Brother?” That surprised her, her uncles usually avoided each other.

Stannis gestured sharply at Renly to follow, and they walked away together. Harry considered following but she was out of time. Someone would go looking for her soon.

—

Her uncles were better investigators than she’d thought. It was even more surprising that they appeared to be working together on this.

The smuggled shipment had been discovered and the captain and crew arrested. Baelish must have thought there was nothing to tie him to the crime because there was no reaction aside from annoyance.

But then her uncles started digging deeper, and she might have helped things along by making sure they found one of the most important caches, hidden away in a brothel.

She couldn’t go to such a place herself so easily, but she could plant a suggestion in her uncle’s mind about possible locations to search.

It left a sour taste in her mouth, to have to resort to such things, but it needed to be done. Baelish was too dangerous to be left alone. And she made certain to keep away from her uncle’s thoughts and memories.

She barely touched the edges of his mind and dropped what she needed him to know. To him, it would seem like an idea that had simply come out of nowhere.

All in all, it only took three days for Baelish to be arrested and taken to the cells. He’d try to talk his way out of it, of course. But she’d make sure he didn’t succeed. She even snuck down to the black cells and added wards to let her know if he ever tried to escape.

In the meantime, his properties in the city were turned upside down by gold cloaks directed by Uncle Renly, looking for more evidence. They found plenty, with minimal help from her.

Several more arrests were made the following days. Baelish had a whole network of unsavory sorts in the city, and even in the Red Keep. Some escaped, but most of them were arrested and taken away, never to be seen again.

Once she made sure the gold had been recovered, Harry withdrew from the investigation.

King Robert was furious, and so was Jon Arryn. There was a trial Harry was not permitted to attend and the next thing she knew, Baelish’s tarred head adorned the main gate of the Red Keep, accompanied by several other heads from his accomplices.

There was one more thing that happened after that, however.

—

Harry was attending court, watching from the balcony overlooking the throne. Her father was presiding over petitions, for once, with Lord Arryn standing close, when a shrieking woman entered the hall brandishing a knife.

“I’ll kill you, you horrible old man! My Petyr! You killed him!”

The guards stopped her before she had even made it across the room, but the scene was terrible to behold. Lysa Arryn looked maddened beyond reason. The courtiers were gasping in shock and recoiling from her like she was diseased.

“What is the meaning of this?” King Robert thundered, “Take her away! The court is dismissed!” Lord Arryn was pale with shock.

The court was left floundering while her father and Lord Arryn left in a hurry, and they all started talking loudly as soon as they were gone. Most of them even looked excited, like it’d all been for their entertainment. It made her sick.

Harry stepped away and made her way back to the family chambers. She would not involve herself in that. The servants would bring her any gossip, as they usually did.

Chapter Text

It had been surprising and yet not, to discover that the servants loved her dearly. Of course they did, it was likely no other noble treated them as actual human beings the way she did.

Long before she’d decided to pay more attention to possible threats, she’d been treating them with all the decency she’d been permitted.

Within her own household, she was free to do more. She made sure they were fed and clothed properly, and had her own steward arrange for any other needs that came up. She also had a healer that would look over any sickness or injuries.

All the things that were basic decency to her, were far more than they could expect from anyone else in the keep. So finding out that a place in her household was highly coveted was no great surprise.

Her servants were deeply loyal to her, none of them would risk their positions for coin that might dry up at any time. This meant she had no spies among them, and she made sure to reward their loyalty.

She would give them a bonus every year, and shared food from her table whenever possible. She detested wasting food, and had standing orders for them to share any leftovers among themselves or their families. Considering every meal was more than generous, that was often.

The servants went surprisingly hungry, if one considered the feasts and laden tables usually seen around the keep. When she’d found out that a lot of that food went to waste, she’d been furious, and had ordered any leftovers be shared and the remains distributed in the city.

A surprising amount of food still made it into the city, even after the servants had their share. It said a lot about the excesses of the nobles.

—

Harry was woken up in the night by one of the nurses.

“Princess, Prince Tommen had a nightmare, and he’s inconsolable. He’s asking for you. May we bring him over?”

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, “Yes, of course.”

The nurse left and Tommen ran inside a couple minutes later. Myrcella had just been moved out of the nursery, so Tommen must have been feeling lonely as well as distressed because of his bad dream.

Harry lifted the covers and he climbed on the bed and snuggled into her side. She nodded to the nurse, and she curtsied and closed the door behind her, leaving the room in darkness, aside from the light of the moon entering through the window.

Her brother’s face was still wet from tears and she wiped them off gently, and hugged him closer, kissing his head. Tommen sighed and wrapped a little arm around her.

“Is that better?”

He nodded shyly and blinked at her sleepily in the dark. Harry could see perfectly well in darkness, but he probably couldn’t see her at all. Her magic adapted in the strangest ways. Her mind magic having grown by leaps and bounds was the most obvious one. Her suspiciously good night vision was another.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, “No, I forgot already. I just felt bad.”

“Alright, try to sleep. There will be no more bad dreams tonight, I promise.”

It was rather impossible he’d have any more nightmares that night. Harry had found she would automatically reach out and soothe away any bad dreams her loved ones had during the night, if they shared her bed. She’d discovered this with Myrcella, when she was younger. And now Tommen could benefit from her weird mental quirk as well.

He nodded against her and closed his eyes. Harry pulled the covers closer around him and settled in, going back to sleep.

—

Lysa Arryn was being sent to a motherhouse. That really meant she was being quietly sent away so she could cause no more trouble. She had not gone quietly.

“She made quite the racket when they dragged her to the carriage, princess. I heard she kept insulting the Lord Hand most grievously, they had to gag her.” One of her maids shared while running a brush down Harry’s hair.

Harry held back a sigh, “And Lord Arryn? Is there any word on him?”

Another maid spoke up from where she was laying a dress on her bed, “I heard he’s still furious, and the little lord might be sent off to foster with Lord Royce.”

Harry hoped that was true, it would work out nicely to get Robin away from here, and she’d heard good things about Lord Royce. She was also deeply relieved to know Robin was actually Lord Arryn’s son. She’d not been sure and had to steal a drop of blood from both to make certain. And how awful was it that she needed to check?

She was quite tired of having to skulk around in the night. She’d done enough of that in Hogwarts. It brought back fond memories, but the need for it made her cross.

“Thank you.” The maids smiled happily at her and curtsied.

And that concluded the Baelish debacle. Now, what to do with Varys? She’d have to think about it.

—

296 AC.

Joffrey was given a sworn sword for his eleventh name day, in the form of Sandor Clegane. He was a big, grim looking man with terrible burn scars on his face. She immediately decided that if he wasn’t completely awful, she’d make a burn salve for him. The scars looked old, but they were terribly gnarled, and she was sure something could be done. She’d watch and wait for now.

Of course, in response, King Robert decided to grant her her own Kingsguard, which made her roll her eyes. And so Ser Arys Oakheart started following her around most days, aside from his few days off, and she made sure to dismiss him on quiet days when she planned to mostly stay in the family wing.

She did not have many chances to interact with Clegane either. Joffrey disliked her deeply, jealous of the attention their father lavished on her while mostly ignoring him. And angry that she stopped him from taking out his frustrations on their younger siblings.

She was fairly sure he was scared of her, on some level. She did not cater to him like Mother, and he did not have any power over her, being their father’s favored child. So he was left to grit his teeth and avoid her like the plague.

Every overture she’d made to him over the years had been summarily rejected.

She ran into him on the training yard one day, though he seemed to have only marginally done any training. He disliked sweating and put no effort into his lessons. Any of them.

“Hello, Joff. How was training?” She at least tried to keep the peace.

“What do you care?” He sneered at her.

She sighed and pushed his hair away from his face. “You’re my brother, are you not? Of course I care.” He brushed her hand away and turned on his heel, stalking off.

Clegane had lingered, looking at her curiously. She looked back and he seemed surprised by her frank appraisal of him. She did not turn away from his scarred face.

She was surprised when he spoke. She rarely heard him speak. “You’re wasting your time, princess.”

She shrugged, “Yes, I suspect I am. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t at least try to reach him.”

He grunted and followed after her brother.

Maybe she’d make that burn salve for him, after all.

—

The next time she saw him alone, Harry handed Clegane the finished burn salve and quietly explained how to use it. He looked at her incredulously for several moments.

“It’s not going to do any fucking good.”

She pressed it into his hand, “That’s what they said of my cousin’s greyscale scars, and yet they did reduce in size. So please use it. If there’s no change then come to me and I can try a different mixture.”

He looked down at the tin for a moment and then closed his hand around it and secreted it away. He nodded and hurried away. He was embarrassed, she could tell, but grateful, deep down.

—

Harry missed classical music terribly. If there was one thing she had to thank Aunt Petunia for, it was sending her to piano lessons. She took to the harp well enough, but missed the instruments from her old world.

She’d taken to going out to the city to distribute food and had thought to bring her harp and maybe play for the people, taking a page out of that idiot, Rhaegar. The people had loved him, at least.

It was eye opening, to see the city so closely. She was only permitted to go to the edges of one of the city’s poorer sections, not even Flea Bottom, which was the worst, and it was still absolutely disgusting. There was shit on the streets. There were beggars and street children running around.

How could her father allow his people to live like this? And what could she possibly do to help them? Her power was limited. She could distribute food, as was acceptable for a royal princess, but that would not fix anything. What they needed was employment and proper sanitation.

The sewers must be much too small and be overrun, for this to happen. She could probably fix that, but how would she explain it? And how could she get these people jobs so they could feed themselves?

She clenched her hands together and stepped outside her carriage. They had reached the city square where she was meant to distribute the food.

The people of the city looked at her in curiosity. She’d never come into the city like this before, only now at fourteen was she old enough to be permitted to venture out like this on her own.

Well, on her own in the sense that she had two scores of guards and Ser Arys guarding her, plus the several servants that would help make and then distribute the food from the many loaded wagons.

She usually had food sent out to be distributed in her name, but for today, she planned to have a stew cooked and then served with a heel of bread. She directed the servants into setting up the cooking station, and very soon a crowd started gathering outside the ring of guards.

Harry took a seat on a stool, while the servants got to work, and took up her harp. The crowd settled some, when she started strumming the instrument, and she laid a discreet spell to have the music amplified.

She played through several songs while the food cooked, and could hear the delight from the people. There were many children looking at her with bright eyes on their dirty faces. Her heart clenched in her chest with her sorrow.

No one was permitted to approach her, with Ser Arys standing close by her side, on orders of her father. But many yelled out their thanks and appreciation when the food started being distributed. It would not be enough, she knew. But it was more than many here would have had today otherwise.

—

The next time she went into the city, it was to Tobho Mott’s smithy. She already had her own sword, a gift from her father, but she wanted small knives, something she could keep on her person. And if anything took her fancy, perhaps a gift for her father or her uncles.

She stepped into the building and a serving girl met her with wide eyes and ran off after a deep curtsy. The master came running out and bowed to her, “Princess. How may I help you today?”

She smiled at him, “Good day, Master Mott. I was hoping to commission a set of small knives from you today.”

“Of course.” He led her over to a display. “Does the princess know what style she’s looking for?”

She looked over the many different knives, of all shapes and sizes. “Something I can keep hidden on my person.”

Master Mott took up a small dainty knife from the edge of the display and passed it over. “Perhaps something like this? It’s barely bigger than a hunting knife, but anything larger might be problematic, if discretion is key.”

She tested the balance and shape. It fit well in her hand. She passed it over to Ser Arys when he looked curious and he looked it over. “The style would serve you well, princess.”

She nodded and passed it back to Master Mott, “Six of those, please, with a front-facing stag head design.” That was her personal sigil.

Master Mott nodded and called over an apprentice to pass on the order.

A boy stepped out of the back of the store and looked at her wide eyed, before bowing and scurrying over to Master Mott. She looked intently at the boy and had to hold back a gasp. That was her bastard brother, she was certain of it. She knew she had a few, but only Edric Storm was known to her.

When he stepped into the back of the store and Master Mott turned back to her, she met his eyes and let him see the realization on her face. He froze, wary.

She whispered, “Is he well taken care of?” He settled back down, and he nodded shortly. “His name?”

“Gendry.” His voice was just as quiet as her own.

“Does he know?”

Master Mott shook his head, and she sighed. She settled the payment and then went on her way. She was meant to return in three days, and pick up her order.

And yet, her half-brother would not leave her mind. He looked just like her father. Was he happy?

—

The next day found Harry stepping into Tobho Mott’s smithy while invisible, all the while cursing herself for a fool. She was meant to be reading quietly in the library, or so everyone thought.

It was only thanks to having been freed from her lessons with both the maester and the governess that she even had so much free time lately. She’d been taking full advantage of it, with all her new activities. But she’d not expected this.

And yet, here she was, spying on her brother. She didn’t even know why she was doing this. There wasn’t much she could do for him, and it was best her mother never found out of his existence. Her father wouldn't care, she knew.

She was simply curious. He’d looked about her age, maybe slightly older.

She stepped through the building and followed the noise of the forge until she reached an alley at the back. That was perfect, much less risky than being inside the building.

She found Gendry easily enough, in a forge tucked away to the side, with an exit to the alley. He was focused on his work, and he looked peaceful. She stepped through the doorway and watched him for a moment, wringing her hands.

Then she shook her head and made her way outside. She reached the end of the alley and turned on her heel, apparating directly to the lab in her rooms, conveniently warded to keep people away.

She sighed to herself and went on with her day.

—

Two days later, she made her way back to Tobho Mott’s and it was Gendry that stepped out to display her knives, with Master Mott supervising.

“As ordered, princess.” Gendry looked terribly nervous and she smiled to set him at ease. He tentatively smiled back. She saw him run his eyes over her face, and wondered if he recognized something in her.

“This is excellent work. Did you do this yourself?” She picked up one of the knives. The stag head was beautiful.

He nodded shyly, “Yes, that’s my own work.”

“Very well done.” She nodded to Ser Arys, who took up the bundle of knives. Payment was already made, so there was no reason to linger. And yet she was reluctant to leave. “Perhaps another commission? I’ve been meaning to get something for my father and uncles. Maybe a dagger for each of them, something like a set.”

His eyes lit up, “Oh! With the personal sigil of each, but part of the same set.”

She beamed at him, “Exactly.”

Master Mott nodded and patted Gendry’s shoulder, “I’ll leave him to take your order, princess.” She nodded at him and he stepped away.

Gendry looked nervous to be left alone with her, and led her to a side room, where he took up a piece of parchment and charcoal, sketching out a design. “Something like this?” She gestured for Ser Arys to stay by the door, granting them a small measure of privacy.

She looked it over, and pointed out, “The pommel needs to be bigger, Father has large hands.”

He nodded and made some corrections. “Like this?”

“That looks better. And for my uncles?”

They went back and forth for a few minutes, until they agreed on a design. Long enough for Ser Arys to get bored and stop paying close attention.

“Gendry.” He was startled to hear his name, even though she’d kept her voice quiet, “Do you know who your father is?”

He looked at her wide eyed, and his eyes ran over her face again. He swallowed roughly and shook his head. “No, princess.”

She nodded and hesitated, but bit her lip and kept her silence. Maybe it was better that way. She moved the conversation back to the topic at hand, discussing payment. She handed over the agreed amount and made her way back out to the street.

—

She went back herself, a few days later, to pick up her new order. Ser Arys was not with her today, only a few guards, and she had them wait for her outside.

Gendry came out again to display his work, though the master was not in sight. The way he drank in her face told her something had changed.

He showed her the daggers, and they were beautiful work, but he hardly looked down at them, staring intently at her. The store was empty, so she reached over and stopped the nervous fluttering of his hands, only for him to practically leap away.

“What is the matter?”

To her alarm, he blinked back tears and shook his head. “It’s nothing, princess.”

“Master Mott told you?” He stared at her in what she thought might be both hope and fear. “That you’re my brother?”

He nodded jerkily. “Yes.”

She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I’m not going to hurt you, Gendry. But I cannot say the same for every member of my family. Don’t let anyone find out. It might put you in danger.”

He looked at her with wide eyes and nodded.

She bit her lip and made a decision. She leaned closer, “I’m taking too long already. I’m going to come see you later today, at nightfall. Don’t tell anyone. Will you be at your forge?”

“What– Yes.”

She nodded. “See you then.”

She wrapped the daggers back up, picked them up and took off, leaving him staring after her in surprise.

—

Later that day, when night was falling, she dressed in trousers and a tunic, and threw a cloak on top. She took a bag, turned invisible and apparated to the alley behind the smithy.

She found Gendry back at the same forge. She dropped her invisibility and knocked gently on the open door. He jumped in surprise and she grinned at him. “Hello, Gendry.” They only looked more similar now that she wasn’t dressed up.

“Princess!”

She stepped inside and looked around. “Is anyone likely to come here?”

He shook his head, crossed the room, looked outside and then closed the door. “No, the others are done for the day.”

“Alright.” She stepped closer and pulled him into a tentative embrace. He flailed his hands for a moment and then returned the embrace very gently and then more tightly.

“I’m dirty.”

“That’s alright.” She pulled back and looked at him. He was taller than her, and much bigger. “How old are you?”

“Four-and-ten.”

She snorted, “Me too. I guess Father didn’t waste any time.”

He chuckled awkwardly.

She pulled him over to a couple of crates and sat down. “Are you happy here?”

He nodded earnestly, “Yes, I like my work and Master Mott is good to me.”

She took a breath of relief, “I’m glad.” She dug into the bag and handed him a pouch. “For you. I figured too much would call attention, but I want you to have something.”

He took the pouch and looked at the gold dragons within, “Princess–” and tried to hand it back.

“Harry. Call me Harry when it’s just us. You’re my brother.”

He snorted softly, “Bastard brother. My mother was a tavern wench before she died.”

She shrugged, “We still share the same father. That means something to me. You might be a bastard but you’re still my brother, and you seem like a good boy. So I’d like to keep in touch, if you feel the same.” She pushed the pouch into his hands.

He sniffled and nodded, “Yes, I’d like that.” He put the pouch away and she smiled at him.

She dug into the bag and took out a few cakes wrapped in a cloth napkin. She handed him one and they shared a grin, “Now tell me about yourself, where did you grow up?”

“I grew up in Flea Bottom after my mother died when I was young–”

Chapter Text

297 AC.

At fifteen, someone tried to have her assassinated. She’d long sealed off several of the secret passages, including the one into her rooms. So they ambushed her in the gardens instead. She often walked through Myrcella’s garden, admiring her sister’s hard work.

And on that particular night, two men jumped out of the shadows. Ser Arys engaged one of them immediately, the other had to deal with her. Unfortunately for the men, she was the most dangerous of the two, not that anyone knew that.

A spell made the assassin trip over his own feet and one of her knives to his wrist made him drop his dagger. She dove into his mind in the split second it’d taken to disarm him and found what she needed. Then she kicked him away and stabbed him in the knee, while he was still screaming over his bleeding wrist.

Ser Arys dispatched the other man within moments, but by then she didn’t need help anymore. She let Ser Arys look her over while guards started streaming in.

“Princess.” Ser Arys looked terribly stressed.

“I’m alright. He didn’t even touch me.” She was mostly annoyed.

Ser Arys pulled her back further from the scene, “We don’t know if there might be more of them, princess. The king needs to be told.” He ushered her away quickly, and several guards fell around them.

The night was about to get very loud, she just knew it.

—

By the time they reached the family wing, she could hear her father yelling all the way down the corridor. Someone must have run ahead to the King’s chambers.

They ran into him as he left his rooms and he rushed over immediately once he saw her.

“Harry!” He took her shoulders and started patting her down.

She realized she was still holding her bloody knife and pushed him away. “I’m alright! The blood isn’t mine!” She took out a handkerchief to clean her knife and her hands.

Her father pulled her into a crushing embrace and only luck and her reflexes saved him from getting stabbed or cut.

“Father!”

He finally released her and started barking orders, looking furious, “I want the Keep searched from top to bottom! Get me my Hand!”

She finally put away her knife and discreetly cast a cleaning spell on her hands, passing over the bloody handkerchief to a servant.

Her uncle Renly came running down the corridor. Ser Loras followed on his heels. “Harry!”

Her uncle had barely reached her and drawn her into a hug when her mother arrived at the scene.

“What do you mean my daughter was almost killed!” Cersei looked spitting mad.

A hand on her shoulder turned her around, Uncle Jaime looked her up and down and she patted his hand reassuringly.

The corridor was suddenly a mad house.

Her father roared over the crowd, “Kingslayer! I’m putting you in charge of the royal family. Get them out of here and watch them until we know the Keep is safe.” Jon Arryn approached, out of breath, “Jon! Barristan! Help me search the Keep!”

Uncle Jaime still had his hand on her shoulder and he drew her away and into the nearby King’s solar. The room was large and comfortable but was hardly used.

Her mother reached them and cupped her face, kissing her cheek and drawing her into an embrace. She could see guards taking up posts around the room, and Uncle Renly and Ser Loras taking a seat in one of the sofas.

Her mother was still fussing over her when her siblings were ushered in, looking confused. Tommen and Myrcella ran over to her, while Joffrey looked supremely annoyed.

“What’s this about assassins in the night?” He called out.

Mother finally released her and went over to Joffrey. Harry drew her younger siblings over to sit down.

It felt like everyone was looking at her. She looked around and realized most of them were indeed staring at her. Like she might disappear into smoke at any moment.

She sighed and let Tommen burrow into her side, while Myrcella took her hand.

Tommen wrapped his arm around her waist, “Are you okay? We heard someone tried to kill you.”

She dropped a kiss on his head and on Myrcella’s cheek. “I’m perfectly fine. I promise. They didn’t even touch me.”

Joffrey cut in, willingly speaking to her, for once. “Is it true you stabbed the assassin?”

Of course that would be the interesting part for him, “Yes, twice.” He actually looked impressed, but everyone else stared at her. That included her mother, Tommen, Myrcella, Uncle Jamie, Uncle Renly and Ser Loras. She felt a little offended. “You all know I’ve been training at arms for years. Why is it so surprising that I can defend myself?”

Uncle Renly chuckled and drew a hand down his face, and the younger children giggled. The tension seemed to break. They had to stay there for the next couple of hours, until the Red Keep was deemed safe, but for once everyone kept the peace.

She’d have to get herself nearly assassinated more often if it got her family to get along for once.

—

Harry was finally allowed back into her rooms later that night, with Tommen and Myrcella joining her, adamant about staying the night.

She laid in her bed, surrounded by her brother and sister and thought long and hard about how she would handle this.

She’d left Varys too long, she realized. She would have to correct her mistake, and soon. The question was, how? It was probably safest to just quietly disappear him. But who would fill his shoes?

Filling the position of the master of coin had been a simpler matter. Kevan Lannister had been sent over by her grandfather and was granted the position without much fuss. She would have preferred her Uncle Tyrion. She knew how brilliant he was, but it was not her decision.

Even if she got rid of Varys, there was still the matter of his nephew, Aegon Blackfyre, and the Targaryens across the sea.

She closed her eyes and sighed. She did not want to kill people just because they might be a threat to her family. And yet, what else could she do?

She looked down at her siblings, asleep next to her, and hardened her heart. She was a Baratheon as much as she’d ever been a Potter, and she did love this broken family of hers. She would choose her family every time.

—

She caught up to Varys the next night, after a whole day of being so closely watched she felt like screaming. So she had little mercy in her heart for him.

She ambushed him in his rooms, as he stepped out of the secret passage. He never even saw her, standing invisibly across from him.

She froze him as soon as he closed the passage and dove into his mind.

—

298 AC.

Jon Arryn had been paying a lot of attention to Harry lately. It made her nervous.

It only took a peak into his mind to find out why. He suspected her siblings were not her father’s. She had to groan and press her hands against her eyes once she was in the privacy of her chambers.

He suspected, but he did not know. And he was trying to prepare her, in case she had to take the crown. This was terrible, but it was not a disaster. Her green eyes were throwing him off. They were green, not blue, and yet she was clearly Robert’s.

She would play along, and hope he did not bring his suspicions to her father. She could not remove Jon Arryn for this. She had decided long ago she could not protect her parents from their own choices. She would not fall so low as to harm a good man because her mother was a terrible person. She just needed to do damage control, if it came to it.

In the meantime, she would learn all she could, and hope for the best.

—

“What about this?” It was a report of bandits in the Kingswood.

The Hand looked up from the pile of parchment they were sorting through.

“Write a note to the master of laws to send men and clear them.”

Harry nodded and pulled a blank scroll close, dipping her quill into the inkpot.

—

It would be Joffrey’s thirteenth name day soon and Mother had insisted on a tourney. Harry was sick and tired of tourneys. This world really needed some other entertainment aside from bloody tourneys.

They’d only gotten worse lately, and this one was no better, with many knights eager to ask for her favor. She was nearly sixteen and still not betrothed. The lords seemed to think that meant open season on her. According to her maids, there was fierce competition for her hand, which was ridiculous.

King Robert was deeply unwilling to marry her off and lose her company. It’d worked to Harry’s advantage so far, but people seemed to think he couldn’t hold off forever. And so Harry was starting to feel the pressure.

She usually gave her favor to one of her uncles, except Uncle Loras, because people would read too much into that, so either Jaime or Renly, but usually Renly would very publicly ask for her favor and help her avoid awkwardly rejecting hopeful knights coming up to her.

—

Her father found the whole hunt for her hand both incredibly funny and annoying.

King Robert chortled as she described a particularly tenacious lordling during the opening feast, “He spoke of his bloody carrots the whole dance, Father!” He laughed harder, “It’s not funny! The whole song! I understand his house has very fertile lands, but there are better ways to speak of it, surely!”

She scowled at him and she saw Ser Barristan hiding a smile while walking behind her father. Ser Arys was walking behind her, face impassive but his eyes shining with amusement. She threw them both a look and rolled her eyes.

Her father led her into the King’s solar and they sprawled on a sofa. He had finally stopped chuckling.

“I know you’ll have to marry one day, but not yet, girl.” He shook her shoulder gently and she leaned against his side.

“Father, what are my options?”

He sighed deeply, from deep in his chest and leaned back against the sofa. “My first choice would be Robb Stark, except we might want a Stark for Joffrey’s queen instead. There’s the Tyrell heir but I’ll be damned before I let you marry a bloody rose.” He scowled.

“There’s no one else close to my age among the Lords Paramount’s close family. Should I consider other houses as well?”

He patted her head, “I’d like to let you choose, but there’s too many bloody lickspittles aiming for your hand.”

Harry snorted, “What? You’re afraid I’ll be taken in by one of them?”

Her father chortled and slapped his leg, “Right you are! Maybe I’m worried for nothing. You’ll be only sixteen soon, you’re not marrying yet. And there’ll be no betrothal for a time.” He stood, “Come, it’s time for dinner.” She rose and followed after him. “Use this time well, find yourself a boy you like, and if he’s worthy of you, I’ll grant my permission.”

She teased him, “Any boy?”

He squinted at her suspiciously, “Any boy of a good house.” He grumbled, “And not a bloody rose.”

She let out a peal of laughter and followed along to the dining hall.

—

After the tourney it was off to Casterly Rock to visit the Westerlands for the first time in Harry’s life. Harry hadn’t done any real traveling while in this life yet. She lived a terribly sheltered life as a princess.

With this trip came the discovery of how truly appalling traveling was in this world. Her mother insisted on a monstrosity of a wheelhouse which made the trip slow and awkward. It was very comfortable, with proper beds and such. But the time lost was just ridiculous.

By the end of the first week, Harry lost her patience and made a discreet trip around the wheelhouse, layering spells onto the wheels to avoid them breaking every bloody day, and making the enormous wheelhouse lighter. The magic would eventually fade, which was just as well, as it would be suspicious otherwise. But it should at least last long enough for them to make some actual progress.

—

Casterly Rock was impressive, and incredibly luxurious, and their welcome had been grand, and yet she didn’t feel particularly comfortable in the place. Her grandfather was cold and stern, and she could see where her mother had gotten her controlling tendencies. He made Uncle Stannis seem like a warm, cuddly teddy bear in comparison.

Luckily, though he watched her, he did not approach her, which allowed her to observe him. Out of his royal grandchildren, he paid the most attention to Joffrey, weighting his worth, she felt. And she could see him get more and more disappointed as the days went by. Her brother was oblivious, of course, which was probably a good thing.

Myrcella and Tommen were happy enough with the new sights. Her mother showed her children around the Rock and Lannisport, looking happy to be in the Westerlands. Harry was just grateful her father had stayed in King’s Landing.

—

She spoke with her grandfather only once, when he summoned her to his private study.

“Your brother is useless.” He paused, filling two goblets, “And I’ve been reliably informed that you are not.”

She took the proffered drink and sipped it, “Then it must be true, I suppose.” She said dryly.

“I’ve been told you’re half running the kingdoms, from the shadows.” He sounded unconcerned, almost indifferent, but she knew he was anything but. “And even Jon Arryn has taken you under his wing.”

She kept her face impassive, “You’ve been paying attention to me. Why? I’m only a princess.”

“And yet, you’re the King’s favored child. If only your brother had been half as successful as you.” He stared very intently at her and she suddenly knew he was pleased she was not intimidated, “Your brother will need managing, when he’s king. I will not be around forever.”

So that’s what he wanted from her.

She sighed, set her goblet down and stood, leaning over the desk, “But I will. I will be here, and I will do whatever I have to do to secure my family’s future. Is that what you wanted to hear, grandfather?”

His eyes glittered, and he looked pleased, “Yes.” He almost smiled, “You are dismissed.”

She left the room, and in the back of her mind, was the worry that maybe she too had something in common with her grandfather. They were both ruthless when they needed to be. It made her annoyed.

—

Aside from the family outings, Harry spent most of her time reconnecting with her uncle Tyrion. They’d written to each other over the years but that was hardly the same.

“How can you stand it?”

“Ah, yes, the crushing weight of my father’s regard.” He shrugged, “You get used to it.”

Harry shook her head, “No, I mean everything.” Her uncle seemed to spend most of his time in leisure, and yet seemed incredibly unhappy. “You should come to King’s Landing at least, we can find you a position. You’re just rotting away in here.”

For a moment, her uncle looked haggard. “It’s not that easy, niece. My loving father wishes to hide his shameful dwarf son away from the world.”

She frowned, “Then we just need to find a way to have you summoned to the capital. Can’t you just go for a visit?”

He shrugged, “Sure, but then I’d have to come back.”

She grinned, “Go back with us, and we’ll delay your departure until we find something for you. You’re brilliant, it shouldn’t be too hard. Father will probably agree, if just to annoy Mother.”

Her uncle looked gleeful, “I’m always happy to annoy your mother.”

Harry choked on a laugh and covered her mouth with her hand, paranoid her mother would jump out of nowhere. That just made them laugh harder.

—

Harry arrived back in King’s Landing with her family only to find her father arguing loudly with Jon Arryn. She stepped into the King’s solar and thought to back away instead, but took too long. Her father spotted her by the door.

“Harry! Tell him he can’t do it! I forbid it!”

“What is happening?!” She asked bewildered.

Lord Arryn waved her closer and she took a seat by his side. “I’m retiring from my position and going back to the Vale.”

King Robert dropped heavily onto a chair. “You can’t leave me, Jon. You know I can’t run the kingdoms without you.”

“Then get another Hand, Robert! I’m old.” He suddenly looked every one of his years. “I’m much too old. I haven’t seen my son in years. I should have retired after Baelish, in truth.”

They all grimaced to remember that mess.

“We’ll miss you, Lord Arryn.”

Her father scowled at her, “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

She scowled back, “Lord Arryn deserves to spend his remaining years in his own seat with his family, Father.” She was right and he knew it, because his shoulders slumped.

“Oh, alright. But will you stay until I find a new Hand?”

Lord Arryn looked relieved, and nodded, “I will, but be quick about it.”

Her father slapped the armrest of his chair and stood up, “Harry! We’re going North!” Then he started pacing across the room.

“North? You’re bringing Ned here? Robert!” Lord Arryn looked distressed.

“It’s either him or Tywin Lannister and you know it. Which should it be?”

The Hand covered his face with his hand and nodded. “I’ll stay until you’re back, but don’t dally.” He rose with difficulty. “I trust you’ll help the new Hand, princess? You’ve been doing an excellent job assisting me.” He was not subtle at all.

Her father preened. “Of course she has.”

She ignored him and turned to Lord Arryn, “Of course. I’ll be glad to.”

The Hand nodded and left them.

Harry stood up and made her way out. “I’m not telling Mother we’re going back on the road when we just arrived.”

Her father’s groan chased her out of the room.

—

Harry took a secret trip into the city while the preparations were under way. Well, two trips. She went publicly, and played for the smallfolk again. And then she went again after nightfall and met her half-brother in his forge.

She knocked softly on the door, “Gendry.”

The door opened wide and he was standing there blinking down at her, he ushered her inside and looked around, closing the door.

“Gods, did you get taller again? When will you stop growing?” She was genuinely annoyed, she was tall enough, but was no giant like her father and now Gendry.

He grinned at her and stepped into her arms when she opened them in invitation. They held each other tightly and then broke apart, sitting on a couple of stools.

“I’m sixteen, you know. I could still grow further.”

She scoffed, “Then I will laugh when you start hitting your head on things.” She passed him a pouch, “Here.”

He looked uncomfortable, “I don’t need it. I’m doing well.”

“I know you are, but I will be gone for a while, to the North. I want you to have it, just in case. Save it, if you like.”

He sighed but nodded and took the coin pouch. “Is it true then? The King is going North to make Lord Stark the new Hand? I heard Master Mott discussing the rumours.”

She shrugged, “It is, but keep it to yourself. It will be common knowledge soon enough.”

He nodded seriously, “How long will you be gone?” Then he looked uneasy, “Will– Will you be staying North?”

She frowned, “Why would I stay?”

He fidgeted, “I heard the King might marry you off to the Stark heir.”

Her face cleared, “Ah.” She chuckled, “He’s certainly one of my options, but they’re leaning towards a Stark queen for Joffrey instead, so probably not. Don’t worry.”

He nodded but still looked concerned, “What will happen when you marry? Will I never see you again?”

She reached over and squeezed his hand, “Once I have my own home, you will always be welcome there.” She grinned at him, “You could be my blacksmith. You’re certainly talented enough for it.” She looked around at the pieces on display, probably commissions still in progress.

He grinned back, looking pleased, “I always thought to open my own shop, maybe I could do that wherever it is you go, instead of here.”

“I’d like that. It would be nice to have family close by. And if I do stay North, you could always come join me once your apprenticeship is done.” She said teasingly.

He grumbled, “You’re too young to marry.”

She laughed, “You sound just like Father.”

He looked startled and then laughed with her.

Chapter Text

The trip North was much worse than the trip to the Westerlands, and not just because it would take much longer. Harry had to spell the wheelhouse again, so it would not break so very often. Her father complained about it even more than she did.

At least she kept her complaints to herself, he shouted them for the whole camp to hear.

She also spent a lot more time riding with her father, than trapped in the wheelhouse with her mother and siblings. It left her covered in dust, but she could discreetly magic that away.

Her uncle Renly was unfortunately not going, so that meant no Uncle Loras either. Uncle Stannis was off on a ship somewhere. At least she had both her Lannister uncles for company, though Uncle Jaime was assigned to watch Mother, as always.

She had the ever present Ser Arys, while Ser Barristan trailed after her father. Ser Boros Blount was watching over her siblings, and Clegane over Joffrey. The rest of the Kingsguard had remained behind.

Her father was eager to get North, so they kept stops to a minimum. Harry was also eager to get North, but for different reasons. It was difficult suffering through the inconveniences of camping, when she knew she could have swept that all away if she could use her magic.

How she longed to make an enchanted tent, or summon her bathwater. She had to make do with heating it up further and keeping it hot for longer, but the servants still had to carry over buckets anytime the royal family made use of the bathing tent.

It left her rather irritable, though she consoled herself with the beautiful sights as they travelled, and the opportunity to spend quality time with her family. There were no lessons keeping her younger siblings busy, though her own had long finished.

She cycled through spending time with all members of her family as the days slipped by, even her mother.

—

It took them a month to reach the Crossroads Inn, and a further two months to see Winterfell in the distance. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

The North was a beautiful country, vast and unspoiled. The air was noticeably colder, but also cleaner and she found it invigorating. A small part of Harry thought that she wouldn’t mind too much if she had to stay behind.

Most of her almost dreaded meeting Robb Stark. What if her father liked him and pushed them together?

‘I have to make my choice, if I mean to choose for myself.’ There’d just been no one she liked well enough. ‘Maybe I just haven’t met the right man yet.’

In her heart, she longed for a love match, but she was a practical girl, and knew the odds of that were miniscule.

—

Jon ran a hand over his face, feeling gloomy. He missed his stubble, but Lady Stark wanted everyone to look as presentable as possible for the royal party that was about to arrive.

They’d all heard much about King Robert and his family, and Jon thought Lady Stark was particularly interested in the crown prince and the king’s eldest daughter. Either one of them might end up married to one of her children after all.

There’d not been much said about the prince, but Princess Hariel was much discussed. A peerless beauty, they said, kind and gracious and yet sharp as a blade. Both a gentle princess and a warrior queen of old. Jon didn’t know how she could be all those things.

They were probably empty platitudes meant for a royal princess still unmarried. She was probably pleasant enough, but not some figure out of legend.

Still, there was much to be excited about. Famous knights would be coming to Winterfell, both Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard. And many other important figures besides, no less of them King Robert himself, the Demon of the Trident.

Jon tried not to fidget while waiting for the royal party to make their way to the inner courtyard. The whole keep was waiting, arranged carefully. He felt a momentary pang at having to stand behind his siblings instead of by their side, but pushed it away.

The clattering of horses pulled his attention to the gate just in time for the first of them to enter.

The King had to be the big man at the front. He was probably one of the tallest men Jon had ever seen. He had a belly but still looked strong, like he could lift his famed warhammer singlehandedly.

Movement beside the king drew his eyes and Jon felt the breath punch out of him. The girl beside the king had to be his eldest daughter, Princess Hariel. As Jon watched her dark hair flutter in the wind, he deeply regretted thinking all the praise heaped upon her to be mere talk.

She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. His eyes remained glued to her as she alighted from her horse in a single graceful movement. She followed behind the King, and Jon was vaguely aware of the rest of the royal family joining them, but he could not pull his eyes away from her.

She stepped forward to be introduced after the queen, and he sighed to see her smile at Lord Stark. She was lovely. Father seemed to like her well enough, his face thawing for a moment out of his formal demeanor. When she was introduced to Robb, there were many significant looks thrown around and Jon couldn’t help but frown.

She smiled charmingly at his brother, and Jon knew him well enough to know he was probably staring at her starry eyed. Jon felt his frown threatening to turn into a scowl and smoothed his face. What was wrong with him?

When she finally stepped back among her family, her eyes suddenly met his, and he held his breath, unwilling to look away for a moment. He suddenly wanted nothing more than for her to look at him.

Their eyes held until the royal family was led into the keep, and Father led the king away somewhere. He realized he’d missed the rest of the introductions. He took a deep breath when she finally crossed the threshold and he lost sight of her.

Robb turned around and approached him and Theon.

“Did you see her? And she might be my wife!”

Jon couldn’t help the frown that crossed his face, “It’s not certain.”

Theon snorted, “Piss off, Snow. That’s not for you to decide.”

Jon scowled and turned away, he’d best leave before Theon said something he’d have to hit him for.

—

The one good thing about being relegated to a seat far away from his family during the feast, was that he was free to stare up at both the high table and the table set aside for the royal children.

The king looked jolly, laughing outrageously at something Father said, and there was even a small smile on Father’s face. The queen was a beautiful woman, but she looked cold and haughty. And Jon thought the princess was far more beautiful besides.

He kept looking at her through the meal and felt a strange sense of jealousy to see Robb cheerily making conversation with her.

He stepped outside after he was done with his meal, frustrated with himself, and made his way to a training dummy.

—

Robb Stark was nice enough, she supposed. He was handsome and charming, and she probably liked him better than the other options so far, though she had yet to meet Willas Tyrell.

“Is the city as big as they say?” He looked curiously at her.

“Oh, yes. The markets and the shops are a wonder. If only it didn’t stink like a cesspit. I like the air much better here, truth be told.”

He looked pleased at her words and she realized that might have been a mistake. She didn’t want him to read too much into her words, but it seemed he was aware of their possible betrothal.

“I’d be glad to show you around, princess. Or perhaps a ride through the Wolfswood?”

He looked eager to please and she had to thread carefully. Best not to let him get attached, she knew her father was leaning heavily to a Stark girl for her brother. Though she hoped they wouldn’t be too disappointed when her brother never actually became king.

She hummed noncommittally, “I know Father will be eager to go hunting, so not a ride just yet. Perhaps a walk at some point?”

He nodded and smiled at her. “Winterfell is a large castle, and there’s Wintertown, too–”

She listened as he spoke and was glad the great hall was too packed for there to be dancing.

—

She was able to detangle herself from her company some time later, and placed a notice-me-not charm on herself, eager for some air away from the crowd. She’d thankfully been given a respite from Ser Arys following her around, but only while in Winterfell.

She stepped outside the hall and into a courtyard. The sound of voices drew her closer and she shamelessly stopped to listen.

It was the handsome boy from earlier, talking to her uncle Tyrion. She was unsurprised to hear her uncle poking at his sore spots, metaphorically speaking. So he was Lord Stark’s bastard son. Her uncle was probably trying to help him in his own annoying way.

She waited for her uncle to walk away and dropped her spell, stepping closer.

“I’m sorry about my uncle, I swear he was actually offering genuine advice.”

He startled badly and turned around, dropping his practice sword. He stared at her wide eyed for several moments, until he shook himself and bowed. “Princess Hariel.”

She smiled and came closer, “I really am sorry about him.”

He nodded, looking embarrassed, “It’s alright. He was right.” He admitted grudgingly.

She held back a smile, he was surprisingly endearing, and very handsome. “What is your name? I didn’t catch it.”

He blushed and bowed again, “Jon Snow, my princess.”

“I am pleased to meet you, Jon Snow. Do call me Harry, no one actually calls me Hariel aside from my mother.”

—

Jon swallowed roughly and tried to calm his racing heart. Her eyes were so very green.

“That would be too forward of me, princess.”

She huffed playfully and grinned at him, “When there’s no one around then.”

He smiled back but made no such promises, she seemed to notice and her eyes glittered with her amusement.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” She looked curious and came closer to where he’d left his sword on the ground.

He hurriedly picked it up and put it to the side. He couldn’t very well tell her he’d gotten tired of watching his brother try to woo her, “I needed some air, princess.”

She hummed, “Me too, the hall was quite crowded.” Then she leaned in conspiratorially, “I’m also hiding from your brother.”

He blinked at her in surprise, “But why? I thought–” He stopped himself and flushed. That had been too familiar of him.

She looked around and took his arm, making his heart leap in his chest and pulled him aside, out of sight of the doors and pulled him down to sit by her side.

“It’s like this, my royal father is very keen on joining our families, so it’s either your sister Sansa marries Joffrey, or I marry your brother Robb.”

Jon felt unbearably jealous of his brother.

She continued, “It’s likely it will be Joffrey and Sansa, and I will end up married off to Willas Tyrell. Probably.” She shrugged. “Except my father hates the Tyrells. So my future is very uncertain.”

She sighed and leaned back, “I don’t want your brother to get attached, as any betrothal is unlikely to materialize at the moment.”

Jon winced, “I’m sure your father will take your wishes into consideration, princess.” He paused, and couldn’t help but add, “Any man would be lucky to have you.”

She peered at him, “It’s a shame you don’t have the Stark name, I wouldn’t have minded marrying you, I think.”

Jon gaped at her, “I’m a bastard.”

She grinned, “Well, we could always get you legitimized I suppose.”

Jon gave a strangled chuckle, charmed by the idea and trying not to show how much it pleased him.

She grinned at him, “You know, I think I quite like you, Jon Snow.”

He sobered up, it was suddenly not funny anymore. He could see she was being honest, but that just made it hurt all the more. He could never have a princess for a wife, not even if he was suddenly legitimized as a Stark. The stain of bastardy would always haunt him.

She must have seen something on his face, because she reached for his hand and held it. “I’m sorry.” She leaned in, looking into his eyes, “It must not be easy for you. You don’t need me jesting about it. I do mean it, though.”

Then she leaned in to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head at the last moment and their lips brushed. Jon flushed darkly and looked at her wide-eyed.

She gasped, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to– I’m sorry!” then stood and walked away.

Jon covered his face with his hands, feeling both giddy and sad. ‘She kissed me, and no one can ever know. There might have been trouble if anyone had seen her even speaking to me. I need to keep my distance. I must.’

When his uncle Benjen arrived, Jon was back to training and asked to join him at the Wall. Even if for the first time, he thought there might be something else he would rather have. But princesses were not for bastards, so he stuck to his decision. There was nothing else for him.

—

Harry made her way back to the feast. She didn’t know what had come over her. Why had she said that? Why had she tried to kiss his cheek?

A blush rose to her face and she had to hide away for a moment, covering her face with her hands.

‘What was that? What is the matter with me?’

She shook herself, that was enough of that. She stepped into the crowd and was relieved to find Robb gone from the table. She sat next to Myrcella and pulled her into conversation.

—

Harry was breaking her fast with her family. It was early, so only Tommen and Myrcella were there, chattering happily. They were always happiest when it was just the three of them and she couldn’t blame them.

Harry sighed to herself, and tuned back to the present moment when her younger uncle waddled into the room. Tyrion climbed into a chair and served himself from the platters.

“At least the food is better than I expected. Even if the weather leaves much to be desired.”

Her siblings giggled, and she rolled her eyes, “I rather like the weather. It’s refreshing, and the North is beautiful. There’s no stink for one.” She winked at her siblings and they laughed.

Her uncle looked amused, “My dear niece, if you keep speaking that way, your kingly father will think you want to stay and marry you off to the Stark heir.”

She huffed, “Wasn’t it supposed to be Joffrey and Sansa?” She leaned forward, “What have you heard?”

He shrugged and took up his goblet, “Not much, the king has offered Joffrey, but Lord Stark has yet to accept. I do believe your royal father wants to keep you close.”

Harry leaned back against her chair. “I know, he said as much. I’m just afraid he’ll do something impulsive. The uncertainty is killing me.”

Tyrion chuckled and toasted her, “Cheer up, niece. Maybe you’ll get the wilting rose after all.”

She glared at him, “You know very well Father and Mother would never allow it.” She sighed despondently, “I just want people to stop talking about my possible marriage. Have they got nothing better to do?”

Her uncle patted her hand but couldn’t hold back his grin, “It must be difficult, being the most sought after maiden in the kingdoms.”

She groaned, “I’m being ridiculous, aren’t I?”

Myrcella cut in, “Yes! So what if everyone wants to marry you? Just choose someone so the rest will leave you be.”

Harry laughed, “Maybe you’re right, little sister.” She stood and kissed her head, and then Tommen’s. “I will see you later, I’m going for a walk.”

Her siblings and her uncle waved her off and she made her way out into the courtyard. They would probably be here for a month at least, so she had time to explore.

—

She wandered around the castle for a long while until she felt a vaguely familiar presence. She turned in that direction until she found herself before the gate to the Godswood. She made her way inside, taking her time looking around, until she found herself standing before the Heart Tree.

“So it was you that brought me here.” She whispered to the tree. It was the Old Gods’ presence she could feel all around. And there was another, smaller presence watching her through the tree. A spirit of the Old Gods, perhaps?

“Princess?” She startled and whirled around. She’d been so focused on the tree, she hadn’t felt him approach.

Jon Snow was watching her from the path back to the castle.

“Oh, hello, Jon.” She smiled at him, “Are you here to pray? I can leave you be.”

He shook his head and stepped closer, “There’s no need, I was only– only walking.”

“Me too, the keep is quite crowded with the court here, isn’t it? I’d wager things are much more peaceful when you don’t have a whole horde of visitors clogging up your castle.”

He laughed lightly, “It’s not so bad.” He eyed her, and went on, “And it’s not my castle, in any case.”

She hummed, “Your father’s castle then.” She sat down on a large root, and he hesitantly took a seat next to her. She searched for a subject of conversation. “Have you considered what you’ll do in the future?” The future had been much in her mind lately.

He nodded sharply, “I plan to join the Night’s Watch soon.”

She turned to him in surprise, “What?”

Jon scowled, “It’s an honorable post.”

Harry placed her hand on his arm, “I don’t mean to imply otherwise, but not everyone there will have joined willingly. Most will have not, in fact.” She winced, “And it’s a life-long commitment. Why not wait a few years? See the world before you tie yourself to a single place.”

He shook his head, “And go where? There’s no place for me out there.”

She scowled at him and her hand fell away, “Then make one! Make a place for yourself. You have the freedom to do so. You could go to Essos, or go south, or become a knight. There are several knights who I know would be willing to take you.” She could think of several people that would do so on her recommendation, “My uncle Stannis for one, he’s harsh but fair, or Ser Davos, even my uncle Renly or Ser Loras. Or Ser Barristan! He would take you if I asked.”

The old knight was very fond of her, he’d trained her himself after all. And he would most certainly take Jon as his squire if she asked, so long as Jon demonstrated some talent for the sword, which she had a feeling he had.

He stared at her wide eyed, “Become a knight? But– I’m a northman!”

She rolled her eyes, “So you are, and is your master-at-arms not also a northman? Is he not a knight?”

Jon nodded uncertainly, “He is, I just– It’s not something I’d considered for myself. Do you really think I could do it?”

Harry leaned closer to look into his eyes very seriously, “I know so. I can tell your quality already. Give a good enough showing in the yard and I don’t see why you couldn’t come south with us as a squire. And if you’re still set on the Night’s Watch, it’s even better if you join as a knight, isn’t it?” She grinned but then grimaced, “I do warn you though, King’s Landing is a stinking cesspit where no one can be trusted. Most people are liars and cheats and you’ll hate them.” She sighed and leaned back, “But there are a very few that make it bearable.”

She could see him think it over, “Then how do you stand it? Living there?”

“I don’t exactly have a choice, but you do. I only tell you this so if you walk this path, you do so with your eyes wide open. All paths have both good and bad, so just make sure to find one where the good makes the bad worth it.”

He smiled at her and she could feel her heart flutter, making her annoyed with herself. “Thank you, princess. I’ll think it over.”

She nodded, satisfied. And looked up at the red leaves. She could feel him watching her.

She eyed him back, “What?”

He smiled and looked down, “Nothing.”

She bit her lip, “Is it about the kiss? I said I was sorry. It wasn’t the way I thought my first kiss would go.”

He flushed and shook his head, “I wasn’t– Your first? I was your first?” He blinked at her and then a smile slowly crept across his face.

She scowled, “Well, yes! Do you think I go around kissing boys? I don’t!” She huffed.

He laughed lightly, still blushing, “It was my first too, you know.”

She looked surprised, “Really?” Then smiled, “That’s not so bad then. Even if it wasn’t a proper kiss.”

He raised his brows, “What makes a proper kiss?”

“Well, it’d have to be on purpose, I would say.” Her voice was dry.

He grinned at her and leaned closer, “Does it still count then?”

She leaned in as well, “I think it does. Though we could compare I suppose.” It was a dangerous game they were playing.

She saw him look down to her lips and lean in. If she meant to stop this, now was the time to move away. But she did not.

He brushed his lips against hers, very lightly, and she pressed closer. Old memories rose up in her mind and she slid her lips against his, he followed along and cupped her face, sliding closer, until their legs were pressed together.

Her hands rose to settle on his shoulders and she felt him put his hands around her waist. She had to break the kiss when she ran out of breath, but only leaned back enough to meet his glazed eyes. She probably looked the same.

“Now that was a proper kiss.” She whispered and saw him smile.

She couldn’t resist kissing him again and he responded enthusiastically. She lost track of time entirely, but they must have kept going for several minutes.

A noise nearby startled them apart and she looked around in fright. She hadn’t felt anyone approaching. If anyone caught them it could prove disastrous, especially for Jon, who lacked the protection of a noble name. But there was no other human presence nearby.

Jon groaned next to her, “Ghost! Here, boy!”

That would explain it. A white dog ran across the forest floor towards them. No, it was a wolf.

Jon threw her a concerned look, “That could have gone badly.”

She winced, “Yes.” and leaned down to offer her hand to the wolf, who licked it and she ran her fingers over his soft fur. “I’m not sorry, though.” She saw him smile from the corner of her eye.

“Neither am I.” He reached down and scratched behind the wolf’s ear, “This is Ghost. He’s a direwolf.”

She smiled, delighted, and Ghost jumped up to try to lick her face. She leaned back laughingly, “He’s lovely. And he should grow quite big if he’s a direwolf.”

He nodded, “All my siblings have one. Ghost was the runt, but he’s grown quite well.”

That was probably because of the magical link between them, but she should probably keep that to herself.

“You should make sure they’re kept away from my mother. She hates all animals, even horses.”

He grimaced, “Aye, I do believe Lady Stark already commanded they be kept away from the guests. I just didn’t expect anyone to be here.”

She ran a hand over Ghost’s head on her lap, “Then it shouldn’t be a problem. And I don’t think any other guest will be coming here. Probably.” She shrugged. “I should go, before we get in trouble.”

She stood and made to walk away but lingered for a moment.

He looked up at her, still seated, and there was such a look of longing on his face that she stepped closer and leaned down to kiss him again. As a goodbye, she told herself. He responded immediately, cupping her face and kissing back, pulling her closer.

She placed a hand on his shoulder and the other tangled in his hair. She bumped against his knees and broke away with a gasp, “I’m going to go before–”

He interrupted her with a kiss and pulled her into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. His arms were around her back, holding her against his chest.

He was dangerous, he was really dangerous. And she needed to walk away. She broke the kiss and panted against his lips. He was still clutching her to him. And she realized she was still wrapped around him. She leaned back and released him.

She swallowed, “Jon.”

He sighed softly and slowly unwrapped his arms from around her. She got off him and they looked at each other for several long moments. He stood and took a step back.

“You should go.”

She nodded jerkily and walked away. She made her way to the gate and made sure she was presentable before she stepped out.

Then she wandered around until she found a quiet courtyard with a smoking pool and a bench she could sit on. She needed a quiet moment.

She sat down and stared at the pool.

She’d just snogged a boy. She’d just– Why did she do that? She groaned softly and sighed to herself. Nearly sixteen years she’d been in this world and never had she felt that way before. She thought back but Harry Potter had also never felt such a strong pull to anyone.

She would have to stay away from Jon Snow, for his own sake. If someone had seen them, they would have been dragged before her father and there was no telling how he’d react. He might chop off Jon’s head. Or worse. Her father had a temper, especially when it came to her.

In the best case scenario, he’d have them marry. But that was unlikely. And even if he did, there was no telling how her mother would react to her daughter marrying a bastard. Who knew what could happen.

She clenched her hands and shook her head. That was enough of that. She stood and made her way back to the keep.

Chapter Text

Harry stepped into the Great Hall for the midday meal and made her way over to the high table. Her mother was just arriving and spotted her immediately.

“Hariel! Come here.” Harry stepped forward and stopped before her mother, who raised her hands to her hair, “Why is your hair such a mess? Have you been to the training yard? I told you not while we’re here.” She hissed at her.

“No, Mother. You know how my hair is. Maybe it was a little windy.” It wasn’t, it’d been Jon that had messed up her curls, she just hadn’t realized.

Cersei hummed and kissed her cheek, “Sit down.” and walked away to her own seat.

Harry sighed to herself and met Tyrion’s eyes, who was laughing at her. She rolled her eyes at him and saw him choke on his wine from his laughter.

She walked to the table reserved for the Lord’s and the King’s children, headed to an empty seat next to Myrcella when her father’s booming voice rang out, “Harry! Come here, girl!”

She huffed and turned around, walking over and standing across from her father, seated next to Lord Stark, and curtsied. “You hollered, Father?” Then curtsied again, “Lord Stark.”

Ned Stark nodded to her and covered a smile with his hand, but her father paid no attention to her cheekiness, he was used to it, after all.

“I’ve hardly seen you, girl. Where have you been hiding?”

“I’ve been exploring. Winterfell is vast, and there’s much to see.”

King Robert grunted, “Be on the yard tomorrow morning. Ned’s boy trains in the mornings, let’s show them what the Baratheons can do, hmm?” He smirked at her.

She felt an answering smirk cross her lips and curtsied, “As you say.” and then he dismissed her.

Harry finally sat down for her meal, though Sansa Stark had taken the seat next to Myrcella. She sat across and Arya Stark came out of nowhere and hurriedly took the seat next to her.

She served herself and saw Arya do the same but she kept stealing looks at her, so Harry took a bite and stared back. Arya broke first, giggling and Harry smiled at her and leaned down. “What is it?”

Arya took that as permission, “I heard what the king said. You train with a sword?”

Harry nodded and wiped her mouth, “I do, bow and sword. I tried jousting too, because I like riding, but I find it boring.”

Arya looked delighted, “You’re a princess and they let you train?”

“Well, yes, but it wasn’t easy. I had to fight for it. Father finally agreed, but Mother was furious.” She shrugged. “I had to do very well at my other lessons to be allowed to continue.”

Arya wilted, “What lessons? Like embroidery?"

“All of them. My lessons with the maester, and my lessons with the governess, of which embroidery was part of, yes.”

Arya poked at her food, “Do you think Father will let me train, if I ask?”

Harry hummed, “Maybe. If he refuses, you might have to offer something in exchange.” The girl was a hellion, so maybe she could help here a little. “You could offer to be better behaved or improve your other lessons, like I did.”

Arya scowled but nodded. “I will try.”

She smiled and tugged on one of the girl’s braids, “Good luck.”

Arya smiled back, “Will you spar tomorrow?”

“It seems so.”

“Why you and not–” Arya looked around and leaned closer, whispering. “Why not Prince Joffrey?” Her brother was further down the table, stabbing at his food.

Harry whispered back, “Because I’m the better sword.” and Arya laughed delightedly.

They smiled at each other and went back to their meals.

Harry looked up just in time to see Jon step into the hall and take a seat at a table further down, close to the door. She saw him look for her and their eyes met for long moments, until Arya called for her attention and the moment was broken.

When she looked up again, he was looking down at his meal. She forcefully looked away. There was always someone watching.

—

The next day, she made her way to breakfast wearing her training clothes, which consisted of light leather armour and trousers, with knee high boots. The leather was beautifully adorned in the chest with her personal sigil, which was a front-facing stag head in gold.

She got several surprised looks, and saw her mother purse her lips. But her father had commanded it, so she had to keep her peace.

Her hair had been braided and then tucked into a bun, though some curls had already come loose, framing her face. Breakfast went by quickly, and then she made her way to the courtyard.

—

The training yard was full of people, because of course it was. She sighed to herself and felt a hand come rest on her shoulder. It was Ser Barristan.

The knight pulled her forward, “Come, princess. Let’s warm up.”

He ran her through their usual drilling, and she saw Robb, Jon and the Greyjoy boy do the same on the other side of the yard with Ser Rodrik. She was glad Jon had been permitted to attend. She’d feared he would be kept away.

Her siblings were watching from further away, along with the rest of the Stark children, including Arya. Several other nobles and knights were standing around.

Her uncle Jamie was leaning against the fence as well, and she hoped he wouldn’t embarrass her. He could be both overprotective and dismissive in turns. It was maddening.

Her father’s arrival was announced by his own booming voice laughing boisterously. Lord Stark walked at his side, as always these days.

King Robert approached the fence, “Harry! Daughter! Come here.”

She made her way over and stood patiently while he grabbed her shoulders, and spoke as quietly as he was able to, “Give them a good showing, hmm? And don’t let them land a hit or I’ll have to take their heads.” He was jesting. Probably.

She scowled at him, “No taking anyone’s head. Or no one will dare give me a real challenge. If they hit me, it’s because I wasn’t good enough and need to do better.” Uncle Jaime snorted nearby.

Her father harrumphed, “You take all the fun out of it.”

She glared at him, “Promise me. No consequences should any of the boys beat me in a spar. Honourably so, of course.”

He nodded and waved her away, “Very well.”

She knew very well everyone present had heard, and she would hold him to it.

Ser Rodrik called her forward to spar against Robb Stark and she nodded. Swinging her tourney sword to loosen her wrist. Jon and Theon Greyjoy moved back and Robb stepped forward.

He gave her a smile and a bow, “Princess.”

She smiled back and nodded, “Stark.”

They stood still for several moments, and then she sprang forward, testing his defences. He might not dare attack first otherwise.

They exchange blows for several moments, and she saw the slow realization on Robb’s face that she was actually good.

And she was. She was very good. She’d been trained by Ser Barristan from the first. And had other advantages besides.

There was magic in the Baratheon bloodline, brought forward by her own secret gifts. She was sturdier and stronger than what her slight frame suggested. But her greatest advantage was that she was very, very fast. Harry Potter’s battle instincts served her well here.

Robb started taking her seriously after that, and stopped holding back. The bout gained speed, but she was easily able to keep up. She saw a tickle of sweat run down his face and smirked at him. He laughed and grinned back, launching into a barrage of attacks she parried or avoided. And then she lunged forward, under his defences and smacked the flat of her blade against his side.

He gaped at her but recovered quickly and disengaged. It wasn’t over until one of them yielded or was disarmed. It’d gone on long enough though. Robb was good, but not as good as her. It was time to finish it.

He attacked first this time, but she parried his blade away and then went on the offensive, he parried most of her blows but a couple slipped by his defenses, smacking against his armor and then finally she held her blade under his chin.

He froze, and blinked at her, bewildered. She met his eyes and removed her blade, then winked at him cheekily. She was suddenly aware the crowd was cheering, but no one more so than her father. Robb burst out laughing and bowed to her, she bowed back and then they turned to the crowd, and bowed to both her royal father and Lord Stark.

“That’s my girl! Did you see her? Did you see her, Ned?” Her father was shaking Ned Stark by the shoulder and she felt a blush rise to her face, she turned to Robb and shrugged in apology but he just grinned at her. She was very glad he wasn’t a sore loser.

“That was quite the bout, Princess. Who trained you?” She could see Jon and Theon approaching with Ser Rodrik.

“Ser Barristan.” She nodded at the old knight, smiling proudly at her from behind the fence. Even Uncle Jaime looked pleased.

Ser Rodrik reached them, “I can take the sword, princess–”

But Jon cut in, “I was hoping for a bout myself, Princess Hariel.”

Harry turned to him in surprise and their eyes met.

Robb placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “Jon, maybe it’s not a good idea–” She saw Theon throw Jon a disdainful look and felt annoyed on his behalf.

Jon’s eyes looked intense, there was a deep emotion lurking there, and she had to hold herself back from peeking into his mind. She couldn’t do such a thing.

“Very well.”

They all turned to her in surprise, but she only had eyes for Jon, who smiled at her. She smiled back in challenge and he nodded.

Ser Rodrik nodded and moved Robb and Theon back. “We’ll have another bout!”

Some people had begun to file out, and many came back. Her father was talking to Lord Stark and they both turned to them.

“And who is this?”

Lord Stark spoke up, “This is my bastard, Robert. Jon Snow.”

Her father looked Jon up and down. “He looks like a Stark. Very well. Let’s see it then.”

They walked to the center of the sparring ring and faced each other. Harry felt a frisson of excitement run up her back, and grinned fiercely at Jon, who grinned back.

Then he was suddenly coming towards her, she parried his blade away and ducked below the next swing. He was faster than Robb. The next few blows went by quickly and they disengaged, walking in a circle, eyeing each other.

Jon was good, as she’d expected. She jumped in and tested his defenses, but he was able to hold her back, and she broke away again. She held back this time, and waited for him to come to her.

It took a few moments but he jumped forward again, and she responded. They exchanged several blows, moving around the ring. He had good footwork too.

Her blade slipped through and she smacked the flat against his shoulder. He still needed some polish, but there was a lot of potential here. She hoped Ser Barristan was watching.

Jon managed to push her back and she grinned, pleased. They broke away from each other, both breathing heavily. There was sweat running down her back and she could feel a drop tickle her temple.

And then Jon was a burst of motion, coming at her. She met him and turned away every blow, and then increased the pace. He kept up for several long moments, enough that she heard the crowd murmur in awe, and then she twisted her sword around his and turned, wrenching it from his hands and away. She held her sword point against his throat and saw him swallow.

His eyes were smoldering, “I yield.”

The crowd broke into ear splitting cheers and hollers. Harry put down her sword but couldn’t look away from Jon’s eyes. For a moment, he swayed forward and then straightened up, looking away and bowing to her. She nodded and then they turned to their fathers, bowing together.

Ser Rodrik took her sword and she walked over to her father, who was gesturing wildly to Lord Stark. She accepted their congratulations and then made her excuses. She looked back as she walked away towards her siblings, who were rushing towards her.

Jon was speaking to Ser Barristan, with his sister Arya tugging on his arm. Their eyes met for a second and then Tommen reached her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She turned to smile at her little brother.

“That was amazing, Harry!”

Myrcella reached them, “It was! You were so fast!”

Harry kissed her brother’s head and listened to their happy chatter. She very deliberately did not look back at Jon. She could not.

—

That night, he father recounted the bouts to anyone who would listen, and with him being the king, that meant everyone. She kept away, face burning in embarrassment and left dinner early, heading outside.

She walked along the courtyard and after some deliberation, headed in the direction of the Godswood. She left the path and stepped among the trees, guided by the light of the moon and was struck by the vivid memory of walking in the Forbidden Forest of Hogwarts.

She came back to the present moment when she saw movement from the corner of her eye, and turned her head. Jon was walking between the trees and stopped abruptly when he saw her.

They stared at each other for a long drawn out moment, and then he was rushing forward. She met him halfway, and they met in a hungry kiss.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and she wrapped hers around his neck, trying to pull him closer. He ran his tongue along her lip and she opened her mouth, deepening the kiss. He made a sound against her mouth and she kissed him harder, until they ran out of breath and had to break apart.

Their eyes met, and he brushed his lips against her jaw, still breathing heavily. She was very aware of his body, tight against hers. She untangled herself from him, reluctantly, and felt him do the same. They clutched each other’s hands and he leaned forward to rest his brow against hers.

“Hello, princess.”

“Jon.” She took a breath, “If you’re going to be kissing me like that, you should be calling me Harry, or Hariel at least.”

He huffed quietly, “I can’t risk it.”

She squeezed his hands, “I suppose you’re right. Though calling me Harry would be the least of our problems if someone saw us.”

She ran her awareness around them and couldn’t feel any human presence, though Ghost was nearby.

He sighed, “I know. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I just–”

She knew what he meant, there had been something hot running through her veins since their bout, “The spar?”

He chuckled, “Yes. You don’t know how much I wanted to kiss you.”

He leaned down and laid a chaste kiss against her lips. She made a noise and chased his mouth, kissing him softly. They shared a slow kiss, it was sweet and it made her sigh when they broke apart.

Jon raised a hand to cup her face and stroked her cheekbone with his thumb. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and his other arm snaked around her back.

“Ser Barristan has offered to take me as his squire.”

She gasped and blinked at him, “He did? I haven’t even spoken to him. Jon! That’s great!” He looked uncertain and she frowned, “Jon? Will you accept?”

He looked down, “I don’t know. I asked for time to think about it. If I say yes, he will seek Father’s permission.”

She squeezed his waist, “What’s the problem?” She hesitated, “Are you still set on the Night’s Watch?”

He shook his head, “No– I don’t know.” He met her eyes, “If I go south as Ser Barristan’s squire, I will see you everyday. I don't know if I can stay away from you, princess.” His hand grasped her nape and pulled her head forward, until their lips were a hair’s breath away. “And yet, I don’t know if I could turn away and join the Watch either.”

He closed the distance and she whimpered, kissing him back. She felt his hand sink in her hair and the other settle on the small of her back. Her arms were still wrapped around his waist and she held on tightly. Until she felt heat build within her and she had to break away before she did something she might regret.

“I should go.” Her voice sounded strangled. “Someone will come looking if I take any longer.”

“You should. I should let you go.” His voice was hoarse and he did not let go. If anything, his hold tightened around her. She would have happily stayed there, but she could not. They could not.

He had sunk back into her mouth, but she pushed him away. “Jon, we can’t.”

He groaned against her lips and slowly let her go. When they were finally standing across from each other, not touching, she couldn’t help but feel bereft, and cold. She shivered and swallowed hard, then she stepped back and forced herself to walk away.

She looked back right before stepping out of sight. He was still standing in the same spot, watching her with a feverish look on his face. She clenched her hands and turned back to the keep.

That night, while she laid in her bed, all she could think of was the look in his eyes. It’d felt like staring into a flame. She wondered what he saw reflected in her face when she looked at him.

—

Jon spent most of the night tossing and turning. By the time morning arrived, he felt haggard, and lingered in bed for as long as he could.

How could his life have changed so much in a few days?

Before the arrival of the King’s party he would have happily run off to the Wall. Now, he could not contemplate swearing off women. Or swearing off a woman in particular.

He’d already decided he would accept Ser Barristan’s offer. It would be madness to turn down such an opportunity. And it would keep him close to the princess. He had to stay close to the princess. He could not bear to leave her side.

He just needed to figure out how to keep his hands to himself. And his lips. Just thinking back to the feeling of her in his arms made him shiver with delight. He would give almost anything to have her. He knew very well he could not.

Princesses were not for bastards.

But he couldn’t help fantasizing about it. Standing at her side openly. Not having to turn away his eyes, lest someone notice him watching her. And he watched her constantly. He couldn’t help it. But he had to try.

If King’s Landing was as bad as she said, and he trusted her judgement, so it probably was, then he needed to have better control over himself. He couldn’t follow her with his eyes the way he’d been doing. And he couldn’t ambush her every time he saw her alone.

If he was lucky, he might earn a knighthood so he might swear himself to her. A sworn sword went everywhere with their charge. That way, he could follow wherever she went. And she would go. She’d marry someday, and he might have to watch.

His heart squeezed in his chest and he grit his teeth. She would marry. She was a princess. Her father would likely broker an alliance with her hand. She would marry another man, and have his children.

He groaned and buried his face in his pillow. And cursed himself for being a fool.

Just the thought of it made him want to scream. How was he supposed to pretend it didn’t bother him? He was likely to run through any man that tried to touch her. He stopped trying to suffocate himself and sat up, rubbing his face.

He needed to train more. Not only because Ser Barristan would expect his best, but also because he needed to be good enough if he meant to win a place by her side. Any other thoughts for the future could wait.

For now, he just had to keep his hands to himself. He nodded firmly and rose to get ready for the day.

Chapter Text

Harry covered a yawn at the breakfast table, listening to Arya chattering next to her. The girl had been deeply impressed by her performance, and kept asking for advice.

“I’ve been meaning to ask Father, but haven’t had the chance.”

Harry held back a smile, “That’s because your father has many guests right now. You might have to wait until we’re gone for that.”

Arya looked disgruntled and stabbed her food with her fork.

Someone sat down on her other side and Harry turned to look. It was Robb Stark. It wasn’t too unusual. He would sit by her sometimes, and other times he would sit with Theon Greyjoy, further down the table. And why Theon was allowed here and not Jon, she didn’t know, but could guess.

For all the table was meant for both families, they didn’t mix much. Except for Sansa sometimes seeking Myrcella, and now Arya looking for her.

Robb smiled charmingly at her, “Good morning, Princess.”

She gave him a small smile, “Good morning.”

He filled his plate and sneaked her a look, “I was wondering if you would honour me with another bout? In a few days, perhaps?”

“I’m afraid not. If I train again without my father’s explicit permission, my mother is likely to stab me herself. She was very clear that I was not supposed to flaunt my training while a guest here.” She shrugged.

He looked disappointed, “Ah, that is a shame.” He took a bite of his food and noticed Arya, who was glaring at him. “I see you’ve met my sister. Is she bothering you?”

Arya gasped, offended, “I’m not bothering her! We were talking before you arrived.” She clearly meant he was the interloper here.

Harry covered her smile with a hand, though he clearly saw it, because he threw her a grin.

“And what were you talking about?”

Arya huffed, “Nothing.”

Harry tweaked one of her braids, “Your brother might be able to help, Arya.”

She seemed to consider this and then she took a breath and launched into an explanation of her plan to get her father to approve her sword training.

Robb’s eyebrows climbed steadily higher during the explanation. “I see. And you think that might work?”

Arya shrugged, mullish. Harry nudged her gently and spoke up, “I told her that if she wants it bad enough, she ought to be willing to negotiate for her lessons, with something her parents might wish from her.”

His face cleared in understanding, “Like better behavior or doing better in her lessons.” He thought that over, “That might actually work. Especially if you promise to stop bothering Sansa.”

Arya scowled, “Yes, I know that, stupid!”

Harry pinched her ear lightly for a moment, and earned herself a glower, “There’s no need to call your brother stupid, he’s only trying to help you. And that’s exactly the sort of thing you might have to promise not to do. Could you really do that?”

Arya rubbed her ear, “Yes.” Then she looked away, “I’m sorry, Robb.”

He smiled warmly at his sister, “You’re forgiven.”

Arya nodded and left the table.

Robb turned to her, a little bewildered, “I can’t believe you got her to apologize, princess. My mother might try to keep you.”

Harry laughed lightly, “She just needs the proper motivation.”

Robb smiled at her, and looked down. His ears had gone red. They went back to their meals, mostly in silence, with occasional comments here and there.

He leaned in and whispered, “I don’t think your brother likes me, princess.”

Harry glanced around and saw Joffrey glaring at Robb.

She snorted softly, “Ah, it’s not because he’s protective.” She hesitated but might as well be honest, “He’s probably thinking you might interfere with his own betrothal, if we get along too well.”

Not that Joffrey actually liked Sansa, unfortunately. He was just selfish.

Robb threw her a surprised look and she raised her brows. A blush started rising to his face and he laughed.

He spoke in a low voice, “My father hasn’t accepted yet. Nor the position of Hand of the King.”

“Do you think he will?” She asked curiously,

He shrugged, “My parents are still arguing about it. Mother wants him to stay.”

She nodded, “That’s understandable. King’s Landing is a pit of vipers.”

Robb gave a strangled chuckle, “You don’t make a good case for my father going there, my princess.”

“Well, if he does, he should know what he’s getting into. Do tell him not to trust anyone if he decides to accept.”

“I will.”

“And about your sister and my brother?”

“That I don’t know. What can you tell me about your brother?” He looked curious but also wary. Of course, he already knew Joffrey was hardly good husband material. And she wouldn’t lie about that either. She knew very well Joffrey would never be king, one way or another.

She shrugged but remained silent, and grimaced. That was probably enough of an answer because he nodded and grimaced back.

Harry looked around, they’d lingered over breakfast long enough. She said her goodbyes, patted his shoulder and stood, turning around. Only to meet Jon’s eyes from across the room. He was frowning and turned away quickly.

She sighed to herself and left.

—

She made it back to the hallway outside their rooms when Joffrey caught up with her, Sandor Clegane following close behind.

“What were you doing talking to the Stark boy?” He looked annoyed and petulant, which was his default state, really.

She pinched his cheek and he slapped her hand away. “I was talking to the heir of this castle we’re staying in, remember? Making nice with our hosts? Being gracious?”

He glared at her, “I don’t like you talking to him. I’m the one that’s supposed to marry a Stark, not you.”

Ah, so he was making a competition of this, because of course he was. “So you are. That does not mean I’m going to ignore him because you don’t like it. Do you understand, Joffrey?”

He stormed away, and into his room.

She groaned and turned to Clegane. “Well? Has he made many enemies with his charming disposition yet?”

He grunted, “Enough.”

“Of course he has.”

“Don’t know what else you expected from the little prick.” He looked amused behind his stone cold facade.

“Nothing, I suppose. Let’s hope we can leave with no further incident.” She waved him closer, “Let me see.”

He moved his hair away from the burned side of his face and she nodded, satisfied, “That looks better. That last batch seems to be working quite well. Do you still have burn salve left?”

He nodded and moved the hair back over his burns. His burn scars looked much better than when she’d first offered to treat him. The burns looked much less gnarled, and would hopefully continue to smooth out.

“Good, let me know when you start running low.”

He agreed and she turned around and left. She’d rather not stay in the royal chambers if Joffrey was going to be making a nuisance of himself.

She made her way out into the common areas instead, and after some deliberation, turned to the Library Tower. She had to ask for directions and a servant ended up leading her to the right tower. She thanked them and made her way inside.

She found Tyrion there with a book, which was not at all unusual.

“Uncle.”

“Niece.”

She made her way among the stacks, looking for something interesting. She ran across a book on Northern legends and picked it up. She settled in the chair across from her uncle and opened the book.

It was very interesting. Apparently most northern tales are passed down through word of mouth, and a maester had, at some point, written down some of them.

“I’ve been thinking–” Her uncle started.

She raised her head, “Oh, dear.”

He gave her a wry look and she grinned, “I’m thinking of going to the Wall, once the King leaves Winterfell.”

Harry leaned back against her chair, “And return by ship, I’m guessing?” He nodded, “The Wall is supposed to be one of the wonders of the world. There will likely not be another opportunity to take a look. You should do it.”

Tyrion agreed cheerfully, “My thoughts exactly!”

Something occurred to her, “You’ll be able to go back to King’s Landing, yes? You still haven’t chosen a position.”

He waved that away, “My plan is to arrive back in King’s Landing at the same time as the king, or as close as possible. I shouldn’t miss much. Fear not, my favorite niece, I’ll not be running off to join the Night’s Watch. All the whores would go begging.”

She snorted, “Do be careful. The Wall is a dangerous place.”

“Worry not. I’ll make sure to stay away from any wildlings. And the grumkins and snarks too.”

She frowned but nodded, genuinely concerned, and he sighed, dropping his annoying demeanor for a moment of honesty.

“I’ll never understand how you could have possibly come from my dear sister, kind as you are.”

She reached over and grasped his hand, squeezing gently. “Tommen and Myrcella are kind.”

He snorted, “Because they’re too young to know any better, but you do. And still you are like this.” He said ‘this’ like it was something disgusting.

“Caring about my loved ones is no crime, nuncle.”

He groaned, “See what I mean.”

She laughed and he grinned, satisfied at that. They turned back to their books in companionable silence.

—

That night, during dinner, Lord Stark made a short announcement that Jon Snow, his bastard son, had been accepted as a squire by Ser Barristan Selmy.

She immediately looked for him, finding him at his usual table, being congratulated by those around him. She saw the Stark children looking bewildered, and Arya stood and ran down the hall to talk to him. After a moment, Bran Stark also made his way over. He looked really excited.

Robb was sitting further down the table, and was frowning thoughtfully at his brother. She turned back to stare at Jon, there were several people throwing him looks as well, so it felt safe enough. He met her eyes across the distance and a smile pulled at his lips. She could feel an answering smile rising to her face and turned away hurriedly.

Myrcella looked excited, “Ser Barristan has a new squire! Does that mean he’ll be coming south with us?”

Harry nodded and threw Jon another look. Arya looked annoyed but Bran was chattering excitedly at him. There was a soft smile on his handsome face.

She turned back to her sister, “Yes, I believe so.”

—

That night, she finally had a proper conversation with her father, when they retired after dinner. He called for her to follow him to his chambers.

“Sit.” He ushered her into a chair and sat across her.

She frowned, “What is it?”

“Ned has agreed to become my Hand, but he doesn’t want the post permanently. It’ll still give me a few years for more options to appear.” He sighed mournfully.

“I see. Well, it’ll do for now, I suppose.” She squinted suspiciously at him, “But that’s not why you called me here. So what is it?”

He winced, “There is still the matter of the betrothal between our houses. Ned wants to wait and I’m inclined to agree.”

She blinked at him, “You are? I thought you were eager for an official announcement.”

“I was, but Jon advised I wait before deciding anything for Joffrey, he thinks he’s not ready and I think he might be right.”

She startled and it took her a moment to realize he meant Jon Arryn, and not her Jon. And since when was he hers?

She frowned in confusion, “I thought Lord Arryn was eager to ensure the succession?” Advising against it was unusual for him.

Her father shrugged tiredly, “So did I, but I’ll listen. That’s both Ned and Jon that want me to wait on Joffrey.” He grimaced, “And Ned told me his heir is eager to marry you instead.”

Harry startled, “Father!”

He raised a hand, “I didn’t promise anything. We’ll wait on Joffrey, and the Stark girl. But if that doesn’t happen I want you to consider Robb Stark. I can think of no better than a Stark for you.”

She bit her lip and nodded, “I’ll think on it.”

As she left the room, she couldn’t help but feel a pit on her stomach. That was the wrong Stark. For the first time, she allowed herself to realize she wanted Jon instead.

—

The next day, Lord Stark was officially announced as Hand of the King. There was no mention of a betrothal, but she could see Robb staring at her from the corner of her eye.

—

She ran into Robb a couple of days later, as her father prepared to go on a hunt. Robb was dressed for riding.

“Princess, are you not joining us?” He looked disappointed.

She smiled at him, “Not today, I’m afraid. My mother wishes for my company.” That was a lie, she hadn’t seen her mother since earlier that morning. But she wasn’t about to confess that she was avoiding him. “I was just about to go find her.”

He offered his arm and she took it. They were some way away from the main courtyard, and he led her back in a leisurely way. There was still time before the hunting party left.

“I had hoped to spend more time with you, princess.”

She winced, and felt sympathy for him. She did like him, she was just– confused, at the moment. “I apologize, my lord. There hasn’t been a chance for anything of the sort, has it?”

“Please, call me Robb.”

“Robb, how about a walk tomorrow?” She kept her face as pleasant as she could, holding back her tangled feelings. She tried to smile at him, “You may call me Harry.”

He beamed at her, “Harry. A walk sounds lovely, perhaps after breakfast?”

She nodded and he raised her hand to his lips, kissing the back of it and then tucking it back on his arm. He kept up a light conversation until they were close to the yard, then he stopped and drew her aside.

“Harry, I just wanted to say–” He hesitated, “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

Then he leaned forward and kissed her cheek. She froze and swallowed hard. He lingered for a long moment against her skin, and leaned back very slowly, glancing at her lips as he went, but pulled back.

“I will see you later?” He was blushing hard, but smiling.

She nodded wordlessly and he walked away, looking back and throwing her a smile before turning the corner. She slumped as soon as he was out of sight and bit her lip, feeling terribly conflicted.

There was a strong possibility she would marry him, she knew. But he deserved better than a reluctant bride longing for his half-brother. She might have been happy with him, once. Before she’d met Jon.

She turned away and made her way slowly back the way she came. She was so lost in her thoughts she bumped into a hard chest and looked up to see Jon looking at her with blazing eyes. He took her hand and led her out of sight. She quickly felt around but there was no one watching, and turned back to Jon.

He released her hand and stepped away from her. His face was impassive, but his eyes burned with feeling, “Are you marrying my brother?”

She clasped her hands together, to avoid reaching for him, “I don’t know. I– I don’t know. Maybe.” She looked down, he was clenching his hands, “If Joffrey doesn’t marry Sansa, my father wants me to accept Robb.”

And Joffrey would not marry Sansa, in all likeness.

He took a deep breath and it came out strangled, half a sob. His cold mask broke and he covered his face with a hand.

“Jon.” She whispered, “I don’t know what to do.”

He uncovered his face and turned to look at her, his eyes were red but there were no tears. “I can’t marry you.”

She suddenly felt very sad, “No. I don’t know how that might be possible.”

He swallowed hard, “Would you run away with me, if I asked?”

She gasped and looked at him for long moments, feeling tears fill her eyes, “I might.” Or she could magically force her father to allow her to marry him. She wondered which would be worse. “Are you asking?” It was painful to realize she didn’t know what she might do, if he said yes.

He looked wretched, “No.”

She nodded softly. “Are you still coming south?”

“Yes. I’ll stay by your side, princess, if you’ll let me.”

She gave him a small smile. “I’d like that.”

He gave her a soft look and raised his hand, but pulled it back. He bowed and walked away.

—

A short while later, Harry wandered around the castle, lost in thought. The hunting party was long gone by now.

She came upon one of the towers and walked around it. Movement ahead made her look up, and she saw Brandon climbing up the side of the tower. He was about half way up.

She froze and held herself back from shouting, as it might startle him. She hesitated for a short moment and a terrible feeling struck her. Bran could not reach the top. Disaster awaited if he did.

She cursed to herself and ran forward. She discreetly cast a quick series of spells, the Cushioning Charm to soften the ground, a jinx to make Bran slip, and Arresto Momentum to slow his fall.

Then she screamed, “Bran!” She felt people around her turn alarmed.

She reached him just as he fell and caught him.

‘This is going to hurt.’

She cushioned his fall and felt her head strike the ground, and then darkness.

Chapter Text

Jon sat on a bench, staring at one of the many smoking pools when screaming reached him from the distance. He jumped up and ran off, meeting several people also hurrying over to the commotion.

He reached the scene just in time to see Lady Stark yell for the maester and fall to her knees next to a prone figure.

No, two prone figures.

He felt all the blood leave his face.

Harry was laying on the ground, a pool of blood around her head, with her arms wrapped around an unconscious Bran.

Lady Stark cupped Bran’s face and hovered over Harry’s. Jon ran forward and fell to his knees next to them, feeling useless.

The maester arrived just as the queen and her brother did. Her scream sounded wretched, she reached them and immediately started pulling her daughter closer. “No! No!” Ser Jaime held her shoulders, looking pale and uncertain.

The maester reached for the princess. “Please, my queen, don’t move her! Let me examine her.”

Ser Jaime held back the queen when she refused to let go of the princess and held her while she cried and beat against his chest.

Maester Luwin ran his hands over the princess and breathed a sigh of relief. “She’s alive and her head is not broken. She might live.”

He turned to Bran, but he was already regaining consciousness. Lady Stark sobbed in relief. The maester nodded, and stood, “Help me get them inside!”

A guard reached for Bran and Jon jumped forward, “I’ll take her!”

He gathered the princess very gently in his arms and saw Ser Jaime scowling at him, but his hands were occupied with the queen, so he allowed Jon to carry his niece.

“Be careful, boy!”

Jon nodded and followed behind the maester. He was directed to the princess’ room and he laid her very carefully on the bed. The queen and her brother followed inside. The maester pulled him out of the room and tasked the servants with bringing hot water and rags, and sent a runner for his medicine bag.

Jon was left outside the room, feeling lost. He realized he was shaking and his hands were covered in blood. Harry’s blood.

He swallowed the bile trying to rise up his throat and hurried away, avoiding the bustling servants. His feet took him to Bran’s room, and he peeked through the doorway.

Bran was awake, lying in bed and sobbing on Lady Stark’s shoulder, while she ran a hand down his head.

He stepped away and stood in the corridor, not knowing what to do. He made his way back to Harry’s room and found Lord Tyrion and Ser Jaime standing outside, looking grim.

Lord Tyrion looked up and saw him, his eyes fell on his bloody hands, “Is that–? Gods!” His eyes widened and he turned to the servants, “Bring the boy a bowl of water to clean up the blood from his hands!”

A bowl and a rag were brought forward in moments and he cleaned his hands as well as he could. They were still shaking. When done, the water was no longer clear. He waved it away and turned to the Lannister brothers, still watching him.

“The princess?”

Lord Tyrion answered, “Alive. We’ve not heard anything else.” He looked grim, “The king will be here any moment, boy. A runner was sent after the hunting party. You might want to make way when he arrives, he’ll be furious.”

Jon nodded, and did his best to stand as unobtrusively as he could on a corner.

True enough, the king arrived a few minutes later, announced by his booming voice shouting furiously. He ran down the corridor, followed by a grim Lord Stark and a pale looking Robb.

The king threw the door open and the queen shrieked, “Get out!” but he ignored her completely.

“My daughter! Does she live?”

The maester could be heard, “She lives, Your Grace. She’s resilient. She’ll likely make it through. The only danger now is if she’ll wake up.”

The king deflated and suddenly looked much smaller, “She lives.” Maester Luwin bowed and left, probably to see Bran.

Lord Stark laid a hand on his shoulder, “She lives, Robert. She’s a Baratheon, she’ll make it through.”

The king nodded, “What happened, Ned? What in the seven hells happened? How did my daughter crack her head open?”

Lord Stark looked grim, “I’ll find out.”

Lord Tyrion spoke up, “It was the Stark boy.” Both Father and Robb blanched. “He was climbing up a tower and slipped, Harry caught him. He’s unhurt, as far as I know.”

Jon saw Father close his eyes tightly for a moment, and then look to the king, “Then my family owes yours a life debt, Robert.”

The king shook his head, “Let my daughter wake before we speak of debts, Ned. See to your boy.”

Father nodded and the king went into the princess’ room. Father led Robb away by the shoulder, and saw Jon in the corner, and called for him to follow.

They reached Bran’s room and found Maester Luwin speaking with Lady Stark.

“Maester? My son?”

The maester bowed, “Bran is unhurt, Lord Stark.”

Bran looked small and pale, sitting on his bed.

Father nodded, and suddenly looked furious, the concern chased away by the maester’s words, “What happened?” Bran hunched his shoulders. “Bran, what happened?”

His brother sniffled, “I fell. I heard the princess scream and she caught me.” His voice was very small, “I heard she’s hurt.”

Father looked cold and foreboding, “She is, they don’t know if she’ll wake.” Bran let out a sob, “We owe her your life, Bran.” Father took a breath, “How many times did your mother tell you not to climb the walls?”

Bran started sobbing, “I’m sorry!”

“That’s not enough. I’m leaving you behind when we go south, as you’ve proven you cannot behave. I need to think about what else your punishment will entail. For now, you’ll stay confined to your room until the royal party departs. We don’t want someone coming after you for what happened to the princess.”

“Ned!” Lady Stark looked distressed. “Surely not!”

Father glared at her, “And what would you do, if it were the other way around?” Lady Stark looked stricken, “The princess is loved. I don’t know what Robert might do if she doesn’t wake. Or the Lannisters.”

Jon swallowed roughly and refused to contemplate a world where she was gone. She would wake. She had to.

—

When Jon was finally able to lock himself away in his room, he sat on the bed and stared at the wall for several long minutes. It took a sob escaping for him to realize he was crying.

He bent over and sobbed into his knees.

What could he do? What would he do if she didn’t recover?

He keened and covered his mouth with a hand.

‘Please, please, please. Don’t take her away from me. I couldn’t bear it.’

He curled up on his bed and buried his face on the pillow, trying to muffle his crying.

—

Harry wandered in the dark and sighed to herself. “I knew this would happen. It wasn’t even such a hard hit. Why am I here?”

She saw a light ahead and hurried over. It was a thin thread stretching into the distance, and glowing softly. It looked faded, but still strong. She raised a hand and touched a finger to it. The thread brightened and seemed to hum, turning thick as a rope. She beamed, “Hedwig!”

The rope vanished, but she could still feel it, in the back of her mind.

She wandered again, much more happily. And gasped with delight when another glow appeared further ahead.

She fell to her knees before two objects, lying on the ground.

“Eggs?”

They were too big. They couldn’t be snake eggs. There were two of them, but only one glowed for her, the other was a mere shadow. She laid her hands on them, and they both glowed and strengthened.

“Jormungandr.” She smiled through her tears. She could feel him again, in the back of her mind. The other egg was an echo, felt through him. “And you have a friend.” She laughed.

The eggs faded away and she stood.

“I should go, before my family makes a mess of things.”

She closed her eyes tightly.

—

Harry opened her eyes with a groan and heard a sharp gasp by her side. Her head was pounding.

“Hariel? Darling?” That was her mother.

“Get the maester. She’s awake!” That loud voice was her father for certain.

“Ugh, my head.”

Her mother laughed wetly and clutched at her hand. Harry blinked to clear her eyes and looked around. She was back in her room, in Winterfell. Both her parents were present, and for once, not arguing with each other. They were also staring at her like she might disappear.

She frowned, “How long has it been?”

Her father burst into tears, she had no other words for it. He took her hand and she pulled him forward into a hug. He held her like she was made of glass, and kissed her head very gently. Her mother leaned over and kissed her cheek.

Harry looked them over, “Well? How long has it been? You look terrible.” They did, her father had bloodshot eyes and his stubble was more a proper beard, and her mother did not look as perfectly put together as she usually did.

Her mother glared at her, offended, “It’s been three days since you went and put yourself in danger because of that stupid boy.”

Her father didn’t even disagree. She winced. There was obviously damage control to be done. “I remember. And I chose to save him. Please don’t be angry.”

Her father nodded but her mother pursed her lips. Gods, she’d have to make sure no one planned bloody vengeance against the Starks. What joy.

The maester arrived at that moment and the conversation stopped so he could look her over. He touched around her bandaged head and her neck and had her squeeze his hand and move her fingers and toes. He changed her bandages and smeared something on her head wound.

All in all, she felt fine, aside from a headache. The cut on the back of her head hadn’t even needed stitches. Luckily for her, or they might have shaved her hair around the wound.

The maester looked surprised, but gladly so. Not like he suspected her of being suspiciously resilient. So all was well.

“Well, princess. You are healing very well. I’ll ask you to stay in bed for another day or two, but you will make a full recovery.”

She beamed at him and turned to her parents, “See, I’m perfectly fine. No need to fret.”

—

Harry had a string of visitors the rest of her time in bed. Her siblings were first in line, even Joffrey came over for a minute or two before becoming bored and leaving. Myrcella and Tommen stayed by her side until she shooed them away. Then came her uncles. Followed by Ser Barristan and Ser Arys.

Then Lord and Lady Stark came to see her and brought Bran to very formally apologize to her. That was an uncomfortable encounter. Made especially so because she’d purposefully made Bran fall, if only to save him from something worse, though she didn’t know what.

Then Robb came to see her.

He sat on the chair by her bedside and took her hand. “Princess. I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for my brother.” He looked very earnest.

She smiled, “None of that. I’ve been thanked more than enough.”

He smiled warmly at her, “I suppose our walk will have to wait.”

She blinked, “That’s right. It was not meant to be, I suppose. I’m sorry, Robb.”

He chuckled and kissed her hand, “Maybe there will be time in the future.”

She knew he had to be referring to later in the future, when they might be married. As she’d been told that the royal party was already preparing for departure.

She blushed and nodded, “Maybe.”

He beamed at her and hesitantly leaned over to kiss her cheek, after throwing a look at the open door. She swallowed and squeezed his hand. He was so very nice. He deserved better than her.

—

When Jon heard the princess had woken up, he felt elated and had to hold back his tears. He had been spending a lot of time in the Godswood, by the Heart Tree, praying for her swift recovery.

At least whenever he wasn’t trying to keep himself busy with his new duties, few as they were at the moment, simply looking after Ser Barristan’s armour. His real duties would begin once they departed Winterfell. Still, any distraction helped.

He immediately made his way over to the princess’ room but remembered they wouldn’t let him in to see her. Why would they? He was just a bastard, squire or not.

He turned back, frustrated, and went over to the bench by the pool, to brood.

Jon glared down at the water and cursed. Right when he’d decided to keep away, this happened, and now he had to keep away.

He wanted to see her. He briefly considered climbing up the wall and through her window but discarded the thought immediately. There was always someone in her room, he’d been told.

Even Robb had gone to see her. He clenched his fists. It wasn’t fair.

He stood and decided to go back to the Godswood. He stopped by the spot where he’d seen her laying still on the ground, and braced himself to see the blood stain on the floor, but it was gone.

It looked as if the ground had drunk in her blood. There was no trace of it left. Usually it took a while to get rid of such stains completely, on both dirt and stone like this was. Jon frowned and shook his head, going on his way.

He slipped through the gate to the Godswood and made his way to the Heart Tree. He sat and leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes. He just wanted to see her.

—

He must have fallen asleep, because he was suddenly elsewhere.

Jon was standing in front of a tower. There were men fighting ahead of him, one of them seemed familiar.

“Ned!”

Jon startled and looked again. That was his father, young as he’d never seen him.

There was a woman screaming.

He ran behind his father, going up the stairs. He stepped into a room and saw a girl in a bed of blood.

“Lyanna!” Lyanna Stark? Could it be?

“Ned.” She looked pale and wan.

Jon listened to their conversation and felt dread creep up his spine.

“His name is Jaehaerys. Promise me. Promise me, Ned.”

There was a baby. A newborn. Lyanna Stark closed her eyes. Lyanna Stark had died in childbirth.

His father was sobbing and holding onto the baby. There was another man there, though Jon hadn’t noticed him come up the stairs.

“Ned, what will you do?”

His father wiped away his tears, “I’ll take him. Claim him as my own.”

“Rhaegar’s bastard?”

“He can be my bastard.”

“I could take him back with me. To the Neck.”

Father shook his head, “He should grow up with family. I don’t care if he’s half Targaryen. He’s a Stark too. He’s coming with me. I promised.”

“What will you call him?”

“Jon. I’ll call him Jon. Jon Snow, my bastard son.”

Jon felt like he was dying. This had to be a strange dream. Ned Stark was his father, not Rhaegar Targaryen.

The scene changed, and he was staring at a woman, pacing and rocking a baby. She turned around.

It was Harry.

She was humming a song he’d never heard, and she looked up, meeting his eyes. She smiled, “Jon, won’t you see your son?”

He was standing in the Godswood, before the Weirwood. The face spoke, “What would you do to have her?”

“Anything. Everything.”

“Then take them.”

There were two eggs on the ground before him. He crouched down and reached for them, he hesitated but picked them up.

—

Jon gasped awake, leaning against the Heart Tree. He clutched his chest and panted, shivering.

“A dream, it was just a dream.”

Then his eyes fell on the two eggs, nestled amidst the tree roots, and all the blood left his face.

He reached for them, still shaking. His hand fell on the dark egg and clutched at the ridges on it. It was boiling hot. He touched the other one, the pale pearlescent one. It was also hot to the touch.

Jon took his hand off and pressed it against his mouth, choking back a sob.

“Who am I?”

Chapter Text

Harry was finally allowed off her bed two days later. She’d felt fine for much longer than that, but had played along, indulging her concerned family.

She’d hardly had a moment alone since her awakening. It was sweet, and yet she needed space before she lost her temper. She’d had to cajole her mother into dropping her grudge against the Starks, and had carefully checked everyone on their party, even Joffrey, to make sure no one was planning anything that’d cause her trouble.

They weren’t, thank the Gods. Nothing aside from nebulous ideas on getting back at them that she’d soothed away.

Luckily, the preparations for their departure were nearly done. They would leave in two days, and Bran Stark was staying behind, which was probably for the best.

Lord Stark was coming to take up his position as Hand, and was bringing both Sansa and Arya along. And Jon was coming as Ser Barristan’s squire, of course.

She hadn’t seen him at all, since that last time. She tried to push away how much that bothered her. He wouldn’t have been allowed in to see her, she knew.

She was finally able to dress properly and leave her room, and she took the opportunity to escape away from all the concern.

—

The day before departure, she made her way to the Godswood, one last time. As she stepped through the trees, she admitted to herself she was hoping to see Jon. But it was only an hour past midday, so he might be busy.

As the Weirwood came into view, she saw a figure sitting by its roots. She let out a breath and approached. She stepped on a branch to alert him to her presence and his head snapped up.

Jon’s eyes widened when he saw her and he ran over in a hurry. His hands fluttered around her but didn’t touch her. She was still wearing bandages on her head, but not for much longer. He finally settled for taking her hands.

There was such a look of relief on his face, “Princess, you’re alright.”

She smiled helplessly at him, “I’m just fine. There’s no need to worry.”

He chuckled wetly and she realized he was holding back tears. He raised her hands to his face and kissed them. She held back a blush and wished he would kiss her, but understood it was best if he didn’t.

She looked closer at him and realized he was pale, and had dark shadows under his eyes. She reached out and cupped his face, running her thumb over his cheek.

“Jon, what’s wrong?” She could see there was something wrong. She’d been awake for some time now, so it couldn’t only be concern over her that had him looking so out of sorts.

He closed his eyes and pressed her hand against his face. “It’s nothing.” His lips trembled for a moment and brushed her palm as he spoke, making her shiver.

“Jon.” She sighed, “I have no right to demand answers from you. Just– take better care of yourself.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her with some great feeling hiding behind them. He leaned forward and rested his brow against hers, tugging her arms around his neck.

She took the hint and pulled him closer, holding him tight. He sighed and hid his face against her neck, his arms coming around her in an embrace. They stood there for some time, she played with the ends of his hair and enjoyed the feeling of his arms around her.

There would be little privacy for anything like this once they left the castle, in all likeness.

He pulled back enough to look into her eyes and glanced at her lips. She held back a gasp and swallowed around her suddenly dry throat. He leaned forward but stopped himself, just shy of brushing his lips against hers.

“I shouldn’t.”

“We shouldn’t.” She corrected him.

“I must be mad.” He whispered and closed the distance between them.

The kiss started chaste and sweet. He slid his lips against hers with relish and she responded eagerly. Then he ran his tongue over her lower lip, asking for entrance. She opened her mouth gladly and the kiss turned heated.

He moaned into her mouth and she drank the noise down, sinking her hands into his hair and pulling him closer. He went willingly and she felt his hands running along her back and her waist, leaving trails of fire to her senses.

He took her hips and tugged her closer against his body, and she realized things might be getting out of control. She gasped and broke the kiss, holding herself back from pressing against his hardness, clear against her body.

“Jon.” She pushed her hands against his chest, but he’d moved on to trailing kisses down her neck. “Jon.”

He grumbled but stopped, pulling back and looking at her. His lips were swollen and his eyes feverishly bright, pupils dilated. She wanted to keep going, with everything in her, but she needed to keep her head.

She laid a chaste kiss against his lips and pulled back, “I should go.”

He grudgingly released her hips, allowing her to step back, but keep a hold of her arms, “Must you?” He looked almost petulant and she felt the urge to laugh.

“I really must, unless you’ve found a way for us to marry?” She raised a brow.

He scowled darkly, “I have not.” He sighed and let go, taking a step back, “I’m glad you’ve recovered, princess.”

She had to clutch her hands together to stop herself from reaching for him. “I thank you, Jon Snow.” She could feel a truly besotted look cross her face, “Will I see you tomorrow, for departure?”

He nodded and looked back at her with just as much feeling. She held back a smile and walked away.

—

They departed Winterfell the next day and Harry was forced to stay in the wheelhouse instead of riding her horse, as everyone insisted she was still delicate. She rolled her eyes hard but gave in, often claiming a seat by a window, where she could look out at the host.

King Robert usually rode close to the wheelhouse, and that meant Ser Barristan would be close by, and that meant Jon might be around too. She peeked outside as the landscape rolled by and cursed herself for being such a besotted fool. Several days went by like this.

This day, Tommen had claimed the seat next to her and had fallen asleep almost immediately. She held him against her and sighed to herself. Myrcella and Sansa were speaking quietly on the other side of the carriage and Arya was on a chair across from her, close to nodding off.

Her mother had retired to the small bedroom, probably avoiding having to spend so long with so many children. And Joffrey was out there, riding with the men.

Harry leaned her head against the backrest of the bench and yawned. Suddenly a few horses came into view, and she got a glimpse of a white cloak but leaned back disappointed, it was just Ser Arys.

It was another hour before she heard her father’s booming laughter, startling her from a doze. She looked outside, and saw him riding past with Lord Stark beside him. Ser Barristan rode a few paces behind, and next to him was Jon.

She looked around the wheelhouse but no one was paying her any attention, so she allowed a grin to spread across her face and leaned out the window. As much as she could without waking Tommen.

Jon turned and ran his eyes over the wheelhouse until he found her looking at him, and while his face remained impassive, his eyes glittered.

He fell behind and moved aside until he was riding right next to her and plucked something out of his jerkin, passing it over quickly, his fingers trailing along hers. Then he rode away to resume his place next to the old knight.

Harry glanced down and realized he’d given her flowers. It was a small cluster of blue Forget-me-nots. She felt her heart melt and a truly stupid smile cross her face.

She carefully pressed the flowers in a book she had among her things and returned to looking out the window, leaning her head on a hand to hide her smile.

—

Every day, after setting up camp, Ser Barristan would take Jon to the edge of camp for sword training and run him through his paces. He usually stopped just before he felt truly exhausted and Jon was grateful for that. He could feel himself improving already, but it was hard work after a long day’s ride.

After drilling, he washed up and then took care of his other duties, like cleaning up the knight’s armour and weapons. He would also take care of their horses after stopping for the day. And just generally do as he was told.

He was lucky. Ser Barristan was a good knight and didn’t run him too ragged and yet still pushed him to improve. Jon had hardly seen the members of his family that had come along on the trip, as he was lodging with Ser Barristan, but it was nice to know they were around.

He saw his Father most often, while trailing behind the king, and caught glimpses of his sisters, now and then.

The princess, however, was a rarer sight. She’d been forbidden from riding for the past several days of travel and Jon longed to see her face.

The flowers a few days past had been an impulsive thing to do. He’d seen them, flowering along the road and had wanted nothing more than to show them to her, hoping the splash of color might cheer her up. So he had plucked away a few and had tucked them into his jerkin, careful not to squish them.

He hadn’t known if he’d see her at all that day, but he had thrown looks at the wheelhouse, as he often did, hoping for a glimpse. And there she’d been, peeking out the window, like something out of a tale, a princess trapped in a tower.

He’d ridden closer and handed her the flowers before he lost his nerve, and the smile she’d directed at him had carried him through that day and the next.

He often looked for the same window, and sometimes saw her there, but not always. It left him hoping for more. Always more. It seemed he could never be satisfied with anything else than all of her.

‘What would you do to have her?’

Jon swallowed hard and pulled his attention back to the chest plate he was polishing. Trying not to think about the two eggs hidden away in his clothing chest.

—

Harry finally put her foot down when they were a month into the trip and rode out with her father. King Robert would mostly spend the day in conversation with Lord Stark, which left her free to ride behind.

She maneuvered herself next to Jon and did her best not to look at him, lest she give herself away. She could feel his eyes on her like a brand, and tried to calm her racing heart.

“Are you well enough to be riding, princess?” Ser Barristan’s voice startled her and she turned to look at him, throwing him a smile. He was on Jon’s other side, while Ser Arys rode behind her.

“Yes, Ser Barristan, I promise I’m perfectly well. Father and Mother are just overprotective.”

He looked concerned but let it go. She risked a look at Jon. He looked very handsome in the morning light. She clutched the reins tighter.

“Jon Snow, how are you finding your squireship?”

He looked startled to be addressed but smiled happily at her, “Very well, princess.” He hesitated, “Please call me Jon.”

She smiled back, “Jon. Perhaps we might have another bout one of these days.”

“I’d like that, princess.”

Ser Barristan cut in, “We train everyday after making camp, princess. You are welcome to join us. There is always room for improvement.”

She beamed at the old knight, “I’d love to! The days have been rather dull, as of late. Training might be just what I need.”

She exchanged a pleased look with Jon, and returned to riding in silence, with occasional light conversation. If she looked at him every once in a while, while pretending to admire the landscape then that was her business.

—

That night Jon eagerly awaited the princess’ arrival when it was time for practice. She arrived promptly, dressed in training leathers and Jon couldn’t help but admire the way the trousers hugged her legs. He had the thought that he’d love to see those legs wrapped around him and blushed violently, turning away to hide his red face.

They both ran drills under Ser Barristan’s instruction, and Jon did his best not to be distracted by her presence. Once properly warmed up, they were set to spar.

Jon stood across from Harry and admired the way the setting sun made her dark hair glimmer. He shook himself just in time to parry her initial thrust.

There was no time for thinking after that. The spar went much longer than the one in Winterfell. This time only meant as practice and to polish any mistakes. Ser Barristan would call out instructions from the side.

“Jon, watch your side.”

“Princess, raise your elbow.”

They fought for several minutes, and Jon felt incandescently happy to spend time with her. She was still better than him, but he felt the gap might be getting smaller. He grinned at her, when meeting over their swords, and saw her grin back, eyes bright.

“Alright, that’s enough.”

They broke apart and listened as Ser Barristan ran them through their mistakes and what to do better. It occurred to Jon that the princess would have been Ser Barristan’s squire had she been a man. It was probably the only reason she wasn’t a knight already. She was good enough for it, he felt.

She turned to him once they were dismissed, “That was good practice, Jon. I should go wash up. Will I see you tomorrow?”

He bowed, “Of course, princess.”

She smiled and turned away, joining Ser Arys on the edge of the sparring ring and walking away.

Jon went to clean up feeling giddy that he’d see more of her now. Even if they had to pretend to be strangers.

—

The next day, Harry rode next to Jon, chattering happily about King’s Landing and the many streets and markets.

“But you have to be careful, there’s many cutpurses. Don’t wear your coin out in the open.”

Jon nodded at her and she sighed wistfully to herself. It was lovely spending time together in the open like this, but holding back was harder than she’d expected.

She hadn’t realized how much they touched until they couldn’t do so anymore. A thought crossed her mind.

“Jon, where’s your direwolf? I’ve seen your sisters’ around. I haven’t seen yours.”

He smiled warmly at her, “He’s out in the woods, princess. Ghost usually goes out hunting every few days.”

“Ah, of course.” She nodded.

Then a nearby presence made her freeze. She abruptly stopped her horse and jumped down, running into the woods.

Ser Arys dismounted and ran after her, “Princess!”

Harry stopped a few paces into the trees and raised her hands, catching the little ball of fluff that’d flown straight towards her. She looked down at the snowy owl fledgling in her arms and held back a sob.

“Hullo, Hedwig.”

Hedwig squawked at her in irritation and Harry realized she’d almost been left behind. Hedwig had been born in the North, because of course she was. She barely looked old enough to be flying. Magic was likely the only reason she’d caught up at all.

“Princess?” Ser Arys stood beside her, looking around for any threats before settling his eyes on her.

Jon arrived at a run and looked her over worriedly, “Princess?”

She waved them both down, “It’s quite alright. Let’s go back.” She wrapped Hedwig in her cloak and strode back over to her horse.

Ser Arys looked at her bewildered. “And the– bird?”

Harry mounted up and settled Hedwig before her, cradled against her body. “I’m keeping her.”

Ser Arys looked skeptical but he nodded and returned to his own horse. The host had barely moved in the scant moments they’d been away, so no one had missed them.

Jon stayed by her side a moment longer, looking between her and Hedwig in confusion. “Is everything alright?”

She leaned towards him, “It’s fine, Jon. I promise.”

He nodded trustingly and returned to his horse.

Harry resumed her pace and ran a gentle hand over Hedwig’s feathers. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Hedwig nibbled at her fingers and hooted softly. Harry started layering protection spells over her. She wouldn’t lose her again. She’d have to make her an amulet of sorts, for a more permanent solution.

—

“Hariel! What is that?! Get rid of that filthy creature!” Her mother took the sight of Hedwig as poorly as she’d expected.

She was suddenly glad she had her own tent, instead of sleeping in the wheelhouse like her siblings.

“I’m keeping her, Mother. She’ll be an excellent hunting bird, you’ll see.” And messenger bird, but that was a secret.

Cersei looked revolted but let her be. Her father had simply shrugged, unconcerned.

And so Harry started walking around camp with a snowy owl fledgling riding on her shoulder. Her siblings and even the Stark girls had been delighted.

“Oh, may we touch it?” Myrcella beamed at her.

“Please!” Tommen threw her puppy eyes.

“What is it?” Arya looked fascinated.

“It’s very pretty!” Sansa looked curious.

“This is Hedwig. She is a female snowy owl, but she’s still very young. You may touch, but be very gentle.”

Hedwig stood still and let the children pet her feathers, to their giggling delight.

“She’s so soft!” Myrcella looked enamored. “Do you think I could get a bird, too?”

Harry shrugged, “I don’t see why not. Hawking is a common pastime for noble girls. I know the Red Keep has many hawks.”

Her sister nodded firmly, “Then I’ll ask to go hawking once we return.” Harry smiled at her and tussled her curls, “Harry! My braids!”

Harry giggled and tucked away any stray hairs, “You do that Cella, just take care.”

Her sister pouted but nodded, accepting. Soon enough, the four children walked off, though Myrcella had to tug Tommen away, who had still been petting Hedwig.

Harry went off to train.

—

When she arrived, she found Jon with Ghost, who ran over to her, licking her hands.

“He won’t have a problem with Hedwig, will he, Jon?” She asked, concerned.

He came over and crouched down, petting Ghost, and shook his head. “No. Here, Ghost. This is the princess’ bird, you hear?”

Harry crouched and moved Hedwig to her arm. “This is Hedwig.”

Ghost sniffed curiously at her, and Hedwig looked back, then leaned forward and stepped onto the direwolf’s back, settling down amidst the thick fur. Ghost looked at his now occupied back curiously but didn’t seem to mind.

Harry burst out laughing, echoed by Jon.

Ser Barristan approached curiously, “What is happening here?” He stopped, looking at the animals, “Ah.” He chuckled, “Well, they may keep each other company while you two train. Come along.”

Chapter Text

When King’s Landing finally rose in the distance, Harry leaned over to Jon, “Prepare yourself for the stench.”

He threw her a bewildered look, “Surely it can’t be that bad?”

She chuckled, “You’ll see.”

Her father called back, “What are you talking about over there?”

Harry was very glad her father didn’t seem to mind her seemingly developing friendship with Jon. If anything, he seemed to like looking at them and seeing a Baratheon and a Stark laughing together. He was probably reminiscing in his head.

“Just warning him to brace for the stench, Father.” She called back cheekily.

King Robert guffawed, “That’s right. You too, Ned. You’ve probably forgotten how bad it can get.”

Lord Stark looked amused, “I’ve been here during summer before, Robert. I don’t know why you haven’t done something about that.”

Her father waved that off, “Because it’d take mountains of gold to fix that mess, Ned! Or so Jon says.”

They rode ahead bickering and Harry turned back to her Jon, reaching over to pat his arm, “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Hours later, when they were closer and the wind changed, bringing the smell of the city directly to them, Jon looked at her with a horrified look and she burst out laughing.

It had gotten worse, without her around to spell away the worse of the filth and the foul air. To think her mere presence made the city more bearable was a ridiculous thought, and yet it was true.

She might just go ahead with her plan for the sewers and just make sure the mysterious improvements couldn't be tied to her.

She looked around as they rode through the city and the crowds cheered for them, casting a few spells in the confusion. The air sweetened and she breathed a sigh of relief. She needed to visit the city soon.

—

They were received by the household and once all the formalities were out of the way. Harry came forward and embraced her uncle Renly, who lifted her off her feet and swung her around.

“Harry! Look at you! It’s been months.”

“Uncle! It feels like so long.” She looked around, “Loras!” She reached over and hugged her honorary uncle tightly.

“How have things been?”

“Quiet, with most of the court gone.” Her uncle shrugged. “I’m more interested to hear about the North. Will you come for tea later today?”

She nodded, “I will! Let me clean off the road dust, I shall see you later.”

Harry stepped away from her uncle and looked back to Jon, before stepping into the keep. He was frowning and looking back at her. She raised a brow but he shook his head. She nodded and walked away. There would be time to talk later.

—

Harry settled back in her rooms with relief. She’d had enough of traveling for a while. Even if the trip North had changed her life irrevocably, traveling itself was exhausting.

She sank into a steaming hot bath in her private bathing chamber and relaxed. Her maids, most of whom had stayed behind, greeted her with good cheer and bustled around unpacking her toiletries, while she cleaned up.

“What did I miss?”

“Well, they say a lady of the court is pregnant, but no one knows who the father is.”

“And Lord Langward is having an affair with Lady Harte.”

Harry sighed, “Why can’t people just– not.”

Her maids giggled, “Not everyone is so good as you, princess.”

Harry stepped out of the bath and started dressing, two of her maids hurrying over to help her. It occurred to that she’d have to talk to Jon, and warn him about what people were like here.

But first, she would visit the family members she’d missed.

—

Harry stepped out of her room and made her way to her Uncle Renly’s chambers.

She was announced and admitted into the sitting room, where she found her uncle and Loras sitting around a table, the tea things already present.

She went and kissed both their cheeks, greeting them properly this time. “Uncles.”

She sat and Renly poured her tea, while Loras pushed the cake plate closer, she threw him a smile and grabbed one, savoring the sweetness.

“Now my niece, the North. How was it? I see Lord Stark accepted the position of Hand.” Renly asked curiously.

Uncle Loras leaned forward, “And was there a betrothal? There’s been no announcement.”

Harry finished chewing and sipped her tea, “Lord Stark took the position, yes, but both him and my father agreed to wait on the engagement. Neither of them are certain about Joffrey, it would seem.”

Loras frowned and her uncle wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “So it might still be you and Robb Stark?” She knew Loras wished for her to marry his brother Willas, and for Margery to marry Joffrey. Though that had lost its luster with time. Joffrey would not be a good husband to any woman, that was clear.

“Yes, it’s a possibility.” She sighed, “Father asked me to consider Robb for my hand.” She shrugged.

Uncle Renly kissed Loras' cheek in consolation and turned to her, “And what’s this I hear about you almost dying in Winterfell?”

She groaned, “Is that what people say?”

Loras looked amused, “Yes, apparently you jumped to save one of the Starks boys, when he fell off a tower and flew him down but were injured yourself. It’s quite a love story in some circles, though no one seems to agree on which boy it was. Was it Robb Stark?”

She scoffed, “No! It was the younger one, Bran. He’s just a child and apparently likes climbing. He slipped off a tower and I caught him. I certainly didn’t bloody fly anywhere. I hit my head but it was not so bad. I didn’t even need stitches! People are just overly dramatic.”

Her uncles chuckled and Loras squeezed her hand. “Well, we’re glad you’re well. It was quite the scare, hearing about it.”

Renly nodded and sipped his tea, “What about the other Starks then? Did Lord Stark bring all his children? Is your possible betrothed here? I saw a Stark looking boy following Ser Barristan around.”

She swallowed, “No, Lord Stark brought his two daughters, Sansa and Arya. The boy is his bastard son, Jon Snow. He’s Ser Barristan’s squire.”

Loras raised his eyebrows, “He must be good, if the old knight took him on.”

She nodded, “He is, we sparred often, on the road.”

Renly looked suspicious, “Don’t be getting too close to a bastard, Harry.”

She scowled at him, “He’s my friend. And he’s a good boy. You’d like him, if you gave him a chance.”

Her uncle frowned but settled down.

Loras laid a hand on his arm, “I’ll look for him in the yard. If he’s as good as you say, then he should be a good opponent.” He grinned, “I’ll even be gentle, for you, niece.”

She threw him a grateful look, “Thank you, Uncle Loras. He’s new here, and I do worry.”

Renly snorted softly, “Oh, he’ll be eaten alive by the vultures.”

Harry fidgeted in worry, “Ser Barristan will look after him.” She sighed, “And I’ll have a talk with him, too. He’s as honorable as any Stark, he’ll not expect the sort of things that people get up to, around here.”

Renly finally softened, and sighed, “We’ll keep an eye out for him, as well.”

She beamed, “Thank you, both of you.”

He waved that away, “Now tell me, is the cold as bad as they say?”

She laughed, “No! It’s still summer–”

—

The next day, which was as soon as she could arrange. She approached Ser Barristan where he was guarding her father’s door. Jon was there, as he’d shadow the knight most days, serving as another guard.

She smiled at both of them and leaned closer, speaking softly, “Ser Barristan, I was wondering if you’ve spoken to Jon, on things to be wary of.” She winced, “I’ve caught up on the local gossip and I realized he might not know to be on his guard for certain things.”

Ser Barristan caught on immediately and frowned, “I have not, princess.” He sighed, “But you’re quite right.” They both threw Jon a look, who looked confused. “I’ll speak with him tonight.”

She nodded, “Jon, come to me if you have any questions, yes? I’ll let my servants know to let you pass.”

He nodded, confused, “Yes, princess.”

—

Jon had to sit through a detailed explanation on the depravity of the court.

Ser Barristan had looked very serious as he explained how everyone around him might be a spy, how the walls had ears, how women might try to trap him or seduce him, how anyone might try to kill him. He’d even warned him about the whores.

Jon had gotten steadily more and more embarrassed as the talk went on, but on that last point he could at least set the knight’s mind at ease, “I don’t frequent whores, Ser Barristan.”

The knight looked relieved, “Good. That’s one less problem. If you do get yourself a lover, make sure she doesn’t get with child, and don’t compromise any ladies, that’s just asking for trouble.”

Jon flushed violently, “That should not be a problem either, Ser. I– Let us just say that I’m not looking for just any lady.”

He would never touch another woman. Never. It was Harry for him, or no one at all.

Ser Barristan’s face filled with sympathy, “Ah, left a lady love behind, did you?” He clapped his shoulder, “Then stay true to her, boy. And maybe once you return a knight, she might look at you.”

Jon fidgeted with his hands, and shook his head, “She’s too highborn for me, Ser.”

The knight looked thoughtful, “Being a knight opens many doors, Jon. Distinguish yourself enough and who knows what might happen.”

Jon nodded, feeling hope kindle in his chest. Who knows what might happen.

“I’ll go see the princess, if you don’t mind, Ser. I have to thank her for thinking of me. I would not have known, otherwise.”

The knight agreed readily. “Go on. I’ll see you back here for dinner.”

Jon agreed and stood up, leaving the White Sword Tower. His chambers were nearby, if not on the tower itself, but he spent a lot of time there, with Ser Barristan.

He had the impression the knight wanted him to join the Kingsguard at some point. Jon knew he could not accept such a thing. Either he found a way to marry Harry, or he looked after her as a sworn sword. He could not tie himself to the king.

—

Harry sat on a sofa, in the sitting room of her chambers, embroidering a handkerchief. She rarely did such things, unless she wanted to make something special for her loved ones.

This time, there was a sleeping white wolf taking shape slowly, on a corner of the white linen. If one paid attention, there would be a white owl nestled amidst the fur.

She luckily had a ready model for the image. She looked up at Ghost, curled up on a rug, with Hedwig nestled between his paws, and smiled to herself.

She wondered whether Jon had even noticed Ghost was away, yet. He would sometimes stay behind and laze the day away, instead of trotting after Jon. So he might not know the direwolf was not in his room.

One of her maids approached her, “Princess, Jon Snow is at the door. Shall I let him in?”

Harry straightened up and nodded, “Please do.”

She put away her embroidery and looked up in time to see Jon step into the room and bow, looking around. He stopped cold when he saw Ghost, however.

“Ghost!” He looked embarrassed, “I’m sorry, princess! I didn’t know he’d gotten out.”

She chuckled and waved him forward, “Sit, sit. I don’t mind at all.” She gestured to the sofa, next to her, instead of the chair across.

He readily sank down beside her and gave her all his attention. “I’ll take him with me when I go.” Then he flushed, “I have to thank you, for speaking with Ser Barristan. I– I did not expect–” He sighed in frustration. “I would not have known. So I thank you for the warning. I’ll be on my guard.”

She nodded, “It’s not so bad once you know what to look for, and having allies helps. My uncle Renly and Ser Loras Tyrell are good friends. You can go to them, should there be a need.”

He nodded thoughtfully but frowned, looking down. “Are you very close with Ser Loras?” A scowl was creeping over his face and she suddenly realized he was jealous.

She held back a smile and leaned closer, “We’re good friends, he is like another uncle to me, you see. But keep that to yourself.” She whispered. Her maids were still around, chaperoning.

He looked at her and she realized he’d not understood, but was willing to trust her. “I see. Very well.” He looked relieved and she laughed lightly.

“Jon, I don’t–” She bit her lip, “There’s no one else.” She whispered as low as she could and could feel a blush spread across her face. She was very grateful her servants were loyal to her and no one else.

He looked surprised and stared into her eyes. A smile slowly spread across his face and his hand crawled forward across the cushions, out of sight, fingertips brushing against hers.

“Good. It’s the same for me.” He looked embarrassed, but went on, “Ser Barristan spoke of the women here. I told him it would not be a problem. Not for me. Never.” He looked resolute and looked into her eyes, willing her to understand. There’s no one for me but you, said his eyes.

She felt her heart flutter in her chest and held back a wistful sigh, nodding softly. “Good. That’s good. I feel the same.”

She traced the tips of her fingers over his and they smiled at each other for long moments. Ghost padding over broke the stillness, and he sat at their feet.

She saw Jon swallow and stand up, “I should go.” He bowed deeply, “Thank you for your time, princess.”

She nodded softly, “Of course.” And then he was gone, Ghost following behind.

Hedwig flew over to the back of the couch and fluffed her feathers, settling in to sleep.

—

That night, Harry sat by her dressing table, while her maid brushed her hair. Myriame had been with her for years.

“That boy today was very handsome, princess.”

Harry met her eyes in the mirror and saw the worry reflected there. She smiled helplessly, “So he is.”

Her maid nodded, “We will always keep your secrets, princess.” She bit her lip, “Just please, be careful with your heart.”

Harry blinked tears away from her eyes and refrained from saying it was too late for that.

“I will.”

—

Tyrion arrived from the Wall a few days later, full of tales about the immense structure.

“It’s much colder than Winterfell. I had to leave before my fingers and toes started falling off.”

Her uncle was regaling both her and Uncle Jaime with the tale of his adventure, tucked away in his chambers.

“What about the Night’s Watch?” She asked.

Jaime rolled his eyes and she poked his side in admonition.

Tyrion looked amused, “As pitiful as expected, Castle Black is a ruin, and the Watch is made up of rapists and thieves. There’s not much left of the grand order of old.”

“Ah, that’s a shame.” She frowned.

Jaime leaned over and refilled his goblet, “What about the wildlings? Any sightings?”

Tyrion shrugged, “No, but there’s talk that they’re amassing behind the Wall. And many tales of grumkins and snarks.” He rolled his eyes.

Jaime shrugged, “Who cares? That bunch of savages won’t be able to cross.”

Harry hummed, “You might as well tell Lord Stark, whether the threat is real or not.”

Tyrion nodded, “It can’t be a bad idea to make nice with our new Hand. Especially if I mean to get that position we’ve been talking about.”

Harry nodded in agreement, “He’s likely to be overwhelmed, with Lord Arryn preparing to depart. This is a good time to offer your services.”

Tyrion raised his cup, “To fruitful employment!”

They laughed and toasted him.

Chapter Text

Harry’s name day had passed quietly while on the road. And now that they were back in the city, her father wanted a grand tourney in honour of both her and the new Hand. Though most people seemed to forget that part, the Princess’ Tourney, they were calling it.

Harry had frowned to hear it, but had put it from her mind, because for the first time, Jon would participate.

She had met both him and Ser Barristan in the yard and had learned he meant to join the squire’s melee.

“Are you sure? It’s dangerous!” She asked in concern and he shrugged, “Jon!”

He smiled at her frown, “I promise I’ll take care, princess. I won’t take any unnecessary risks.”

Ser Barristan looked amused, “He’s good enough for this, princess. Almost as good as you, I should say.” He grinned at her.

Harry scoffed. Jon had been improving at an alarming rate, since coming under Ser Barristan’s care, it was true. He even managed to land hits on her now, but she couldn’t help but worry. People died in these tourneys.

“Just– be careful.”

Jon beamed at her, “I will. And I will keep practicing, maybe next time I will join the joust instead.”

She sighed, “Oh, very well.” He’d taken up jousting as well, since their arrival, and he was an excellent horseman, but his aim needed work. So that particular danger would wait, at least.

“That’s enough, you two. Take your positions.” Ser Barristan ushered them apart.

—

Harry ran into a dirty child running around the keep a few days before the tourney. She waved back Ser Arys and approached.

“Arya? What are you doing?”

Arya looked up at her from her crouch. “No one else has recognized me!”

Harry looked her over, “I’m not surprised, under all that grime. So, what are you doing?”

Arya beamed at her, “I’m catching cats! Father got me a dance instructor.”

Harry frowned in confusion, “I think you had better start from the beginning.”

The girl rolled her eyes, “For the bravo’s water dance! I’m practicing being stealthy.”

Harry laughed, “I see! That will suit you nicely, I think. Good luck catching cats, and don’t get in trouble.” She patted the girl’s dirty head and went on her way, still chuckling.

—

The day of the tourney found Harry walking nervously by the stands. For the first time, she carried two favors with her. She approached the tent set aside for Ser Barristan, while she knew he would be busy elsewhere and made her way inside, asking Ser Arys to wait outside.

She found Jon preparing the knight’s armour. He was startled to see her there, and she realized they were alone, for the first time since Winterfell, moons ago.

He must have realized the same thing, because he strode over quickly and pulled her into his arms, hiding his face in her neck. She wrapped her arms around him and held on tightly.

“Hello, Jon.”

He leaned back to look at her, “Harry.” His face held an ocean of feeling.

She dug out the handkerchief she’d made him and pushed it into his hands. “I can’t give you my favor publicly, but I wanted you to have this. I made it for you, the tourney is just a convenient excuse.” She babbled.

He looked down at the wolf and the owl nestled together, and looked up at her with shiny eyes. “Thank you.” He tucked it into his jerkin, “I love it, I–”

He leaned over quickly and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, before stepping back, clenching his empty hands.

“You should go, before I–” He chuckled, “I’ve found I have very little control over myself, when it comes to you, princess.”

She smiled ruefully, “It’s not just you.” She sighed. “Remember to take care, I’ll be watching.”

He smiled warmly at her and nodded, “I will.”

She turned around and left, before she did something she might regret.

—

The joust passed her by at a crawl. She watched distractedly, and clapped when appropriate. But this was only the first round, and it would continue for another day for the finals. She was eagerly waiting for the squire’s melee, which would happen after the joust was over for the day.

By the time the contestants started filing into the field, she was a mess of nerves. She’d cast a protection charm on Jon, but it would only turn away any mortal wounds, nothing else, and she worried anyway. She finally found him, wearing armour she’d not seen before. It was plain but it fit him well and seemed of good quality.

Arya suddenly dropped into the seat next to her, “There’s my brother, Jon!” She pointed, “There! Do you see?”

Lord Stark spoke up from further up the stands, “Arya, settle down.”

Harry looked back at him, “I have her, Lord Stark, it’s quite alright.”

She wrapped an arm around the girl and drew her close. “I see him. He’ll do well, you’ll see.”

Arya turned to her, “I heard you’ve been training with him. Does he stand a chance?”

She felt the attention of many around them, and played at aloofness, “Oh, yes. He’s very good. One of the few that can prove a challenge for me. I think he stands a very good chance.”

Her father laughed from behind them, “Well, a hundred dragons on Ned’s bastard!”

Lord Stark sounded embarrassed, “Your Grace!”

Uncle Renly leaned in, “I’ll take that wager, brother.” He threw her a wink and she shook her head in amusement.

The melee was set to start and Harry turned back to watch. Arya wriggling in excitement next to her.

—

Jon ignored the pounding of his heart as he parried a blade away. There’d been no time to think, or to look around, since the moment the melee had started.

There were pained groans all around as people fought and lost. And as he made his way through more of the competitors, he realized none of them were as good as Harry. None of them were the mixture of lightning quick movements and surprising strength that always had him yielding to her, or flat on his back.

Jon fought them expecting them to be quicker, stronger, better, and so he kept winning. It also helped that they all underestimated him. He was an unknown, and as such, was dismissed out of hand, until they found themselves defeated by his sword.

He fought until his arms trembled and he felt sweat pour down his face. His body ached from blows he hadn’t realized he’d acquired.

Until finally, there was no enemy to fight. He panted in exhaustion and looked around.

He was the last man standing. He held a hand against his aching ribs and lifted his sword in triumph.

The crowd roared in response and Jon looked to the royal box. The king was cheering wildly and his father looked proud. But Jon only had eyes for Harry, standing to the front, cheering and waving, Arya next to her.

Jon waved back and smiled widely. Let them think his enthusiasm was for his family, and not for his lady love.

—

Harry paced around in her bedroom. She was alone, it was past the time she usually went to bed. The maids had already left for the night, Ser Arys stood guard outside her door.

She wrung her hands and groaned softly to herself.

“I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t.”

How injured was Jon? He seemed fine. She was just fretting needlessly.

She laid down in her bed and tried to sleep.

Five minutes later she threw back the covers and growled to herself, standing and covering her nightgown with a robe, and stepping into her slippers.

She approached a corner of her room and engaged the mechanism that opened the hidden passageway.

She’d long warded them to hell and back. No one could even find them without her say-so. The only reason she hadn’t blocked them completely was because she thought she might make use of them, at some point. And here she was, creeping through the night.

She made her way silently through the narrow corridors, clearing off spiderwebs as she went, until she reached where she thought the White Sword Tower to be.

“It must be this way.”

She found what she thought to be the right room and breathed a sigh of relief when she realized there was a way in. She wrung her hands and sensed inside the room.

He was there, and he was alone.

She gathered her courage and pulled the hidden lever by the door, swinging it open soundlessly.

She saw Jon startle badly. He jumped up from where he’d been sitting in his bed and gaped at her.

“Princess?” His voice had gone high.

He was bare chested, with bandages around his ribs and several bruises peeking through. She shushed him and closed the passageway. Then she approached his door and made sure it was locked. She discreetly cast a spell, to muffle noise, so they could speak freely.

She finally turned to him and stepped closer, “I wanted to see how you were.” She stared at his chest and felt her mouth go dry. She swallowed with difficulty, “Are you very injured?”

Jon finally shook himself from his shock and reached for her, grasping her arms tentatively, “Harry? How are you here?”

She blushed, “There are secret passageways around the keep. No one uses them, however.” Because she’d made it so. “I was just worried. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have–” She suddenly felt stupid and tried to pull away, but he tightened his hold on her arms.

“No! Wait, don’t leave!” He pulled her forward, desperately, into his arms, and she held back a gasp, not knowing what to do with her hands. So she laid them on his shoulders, his bare shoulders. Her heart was racing.

“Jon! Your ribs!” She tried to pull back but he wasn’t having it.

“Never mind my ribs.” He rested his brow against hers, “You’re here.” He smiled warmly, looking delighted to have her in his arms.

His palms were running over her back, and she was suddenly very aware that she was only wearing her thin nightgown and a robe. Her hair was loose around her shoulders.

She cleared her throat, “Your injuries. How are you? And congratulations! I knew you’d do well.” She smiled up at him.

He chuckled softly and brushed his nose against hers, “Thank you. And I’m not too badly injured at all. It’s just some bruising, that’s all.”

She tentatively raised her arms and wrapped them around his neck. It was a completely different experience when he was half naked.

She felt him shiver in delight when she ran her hands over the back of his neck. They were still pressed close together when he finally leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss.

Harry sighed against his lips. He kissed her softly, carefully, but filled with feeling. She kissed him back and tried not to rush into things. When he finally ran his tongue over her lip, she gasped and he entered her mouth, sliding his tongue against hers.

She moaned softly and felt him shiver. He ran his hands all over her back and her waist, and then his hands suddenly creeped down and squeezed her arse, pulling her against him.

She made another noise and he drank it down, still kissing her fiercely. She ran her hands down his chest, learning the feeling of his skin and he moaned, breaking the kiss.

He looked into her eyes, and she realized she could feel him, hard against her pelvis. “Harry–” He panted and leaned down to trail wet kisses down her neck, “I think you had better go.” Except he didn’t release her at all.

He licked over her pulse and nibbled at her collarbone, pushing her robe open a little wider. His hands still roamed over her, though he avoided her most private parts.

He kissed a little lower and she grabbed his hair, holding him against her. “Jon.” He stopped moving, and stayed there, breathing against her skin. Any lower and he’d be kissing her breasts. “I–” She wavered in indecision.

‘What do I do?’

He pressed a kiss against her skin, “I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse, and he laid his head against her shoulder.

She gulped and reached for the belt of her robe, pulling it open with shaking hands, “No more than this.”

Jon leaned back and stared at her wide eyed. Her nightgown was silk, so he could probably see everything. His eyes roamed over her hard nipples, pushing against the silk, and he made a noise deep in his throat.

“Are you sure?”

She bit her lip but nodded, “Yes, but just– just my breasts. Better not tempt fate.”

He nodded, still gazing intently at her breasts, and trailed his hands over her waist and then higher. Until he was grazing the underside, and then tentatively cupped them in his hands, getting a feel for them. He ran his thumb over her nipples and she bit down on a moan.

He looked mesmerized, as he kept palming her breasts through her silk nightgown. Then he suddenly leaned forward and licked at one of her nipples, spit soaking her gown. Then he sucked it into his mouth and she couldn’t hold back her noises any more.

She held his head against her, as he sucked one and then the other, fingers playing with them. And then he suddenly turned to sit on the bed and pulled her into his lap, mouth returning to her breasts.

Harry panted, hands grasping his shoulders as he licked and sucked at her. She ran her hands over his shoulders and his back, loving the feeling of his skin.

She could feel him hard under her, and thoughtlessly pushed down. He gasped and released her nipple, panting against her neck.

He took her hips and pushed her down against him. They both moaned and his head came up to kiss her, still pushing her down against his hardness.

She squirmed against him and the movement made them both gasp.

“Harry.” He sounded wretched, and started pushing up, while she pushed down, grinding against him. His hands found her arse and squeezed her, moving her against him.

She pushed away and stood, to his shock and disappointment, but she only moved to straddle him instead. Which was a thousand times better.

She breathed against his lips, “Jon.” and he resumed their movements, rubbing his cock on her cunt through their clothes. His hands returned to her arse and guided her movements. His mouth found the wet patch over her nipples and sucked on them.

She grabbed hold of his hair and shivered from the delicious friction, from his mouth and his hands and all of him rubbing against her.

She leaned down and kissed down his neck, being careful not to leave a mark. His cock rubbed against her in just the right way and she felt a wave of pleasure approaching, like a tight coil in her belly. She moved desperately, and felt him begin to shake under her.

The wave crested and swept her away, and she cried out against his skin, shaking apart. He moaned and jerked and then slumped against her.

They were both panting harshly. He leaned his head on her shoulder and wrapped his hands around her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his head.

He chuckled and kissed up her neck until he reached her lips, and kissed her softly. When they broke apart, they looked at each other in wonder.

She cleared her throat, “That wasn’t quite what I had in mind.” She had no idea what she’d actually expected.

He blushed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t expect–” He paused, unsure.

She chuckled and kissed him, “I don’t think either of us knew quite what we were getting into.”

He laughed softly, and brushed his lips against hers. “No, I guess not. Though I suspect this wasn’t what you meant when you said to only touch your breasts.”

She blushed and hid her face against his shoulder. He laughed and wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back.

She spoke against his skin. “No, but I find I don’t mind it.”

“I don’t either.” His voice was soft. “I’m a selfish man, princess. I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

She leaned back to look at him and found him looking at her with his heart in his eyes. She swallowed, “Jon.”

He cupped her face, “I love you.” He brushed his lips against hers, and she stared at him, wide eyed, “It’s alright. I just wanted you to know. You don’t have to say anything–”

She interrupted him with a kiss, “I love you, too.” She smiled, “Jon, of course I do.”

His eyes filled with tears but he smiled widely, pulling her forward into a kiss. Her own eyes stung but she pushed any tears back.

They broke apart, and he pushed back her hair from her face, and stroked her cheeks. “I will find a way to marry you. I will.”

She frowned, “Jon.” and bit her lip. “How?”

He sighed, “I don’t know, but I’ll find a way.” He kissed her cheek, “Just don’t let your father promise you to anyone, until I find a way. Could you do that?”

She could, “Yes.”

They smiled at each other and held close in an embrace.

“It’s getting late. I should go.” She stood on shaky legs and looked down, “Oh.”

There were wet patches over her breasts and over her lap. She could feel her knickers were soaked. Jon had a wet patch over his trousers too.

He eyed her and then himself, “Oh, right.” He cleared his throat, “Well.” There was a blush rising to his cheeks and she laughed, cupping his face and pressing a kiss to his cheek and then his lips.

He smiled at her and stood, holding her waist and pulling her into a hug. It was like neither of them could bear to be apart, or even not touching for long.

She finally pulled back and tied her robe closed. “I’m going.” She found her slippers where they’d fallen at some point and stepped into them. Jon followed close behind her as she made her way to the passageway entrance, a hand on her back.

She swung the door open and she turned back to him, cancelling the noise muffling spell. She leaned up to kiss him, but kept it short, or they’d be there all night.

“I will see you tomorrow, Jon.”

He grinned at her, “Princess.”

She grinned back and stepped through, pulling the door closed behind her.

Chapter Text

The tourney continued the next day, with the melee and the joust finals. The melee went first, and Harry was overjoyed to see Jon join them in the royal box, as permitted by her father for his win in the squire’s melee.

They had Arya as a buffer between them, but he was still close and it made her heart beat loudly in her chest. When their eyes first met, she got a clear recollection of what they’d gotten up to the night before and knew he felt the same, because a violent blush rose to his face.

He had to pretend it was the heat, when Arya loudly asked what was the matter with him. Harry had to occlude hard to hold her own blush at bay and also not to laugh hysterically at his consternation.

—

The melee was long and brutal, and took the whole morning. Harry winced to imagine Jon in such an event in the future, and hoped he might refrain.

Thoros of Myr emerged victorious, due to his flaming sword, and Harry had to suppress the urge to extinguish it, just to see what happened. The thought still made her giggle to herself.

The joust was next, starting with the second round. The semi-finals would follow, and then the finals would end the day.

The third day would consist of the archery contest and a feast.

—

The jousting semi-finals were exciting but not in a good way. The Mountain that Rides tried to kill Ser Loras, and Harry had stood up in a fury. Sandor Clegane had fought him off and Loras had walked off the field but she’d been furious.

She jumped up and made her way to the pavilions, finding the rose sigil easily enough and making her way over. The event was concluded for the day, after all. She realized Jon had followed behind her, she’d thought only Ser Arys had followed her as always.

Jon came up alongside her, “Princess?”

She gave him a look, “I only wish to ascertain Ser Loras’ wellbeing.”

He appeared unhappy but followed along. She realized he might be jealous again and shook her head, a smile pulling at her lips.

When they reached the tent, she called out, “Uncle Renly?” and saw Jon look surprised from the corner of her eye. They were at the Tyrell pavilion after all.

Her uncle stepped outside the tent, as she’d expected. She took his hand, “Is Ser Loras alright?”

He squeezed her hand, “He is, only some bruises and a scare. Don’t fret.”

She felt the frown on her face lighten, and nodded. “Good.” She took a breath of relief, “I shall leave you then. Do pass on my well wishes, nuncle.”

He kissed her cheek, “Of course. Run along now, my dear.”

She nodded and turned away, walking back to the stands much more calmly. Jon walked behind her, alongside Ser Arys, and she could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head.

She found her family as they were making their way to the carriages, to return to the keep. She climbed up and threw Jon a look before stepping inside. He still looked unhappy.

—

Harry had a decision to make. The Mountain was a danger to all around him. She’d never before seen his savagery, but hadn’t she heard plenty of it? Why shouldn’t she remove a threat? She would have to think about it carefully.

After all, if she started down that path, who knew where she’d end up. There were plenty of unworthy knights. Would she only stop at one?

She ended up seeing The Mountain again, in the keep after the tourney. He’d probably been reprimanded for his conduct. It was the perfect opportunity, as she watched him walk past on the floor below.

In the end, she decided to place a light curse on him. It was a modified bad luck jinx, should he try to harm someone, luck would turn against him. In this world, something so simple as bad luck was enough to get people killed.

She didn’t know if she’d made the right choice. Would it be enough? Was it right for her to take such things into her hands?

—

She was still turning it over in her mind as she made her way to Jon’s room that night. She hadn’t planned to come, feeling it too risky to do so often, but he’d seemed so unhappy earlier that day.

She checked he was alone and then swung open the passage door. He jumped up from where he’d been hunched over, writing a letter on the desk. She cast the muffling charm again.

He quickly put away his quill and approached, cleaning his hands of any ink with a rag. He threw the cloth back to the desk and stood before her, hesitating.

She sighed and stepped closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. “What is the matter?”

He sighed in relief and pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her back. “You’ll be mad at me.” She just raised her eyebrows and he cracked, “I was jealous. It’s just–” He scowled, “You were so worried over bloody Loras Tyrell. I’ve sparred with him in the yard, and he’s good. Better than me. For now.” His scowl darkened.

Harry held back the urge to laugh, “Jon, I have no romantic inclinations towards Loras, I promise you that. And talent with a sword is not the reason I’m here with you.” A chuckle escaped her.

He groaned and hid his face against her shoulder. “It sounds so stupid when I hear it aloud.”

She laughed and ran her hands over his hair and rubbed his shoulders. “If I tell you a secret, would you keep it? It is not my secret to tell, but I will tell you, just to set your mind at ease. Do you understand?”

He leaned back to look at her, “I would keep any secret you entrusted to me, I swear.”

He was so very sweet, she cupped his face and ran her thumb over his cheekbone, “Loras is my uncle’s lover. He is as close to an uncle as he can be without a marriage.”

Jon boggled at her, and she watched him process it with amusement, “Ah.” He paused, frowning in consternation, “I see.” He met her eyes and chuckled. “I feel so stupid now.”

She shook her head, “Don’t, you couldn’t have known. No one is supposed to know. It would cause them no end of trouble.”

He frowned and nodded, “I’ll keep it to myself.”

She nodded gratefully, “Thank you. And maybe I shouldn’t have gone to see him, but he’s a dear friend.” She sighed, “It could be said I was looking for my uncle I suppose. He’s the one I spoke with.”

Jon hummed and brushed his lips over hers, “It also doesn’t help that Robb has been asking after you.”

She blinked at him and looked to the desk, “Ah, the letter?”

He nodded unhappily, “Yes, and here I am, plotting to steal my brother’s bride.”

“Jon, I’m not promised to anyone. I am not your brother’s bride.” She said in exasperation.

He shrugged, “I know, but it feels that way sometimes. I hear people talk about who you might marry. They all seem to think it will be Robb, because there was no announced betrothal for Joffrey when the king came back from Winterfell.” He scowled and pulled her closer by the hips, “Even Robb might think so.”

She sighed, “Jon.” and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He looked down at her and brushed his lips over her jaw. “I don’t want to think of any other man touching you.”

She kissed him softly, “Then don’t.”

He kissed her back and opened her robe, pushing it off her shoulders and to the floor. She gasped into his mouth and shivered, and could feel him smile into the kiss.

His hands ran over her waist and found her breasts, pinching her nipples lightly. She tugged his tunic up and found the bandages were gone. She broke the kiss and looked down. There were purple bruises on his side, over his ribs.

She ran a hand lightly over them as he took his tunic off, “Shouldn’t you be wearing bandages?”

He took her hand and pressed it against his skin, “No, I don’t need the support so much anymore. They’re just bruised, not fractured.”

He pulled her back into a kiss and she went willingly, running her hands over his chest and his sides. When she ran her fingers lightly over his abdomen he shivered and moaned into her mouth. She might have been getting too close to his cock.

She slid her hands up over his back, and he suddenly walked back to sit on the bed and pulled her forward. She climbed onto his lap, astride like last time, and pushed down against him.

He groaned against her lips and leaned down to kiss her neck. She didn’t realize the shoulder of her nightgown had fallen down until she felt his lips on her bare breast. She whimpered when he closed his lips around her nipple and sucked.

She ground down against him, desperate for the friction. Her cunt was pulsing. He released her nipple with a pop, and moved to the other one, pulling down her nightgown to her waist. A distant part of her mind rang an alarm bell but she silenced it.

She moved her hips and he gasped and threw his head back, grasping her hips. She pushed him back to lay on the bed, and he looked up at her in surprise.

She grinned down at him and moved her hips, he gasped again, “Gods!”

He brought his hands up to her bare breasts, looking awed and brought a hand to her back to push her forward, so he could suck on them while she laid over him, still moving against each other.

His clothed cock was touching just the right place for her. Between that and his lips on her breasts, it was almost too much. She whimpered and increased her pace. He laid his head back down on the mattress and took her hips, pushing up against her.

She was so very close. It felt so very good. She leaned down and kissed his chest, running her lips over his skin. He sank his hand in her curls and tugged her up to his lips, kissing her hard.

She came apart and whimpered into his mouth. He took her hips and ground against her desperately, until he too slumped down with a groan.

Harry laid down over him, catching her breath, and felt him raise his arms to hold her close. She pressed a kiss to his shoulder and sighed happily. If it was this nice to do this, what must it be like to take him inside herself?

Harry Potter had had lovers, but none that drove her mad like this.

Jon rubbed her back and raised his head to kiss her hair. He settled back down and ran a hand through her curls, “I love you.”

She smiled and raised her head to look at him, “I love you, too.”

When she finally got off him, she felt very glad she could just magic the stains away when she saw the wet patch over her lap. His trousers didn’t look any better.

She wished fiercely she could tell him of her magic, but felt afraid. What if he didn’t love her anymore? And yet, how could he love her if he didn’t know all of her? She pushed the thought away and got off the bed, putting her nightgown to rights. He stood after her and picked up her robe, wrapping it around her and tying it closed.

She stepped into her slippers and kissed him goodbye. He sighed against her mouth, “I wish you could stay.”

She smiled, “Me too.” and opened the secret door.

As she closed the door behind her, she could hear him say, “Maybe one day.”

—

Harry walked along the city market, Ser Arys at her back, along with Jon and several guards, Stark, Lannister and Baratheon men-at-arms. Arya, Sansa, Myrcella and Tommen flocked around her, making her feel like a mama duck with her ducklings. The three direwolves kept close around them, keeping people away. A few servants trailed behind, to take care of any purchases they might make.

The children chattered happily while browsing the wares on display and Arya turned to Jon, taking his hand and pulling him over. “Look, Jon! It’s a direwolf.”

Harry leaned over. It was indeed a direwolf. The stall sold carved wooden figurines, polished to a shine. So lifelike it looked like they might move any moment.

Harry smiled when Tommen pulled her over, “It’s a cat! Can I have it, please?”

She turned to the children, “Choose one each, but no more.” They all cheered and each chose a figure. “You too, Jon.”

He blinked at her, “Me?”

She grinned, “Yes, I’ll take one too.” She reached for a delicate doe and saw him choose another direwolf with a smile.

Harry paid the cheerful stall owner and they moved on.

By the end of the day, her purse was empty but they all had a lovely time.

—

Harry slipped into Jon’s room, where he was waiting for her. He grinned and picked her up, sitting down with her on his lap. He untied her robe and helped her pull it off. She pulled him into a kiss while he ran his hands along her sides and pulled her hips down against him.

—

Over a month after the tourney, she got a message that she knew would upset her father. Jon Arryn had departed after the tourney, and Lord Stark was too new, so she sighed to herself and went to find the king.

She found him in his office with Lord Stark, conversing over wine while the Hand tried to cajole her father into looking over some documents.

Harry curtsied to both and made her way over. Her father took up the papers and passed them to her as soon as she approached.

“Robert!” Lord Stark looked confused about why the king was letting his daughter look through important documents.

“Leave it, Ned. Harry took care of a lot of the tedious work with Jon.” She had indeed.

She sat and started glancing through them. It was nothing urgent. She looked up, “My father is not given to reading through paperwork, Lord Hand. You’ll have better luck just talking through the issues if you want his input.” She looked to her father and they shrugged at each other. “I did help Lord Arryn with a lot of these types of things, though I thought my uncle Tyrion was working as your right hand, so to speak.”

Lord Stark nodded, looking tired, “He is, and he’s proven an able assistant. I just thought the king would like to know what was going on in his kingdom.”

Her father huffed, “So tell me the important bits, don’t expect me to read through all that.”

Lord Stark sighed again and she chuckled, “Don’t be discouraged, my lord. Father used to be much worse after all.” She said cheerfully.

Her father squawked in outrage, “I was not!” then he chuckled, “Perhaps a tad. But never mind that. Pull Harry into any business you think I should know. She’ll take care of it.”

Lord Stark looked at her incredulously and she shrugged. He was probably shocked at the amount of power her father so casually handed her on a daily basis. It was an open secret that the king favored her outrageously. He just probably didn’t expect that to extend to matters of the crown.

She huffed, “Didn’t Lord Arryn speak to you, Lord Stark?”

He nodded, “He did, I just thought–” He probably thought Lord Arryn had been exaggerating.

She smiled at him in commiseration, “I understand, and know that I’m at your disposal should you have questions or need help.”

He nodded in acceptance, “I believe I will. Thank you, princess.”

She nodded firmly, “Now that’s out of the way. There’s a reason I’m here. You should get a report on this soon, but I thought it best to speak of it in private.”

Her father looked wary and Lord Stark looked confused.

“Well, what is it then?” Father squinted at her.

“Daenerys Targaryen was sold off to a Dothraki Khal and she’s pregnant.”

Her father’s face went slack with shock but fury replaced it in a second. He jumped off his seat and threw the chair away in a rage. “Damn her! Damn her to the Seven Hells! I want her dead!”

Lord Stark looked shocked at the king’s reaction. “Your Grace!”

A jug of wine went soaring and crashed against the floor.

“Father!” Harry’s voice rang out in the momentary silence, heavy with authority. Her father stopped, panting with fury, and Lord Stark turned to her wide eyed.

She stood and approached, laying a hand on her father’s arm. “I know you’re angry, but there’s no need.”

“What do you mean there’s no need! She’s a threat!”

She shook her head, “Not yet. And Father, look at me.” He turned to her, teeth bared, “She is not a threat yet, and should she become one, I will handle it.”

She didn’t say anything else. There was no need. Sometimes, she thought the person who saw her clearest was her father, sharp edges and all. He searched her face and seemed to find what he was looking for.

He closed his eyes and covered his face with a hand, “You will.” It was not a question. “Don’t let her be a danger to our family. To you.”

“I will not.”

—

Hedwig had grown enough that Harry agreed to go hawking with Myrcella. It was just the two of them, for once.

“How is it that Hedwig doesn’t need a hood?”

They were watching Myrcella’s chosen hawk soar through the air in search of prey, while Hedwig perched on a nearby tree branch, waiting for her turn.

Her familiar was wearing a leather strap with a pretty gem around her leg. It looked like a pretty bauble. It was very much not. The accessory was dripping with magic, heavily enchanted to protect Hedwig from harm, as well as other useful spells. No one could take it from her, for one.

“Hedwig is different. She’s special and very smart, and she doesn’t startle easily.” She grinned at her sister.

“Do you think I could find a bird like that?”

Probably not, but this world held many strange things.

“Maybe, why don’t you try to raise a hawk yourself? Instead of using the ones from the keep? Maybe you just need to form a proper bond.”

Myrcella hugged her around the waist, “Maybe I will!” and looked up at her with a grin, “Now, shall we make it a competition?”

Harry grinned back, “Let’s! Hedwig! We’re competing to see who gets the most prey!”

Hedwig narrowed her eyes and hooted, soaring off.

They both laughed and cheered the birds on.

Her sister was already ten years old. Where had the time gone?

Chapter Text

Near the end of the year, her father decided to go on a hunt. Lord Stark refused to join him, which made him grumble, but he allowed it. After all, Lord Stark was busy with all the work that should have also been Father’s.

Her uncle Tyrion was making himself useful there, however. She wondered if he was aiming for the position of Hand at some point. He might actually get it if he continued proving himself. Lord Stark would not stay forever, after all. He’d made that clear.

The hunting party rode off in the early morning. Her father, her uncles Renly and Loras, several other nobles, and even Joffrey tagged along.

The keep seemed half empty with the king and her uncles away. Uncle Stannis had been to the city briefly last month, and then gone off to patrol the Blackwater. Harry was beginning to think she’d never meet Shireen.

Worst of all, Ser Barristan had gone with the king, and Jon had gone with Ser Barristan, so Harry wouldn’t see him until they returned, and her father could easily spend a week or two out hunting.

Harry sighed to herself.

—

Eight days later, the hunting party returned in the middle of the night. Harry was woken from her sleep by her maid.

“Princess, you must wake up.”

She blinked, groggy, “What is it?” and sat up. It was never anything good, if she was woken in the dead of night.

“The King is calling for you, immediately.”

Harry rose, “Help me dress, quickly.”

What could have happened?

She stepped out of her chambers a scant few minutes later, wearing a simple dress and her hair pulled back in a single braid.

Ser Barristan was waiting outside, and so was Jon. She met the knight’s eyes but he looked grim, and led her directly to the King’s chambers. She met Jon’s eyes for a moment but he shook his head, looked concerned.

She was ushered through to her father’s bedroom.

He was sitting on a chair, head in his hands, a wine jug on the table. The room was empty and half dark.

“Father?” She approached quickly and laid a hand on his shoulder. “What is the matter?” Her heart was racing.

A wail shattered the night’s peace, and Harry startled, recognizing her mother’s voice. Her father took her hand from his shoulder and held it between his hands.

“Harry, daughter. It’s Joffrey.”

She felt the blood flee her face, “What?”

Her father looked grief-stricken, his eyes were red and she realized he’d been crying, his face was both pale and reddened.

“There was a monstrous boar, we didn’t even know he was there. He came out of nowhere and attacked. A large group like us, it must have been maddened. And Joffrey, the stupid boy, thought to take it down himself.” He swallowed, “The boar gored him. Badly.” He squeezed her hand, “Harry, he’s not going to make it. It’s best if you say your good-byes.”

Harry pulled away and sat down hard on a nearby chair. “Gods!” She covered her face with her hands. What to do?

Her father filled another goblet with wine and passed it over. She took it and drained it in a single go. They sat there, drinking, for several minutes.

“How long does he have?”

Robert shrugged, “Not long, a few hours, most likely. We came back as soon as it happened, but–” He shook his head.

She wiped away a few tears. “I see.”

Her father sighed, “It’s my fault. I never treated him as I should have, maybe if I had, he wouldn’t have been so bloody stupid.” He clenched his fist, “My heir– and what a wretched heir he was. Tommen will be king now, after me. And he’s not suited to the role, any more than I was.”

She made a noise of distress, “Tommen! Oh, poor Tommen. Mother will never let him out of her clutches now.” And she’d tried so hard to get Tommen and Myrcella away from her mother’s excessive indulgence and overall bad influence.

Her father chuckled darkly, “I would send her away, if I could, lest she whisper poison in Tommen’s ear and ruin him, same as Joffrey.”

Harry rubbed her face, “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe it would do her well to spend time in the Rock, after this. She will be grief-stricken and inconsolable.”

He snorted tiredly, “Mad, you mean. She’ll go mad with grief. Joffrey was always her favorite.”

“And I was yours, which is hardly fair to Tommen and Myrcella.”

He waved that off, “I have never claimed to be a good father. Some days are just worse than others.”

She sighed and stood, setting down her empty goblet, “I will see my brother.” She leaned over and kissed her father’s cheek, “Come say your good-byes, before he’s gone.”

He shook his head, “I already did, and your mother is likely to shriek at me if I go. She’ll blame me for this.”

Harry shook her head, “It doesn’t matter. Let her scream, her son is dying. You need to be there. Come with me.”

He sighed sadly and stood, waving her forward.

They left the room and made their way to Joffrey’s chambers. There were several servants standing around, waiting for orders. The grand maester was just leaving the room as they arrived and approached them, “I’ve done what I could, but he’ll be gone by morning, Your Grace.”

Her father nodded and they stepped past him, and into the room.

Her siblings were in their nightclothes, sitting to the side, looking shellshocked. Her Lannister uncles were there, looking grim, and even uncle Renly stood by the door. Her mother was crying, clutching Joffrey’s hand. Her brother laid on his bed, looking small and pale. As harmless as she’d ever seen him.

Her father stayed by the door, and Renly stepped closer and laid a hand on his shoulder. Harry came closer to the bed and sat carefully on the opposite side from her mother. She reached for her brother’s hand, and he opened his eyes a sliver.

His gaze was unfocused, but he seemed to recognize her, “You.” Even in pain as he was, he tried to sneer at her and she held back a sigh.

She leaned in and whispered, “I’m sorry, Joff. I know we never got along very well, but you’re my brother, and I’m sorry this happened to you.” She kissed his hand and he made a soft sound of disgust.

She held on a moment longer and closed her eyes, reaching out with her senses. The wound was deadly, he didn’t have long left at all.

She could heal him. But should she?

She wavered in indecision for a moment.

Then she opened her eyes, kissed his forehead very softly and pulled away, going to her younger siblings. She sat between them and pulled them closer, letting them hold on to her.

Tommen crawled into her lap and Myrcella sobbed softly against her shoulder.

Joffrey died an hour later. She felt him slip away, though it took her mother a few more moments to realize. Her screaming alerted everyone else.

Harry ushered her siblings out of the room and her mother finally noticed her father was present.

“It’s your fault! You! Why did you let him go hunting?! Why?! My boy! My precious boy! No! No! No!” Her voice echoed down the corridors and Uncle Jaime had to clutch her to him to stop her from assaulting the king.

She kicked and screamed and acted like she’d lost her mind. Harry thought to send her to sleep, feeling it a kinder option, but she fainted before she could decide.

Her uncle gathered her in his arms and left the room, heading for the queen’s chambers. Harry stepped outside the room and watched him go.

Her father squeezed her shoulder. “Will you see to the younger ones?” He nodded to Tommen and Myrcella.

“Yes, they’ll spend the rest of the night with me. Call for us if we’re needed.”

She hugged her father and felt him squeeze her back, then she went back to her remaining siblings and wrapped her arms around them, leading them away to her chambers.

Once they were in bed, they both huddled against her.

“Will I have to be king?” Tommen’s voice was a whisper.

Harry kissed his head, “You might.”

Myrcella sniffled.

Tommen whimpered, “I don’t want to be. Couldn’t I be a maester instead?”

Harry looked at him in surprise, “You want to be a maester?”

He shook his head, “No, but if I am, then I don’t have to be king. And I don’t want to join the Night’s Watch.”

Harry sighed, “We’ll see.”

Myrcella threw an arm around them both, “Can’t you be queen instead?”

“Oh, can you?” Tommen looked hopeful.

She sighed, “It’s not so easy. I am a woman. The lords don’t like ruling queens.”

Tommen sighed, “You’ll make them listen, you always do.” and snuggled closer.

They both dozed off but Harry stayed awake much longer, staring at the canopy of her bed.

‘Will I have to take the crown? So I can protect what’s left of my family?’

—

The next day, the whole city was subdued. The bells had rung and the wake had begun. Her mother stayed by Joffrey’s body the whole day. There were rumours the queen had gone mad with grief.

She’d even tried to have Clegane executed, for failing to protect his charge. Only it came out that Joffrey had ordered Clegane away to bring him a stag, and it had been Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard that had stayed in charge of Joffrey.

Ser Boros had been speedily taken to the Black Cells and would lose his head sometime soon. Her father had not been inclined to stop it, and had even already named Ser Balon Swann as a new member of the Kingsguard.

Harry liked Ser Balon well enough, and detested Ser Boros, so she was not upset at all.

Still, the guilt of having deliberately not saved her brother was still sitting heavy in her belly. What kind of sister was she?

She longed to find Jon and have him hold her, but could not. She was needed at the moment, and had only caught glimpses of him now and then, as she crossed paths with her father.

She’d been taking care of Tommen and Myrcella, both needing comfort. They might not have been fond of Joffrey but the shock of losing a close member of their family had struck them hard.

All three of them went to the wake and stayed as long as they could, but the children started dropping after a while, and she sent them off with the nurses and the governess.

Harry stayed behind, and approached her mother in her vigil. She was dressed all in black with a veil covering her face. Joffrey’s body was covered in a golden shroud. She heard her mother had cried when she’d first beheld him and had refused to move from his side ever since.

Her Uncle Jaime stood behind her mother, her ever present shadow. She approached him first.

“How is she?” She whispered.

He threw her a sardonic look, “How do you think? She hardly slept, and hasn’t eaten anything.” Her uncle looked at his wits’ end.

Harry clenched her hands together, “Do you think it might do Mother good to get away for a while?” and leaned against him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

His green eyes, so like her own, squinted at her, “To the Rock, you mean?” He looked thoughtful, “It might, she was always happiest there.” He sounded wistful.

She nodded and hugged him, before stepping away and approaching her mother. She stopped next to her and waited. It might be better to let Cersei start the conversation.

It took a few minutes, but finally, Cersei whispered, “I thought the prophecy was broken.”

Harry froze, a shiver going down her spine, “What?” She held her mother’s arm. “Mother, what do you mean?”

“The old witch said I would have three children, gold their crowns and gold their shrouds.” Her voice was a whisper and Harry had to lean in to hear her, “But then you were born, dark haired and beautiful, and I thought the stupid witch had been wrong. And now your brother lies under his golden shroud, and the rest of my children might be next.”

Harry took a shuddering breath, “The witch was wrong, you have four children, not three. And there will be no more golden shrouds. Mother, there will not.” She injected enough certainty to her voice that her mother turned to look at her, green eyes glinting through the black veil.

Harry peeked into her mind and almost recoiled. Her mother’s mind had gone full of sharp edges. Something in her had shattered. Harry wrapped her arms around her and felt Cersei hold on tightly.

“You need to take care of yourself.” She hesitated, but continued, “Why don’t you visit the Rock? It might do you good to go back to your childhood home.”

Cersei scowled, “My place is here. Tommen will need me now.”

Harry felt dread tickle her nape. She swallowed and let power seep into her voice “Tommen will be just fine. I will look after him. Will you not go to Casterly Rock and remain there until you’re well?” Cersei would never be well, Harry knew that now.

Her mother’s face turned thoughtful. It had been a powerful persuasion spell, but it would only take effect if she actually wanted it. Harry was not a complete monster. ‘Not yet’, whispered the voice of her insecurities.

The queen nodded thoughtfully, “Yes, maybe just until I feel better. I deserve a rest, don’t I?”

Harry nodded, throat tight. She hugged her mother again and cast a strong contraceptive charm on her. The last thing they needed was for her to mysteriously become pregnant while in the Westerlands. Why, oh why, did she have to stop her parents from having more children? Such things shouldn’t fall to her.

By the time she walked away, she felt dirty, like she’d done a terrible thing. And yet she knew with certainty that it had been the right thing to do.

She ran into her father in the corridor and he opened his arms when he saw her face. She stepped into his arms and let him hold her for a moment.

She could feel Jon’s eyes on her. Ser Barristan had been trailing her father, and Jon with him. She moved back and swallowed the tears prickling at her eyes.

“Mother will be going to the Rock for a while, after the funeral.” The words tasted like ashes in her mouth.

Her father’s face went slack in relief, “Good.” He sighed and patted her shoulder, going on his way.

Ser Barristan walked off after him, but Jon remained behind.

“Princess–” His eyes searched her face, concern clear on his face. They’d not seen each other properly in weeks now.

She looked at him and trembled with the need to step closer, but shook her head. “Later.” She whispered and he nodded and bowed, walking away.

Harry felt as if she might shatter.

—

That night, she stepped into Jon’s room and saw him waiting for her. He was on her before she’d even finished closing the door.

“Harry, I’m so sorry.” He embraced her tightly and laid kisses on her face.

Her lips trembled, “Don’t be. Joffrey was doomed from the start.” And she’d doomed him further when she refused to save him.

He looked at her in surprise but then understanding crossed his face. “He was– not right.”

She shook her head, “No, and someone would have removed him, sooner or later."

She might have even had to do so herself, if he ever crossed a line she couldn’t forgive. A part of her was grateful for the boar, and how awful was that?

Jon brushed her hair away from her face, “That is hardly your fault.”

She burst into tears, and Jon looked alarmed, “But I could have saved him, and I didn’t! I didn’t! Because I knew it was better this way. Am I a monster?”

“Harry!” He cupped her face, “It’s not your fault! Even– even if you could have somehow saved him, and I don’t know how you could do such a thing, I saw his wound. Even so, it was not your fault, you did not make him as he was. You did not send the boar.” He ran his thumbs over her cheeks and kissed her tears away, “You are no monster. I am certain of that.”

She sobbed, “You don’t know that, Jon. You don’t know the things I’ve done! For the realm, for my family. The things I might still have to do.”

He kissed her softly, “Have you ever harmed an innocent?”

She blinked at him through her wet lashes, “No.”

“Then you are no monster.” He brushed his lips against hers, “And I would have loved you, even if you were.”

He seemed to have realized the heart of the matter. She shook her head in denial and tried to push him away but he held tight and pushed her over to the bed, crawling on top of her.

She covered her face with her hands but he pulled them away and rained kisses on her face, “I would have loved you even had you ran around sacking villages with the Dothraki, or been an Essosi slave owner. I don’t think there’s any version of me that could not love you.”

A laugh broke through her tears, “A slave owner? Jon! Only if I was smuggling them out, I suppose.”

“And you would have looked very fetching with Dothraki leathers, I’m sure.”

They laughed for a moment and he smiled down at her. She cupped his face, “There’s much you don’t know about me, Jon.”

He smiled warmly at her, “And I will listen, if you ever wish to tell me, but I will love you, no matter what dark secrets you might hold.” He sobered and brushed his nose against hers, “And I have secrets, too. Secrets I’m afraid to tell you.”

Harry brought him closer and brushed her lips against his, “Then I will listen, too. If you want. But I don’t think there’s anything that could turn me away from you, my darling. I will love you, no matter what.”

A smile broke through his face like the sun and he pressed a hungry kiss to her lips.

Things turned heated very quickly. He opened her robe and trailed kisses down to her breasts. And for the first time, kept going down, kissing down her belly, over her silk nightgown, until he was hovering over her mound. Harry squirmed under him.

He looked up at her, “There’s something I’ve been wanting to try. Will you let me?” His eyes were very bright.

She stared at him, wide eyed and nodded jerkily. He grinned at her and started pulling her nightgown up over her legs, kissing every inch of skin that was revealed.

He paid special attention to her thighs, and nibbled on them for long minutes. By the time she felt his breath on her knickers, she was already panting and aching. He pulled her closer to the edge of the bed and knelt on the floor, between her legs.

He ran his fingers lightly over her knickers and then slowly drew them down her legs and off. He nudged her legs open and watched her with rapture.

She felt the blush on her face soar to new heights and bit her lip. He looked awed, and came so close she could feel his breath on her. His fingers touched her lightly and she jumped.

He chuckled and continued exploring, parting her nether lips and petting the soft skin there. “So pretty, you are so very beautiful, my princess.”

Then he surged forward and kissed her there. Her hips jumped up but he held them down and returned to kissing along her cunt. Harry covered her mouth with a hand and cast the muffling spell again, just in case.

She swore when she felt him push a finger inside her and felt herself squeeze around his finger when he started pumping in and out. She felt his wet tongue start licking along her slit and she sobbed into her hand from how very good it felt.

When he found her nub and wrapped his lips around it, she whined and felt her legs spasm and tried to close them. He held them open and threw them over his shoulders, holding her still, then returned to where he’d left off.

Harry cried and kicked at the air, arching her back when he sucked on her nub and added a second finger inside her. She sank her hands into his hair and held him against her, feeling like she might come apart, and yet she didn’t want it to stop.

He kept sucking and licking at her, and when she looked down at him, she felt he looked almost drunk. His pupils were dilated and his face was flushed. His stubble rasping against her sensitive skin gave her goosebumps.

She saw him reach down and realized he was touching himself with his other hand, though she couldn’t see him. She heard the sound of skin slapping against skin and heard a moan escape her. She didn’t know why watching him touch himself while licking at her cunt was such an arousing sight, but it was.

She felt the warm coil in her belly get tighter and tighter, “Jon– Jon, I–” She bit down on a wail and sobbed when she felt the coil snap and pleasure reach every corner of her body. He groaned against her, and she heard him increase the pace of his hand on his cock, mouth pressed tight to her cunt until she felt him shake and grunt.

She realized she’d been shaking when she finally slumped down against the bed. She heard Jon chuckle and press a last kiss to her cunt, slowly withdrawing his fingers. She felt strangely empty afterwards.

He tucked himself away and stood. He found a rag and cleaned his hands and his mouth, and then came over to gently clean her up. Then he threw the rag aside and crawled on top of her again.

She wrapped her arms around him and smiled at his smug look.

“Did I do well?” He asked, cheekily.

Harry choked on a giggle and played with the ends of his hair, “You did excellently.” and leaned up to kiss him. It was strange, tasting herself in his mouth, but she shrugged it off and sank into the kiss.

Chapter Text

299 AC.

Harry kissed Jon good-bye but stopped before opening the passageway.

“I won’t be able to come tomorrow night.”

He frowned, “Why not?”

She shrugged and grinned, “Because I’m sneaking out to the city.”

He gaped at her, “What? Why?”

She shook her head, “That’s one of my secrets.”

He scowled, “But it’s dangerous.” He reached for her, “Can I come with you?”

She raised her brows and considered it, “Well, alright.” He beamed at her and she smiled back, “I’ll come get you tomorrow.”

He nodded and pulled her into a last kiss and watched her slip away.

—

Tommen looked deeply unhappy. He walked sullenly down the hall but brightened up when he saw her. He ran forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, “Harry! Can I go with you? Wherever you’re going?”

She hugged him back, “I’m going to see Lord Stark about the dispute between Houses Harte and Langward, Tommen. Are you sure you want to go?” She teased him.

He wilted and sighed, “I don’t like being heir. I have so many lessons now.”

She cooed, “Ah, little brother. I’m sorry, but they’re things you need to know.”

At least her mother had already departed for the Westerlands, taking Uncle Jamie with her. She would have gotten Tommen out of his lessons and they couldn’t have that at the moment.

Tommen groaned but pushed away with a pout, “Alright.”

She kissed his head, “You can play with Ser Whiskers after.”

He nodded sullenly and went on his way. She sighed and went looking for the Lord Hand.

—

That night, Harry dressed in simple clothes and a cloak, and made her way through the passageways to Jon’s room. She’d have to actually walk to the city instead of just apparating there, but it was worth it, to take Jon along.

She slipped inside his room, “Ready?”

He was waiting for her, cloak around his shoulders and nodded. “Yes.” Ghost was there too, and Jon had to order him to stay. “Stay, Ghost. I’ll be back later.” Ghost whined but settled down.

It was the first time he’d go into the tunnels and she took his hand, “It will be dark but I never bother with a torch, so stay close.”

He nodded, looking apprehensive and followed her into the passageway. She closed the door to his room and they were encased in darkness.

She heard him gasp softly, and led him by the hand down the narrow corridor. He squeezed her hand but followed closely. She led him down several turns in silence.

Until he whispered, “Will you show me the way to your room, sometime?”

She threw a look back at him, he was blinking blindly. “If you like, I can show you once we return.”

He smiled in her direction and she squeezed his hand.

It took several minutes before they emerged into an alley in the city. She pulled up her hood and he did the same.

“Come on.” She took his hand and cast a notice-me-not spell around them. No point in tempting fate.

He leaned in to whisper as they walked along the streets, avoiding passerbys, “Where are we going?”

“The Street of Steel.” He looked confused but nodded.

They finally arrived at the alley behind Tobho Mott’s and she led him directly to the forge door, knocking softly and dropping the spell.

Gendry opened the door and beamed at her, ushering them in and closing and locking it behind them.

Harry threw herself into his arms as soon as he turned around, “Gendry!”

He lifted her off her feet, so like their father, “Harry!”

She pulled back and turned to Jon, and saw the murderous look on his face.

She chuckled and pulled Gendry over to him, “This is my half-brother, Gendry. He’s an apprentice for Tobho Mott.”

Gendry mumbled, “Bastard brother.”

Jon startled and looked between them. She watched him find the similarities in their looks and his face cleared. Then he looked embarrassed, “Ah.”

“Gendry, this is Jon Snow, Lord Stark’s son and Ser Barristan’s squire.”

Gendry looked impressed and they shook hands. “You must be good, if Ser Barristan The Bold took you in.”

Jon shrugged, “Good enough, though not as good as the princess.” He threw her a warm look and she smiled.

It was very nice, watching them get along. She pulled them over to some crates and they sat down.

“How are you, Gendry? Do you need anything? I’m sorry I haven’t seen you in a while.”

He waved that away, “It’s alright, with everything that’s happened–” He shook his head, “I’m sorry about your brother, Harry.”

She swallowed and refrained from saying he’d been his brother, too. As it wasn’t so. He just didn’t know it. Jon watched them closely.

She nodded softly instead, “Regardless, I’m here now.” She pulled out a pouch and passed it over, but he pushed it back.

“I haven’t used the last one, yet.”

She sighed, “Gendry, just take it.”

He did, though reluctantly. And she saw Jon smile from the corner of her eye.

They spoke a few minutes longer and she smiled to see the two of them awkwardly get to know each other. At least until Gendry turned to her and asked, “How is it that you’re both here? You’ve never brought someone before.”

He looked only curious but she felt a blush rise to her face and saw it mirrored on Jon’s. She hesitated, but Gendry had kept their visits secret for years. And she very much wanted at least one member of her family to know how much Jon meant to her.

So she reached for Jon’s arm and saw him look shocked. “Jon is my– my lover.” She tripped over her words, and saw them both gape at her.

Jon stared at her with shock that turned into a heart melting smile, and a pleased flush rose to his face.

Gendry looked between them with a frown, “Do you love him?”

She nodded, feeling flustered, “Yes.”

“And he loves you back?”

Jon’s voice was firm, “Yes.”

Her brother shrugged and gave her a small smile, “Then that’s alright.” Then he frowned again, “Will you marry? Or you can’t because he’s a bastard?”

She exchanged a sad look with Jon and their hands found each other and held tightly, “That’s right. Things are– complicated.”

Gendry nodded in understanding, “Then I hope you find a way. The highborn seem to make things so very difficult for themselves.”

She chuckled, “You’re right about that.”

Gendry turned to Jon and glared, “Though if you hurt my sister, I will hunt you down. Highborn bastard or not.”

Harry gasped, “Gendry!”

But Jon chuckled, “Good. I’m happy to know she has more people that love her.” He reached over and pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

It was so very strange, to be able to reach out to each other with someone else present, but she liked it very much.

—

Much later, they made their way back to the keep, and then up to Jon’s room. She stopped by the door, “Here’s your room. Do you still want to see the way to mine? Or should we leave it for another day?”

“Tomorrow? I know you’re tired.” He blindly reached for her and found her head, dropping a kiss there.

She wrapped her arms around him and laid her cheek against his chest. “Tomorrow, then. I’ll bring a light.”

She engaged the mechanism and the door swung open, revealing his empty room, aside from Ghost, sleeping on the rug. He raised his head and eyed them, before laying back down. Jon stepped through and they kissed over the threshold.

She stepped away with a last smile and closed the door, making her way back to her chambers. She loved him so very much. It scared her sometimes.

—

The next day dawned much too early and Harry rose reluctantly. She didn’t have much on her schedule today, at least. It was meant as one of her quiet days. It’d been over a moon since her brother’s death, and the keep still seemed quiet.

She broke her fast with her siblings and her father. The way they’d taken to doing lately. It felt terrible to admit, but ever since her mother had left and her brother had perished, the family was much more united.

They spent more time together, all of them, without having to tiptoe around her mother, and her late brother. Her uncle Renly and Ser Loras would often join them for meals now, most commonly dinner. And so would her uncle Tyrion, who always attended at least one meal a day. Even the Starks would join them, now and again.

Harry enjoyed the new closeness very much, even if the cost had been high. Even the realm seemed quieter, aside from the usual disputes and complaints, which Lord Stark was doing a good job managing, with Tyrion’s help.

Harry had the impression that more than one lord and lady had breathed a sigh of relief when Joffrey died. Many were now eyeing Tommen, and wondering at his character.

Her brother was shielded from it by his youth, but he’d grow one day, and she wasn’t sure how he would handle the pressure. Tommen was sensitive and disliked crowds and raised voices. She’d just have to watch and wait.

—

Harry spent a few pleasant hours in the yard and then took lunch with her family. After which she settled with a book in the King’s solar, where they lately gathered to spend time together.

Her father wandered in at some point with Lord Stark and they sat together, speaking in low voices. Ser Barristan stood against the wall, Jon next to him, with Ghost laying at his feet.

Harry snuck a look at Jon and saw him do the same. She hid a smile behind her book and turned the page. Refreshments were brought over, along with her preferred tea.

The tea tray was set next to her and she reached over for her cup. She raised it and immediately knew something was wrong. She noticed Ghost sit up and prick up his ears.

She noticed a small slip of paper beneath the cup and discreetly took it with her other hand. She read the note and clenched her hand around it, dissolving it to nothing.

She took a breath. It was just one thing after another. She was still holding the cup of tea.

Ghost approached at a trot and Jon followed behind him, “Ghost? What is it, boy?”

The direwolf sniffed at her tea and growled. Jon looked very alarmed and rushed forward, “Princess, give me that!”

He took away her cup and she saw they’d called the attention of the rest of the room.

Ser Barristan approached, “What is it?” Her father and Lord Stark had risen to their feet, looking over.

Jon scowled darkly, “I think it’s poisoned.”

“What?!” Her father hollered and strode over in a fury. He took her shoulders, “Did you drink it?”

Harry shook her head mutely, and gave him a look, so he’d understand she’d known. He sighed with relief and leaned back.

Lord Stark had followed at his heels, looking grim and took the cup from Jon, placing it back on the tray, then turned to one of his retainers, “Have the maester brought immediately!” He turned back to them, “Better have her checked, and the tea should be tested.” He placed a hand on the king’s shoulder, “I’ll start the investigation.”

Her father nodded, face still twisted in fury, then he turned to Jon, “You, Snow! How did you know?”

Lord Stark paused on his way out.

Jon answered, “Ghost could tell the tea smelled off, Your Grace.”

Her father nodded, “And you acted immediately. Good, that’s good.” He paused in thought. Then gestured for Ser Barristan’s sword, “Your sword, man!”

Ser Barristan seemed to understand and approve. He unsheathed his sword and offered it to the king, who turned back to Jon, “Kneel.”

Jon’s eyes went very wide and Lord Stark gasped softly. Harry rose to her feet, feeling incredulous.

Jon sank to his knees and her father touched his shoulders with the sword, “In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent. Rise, Ser Jon Snow.”

King Robert handed the sword back to Ser Barristan and Jon rose shakily to his feet, still looking wide eyed. Her father grasped his shoulders. “There is nothing I hold dearer in this world than my daughter, and you acted to defend her. You deserve this, and you’ll be a better knight than most, I’d wager. Must be the Stark blood in you.”

Jon nodded, looking overwhelmed, but then his face went firm, “Then I would ask that you allow me to guard her, Your Grace. I will be her sword, if she would have me.”

They turned to her and Harry nodded, “I’ll allow it.” A smile threatened to break over her face but she held it back.

Her father looked pleased, “Then do so. Speak the words.”

Jon went to his knees before her and laid his sword at her feet, looking up at her with bright eyes, “I offer my services to Princess Hariel Baratheon. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New.”

Harry concluded the ceremony, “And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Arise.”

Jon picked up his sword and rose to his feet, he sheathed the blade and bowed to her and the king. Then came to stand at her shoulder. The traditional place for a sworn sword.

Harry realized the room was full of people when they started clapping. The maester had arrived, and so had her siblings, her uncles, and several servants and retainers.

Things moved quickly then. Lord Stark left to handle things after quickly congratulating Jon. The grand maester came to look her over and proclaimed her in perfect health, and then ran a series of tests on the tea while her father paced around.

“It’s Tears of Lys, Your Grace. A rare and costly poison.”

Her father deflated, “This is the second time someone has tried to kill my daughter.”

Harry saw Jon stiffen from the corner of her eye, and realized he must not know of the previous attempt on her life. She turned her head and he moved forward, so she could whisper in his ear, “Two hired knives tried to kill me in the gardens two years ago. I wasn’t hurt.”

He scowled and nodded, moving back to his place at her shoulder.

When she turned back to the room, her father was barking orders and turned back only to kiss her forehead and then strode off.

Ser Barristan approached and grasped Jon by the shoulders, “Congratulations, boy. You’ll be a fine knight. And you’ve found a worthy charge.” He smiled at them both and then hurried after her father.

Renly approached and hugged her tight, “Why is it always you, my dear?”

She could only shrug. “I don’t know, nuncle.” He sighed and kissed her cheek, moving away and leaving the room.

Tyrion moved closer and looked her up and down, “Well, they failed again. Though I do wish they’d stop trying.”

She smiled and reached for him, “That makes two of us.” They clasped hands and her uncle sighed, “I had better go assist Lord Stark with sniffing out the culprit.” and walked away.

Her siblings were next and they held her tightly around the waist.

Myrcella murmured, “Are you sure you’re alright?” Tommen looked up with glistening eyes to hear her answer.

“I’m perfectly fine. I promise. I didn’t drink a single drop.”

It took several minutes to soothe them, and by then the room was mostly empty, aside from the increased number of guards. She finally ushered them off and made her way to her chambers. Jon and Ser Arys followed behind, along with Ghost. Or should it be Ser Jon, now?

—

She entered her chambers and Ser Arys took up position outside her door, but she gestured for Jon to follow her inside.

The door closed behind them and she stood for a moment in the center of the room.

“Harry?” Jon sounded very concerned.

She turned to him but shook her head, and turned to the waiting servants. “Have Ser Jon’s things moved to the room next to mine.” The rooms around her were meant for knights, ladies-in-waiting and other members of her household. She’d just never wanted any. It was harder to hide her magic with more people around her. “They will finally see some use, I suppose.”

The servants bowed and filed out. Jon looked surprised, “I forgot it meant I would move lodgings.” Then he looked pleased. They would be much closer now.

She gave him a small smile, “You can go supervise the move, if you’d like. I won’t leave my chambers for a time.”

He looked conflicted but something seemed to worry him, and he nodded, “I will hurry.” He turned to her but saw the maids still around and bowed, stepping out. “Ghost, stay.”

Ghost went over to lay by the hearth and Hedwig flew over from her perch to settle on his fur.

Harry sighed and took a seat on a sofa.

—

Jon came back within a few short minutes and took up position against the wall, inside the room.

They smiled at each other and she looked around, there was only one of her maids in the room. So she waved him forward, and he eagerly came over to sit by her side.

His eyes ran over her face in concern, “Are you–” He sighed, “Will you be alright?”

She smiled at him, a little tiredly, “Of course, I’m always alright.”

How many times had people tried to kill her in both her lives? This barely registered as far as attempts went. She hadn’t even had to do anything. It was baffling.

She sighed and leaned back, “I’ll walk around the keep in a bit. The court needs to see me. Word must have spread already and we can’t look weak. Let them see the attempt failed, and badly.”

Jon looked at her sadly, “I’m sorry so much falls on you. I wish– I wish I could help.”

She looked at him, surprised, “But you do!” She lowered her voice, “You have no idea how much nicer it will be to go about my day with you by my side.” She grinned, “It will be downright pleasant.”

A pleased flush rose to his face and she so wanted to kiss him. She chuckled instead and allowed her face to show how very much she wanted him. His face reddened further and she laughed. He grinned back at her, joy in his eyes.

Chapter Text

That night, Harry snuck into the passageways and only had to walk a few steps to reach the secret entrance to Jon’s new rooms. Not all rooms held these small doors, so they’d been very lucky so far.

She slipped inside the room and looked around. It was much bigger than his old room. There was a bedroom and sitting room, where she was currently standing.

She looked around and walked to the bedroom door, “Jon?”

He looked up from where he was about to put on his tunic. Her eyes ran over his bare chest and he set the tunic aside instead with a smile.

He made his way to her and wrapped his arms around her. He immediately pulled her into a kiss and she responded eagerly. Though she became concerned by the ferociousness of his caresses.

When he broke away to kiss down her neck, she called, “Jon?”

He stopped and his breath fluttered against the sensitive skin of her neck, “I almost lost you today.” He chuckled darkly, “And I almost lost you two years ago, and I didn’t even know it. You could have died, and we never would have met. I would have gone through life not knowing what I was missing.” He sounded morose.

She pulled him back so she could cup his face in her hands, “You didn’t lose me. I’m here, aren’t I?” He nodded softly, “And we’ve gained something.” She brushed her lips against his, “We’ll stay together now.”

He smiled softly, “I go where you go. Always.”

She smiled back, “Always.”

He kissed her again and ran his hands over her waist. She kissed him back eagerly, but pulled back a moment later. “Before we get distracted, let me show you the way to my room.”

He nodded and followed her out of the bedroom and into the sitting room, where she showed him how to open and close the secret door. It was in an out of the way corner, next to a side table.

They stepped through the corridor and she led him the few steps to the door to her bedroom. They stepped inside and he closed it behind them.

He looked around the luxurious space. “Why blue?”

Her room had a blue color base, with black and gold, and red and gold accents. Her sigil peeked from several places around the room. The biggest in the canopy of her bed.

She blushed, “Because black and gold are too dark, and red and gold are too bright. My house colors are a bit much, together. And I like blue.” And she’d been a Ravenclaw.

Jon walked around the room, “It suits you, I think.”

She giggled, “Come here.”

He made his way over, and she pushed him back onto the bed. He went willingly and she shook her robe off and crawled up to straddle him.

He was still bare chested and she happily ran her hands all over him. He snuck his hands under her gown and grasped her hips, running his thumbs over her hipbones.

She could feel him harden under her and leaned down to kiss his mouth. He grasped her hair and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.

When they ran out of breath, she started kissing down his neck and to his chest. He watched her, a little wide eyed. She grinned at him and kissed all the skin within her reach, all the way down to his abdomen, where she pressed wet kisses, making him jump.

She looked up at him through her lashes, “My dear knight saved me today, won’t you let me show you my thanks, Ser?”

He gasped and nodded jerkily, and she saw him swallow hard.

She turned back to his body, laid before her, and went back to kissing his skin and running her hands over him. Until she finally reached down and unlaced his trousers, pulling them down, along with his underwear.

He helped her get them far down enough to free his cock, which she looked at for the first time. She tilted her head and grasped it gently, getting a feel for it. He moaned and panted, looking down at her playing with his cock.

She ran her hands over it, up and down and squeezed gently. He cursed and grasped at the covers. She smiled mischievously and leaned down, breathing over it, looking up at him through her lashes.

He looked down at her with a slack mouth and his pupils wide open. Then she leaned down and took the tip into her mouth, and he cursed loudly. “Fuck! Harry–” He broke off with a moan as she started taking him deeper into her mouth.

She wrapped her hands over what she couldn’t fit in her mouth and tried to figure out how this went. She started moving her head up and down, in tandem with her hands, and he sobbed, hands sinking into her hair, as gently as he could.

She would have smiled, if she could. She kept moving, and trying different things, curiously. She ran her tongue over the shaft and the head, and gently touched his balls, learning the feel of them.

She returned to moving her head up and down and took him in as far as she could. He let out a cry, and his hand pushed her down further, she went and relaxed her throat, taking him all the way to the root.

He was making a great deal of noise, and she was glad her chambers were heavily enchanted. It was very arousing, sucking his cock while in her bed.

She took up a steady rhythm and realized he wouldn’t last much longer. She looked up, while her mouth was busy and met his eyes. He looked undone, his lips were bitten raw and he was flushed, all the way to his chest, his hair falling over his eyes.

She increased her pace and he jerked, “Harry, Harry– Gods, I–”

She sank all the way down, taking him down her throat once more and that was all it took. He tried to pull her off but she just swallowed it down.

He slumped back onto the bed, panting harshly and she came off his cock with a pop. She smiled widely to see him look so affected. She wiped her mouth and crawled up his body, laying over him and feeling his softened cock against her.

He moaned weakly with his eyes closed but wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.

She laid her head on his shoulder and chuckled, pressing a kiss to his skin. “Did you like it?”

He let out a peal of laughter, “Did I like it? Princess, if you ever do it again, I feel I might die.”

She laughed into his shoulder and sighed sleepily. They dozed together for a few minutes, until he started running his hands over her and rubbing her back.

“I can return the favor.” His voice was heavy with sleep.

“No, darling. It’s not necessary. It’s not something you have to pay back. Go to sleep.”

He sighed, “But I do want to.”

She chuckled, “Tomorrow.”

He groaned and shifted, laying her down on the bed and sitting up. He stood and pulled his trousers back up, tucking himself away.

She realized he was preparing to leave and sighed, “I forgot for a moment you can’t stay.”

He chuckled, “I wish for nothing more than to stay, and sleep beside you. But I can’t.” He sighed wistfully, “Maybe one day.”

She smiled sadly and let him tuck her into bed and kiss her good-bye, then watched as he slipped out the secret door.

A gesture had her robe and her slippers fly off to their correct spots, and a snap of her fingers extinguished the candles.

She turned around and went to sleep.

—

Jon stood guard over Harry, watching as she conversed with another lord eager for her attention and pushed back any jealousy. None of them knew her like he did.

She walked through the court and he saw the way people would fawn over her, and the way she turned away unwanted invitations or directed their attention to other matters.

He was learning a lot simply by watching her. It made Jon feel humbled.

Before coming to King’s Landing, he’d had no idea the amount of work it took to run a kingdom. His lessons had been the same as Robb’s, and yet it was a different thing to see it at work.

Being her sworn sword also let him realize how involved she was in the day-to-day matters of the kingdoms. He saw her go through documents with both his Father and Lord Tyrion, check in with the stewards and the guards, and soothe ruffled feathers in the court.

It was awe inspiring and it motivated him to learn as much as he could, so he could be of service to her, as much as he possibly could.

—

Jon would often be invited to dinner with his father and his sisters, whenever his duties permitted. The first time he attended after being knighted, even Sansa was eager to talk to him.

“Is it true? Did you save the princess?” Her eyes shined in excitement.

His sister had been glum since Prince Joffrey had died and her chances at a crown had dwindled, so it was nice to see her in high spirits. Jon just wished it wasn’t because the woman he loved had almost died.

He did his best to smile, “Yes, Princess Hariel was almost poisoned, but Ghost knew something was wrong, so I took away her tea, just in case. I didn’t really do much, it was all Ghost.” He felt embarrassed.

“It was enough for the King to knight you, Ser Jon.” His sister went on, face alight, “Did the princess thank you? She took you into her service, so she must think well of you.”

Jon remembered that the princess had indeed thanked him, and how, and felt a violent blush rise to his face. He tried to play it off as well as he could. “She was very kind. I’m very lucky she accepted me.”

Sansa sighed wistfully. His father eyed his red face with curiosity, and even Arya looked up from where she was feeding Nymeria bits from her plate.

“Do you fancy her?” His little sister asked, “It’s alright if you do, she’s nice, for a princess.”

“Arya!” Sansa hissed at her, but then seemed to think it over, “Well, do you? That would be so romantic!”

“I– No! I mean– She’s nice, yes.” Jon stammered and turned to his father, pleading for help with his eyes.

Lord Stark looked deeply amused. “I’m sure Jon will behave appropriately with the princess.” He paused, “Regardless of his feelings for her.”

Jon groaned and covered his face with his hands, listening to his sisters’ happy chatter.

—

Harry shivered in disgust and reapplied the modified bubble head charm. The sewers were just as bad as she thought, and were actually non-existent in most of the city. The way the city had grown meant they had expanded far beyond the existing coverage.

She wasn’t even touching anything, encased completely in a large bubble, and it was still horrifying moving through the large pipes.

She waved her hand and directed the new pipes to where they were meant to go, vanishing the displaced dirt as she went. This would only cover a few streets, but anything she could get done would help.

She missed her wand, and was grateful wandless magic was effortless ever since the hallows had been absorbed into her body a lifetime ago. But she still missed her wand.

She also needed to get more pipes commissioned. These had been left over from when she’d redone her own bathing chamber into a proper bathroom years ago. She’d stashed them in her expanded chest and had only now found a use for them.

Over the years, her chest had turned into a place to hoard odds and ends. It was starting to look more and more like the Room of Lost Things, so any time she found a use for anything in there was always a good thing.

Harry sighed to herself, and kept going, enlarging the next pipe and then connecting it to the end.

—

Harry was admitted into the Lord Hand’s office, Jon following in her footsteps, while Ser Arys stayed outside the door.

“Princess, please take a seat.” Lord Stark looked tired but not overtly so. “Jon, how are you, son?”

Jon went to stand by the wall, he took his duties very seriously. “Very good, Father.” She saw them exchange smiles and felt glad they had such a good relationship.

She took a seat in front of Lord Stark’s desk and pushed over the stack of papers she was carrying. “The reports you asked for, about the recent improvements to the fields.”

He took them and looked them over, before setting them to the side, “My thanks.” He looked between them, “How are things coming along? It’s been some time now, have you settled into your new duties, Jon? Is he serving well, princess?”

She smiled at his concern, “Of course. We’re also good friends, Lord Stark. This arrangement suits us nicely.”

Jon nodded in agreement, “I’m very grateful the princess has given me this opportunity.”

She threw him a grin, and Lord Stark looked between them thoughtfully, “It’s good you get along well. Just– you’re very young, both of you. Remember your duties.”

Harry felt rather confused, “Of course, Lord Stark.” and saw Jon blush and look away from the corner of her eye.

Once they finally left and were walking along the hallways, Jon leaned over and whispered in her ear, being mindful of Ser Arys walking behind. “Father suspects I have feelings for you. Though he probably thinks it’s a fleeting summer fancy.”

They exchanged amused looks and went on their way.

—

A few moons after he’d taken up his new post, Jon went back to his rooms to change after training in the yard. He washed and dressed, and then froze when he heard a dull thud, followed by a cracking sound.

He looked around and couldn’t see anything wrong. He followed the noise until he came to the chest at the end of his bed.

He felt the blood flee his face and fell harshly to his knees, opening the lock with shaking fingers and wrenching open the lid. He threw aside the clothes on top, until he uncovered the eggs beneath.

They were both shaking, and there were cracks all along the sides.

As he watched, filled with horror, a little snout poked through the eggshell, and a dark little figure crawled out. It was black, with a metallic sheen and bronze wings and spikes. It saw him and tried to crawl out of the chest, but couldn’t.

Jon reached trembling hands and picked it up, bringing it close to his face. The eyes were also bronze, he realized. He felt a foreign presence, in the back of his mind. And suddenly knew the little creature was female.

“A dragon.” It took him a moment to recognize the croak as his own voice.

A meep made him look down at the chest. A pale white pearlescent dragon with soft pink wings was crawling along the clothes on the chest. Jon thought it looked annoyed somehow.

He picked it up and cradled them both against his chest. He felt panic crawl its way up his spine. He jumped to his feet and turned around, feeling the urge to flee, but not knowing where.

He was in the heart of the Baratheon seat of power, the House that had toppled the Targaryens, well deserved as it was. But it was the Targaryens that had been dragon riders, and it was Targaryen blood that ran through his veins. He had irrefutable proof wriggling in his arms.

He felt short of breath and realized he was shaking. How long could he hide them? Not long at all. The servants were due any moment to clean his rooms.

“Harry. Harry will help me. She’ll forgive me, for being what I am.”

He looked around desperately and found his cloak, he laid it out and wrapped the dragons in it, but they refused to stay still. He took up his wriggling bundle and made his way to the secret door.

Only at that moment, the door to his chambers opened and two maids entered. He must have missed their knocking, due to his panic.

A little pale snout poked out of the bundled cloak with a hiss, and a bronze wing poked out the other side.

The maids screamed and ran out, and two guards ran inside, black and gold cloaked Baratheon guards.

They froze and stared at him for a moment, slack jawed, long enough for the two dragons to poke their heads out properly, and he felt like the world was crashing down around him.

The guards unsheathed their swords, and he saw more of them gather outside, looks of shock on their faces.

“We’re taking you to the king.” One of them gestured with his sword, “Walk.”

Jon realized none of them were willing to come close, due to the dragons in his arms. They hadn’t even taken his sword, not that it would be of any use. The dragons were finally still, but he realized they were both baring their teeth and hissing.

They poked him with their swords and Jon was forced to walk before them. He was surrounded the moment he stepped outside the room, and marched off. He distantly realized they were taking him to the throne room, where the king was holding court today of all days.

Harry would not be there, they’d trained together and she had also gone to her room to wash. Her father was about to chop off his head and she might not find out in time.

Maybe it was better that way, what if she looked at him with disgust? The bastard son of the rapist dragon prince. That’s what they would all think. He felt a sob crawl up his throat and held it back through sheer force of will.

They arrived to the throne room much too quickly, and he was marched to stand before the throne by a whole host of guards. The great hall was packed, but the crowd made way for the armed guards.

The king shouted, “What is the meaning of this?” and Jon saw his father standing to the side.

The guard behind him kicked his leg and he fell to his knees before the throne. The dragons screeched and Jon heard gasps and cries of shock all around him.

King Robert staggered back in shock and Lord Stark went pale so quickly he swayed for a moment.

The king’s face showed confusion, followed by a dark realization, until it finally contorted in rage, “Dragonspawn!”

Chapter Text

The king’s face showed confusion, followed by a dark realization, until it finally contorted in rage, “Dragonspawn!”

Lord Stark rushed forward, “Please, Your Grace!”

“Seize him!” Guards rushed forward and took his father by the arms, pulling him back. “My hammer! Bring me my warhammer!” A couple of servants ran forward with the huge spiked hammer, usually kept to the side as a show of strength during court days. The king took up his weapon and stomped down the steps.

“Robert! Don’t do this! That’s Lya’s boy!”

“And the rapist dragon prince’s spawn! Do you deny it?” The king turned to shout at Lord Stark, who slumped and shook his head.

“He’s Rhaegar’s seed, but he’s my sister’s child! She made me swear to protect him! Robert! Don’t do this!”

Jon watched it all happen like it was a scene of a play. He even heard the shock and the murmuring of the crowd. More and more people seemed to pack into the room and the balconies overlooking the throne.

“You’re telling me Lyanna loved the child put into her by that– that–”

“She did! I swear she did!”

“No!” The king lifted the spiked warhammer and Jon looked up at it. The pale dragon tried to scrabble up his shoulder but Jon held him back.

The hammer came down as if in slow motion.

He blinked and realized there was suddenly a body curled over him.

“No!” His head was held against a plush bosom and there were arms around him. He recognized the dark curls fluttering in his view and felt his breath hitch in a sob of relief.

The hammer had frozen above them, “Harry! Move aside!”

“No!” She straightened up and stood before him, “I will not.”

The king looked enraged, “He’s Rhaegar’s son! He has to die!”

She shouted back, “He’s a Stark! Look at him!” She cupped Jon’s chin and lifted his head to show his face. “Is there anyone here that can say he doesn’t look every inch a Stark?!”

A call came from the crowd, “A Stark! He looks a Stark!” and there were murmurs of agreement.

Some courtiers actually looked distressed, he realized, and he heard many whispers, “Prince Rhaegar’s son.” More than one person in the crowd was weeping.

Harry nodded and went on, “Where is the Targaryen in him?”

King Robert was not convinced, “He’s Rhaegar’s son!”

“Fuck Rhaegar!” Even the king stared at her in shock, “The Targaryens had their chance, and they squandered it in their madness! It’s the Baratheons that rule now, and the Baratheons and the Starks stand together!”

“Your Grace, please listen to her! We are your loyal subjects!” Lord Stark pushed forward against the guards but was held back.

The king glared at her, “He has dragon’s blood!”

She snarled back, “So do we!” She suddenly turned around and held out a hand. Jon watched in shock as the pale dragon launched out of his arms and towards her.

The crowd screamed and the king rushed forward but she only caught the little dragon in her hands and held him up, displaying him for the crowd and the king. “This is Jormungandr, and he’s mine!”

The newly dubbed Jormungandr shrieked as best he could, small as he was, and flapped his wings. Then he deliberately nuzzled against her hands, little claws holding on to her fingers as his snout rubbed against her skin.

Jon realized his mouth was hanging open and closed it with a snap. His own dragon was grumbling. Jon held her close against his chest, still bundled in his cloak.

The king had stopped cold, frozen in shock, and Jon saw his father was not any better. In fact, every face in his view looked flabbergasted.

“How? How is this possible?” The king looked lost.

“Father, please. We claimed the throne through conquest but also blood, did we not?”

The king closed his eyes and clenched his hand around the shaft of his warhammer. When he opened his eyes, he glared straight at Jon, still on his knees. “That still doesn’t tell us what to do with the boy.”

Harry moved back and pulled Jon’s head against her belly, and Jon wrapped an arm around her waist, the other still holding the dragon close. He looked up at her and their eyes met, he pleaded with his gaze and she cupped his head with her hand. Her dragon crawled up to her shoulder and she turned back to the king.

“Then let me marry him.” The crowd gasped loudly, and Jon felt it was in excitement.

Several people shouted, “Yes!” “Let them marry!” “Your Grace, please!”

The king shouted, “Absolutely not!”

Harry was undeterred, “Father, think about it. This is Jon, you know him. He’s more Stark than Targaryen. We both have dragons. Let us marry.”

“No!”

Jon found his voice, “Your Grace!” The hall quieted, and the king turned to look at him. Jon unwrapped himself from Harry and straightened up on his knees, “Make me a Baratheon! I will give anything at all to marry your daughter! I give up all claim to the Targaryen name! I care not for it or for the man that sired me. There stands the man that raised me as a Stark of Winterfell.” He nodded to his father, who looked close to tears. “Lord Stark is my father in all ways that matter. Though I claim my mother, who spent her last moments begging for my life. So make me a Baratheon instead. Let me marry your daughter and put to rest the Targaryen dynasty for good!”

The king’s face was like stone and the crowded hall was silent as a grave. Harry approached a few steps and spoke softly, though the hall could still hear every word.

“I’ve found my wolf boy, Father. Don’t make me lose him, too.”

Jon suddenly understood she was referring to his mother, whom the king had loved and lost. He watched Harry, tears in his eyes.

She whispered to the king, “I love him.”

Jon bit down on a sob and a few hot tears ran down his face. He felt his dragon croon to him.

“Bring me the High Septon!” The king’s voice reverberated over the great space and shattered the silence. “Immediately!” A servant sprinted out of the hall, and the king turned to Jon, “Either you walk out of here a Baratheon, boy, or you don’t walk out at all.”

Jon nodded furiously and Harry launched forward to hug her father with a cry. Jon saw him drop the hammer, which thudded loudly on the floor, and hug her back. They whispered together and Jon finally rose to his feet shakily.

The guards had backed away, and let him be, but stayed close. Then Harry was barreling into him, they held each other tightly and Jon sobbed and kissed her head, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She pulled back and he realized she was crying too. The two dragons were on their shoulders, hissing at each other, in what Jon thought was a friendly manner. “Later, just– We’ll talk later.” She whispered and shook her head, pulling him over to Lord Stark, who had been released but was being held under guard.

The king had sat back down on the throne, with a brooding look on his face.

His father reached for him the moment he was in arm’s reach, heedless of the dragon, and crushed him into an embrace. Jon felt foreign annoyance on the back of his mind, at being jostled, and realized that was the dragon.

Lord Stark held him for long moments and then he pulled Harry closer and wrapped them both in his arms.

When they finally pulled back, there were tears in his father’s eyes, and he clasped Jon’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Jon. That you had to find out this way. I never meant for this to get out and put you in danger.”

Jon shook his head, “I already knew, when I found the eggs. I knew.”

His father shook him gently, “And where did you find them?”

Harry looked curious too.

“In Winterfell, by the Heart Tree, right before we left.” He swallowed, “I didn’t think they would hatch. I swear I didn’t. I don’t know where they came from.”

Lord Stark looked pained, and released him with a sigh. “What’s done is done. You will live, that’s what matters.”

Jon nodded jerkily and stepped back, taking Harry’s hand tightly. He looked around and realized they were being held under guard too, not just Lord Stark. No, he was being held under guard, so he wouldn’t try to escape, he supposed.

He wanted to laugh hysterically. Escape his wedding to the woman he loved more than anything? It was laughable, but no one here knew that. It all still didn’t seem real. He was getting married as soon as the septon could be fetched. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d marry this day.

But the king couldn’t allow him to live and become a threat to his reign, or his children’s. What Harry had suggested would neatly eliminate him as a threat by tying him to the crown, and in the same breath strengthen the Baratheon claim to the throne, which was not just by conquest, but also by blood. And that was without taking into account the dragons.

The crowd was pushing against the guards holding them back, talking loudly and pointing at them. Jon was half afraid of knowing what they might be saying.

“This will go down in history, I hope you realize.” Harry sounded wry.

Jon turned to her and squeezed her hand, “So long as I get to marry you, I don’t much care for anything else.”

A smile crossed her face before she could hold it back and they stared into each other’s eyes for long moments.

There was much he wished to say, many apologies he wanted to make. She had not deserved this rushed marriage, like a scandal to be swept away. But Jon would take his bride however he could, and so held his apologies behind his teeth, until it was done.

They stood in silence for several minutes, surrounded by guards.

At some point, Harry passed on some orders for the wedding. They needed cloaks and Jon looked down at his own rumpled cloak, still laying before the throne. He hadn’t even noticed when he’d dropped it. And he had no idea how the cloaking was supposed to go. He was the one joining her family, after all. Would she cloak him instead?

He saw Harry step away for a moment and look over some fabric, which he guessed were the marriage cloaks. She threw one over her shoulders, displaying the Baratheon stag. She brought the other forward and showed it to him, it had the Stark direwolf on the back.

Jon blinked back tears, “How?”

She snorted softly and shook out the cloak so he could tie it around his shoulders, “Magic.”

—

The High Septon arrived, almost an hour later, and nearly fainted to see the dragons. He was almost dragged forward and was commanded to marry them right that moment.

The king rose from his throne and came forward, standing on the steps to the throne, “I hereby declare Ser Jon Snow legitimized as Ser Jon Stark. He will marry my daughter, Princess Hariel Baratheon and become Lord Jon Baratheon. The wedding will happen immediately!”

Jon startled badly to be named a Stark and threw a look at his father, who nodded in encouragement.

The septon agreed nervously and launched into what Jon assumed was the usual wedding spiel. He’d never been to a wedding before, much less one under the Seven.

When it came time to do the cloaking, he felt his throat tighten with emotion, and happily swung his cloak over Harry’s shoulders, once the king had removed her own. Then Harry reached for her own Baratheon cloak and swung it around his own shoulders with a smile tugging at her lips. It was a simple way to handle their unusual joining and Jon felt incredulous joy fill his chest.

The septon went on with the ceremony but then paused and seemed to realize he was missing something. Harry reached up to her hair and pulled off a long ribbon in black and gold, Baratheon colors.

Then the Septon tied their hands together with the ribbon, and went on. Jon realized he had no idea what the words were, or what he might need to say. The whole thing seemed surreal, with the two dragons still on their shoulders.

Suddenly Harry whispered to him, “I need you to think carefully, Jon. These vows are binding, to break them means death. Are you sure?” There was a warning in her eyes and he suddenly realized she was trying to help him get out of this, if he wanted to.

“I’m sure.” He’d never been more sure of anything in his life. Even if he still couldn't quite believe he was being married at sword point.

She nodded the slightest bit, “Then repeat after me when I speak.”

It was a few moments later that there must have been some cue because she spoke up and he did his best to follow along, “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am his, and he is mine, from this day, until the end of my days.”

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger, I am hers, and she is mine, from this day, until the end of my days.”

And then followed, “With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband.”

To which he responded, “With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lady and wife.”

And then he was allowed to lay a chaste kiss against her lips, which made him smile and saw an answering smile on her face. Both of them quite forcefully ignored the many guards and the forced wedding.

Then the septon was saying “In the sight of the Old Gods and the New, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

And it was done.

—

The king came forward, and looked them over, dragons and all. He turned to Harry, who spoke up quickly, “I’ll move Jon to my chambers for now.” She threw a look at Lord Stark, “You have much to discuss.”

King Robert nodded, looking deeply tired, “Then we’ll escort you there for the bedding. The wedding feast can wait. In fact–” He raised his voice, “The wedding feast will be in a week! Now get out!”

Then he turned around and led them out of the throne room, followed by the guards, Lord Stark, and the royal family who had come out of nowhere but must have been around.

It was a long procession that followed behind until they were finally outside Harry’s chambers, where she leaned over to whisper to the servants and they started hurriedly moving his things from his room next door to her own.

Then she took his hand and turned to their fathers.

The king nodded, “Strangest bedding I’ve seen, but it will do. I don’t want to see you until tomorrow.” He glared at Jon and turned to Lord Stark and his glare darkened further, “And you! You have much explaining to do! You’re going to talk and I’m going to drink until this day fades from my memory!”

Then he strode away in a fury. His father threw them a look and nodded encouragingly, before following behind the king.

Harry pulled him into her chambers and closed the door on all the gawkers. A few servants were standing around awkwardly, some still holding some of his things, clothing and the like.

Harry waved them off, “Put everything away, and get the rest of it in here. Just don’t let anyone else in. And get the seamstresses to begin working on a new wardrobe for– for my husband. Baratheon and Stark colors.”

They all jumped to do her bidding.

“And get the kitchens to send a meal and meat for the dragons.”

Jon realized the dull hunger he felt was not entirely his own. They’d missed the midday meal. Harry suddenly walked to the sofa and sat, focusing on her little dragon, while the servants bustled around them.

“Hello, Jor.” The little dragon was wriggling excitedly in her lap, hissing madly.

She smiled down at it. At him, he corrected himself, and approached hesitantly. He sat next to her. Next to his wife.

His wife!

And settled down his own little dragon, who sniffed at his hands and toddled over onto the couch. Harry set down her own little one next to her and they crooned at each other, curling up together.

Surely this all couldn’t be real. Was he really sitting here, married to his love? They were still wearing the wedding cloaks, he realized. He took it off and placed it carefully to the side, and saw Harry do the same.

She looked around, “Where’s Ghost? You need to introduce him.” Her voice and her face were very carefully controlled. She was avoiding the talk they needed to have, and he would play along, for now.

Jon realized he hadn’t seen Ghost all day and just then a servant came in and Ghost slipped through the door. The servant jumped but Harry waved him off.

“Hedwig, come here.” The snowy owl perched on the back of the sofa and Ghost came up in front. The owl hooted curiously and Ghost sniffed at the dragons.

The pale dragon, Jor, rose up and hissed at Hedwig, who fluttered down to the seat and poked Jor with her beak. Jon realized she was trying to groom him and he smiled at the sight. His own dragon approached cautiously and also got her own feathery attention.

Ghost suddenly leaned over and licked both dragons, then went off to lay on the rug.

By the time introductions were over, the servants had laid the table, including a platter of meat strips.

Harry turned to the waiting maids and nodded, “Thank you, you’re dismissed.”

They all filed out and they were alone, finally. He suddenly realized his hands were sweating and wiped them on his trousers.

Jon swallowed hard, “Harry.”

Her eyes suddenly filled with tears but she wiped them off harshly, and stood abruptly. “Food, first. And then we will talk. We have the rest of the day, and the night.”

She picked up both dragons and cradled them in her arms, making her way to the table. Jon followed behind. She set them down by the meat and they both started eating hungrily.

Harry dropped down to a chair and pulled a plate closer, determinedly focusing on her food. Jon sat down and did the same, feeling lost.

The meal went by in silence. The dragons ate their fill and then seemed to drop straight to sleep. Harry stood and then came back with a basket and a blanket which she used to line the basket, and then moved the dragons inside, where they curled up together. She set the basket by the hearth, next to Ghost.

She scratched the ears of the direwolf, “Watch over them, hmm?” Ghost looked at her and licked her hand, before going back to sleep. Hedwig hooted and came down, settling over Ghost.

Jon watched his wife come over and he pushed his plate away. He’d eaten what he could stomach, with his belly in knots. Harry stopped before him and took his hand, pulling him after her. He went willingly and they stepped into the bedroom. She closed the door and then finally turned to look at him.

Chapter Text

Jon took a breath, “Harry– I’m sorry.” She met his eyes in surprise, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I will let them kill me if this isn’t what you want.”

Her face wavered and her mask finally broke, tears streamed down her face. “You idiot! You think that’s what I want? You could have died! You would have died! Why didn’t you tell me you had the eggs? I could have helped you hide them!” She sobbed.

He pulled her into his arms and she came willingly, sobbing into his shoulder, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to explain! How could I tell you the man who sired me was Rhaegar Targaryen? That our fathers fought a war?” He felt tears fall from his eyes. “I didn’t want you to hate me!”

She scoffed wetly, “And my father killed your father, and my family took the throne from yours! Do you think it matters to me? It doesn’t! I would have helped you.” She cried.

He sniffled, “I should have told you, but I truly didn’t think they would hatch! Not if I didn’t try.”

“If you’d showed them to me, I could have told you that! I would have known.”

He frowned at her, “How?”

She pulled back to look at his face, very intently, “Because I’m a witch, Jon. A very powerful witch.”

Jon felt his eyebrows rise, “What?” What did she mean? A woodswitch? One of those fire mages from the East?

She looked as nervous as he’d ever seen her, “I lived once before, in a world with magic, and my magic followed me to this life.”

Jon felt his thoughts scramble in his head, “Magic? I don’t understand. What type of magic?” He had no idea how to even ask about that other life.

Harry wiped at her face and pulled back, “Magic. Many different sorts, I can heal and I can kill, I can make people do my bidding or take their memories away, I can turn one thing into another and become invisible, I can do so much, Jon. So much you can’t even imagine.”

Jon frowned and thought about this, and then realized it didn’t really matter. She was the same Harry she’d been yesterday, and yesterday she’d also been a witch. And most importantly, she was his wife. Finally, finally, she was his wife.

He took a step, so they were pressed together again and wrapped his arms around her. “You can show me later, but it doesn’t change anything. Not for me. I told you I would love you no matter what, and I do.”

She swallowed roughly, “Jon, the marriage vows were magically binding. I felt them during the ceremony. We’re bound together. Do you understand? I don’t know what might happen should you break them. I– I didn’t know that would happen.”

He shrugged lightly, “It doesn’t matter. I will never break them. I’m yours and you’re mine. Always.” Then he frowned at her, “Did you expect me to be angry about it? Harry, I don’t care. I only wanted you, however I could have you.”

She stared at him for long moments until she suddenly laughed and threw her arms around him, pulling him down to a hungry kiss.

Jon responded eagerly and when she started pulling at his clothes, he helped her rip them off until he was bare chested and then came back to help get hers off.

She stepped out of her slippers and showed him the row of buttons and the laces he had to work open, until her dress finally fell to her feet. She was left wearing a shift and he pulled that off too. Her underwear made his mouth water.

“This is a bra. You unhook it here.”

“In a moment.” He ran his fingers over her breasts and the lace that covered them. He held them in his palms and rubbed her nipples through the fabric, then he pulled a cup down enough that he could lean down and wrap his lips around one of them.

She gasped and held his head against her. He slid his palms up her sides and to her back, to find the clasp, and worked it open. He threw her bra aside and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around him and he brought her over to the bed.

Jon laid down his wife gently and crawled on top of her, kissing her with everything in him. He felt her wrap her legs around his hips and cursed when he realized he was still wearing his trousers.

He pulled away to sit on the bed and pull off his boots, while Harry laughed behind him. And then finally kicked off his trousers and after brief hesitation, his underwear too.

She leaned her head on her hand and watched all this from the bed, smiling at him. Jon paused for a moment to save the sight of her in his memory and then he was on top of her again.

The feeling of her skin against his left him short of breath and he desperately kissed down her body, lavishing attention on her breasts and then kissing down to her cunt.

He dropped a kiss to her mound and pulled off her underwear quickly and realized he was panting, and his cock was so hard it was weeping. He crawled back up to settle between her legs and kissed her softly.

They’d never come this far before. He’d never had her naked underneath him before. It was beyond thrilling.

He felt her wrap her arms around him and he reached down to slip a finger inside her. He was so eager he was trembling, but he didn’t want to hurt her. He would likely not be able to slow down enough to do all the things they usually did, but there would be other times. As many as they wanted.

He pumped his finger into her heat and added another as soon as he felt it could fit. While he did this, Harry reached down and wrapped a hand around his cock, and he had to stop himself from thrusting into her hand.

He leaned down to suck on her nipples and added a third finger, rubbing her nub with his thumb. She panted against him and started trailing kisses down his shoulder.

She squirmed and pulled him up, “Jon, I’m ready.” Maybe it was not just him that was so eager. She was already very wet.

He pulled his fingers out and moved to line himself up, but he paused before pushing in, “Are you sure?” He didn’t know what he was asking. They were already married, and they couldn’t go back. But if she wanted to wait, he would.

She cupped his face and reached up to kiss him, “Yes.”

He pushed slowly into her entrance and a moan escaped him as soon as he felt the heat of her. He felt resistance and stared into her eyes when he pushed past and sank all the way in, taking her maidenhead. He saw her wince and he kissed her cheeks and her lips.

“I’m sorry.”

He kept himself still, out of sheer force of will, when all he wanted was to move.

Until Harry finally shifted her hips, “It’s alright. Go on.”

Jon slid out and back in again and the sensation was enough to punch the breath out of him. “Gods, Harry. You feel so good.”

He started pumping his hips and tugged her legs up around his hips. She moaned under him and threw her head back, and he couldn’t resist leaning down and kissing down her neck, licking at the sensitive skin there. He loved her skin, and her breasts, and her cunt, and everything about her.

His wife, she was his wife.

The thought made him slam home harder and she whimpered in pleasure, grasping at his back. He lost himself in sensation for several moments, keeping up a steady rhythm. But his peak was approaching too fast, and she hadn’t come yet, so he reached down, right above where they joined and found her nub, pinching it lightly.

It made her gasp and jerk beneath him, and he rubbed at it with relish. The glazed look on her face told him it wouldn’t take long at all.

She finally whined and tightened around him in a vice, and it was enough for his own peak to race towards him. He snapped his hips a few more times before coming hard enough for his vision to white out.

He slumped over her, being careful not to crush her, and felt her embrace him and run her hands through his hair. He hummed and laid his head down, closing his eyes.

Jon realized he felt incandescently happy. He was married to the woman he loved, when this morning the mere thought had seemed like a dream. She was his, and he was hers. He’d taken her maidenhead, it was done. There was no going back.

‘What would you do to have her?’

There was no need to do all the things he feared anymore. He had her, right here, in his arms.

He was in her bed, and no one could force him away. He didn’t have to leave, or sleep apart, or hold himself back from touching her. He could stand at her side openly, and could run off her many admirers, because this was his wife.

He kissed the side of her head and then raised his head to drop kisses all over her face, “Wife. I love you, I love you.”

She giggled and the sound reached down to his heart and squeezed, “Husband, I love you, too.”

He smiled and brushed his nose against hers, before pressing another kiss to her lips.

—

Jon was deeply asleep. He was wrapped around her, arm around her waist and hand on her bare breast. She could feel all of him against her back. They’d never gotten dressed last night. They’d just kept going. She could see a lot of naked sleeping in their future.

She chuckled softly to herself and pushed back against him, feeling his cock poke her bum. He shifted in his sleep and his arm tightened around her.

She smiled to herself. Jon knew. He knew, and he still loved her. They’d both been keeping secrets, it turned out. She was still incredulous that they’d gotten through yesterday still intact.

She’d never forget the sight of him, on his knees before the throne, about to lose his head to her furious father. She closed her eyes tightly and trembled from the remembered fear and the panic. The way she’d felt dizzy with relief afterwards, once his life had been forgiven.

Things came so close, so very close to disaster. She’d been so very close to losing him. She’d prayed, ‘please don’t let me lose him’, and thought she’d have to do something drastic to save him. And now, here they were, naked in bed, together.

He had Targaryen blood, and yet he’d chosen to become a Baratheon, just to be by her side. He’d chosen her, above all else. It made her heart squeeze in her chest.

She turned around in his arms and felt him start waking up. They still had some time before the maids came to wake them.

She reached down and grasped his already hard cock, pumping up and down. He came awake with a moan and she threw a leg over him and straddled his hips.

He grasped her hips and shifted to rub his cock against her cunt, “Harry?” His voice was hoarse with sleep.

She leaned down to drop a kiss against his lips and lifted up on her knees to line him up with her entrance, still wet from their long night, and then sat back down.

“Ah! Harry!” He pushed up against her and she started moving her hips, riding him slowly, almost lazily.

He hummed and let her do as she pleased, looking up at her with lidded eyes. He looked debauched, there were love bites on his neck and on his chest. She knew there were probably scratches on his back too.

She likely looked the same, judging by the marks littered on her thighs and on her breasts, and the feeling of her hair, wild around her shoulders.

Their breathing started coming faster and she felt his hand drop down to rub her nub. She whined and increased her pace, running her hands lightly down his chest and saw goosebumps mark his skin.

He started pushing up harder against her and her hips stuttered, leaving her on the edge of her peak. He rolled them over and took over, pumping his hips at a quick pace.

He reached down again and lightly pinched her nub and that pushed her right over the edge. She shook apart and then sighed in contentment, watching as he increased his pace to something almost desperate, until he groaned and slumped over her. She drew him close and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his head.

“The maids will be here soon.”

He grumbled, “Can’t we have the morning?”

She hummed in thought, “I think so. Though they might want the bedsheet.”

He raised his head to look at her, wide eyed, “The bedsheet!”

He drew down the covers and they both looked at the sheets. They were a mess, but most importantly, there was a small blood stain, stark against the white fabric.

She blinked at it and then felt the blood rush to her face. “Oh, gods. Will people see that?”

He winced, “Ah, maybe just our fathers?”

They looked at each other and grimaced.

A knock on the door made them jump. “Princess?”

Jon quickly pulled out of her and grabbed the covers, throwing them over both of them and pulling her close. Harry sat up, leaning against him and he hissed, “Harry!” and brought up the covers over her breasts.

She chuckled, and made sure they were both decent before calling out, “Come in!”

A single maid stepped inside, and curtsied, “Princess, milord. Shall I run a bath?”

Harry felt Jon startle to be referred to as ‘lord’, “Yes, please, Myri.”

Her maid stepped through to the bathing chamber, leaving them momentarily alone.

Jon leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I forgot I’m supposed to be a lord now. I had just gotten used to being a Ser.”

She leaned back against his shoulder and turned to look at him, “You’ll get used to it. Do you understand what my father did, naming you as he did?”

He shook his head and she explained, “Usually, even if you had married in, you might have remained Jon Stark, but he named you Jon Baratheon instead, claiming you for our House as well. You can still use both. It’s why I ordered for your wardrobe to hold both house colors. We are ignoring the Targaryen side very decidedly, of course. Even if it’s the whole reason why Father married us off in the first place.”

He hummed thoughtfully and kissed her shoulder, “I don’t mind, either way.” It was just like how Lady Stark was both a Stark and a Tully. He saw no problem with it, even if it was usually the woman that took the man’s name. He would bear any name that allowed him to remain at her side.

Her maid came back into the room and curtsied. “Shall I take the bedsheet to the king, princess?” She looked unsure.

Harry sighed and Jon hid his face against her shoulder, “Take it and ask my father. Let him decide if it needs to be displayed.” It might, to consolidate their rushed union. “And call for breakfast.”

The maid curtsied and left, closing the door. And they finally crawled out of bed, walking naked to the bathing chamber.

Harry walked straight into the hot bath and Jon joined her after a brief look around. It had taken work to get her bathing chamber up to her standards.

The room was white marble and it had a big sunken bath, a shower, and a toilet behind another door, as well as a large sink. It was, in a few words, a modern bathroom.

The difficult part had been the plumbing, she’d had to commission the pipes and then hire workers to lay some of them, and then do the rest herself, magically, as discretely as possible.

The hot water was very much magical in nature. There were runes on the pipes to heat it up. It was one of the few occasions where she’d been glad for the lack of education, people just accepted that was how things were and didn’t question how the water was hot.

And then of course, both her mother and her father had wanted the same layout in the King’s and Queen’s chambers, and Harry had to jump through hoops getting things done without seeming like she was doing all the work.

In the end, she’d had her proper bathroom, so she couldn’t be too mad.

Harry sighed in relief at the hot water and felt Jon come up behind her and wrap his arms around her, kissing her neck.

“I’ve never seen a bathing chamber like this before.” He said, looking at the sink and the shower, which must seem strange to him.

She hummed and leaned back against him, “You haven’t seen the toilet yet.” She giggled, “It’s much better than a privy.” Because it actually flushed. Harry shuddered to remember being a child and being encouraged to use chamber pots.

She explained how things worked, and then realized she could actually tell Jon about the magical aspect of it, “I used magic runes on the pipes, so the water comes out hot here and cold there.” She turned around in his arms to watch his reaction.

He raised his eyebrows, “Your magic seems much more useful than others I’ve heard about.”

She giggled, “Yes, I do prefer practical applications.”

They started cleaning up properly and Harry found she very much liked sharing the bath with her husband. He seemed to enjoy taking care of her, and that included running the washcloth over her body, and helping her deal with her hair.

She returned the favor and washed his back and sat on his lap to wash his hair. It was a strangely intimate thing. She could tell by the soft look on his face that he also liked it very much.

—

By the time they got out of the bath, the bedroom had been cleaned up, the sheets changed and both their clothes laid out. They dressed and stepped into the sitting room, only to be ambushed by the dragons, screeching for attention. They couldn’t fly yet but they’d been waiting by the door.

‘Food! Harry! Food!’ Jor’s baby parseltongue was adorable.

She picked him up and placed him on her shoulder, and saw Jon cradle his dragon to his chest. She realized the servants were giving the dragons a wide berth, looking at them with both awe and fear.

They approached the table where breakfast was laid out and she paused before taking a seat, “The dragons will not harm you.” She addressed her servants, “They are smart beasts, should you need them out of your way, ask them. They will understand. Though don’t try to touch them.”

The servants looked bewildered and skeptical and she understood their concern, “Look.” She turned to look at Jor, on her shoulder, “Jor, get on the table. Can you do that? Here’s your food.” She pointed to the platter of meat strips. She was glad to see the kitchens had already adapted.

Jor flapped his wings and jumped off her shoulder, landing clumsily on the table. “Well done, Jor!” She turned back to the servants, watching wide eyed. “We will train them. So long as none of you act aggressively towards them, you’ll have nothing to fear. Now, please leave us.”

They all bowed and filed out. And Harry finally took a seat. Jon had watched from his chair, his dragon still held in his arms. He laid her on the table so she could join Jor and eat her fill.

“I didn’t know dragons were that smart.” Jon frowned. “I can feel her in the back of my mind, but I didn’t realize they understood speech so clearly.”

Harry filled her plate, “I don’t think they usually are. These two are special. I think my magic changed them. I saw the eggs once, in a dream, and when I touched them, they glowed. It’s probably why they hatched too.” She shrugged.

Jon took a bite of his food and seemed to consider that, “Is that also why they have four legs? I thought the Targaryen dragons only had two.”

Harry nodded, “Most likely. So yes, they are very smart. Ah– I should tell you. I can actually speak to Jor. He sounds like a child at the moment, but he will grow.”

Jon put down his fork, “What? What do you mean?”

She fidgeted with her napkin, “In my past life, Jor and Hedwig were my familiars, my bonded companions. Only Jor was actually a snake. And I can speak parseltongue, which is the language of snakes. Jor was reborn here still speaking parseltongue, and so we can speak, though he understands the common tongue perfectly fine. I assume it’s the same for yours.” She nodded at the dark dragon. “Though I don’t know if she’ll speak parseltongue or not.”

‘Me! I teach her! Me! Me!’ Jor hissed happily and nudged the other dragon, who looked curious, ‘Me. You. Meat. Plate.’ He went about pointing with his snout and Harry let out a peal of laughter.

She switched to parseltongue, ‘That’s very well done, Jor. I’ll trust you with this, yes?’

He wriggled his bum in excitement and nodded as best he could.

Jon watched all this wide eyed and met her eyes, “What did he say?”

“Your dragon can’t speak parseltongue but Jor will teach her. He started teaching her words. It was adorable, in all honesty.”

Jon frowned, “I think I can almost understand her.”

Harry smiled, “The bond is new to you. It might be that you'll be able to understand parseltongue through her as well. We can work on it.”

He nodded with a smile and a shrug, and they returned to their meal.

—

Bonus Scene: Ned Stark

Robert had finally tired of shouting. Ned watched him drop onto a chair and empty his wine goblet, immediately reaching to refill it. This would be a long night.

His friend gave a tired sigh from deep in his chest, “I’m not stupid, you know. I knew she didn’t care for me like I cared for her. But I thought I’d have time to woo her.” His voice turned soft, “I really did love her, Ned.”

Ned felt guilt shoot through him like an arrow. He couldn’t tell Robert Lyanna had gone willingly. Let him think she’d been reluctant the whole way, and not just after Father and Brandon died.

It was too risky to enrage him like that, not with Jon in his reach. He didn’t think his friend would harm the son of his heart, not now he was married to his daughter, but disdain could be harmful, too. He knew that very well, remembering his wife’s cold blue eyes watching Jon.

“I’m sorry, Robert. I really am.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Did you think I would harm him?” He sounded morose, almost defeated.

“I couldn’t be sure, and I didn’t want to risk it. I thought it best to bury the truth. I told no one, not even my wife. I always thought I’d take the secret to my grave.”

Robert let out a hitched breath, “You might have been right to do as you did. I nearly killed him. How can I argue against you hiding him away if I’ve just proven you were right? If it weren’t for Harry–” He clenched his fist, “I would have felt regret, afterwards, I’m certain. But it didn’t stop me at the moment.”

Ned nodded, feeling relieved his friend could realize as much. “Thank you, Robert. I always feared this day coming to pass. I am so relieved to have it happen this way. Thank you for sparing him, and me. I can resign from my post, if you wish.”

Robert grunted and waved a hand, “Piss on that. And thank my daughter, not me. I’m still angry with you, but it will pass.” He frowned at his cup, and downed it, then refilled it again. “And with your boy, too. He better treat her well.” He grumbled.

Ned drained his own cup and reached for the wine jug, “The children will be happy, at least. He really cares for her, you know. I could tell he’s had feelings for her for a while now.”

Robert rolled his eyes, “Of course I knew he was sweet on her. You think I couldn’t recognize the stupid look on his face? And she liked him back. I know my daughter. There’s too much of me in her, I suppose. Making moon eyes at a Stark, ha!” He chortled.

Ned smiled, “Aye, Jon couldn’t stop blushing every time she was brought up in conversation. And his face would light up.” He shook his head, “He wears his heart on his sleeve.”

Robert choked on a laugh, “They probably thought they were being discreet!” He guffawed.

Ned laughed with him, “They’re about to get worse, you realize?” He shook his head, “Now they’re allowed to.”

His friend snorted, “Let them. The court could use something to be scandalized about, it will keep them happy, the bunch of snakes.” Then he grinned, “Besides, think of what this means, Ned.”

He blinked blearily at him, “What?”

“Grandchildren!”

They both laughed and lifted their cups in a toast, draining them dry.

Chapter Text

They were called before the king once they’d broken their fast.

Harry looked herself over nervously, but there was nothing obvious about what they’d been up to last night. She felt like everyone could tell, somehow. Never mind that everyone absolutely knew, with it being their wedding night and all. Not to mention the stupid bedsheet.

She dressed very blatantly in Baratheon colors, and was glad the seamstresses had somehow had something ready for Jon. He looked very handsome in the new black trousers and the velvet jerkin with her sigil on the front. She found it very pleasing they’d used her personal sigil for it.

She approached to run her hands over him and he gave her a warm smile, looking down at the stag head displayed on his chest, “It will take some time to get used to it.”

She reached up to drop a kiss on his lips, “We’ll have time.”

They took the dragons with them, riding on their shoulders, and stepped out into the corridors. The halls were fuller than usual, with servants coming and going. She knew they all wanted to get a look at them and the dragons.

The only reason the halls weren’t even more crowded was probably because this was the private family keep. Once they stepped out of Maegor’s Holdfast and into the public spaces, they would likely be mobbed. Harry shook her head and took Jon’s arm, as they were led to the King’s solar, and not his more formal office, so things were probably not too bad.

When they stepped inside, they found King Robert and Lord Stark, with Tyrion and Renly seated to the side. They all stared at them as they approached.

Her father blinked bloodshot eyes, “Well, I had hoped it’d been a dream. Sit.”

They sat, and Harry realized both her father and Lord Stark looked worse for wear. They were very obviously hungover, and Harry had to hold back a giggle.

Lord Stark looked fine, aside from the hangover. She hoped that meant things between them had been resolved. He also wasn’t in the cells, so there was that.

Her father looked her over and scowled, “Did he hurt you?”

Harry raised her eyebrows and saw both Lord Stark and Jon stiffen in offense. Jon reached over and took her hand, lacing their fingers together.

“He did not. He wouldn’t, Father.” She kept her voice calm and certain.

The king nodded and deflated, “The bedsheet is displayed in the throne room. Let the nobles know the deed is done, and the boy is one of us now.” He looked over Jon’s Baratheon sigil approvingly. Then a hint of humour entered her father’s eyes, “We could tell you two were busy.”

Of course they could, the bedsheet had made that rather obvious. Certainly no one could doubt they’d done more than what was required.

Harry felt her face blush but responded as nonchalantly as she could, “So we were. The union has been consummated. Thoroughly.” She saw Jon blush bright red from the corner of her eye.

Her father let out a guffaw and she heard both her uncles echo it. Lord Stark looked embarrassed and so did Jon, though her husband also looked smug. He threw her a look, his lips curling up at the corners and she couldn’t help but lean over and kiss his cheek, making him blush harder.

The king waved that way, “So it’s done. The feast will be in a few days, enough time for more people to arrive. The Lord Hand wanted a ceremony before the Old Gods as well, but there’s no real Heart Tree in the Red Keep.” So her father-in-law was still the Hand then. Good to get confirmation.

Jon perked up, “Could we get one, Father? I’d like to marry before our gods, too.” He squeezed her hand.

Lord Stark nodded, “I’ll make the arrangements to bring one over and get it settled. You can have a private ceremony once that’s done.”

Jon threw her a smile and she smiled back to see him so happy.

Her father cut in, “There’s something else. The announcement went out last night. The whole Seven Kingdoms will know in a few days about your wedding and about the dragons. I expect the city will be flooded with all sorts in no time. You’ll need protection, both of you. I’m assigning you a full guard.”

Harry groaned, “I already have Ser Arys.”

The king shook his head, “Not enough. I’m sending him to guard Myrcella instead. You’ll have Clegane and Ser Balon, and at least half a dozen guards with you at all times when you step outside Maegor’s Holdfast. Should you be apart, then I want half a dozen guards for each of you. I’ve given my instructions to Clegane and Ser Balon already.”

Harry nodded in acceptance, if grudgingly. Jon looked uncomfortable but nodded in agreement.

“I’ve also sent word to Winterfell, your brother will be disappointed.” Lord Stark shared, and Jon winced, “But no one could have foreseen these circumstances.” They all stared at the dragons dozing on their shoulders, Jor’s tail was hanging down her chest and she stroked it softly. Had he grown already?

King Robert shook himself, “Now, the feast is in a week, I suggest you make yourselves ready, you’ll be on display for all to see. And bring the dragons.” Then he mumbled, “Not words I ever thought would cross my lips.” He shook his head, “I’m taking a nap!” and walked off.

Lord Stark approached to speak quietly with Jon, and Harry saw Tyrion walk over hurriedly.

Her Lannister uncle looked incredibly excited and was staring at Jor with fascination. “Well, niece. Things are always so exciting around you.”

Harry chuckled and patted her little dragon, “Jor, this is my uncle Tyrion, he is very fond of dragons. Won’t you say hello?”

The dragon lifted his head and looked at Tyrion, who stared back wide eyed, then he crawled down to her lap and waited.

Harry smiled, “Go on then, you may touch him.”

Her uncle reached a shaking hand and ran it very gently over Jor’s head and back, and she saw his eyes fill with tears.

He chuckled wetly, “You do realize you’ve just made my father’s every dream come true. Once he gets confirmation this isn’t just some fever dream shared by the court, he’ll come down here and probably never leave.”

She chuckled and groaned playfully, “You might be right.”

Her uncle sighed, “Not sure how your mother will react to this. Or Jaime.”

Harry bit her lip. Her mother would hopefully stay at the Rock, “I don’t know.”

She felt Jon rub her back and turned to look at him, both him and Lord Stark were looking at them, and she saw Jon’s dragon on Lord Stark’s lap, looking comfortable, which made her smile.

Tyrion stepped forward to offer his hand to Jon, who reached back and shook it, “Well, boy. Welcome to the family.”

Jon beamed at him, “Thank you, Lord Tyrion.”

Harry kissed her uncle on the cheek and handed Jormungandr over to him. He fumbled with the dragon, who grumbled but settled easily in his arms. Tyrion looked wide eyed at the creature of legend cradled in his arms.

She stood and made her way over to Renly, who had been watching closely from his chair. He stood as she approached and they embraced.

“You really do need to stop worrying me, dear niece. You’ll give me grey hairs.”

She giggled, “Nonsense, you’ll never get grey hairs, nuncle.”

He snorted and leaned down to whisper, “Loras says to prepare yourself, his family are likely to descend on the city en masse, as soon as the news reaches them. They were Targaryen loyalists, as you know. And now, somehow, us Baratheons have become the Targaryens.” He threw an incredulous look at the dragons and at Jon.

Then he went on, “And I congratulate you, that was well played. Our family is more secure than ever. I do admit to feeling relieved things concluded as they did. It couldn’t have gone better, all things considered. The Baratheons will become dragon riders, who could have foreseen that at all?” He shook his head in incredulity.

Harry realized her uncle had been more stressed than he let on and felt bad for being the cause of so much worry. She stepped forward and hugged him tightly and felt him hug her back. “I’m still sorry for all the trouble.”

He sighed, “It’s done. Let us move forward now. Though I beg of you, no more surprises for a while. My heart couldn’t take it.” Then he dropped a kiss on her head and made his way out of the room.

—

Afterwards, Harry and Jon made their way back to their chambers and sank down onto a sofa gratefully. The dragons went off to bother Ghost and Hedwig.

“Could we just hide away here until the feast?” Jon sounded drained.

Harry groaned in agreement, “Yes, let's do that.”

Jon slumped over and laid his head on her lap, and she sank her hands into his hair and massaged his scalp, making him hum in pleasure.

“I still can’t believe I’m allowed to do this.” He nuzzled into her legs.

She smiled down at him, “Me too. But I’m so very happy about it.”

He smiled warmly at her, and she bent down to kiss him. He took a hold of her nape and pulled her closer, biting her lip gently. “I love you, wife.” He whispered against her mouth, his lips brushing hers.

“I love you, too, husband.”

—

Harry slumped over Jon, panting and spent. She was sitting astride him while he sat on the edge of the bed, like they used to do, only this time he had actually slipped inside her and bounced her until they’d found completion.

He was still catching his breath as well, pressing kisses to her neck and shoulder, arms tight around her. She leaned her head back and he brushed his nose against hers, smiling happily. His smile made her heart flutter, as it always did, and she hummed in contentment.

“It’s so very nice, not just this, but sleeping together, too.” She mused.

He ran a hand down her side, “I will always be grateful that I get to stay.”

A thought ran through her mind. “Jon, do you– do you want children?” She asked nervously. Of course she knew they’d be very much pressured to have children, but did he actually want them?

He blinked at her, surprised and then thoughtful. He brushed his lips against hers very softly, “I’d love nothing more than to see you bear our children.” He seemed to mean it, his face looked at her with such warmth. It was love she was seeing reflected on his face, she knew.

She nodded and felt a soft smile cross her lips, “I’m asking, because at the rate we’re going, I’m going to be pregnant very soon, my darling. Do you wish to wait? We’re so very young.”

His response was immediate, “No. I don’t wish to wait. I’ll be eight-and-ten this year, and you’re nearly seven-and-ten. Isn’t that old enough?” He paused with a frown, “Besides, a child would bind us together even more tightly. A part of me still fears the king will change his mind and break us apart, but that couldn’t happen if you were carrying my child.”

Of course it would seem plenty old to him, it was a perfectly acceptable age in this world, Harry sighed internally. But he was right, she admitted to herself. If they took too long to have children, there would be whispers, and it might lead to trouble.

His vehement refusal to wait did warm her heart and she nodded in acceptance, “Then nothing more needs to be said, we shall let it happen as it will.”

He grinned at her in excitement and kissed her hard, picking her up and dropping down on the bed, still wrapped around each other.

—

It took a few days for Harry to find out there’d been a red comet the day of the hatching. She wondered if it was an omen. She hadn’t felt anything in particular, but that day had been filled with high emotion so she might have missed something.

The people seemed to take it as some kind of sign that the gods favored the Baratheons, what with the dragons hatching and their marriage.

According to every report, she and Jon had reached legendary status, and there were already love ballads being composed about their forbidden romance.

Robert’s daughter and Rhaegar’s son had fallen in love, and had only married by the mercy of Good King Robert, to bring the newly hatched dragons into the Baratheon bloodline and forever put the Targaryen dynasty to rest.

No one could quite explain how she had enough Targaryen blood to claim a dragon, and already people were turning speculative eyes to the other Baratheons. Not knowing it was actually her magic, and not her Targaryen great-grandmother that allowed her to bond with Jormungandr. But that was a concern for another day.

According to their spies, every Targaryen loyalist was aflutter with excitement. The Lords of the Narrow Sea and the Velaryons in particular had set sail as soon as word had arrived. Close as they were, they would be in time for the feast.

Harry had to warn Jon about it.

“So they will most certainly seek you out.” She shrugged, “And don’t be surprised if they try to talk to you about Rhaegar.”

They were taking lunch in their chambers, the dragons playfully pouncing on a patient Ghost, laying on the rug.

“I’m not so sure I wish to speak of Rhaegar. I–” He paused and frowned in consternation, “I am angry with him, and yet–” He looked down and then reached for her hand, holding it in both of his, “What bothers me the most, is that sometimes I even understand him. If it had been you– I cannot say for certain I would not have tried to steal you away.” He raised her hand to his lips and held it against his mouth in a prolonged kiss, “I fear I’m more like him than I would like. It makes me afraid.” His lips brushed against her skin as he spoke.

She stood and came around the table, and sat down on his lap, arms wrapped around his neck. His arms came up around her waist.

“Look at me, Jon.” He reluctantly met her eyes, he looked subdued and there was a sad glint in his eyes, “You are nothing like Rhaegar. Do you want to know how I know this?” He nodded softly and she went on, “Because you could have very much taken me away, or asked me to run away with you. Leaving the blame to fall on your family, and yet you did not. You tried to find a different way instead, or would have stayed as my sworn sword if there was no other way. You are nothing like Rhaegar. You are much more honorable.”

Tears filled his eyes and she kissed his eyelids and then the tears that had fallen down his face.

He spoke, voice hoarse, “I wanted to. I so very much wanted to run with you. I just couldn’t do that to you. I didn’t even think about how the blame would fall on my family.” He looked anguished, “When I found the eggs, I thought the gods were telling me to hatch them and take the throne, so I could take you as my wife. But that would have meant overthrowing your family, and you would have never forgiven me for that. And so I put them away instead.”

Harry sighed and pressed her face against his, cheek to cheek, and ran her fingers through his hair, “I wouldn’t have. You did the right thing. In every instance, you made the right choice, and it is thanks to that that we’re here, together.”

She leaned down and kissed his lips, and he responded by taking her nape and pulling her closer, kissing back hungrily. When they broke apart he kissed the corner of her lips and whispered, “Just don’t leave me, my love. Never leave me. I couldn’t bear it.”

She smiled, feeling like her heart might burst in her chest from how much she loved him, “Never.” and went back to his lips.

—

Harry and Jon sneaked out into the city one night, leaving the dragons asleep in their chambers, under Ghost’s watch. She hadn’t had the courage to try apparating with Jon, but maybe one day.

She knocked on the door to Gendry’s forge and heard a clang inside, then the door was opened hurriedly. She barely had time to look at Gendry before he caught her up into a bear hug.

“Harry! I heard about your wedding! Congratulations!” She laughed and returned the embrace.

He swung her around and then finally set her down on her feet, smiling widely.

She grinned at him, “Thank you, Gendry!”

Her brother approached Jon, who had closed the door behind them, and shook his hand enthusiastically, clapping his shoulder.

“Congratulations to you both!”

Jon thanked him and then Gendry rushed over to his bench, “I have something for you!” He brought over a dagger and handed it to Jon, “This is for you, Jon. I thought all your things would have stags now, so I wanted you to have something with a wolf, now that you’ve been legitimized.”

The dagger had a beautiful white wolf’s head pommel. Jon looked down at it and ran a hand over the wolf, then he looked up at Gendry with a wide smile.

“Thank you, Gendry! This is very well done.” They patted each other’s back in that way men did, and Harry held back a snort of laughter.

Her half brother then turned to her, looking embarrassed, “This is for you.” He had his hand clenched around something and dropped it in her hand. It was a beautiful brooch, depicting a wolf and a doe curled together.

Harry gasped and looked up, “Gendry! It’s beautiful! Did you make it yourself? It’s so detailed.”

He nodded bashfully, “I did. I’ve been doing more elaborate pieces lately. And I wanted to make you something myself, but you have enough knives already. So I thought–” He shrugged awkwardly and she laughed and gave him a big hug.

“I love it. Thank you very much.” She immediately put it on, and Jon came over to run a finger over it, looking pleased.

Gendry then finally looked at them with curiosity in his blue eyes, “Is it true? About the dragons?”

Harry and Jon exchanged a look. She pulled them over to sit down, and then looked at Jon expectantly. He winced but began speaking.

“I found two dragon eggs some time back. I had them in my room, and I went back to clean up the other day, when I heard a crack…”

—

The day before the feast, Harry showed Jon her lab and her expanded chest, and added him to the wards, so he wouldn’t be turned away. It was lucky they were getting so much alone time ever since their marriage.

No one seemed willing to bother them, either because they were intimidated by the dragons or because they thought they were spending all their time in bed, which wasn’t too far from the truth.

“Give me your hand.”

She placed his hand over the lid of the chest and granted him permanent passage. Then she threw open the lid and stepped down the stairs that were revealed. Jon followed her down, looking bewildered.

They arrived at a great space, filled with piles of things. She had tried to keep things organized, but had never had enough time to actually spend there and usually had to chuck things inside.

“What is this place?” Jon started looking around and picked up a book from a pile of them.

“I use this to hide all the things I can’t explain having acquired. All the books are magical copies from the library books. This is my secret stash, you could say.”

She started looking around until she found a small box on a table. She opened it to reveal several large jewels.

She felt Jon come up behind her. “And this?”

“These are gems I transfigured to hold my magic.” She pushed the box closer to him. “Now choose one.”

He blinked at her, “What? What for?”

“Because I’m making you an amulet, something to keep you safe. And one of these is the best way to do so.”

Jon’s face filled with understanding, “Like that jewel Hedwig wears? I thought it was just a bauble.”

Harry grinned, “Exactly so. I didn’t worry too much before, as no one had any reason to go after you, but now. Well, now you might need it. I’m not taking any chances with your safety. So choose one.”

Jon kissed her cheek with a warm smile and then looked down at the gems with a slight grimace, “They’re rather, ah, shiny, aren’t they? I don’t usually wear anything like this.”

She chuckled, “I know, and I can make it invisible if you want, but I want something you can always wear. I was thinking about a pendant.”

He nodded, and pulled out an emerald, “What about this? It reminds me of your eyes.”

Harry felt a pleased flush rise to her face and kissed his cheek, “Alright. That will do.”

She fished out a small lump of gold as well and turned back to the stairs leading outside, “You can explore if you like, I need to get this done before the feast tomorrow.”

He shook his head, “No, I want to watch. I’ve never seen you do magic before.”

She snorted softly, “Sure you have. You just didn’t realize. How did you think I got the Stark sigil on your wedding cloak? I had to cast the spell right there in the throne room.”

He paused and laughed, before following her up the stairs, “You did say it was magic.”

She grinned at him and closed the chest once he’d stepped out. “And it was!”

She led him to her lab and added him to the wards there as well, then went to sit on the bench and pulled her tools closer. Jon took a seat next to her and watched curiously as she held the gold and the emerald in her hands, and gasped when they rose into the air and she started transfiguring them into a pendant and a chain to go with it.

When it was done, she held a small pendant in the shape of a familiar direwolf, curled up around the emerald. It was small enough that Jon shouldn’t feel too embarrassed about it, she hoped.

She took it and examined it, correcting any small imperfections she found, and then finally took up her tools and started tracing runes all along the back of it. Once the last rune was in place, the hard part was next. The enchanting itself.

It took focus to start layering spell after spell on the pendant, and tying them with the runes. It took several minutes to add all the protections she wanted. But the time she was done, the pendant was practically dripping with magic. She might have gone overboard, but this was for Jon, she wouldn’t take any chances.

She finally sighed and leaned back from where she’d been hunched over the worktable, and picked up the finished product, handing it to Jon, “Here. Please never take it off.”

Jon took it with raised brows, “It glowed, while you were doing that. Is it done? What does it do?” He traced his thumb over the direwolf with a smile.

Harry leaned against his shoulder, “It will protect you from most harm. It will warn you if there’s poison nearby, so pay attention. It will turn away blades and arrows, but only when there’s a danger to you, or you wouldn’t be able to spar otherwise.” She chuckled. “No one can take it from you or break it, and no one will notice it either, so don’t worry about it. There’s a few other things, but those are the most important.”

Jon nodded and placed the chain around his neck. Then the pendant flashed for a moment and then settled down, inconspicuously.

Harry nodded, satisfied. A feeling of relief on her chest.

“Shouldn’t you have one, too?” Jon looked concerned.

She shook her head, “I really don’t need it, darling. I can do all those things myself. I’ll make something for the dragons, too. But they’re too young right now, once they grow a bit more, perhaps. So I will place protection spells over them, for now. And maybe I’ll make something for Ghost, if you’d like.”

Jon smiled warmly at her and kissed her brow, “I would like that very much, thank you.”

—

Bonus Scene: Monford Velaryon

Lord Monford Velaryon paced in his guest room. He’d been lucky enough to be lodged in the Red Keep itself while waiting for the feast, likely thanks to arriving as quickly as he’d been able to. And how could he not, with news like this? A hidden dragon prince, and living dragons back in the world.

The door opened and Aurane slipped inside, closing the door behind him.

Monford turned to him eagerly, “Well?”

A wide smile crossed Aurane’s face, “It’s all true.” He rubbed his hands and laughed lightly, “I have several accounts of people who saw the dragons, just as we heard. The princess claimed the other one, the white one, and the prince the black one.”

Monford laughed in joy and filled two cups with wine. He waved Aurane to a chair, and sat across from him, passing over one of the cups. “And the prince?”

“By all accounts, a good, serious boy. All of Rhaegar’s competence with none of the flights of fancy, and a natural swordsman besides.” He sipped his wine, “And madly in love with the princess. That too, is well known. Everyone, from the lowest scullery maid to the king, is well aware the prince loves the princess, and she loves him back. Which is likely why the king let him live at all.”

Monford closed his eyes for a moment, “Then we must be very grateful to the princess and her tender heart. Had she not begged her father for the boy’s life this would have ended in disaster. We would be drinking to mourn and not to celebrate. The gods are good indeed.”

Aurane nodded seriously, “A Targaryen prince, with none of the madness of that line, tempered by Northern ice, and a Baratheon princess, fierce as a storm and yet kind.”

Monford sighed softly, feeling hopeful for the future, “Any news on the succession?”

Aurane shrugged, unconcerned, “The popular opinion is that the princess will rule. We’re all just waiting for the announcement, though it might not come for some time. I overheard some maids gossiping about it. The king is still sour about the marriage.”

Monford frowned in consternation, “Would he harm the prince? Or mistreat him?”

Aurane drained his cup and refilled it, “Unlikely, he’d not wish to displease the princess. It’s common knowledge the king bends to the princess’ will in most matters. This one most of all. After all, he took Rhaegar's son into his family, did he not? He's not just Jon Stark, he’s Jon Baratheon.”

Monford smiled, “Jon Targaryen, in truth. Prince Rhaegar wouldn’t have taken Lady Lyanna and not married her. But his name is not nearly as important as his blood. Let him be Jon Baratheon, his blood has shown the truth in hatching the dragons. And the princess’ too, in claiming one.”

Aurane lifted his cup in a toast, “To the dragon prince and his storm princess.”

Monford lifted his cup gleefully, “And a long, fruitful marriage.”

Chapter Text

The day of the feast found them still abed past their usual time. They’d talked late into the night, both too apprehensive to fall asleep quickly.

Jon had dearly enjoyed laying close and speaking in whispers with Harry. Sharing a pillow, arms around each other and legs tangled together. It had a sense of intimacy he’d never even known existed.

Every day he woke up and was still surprised to find himself married and sharing a bed with his wife. He knew the newness would fade, and yet he felt he’d enjoy the familiarity even further.

He held his head up with a hand, admiring his slumbering wife. Harry looked beautiful, her face peaceful in sleep, her hair spread over her pillow. Jon sighed in appreciation and ran his fingers gently down her body, between the valley of her breasts.

One of these days, they’d finally manage to get dressed again before finding sleep. But today was not that day, so he could freely admire her form.

A knock had him raise the covers over them both, and he saw Harry begin to wake.

“Yes?”

A maid opened the door a sliver, the same one he usually saw, Myriame he thought her name was. “Forgive me, my lord, but the dragons are seeking entry. They’d not let us approach the door until I asked.”

So that was why no one had come to wake them yet. Harry was blinking sleepily at the door.

Jon pushed her hair from her face and looked back to the door, “Let them in. We’ll rise in a moment.”

The maid nodded and opened the door further, and Jon saw the two dragons bound inside. “Shall I draw a bath, my lord?”

They’d had one already, last night. And they would need another before the feast, so might as well wait. “No, thank you. Let us wait until we must make ready for the feast.”

The maid curtsied and moved to the wardrobes in the adjacent dressing room, starting to lay out clothes for both of them by the dressing screen.

The dragons had both grown in the mere week since their hatching, and were no longer unsure on their feet. They reached the bed and climbed up in moments, and Jon watched them approach curiously. Jormungandr made his way to Harry and nuzzled her face, hissing enthusiastically.

His own unnamed dragon reached him and Jon ran his hand over her back, and smiled when she laid down, content. The maid bowed, stepped out and closed the door.

Harry groaned laughingly and pushed Jor away from her face. “Don’t, I’m awake already.” Jor hissed in annoyance and curled up against her neck. “Ouch, Jor. You’re not a snake anymore, you’re too spiky now for that.”

The pale dragon then slumped over, dramatically, and Jon couldn’t hold back a laugh. “What is he saying?” He frowned and reached for the bond on the back of his mind, which he’d been practising sensing lately. Only, were there two of them? He got the sense from his own dragon that Jor was complaining about being hungry perhaps?

“He’s famished, apparently. And annoyed we’re taking so long.” Harry smiled at him and Jon reached over to kiss her forehead.

He tried to rise but then realized he was still naked and had to take one of the bedsheets with him, embarrassed at the dragons being present. “Why do I feel two bonds, in my mind?”

Harry hummed and followed along, another sheet wrapped around her, “That’s probably Ghost.” The dragons curled up together on the bed.

Jon paused while getting behind the screen and turned to look at her, “Ghost? But–” And then Jon remembered the strange dreams he had, where he saw the world through Ghost’s eyes. “Ah.” He dropped the bedsheet and started dressing, “I understand I can feel my dragon because of my blood. But, how can I feel Ghost?”

Harry joined him and stepped into her knickers. He couldn’t resist reaching over and pinching her behind, “Magic, of course. There’s some kind of bond between you. If it doesn’t come from your Targaryen blood, it must come from the Stark side.” She reached over and pinched his own behind, making him chuckle.

Jon finished dressing and nudged Harry to turn around so he could help her with the laces of her dress, “I might be a warg.” He said thoughtfully.

Harry startled, “Oh, of course! That could be useful.” She threw him a grin over her shoulder and he dropped a kiss on her neck.

Jon finished with her laces and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close. “You might have to help me with that. I’ve had dreams, but– I didn’t realize they might be real.”

She leaned back against him and laid her hands over his arms, squeezing gently, “We’ll work on it.”

—

The rest of the day was spent in preparation for the feast. Harry had to talk to the stewards and the servants to ensure all was in place. And also inspect the decorations and arrangements.

By the time she needed to get ready, she just wanted it to be over already.

The bath she and Jon took together was the last bit of peace for a time. As soon as they stepped out of the bathing chamber, there were servants fluttering over them both, helping them dress in the elaborate clothes she’d ordered for them.

Her dress was gold with black accents, and Jon was dressed mostly in black with gold accents. They both had a stag prominently displayed on one shoulder. She also had a lion on the other one, and Jon had a direwolf.

She thought it was a lovely detail, and made sure to tell the steward to give the seamstresses a bonus for their work. Her poor seamstresses had to work hard to get it all ready in time, and they’d done a wonderful job of it.

She and Jon looked rather striking, matched as they were. Her hair had been braided elaborately, with a few curls framing her face fetchingly. They certainly looked the part of royalty.

Jon looked so very good she was tempted to pull him into the bedroom and let themselves be late, but if she messed up her hair or her dress or her light makeup, her maids would howl in distress. So Harry contained herself.

When it was time to make their way to the feast, they arranged the dragons on their shoulders, though they would be too big for that soon. As it was, Jor’s tail dropped down her back, and his wings were tucked tightly against his sides.

Jor was probably the most excited out of all of them, ‘Go! Let’s go! Everyone here to look and admire– me. Me! Go, now!’ He peered at his own glimmering scales and preened. His vocabulary was returning to him very quickly and she was glad, but she’d forgotten how much of a chatterbox he could be. And how vain.

Jon, on the other hand, looked like he might be sick and Harry pulled him closer. “You’ll do perfectly well. This is our wedding feast, beloved. Everyone will be doing their best to please us.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. Disdain is easy to deal with, it’s the false pleasantries that elude me.” He looked distressed, and she reached up to give him a quick kiss and patted at his chest, finding the amulet under his doublet, reassuring herself.

“Then don’t deal with them. You may be as cold and indifferent as you like. You’re a Stark, no one is going to be expecting you to be effusive. Be a Stark.”

He looked relieved, “A Stark.” He sighed, “That I can do.”

He composed himself and pulled a grim mask over his face, which only made him look more like Lord Stark, and then nodded to her. She winked at him and they finally stepped out of their chambers, after bidding good-bye to both Ghost and Hedwig, who would stay behind.

—

They were seated at the high table for the feast, which was a first for Jon, though the norm for Harry. His wife usually sat next to her father, with the Hand on the other side of the king. And now Jon sat next to his wife, with Prince Tommen next to him and Princess Myrcella after that.

His sisters were seated next to his father, on the other side of the table. The rest of the Baratheons and Tyrion Lannister completed the high table. Even Lord Stannis had made his way to the city for the feast, and had brought his daughter Shireen, which was a first, according to Harry.

The feast was lavish and terribly crowded, was Jon’s first thought. He’d been to other feasts, like the one after the tourney and it’d been nothing like this. There was a great deal of Baratheon finery, and even the Stark direwolf was displayed.

There were also several guards, as promised, and Sandor Clegane and Ser Balon Swann standing behind them, along with the other Kingsguards, guarding the rest of the royal family.

His second thought was that everyone was staring at them. It was natural, as the feast was in their honor. And yet the attention simply did not let up. The nobles in attendance would look at them, and murmur to each other, constantly.

He understood that his outing as Rhaegar’s son and his marriage to Harry greatly affected the political landscape, but why did the nobles have to act like a pack of hungry vultures? Even the king looked rather irritated.

And he had noticed all the men that were leering at his wife. It’d been bad before, when she was a beautiful princess and a desirable match. But now that she had a dragon it was like half the men were undressing her with their eyes.

It made a fire burn down his veins and a possessiveness rise up the likes of which he’d never felt before. He wondered if it had anything to do with the dragon bond. He worried about it, and had to push down the need to take her away and make sure she forgot any other man existed. It left him irritable and completely unwilling to leave her side.

He was at least glad the event would start with the meal itself, and people wouldn’t be able to approach them until afterwards. He laid a hand on Harry’s thigh under the table and the contact helped ground him.

He was aware there were women looking at him too, and yet felt nothing but disdain. He couldn’t help but think none of those women would have given him a second look had he still been a bastard.

The dragons were in their own designated space on top of the table, and had their own plates with different cuts of meat. They looked content enough, and Jon felt some amusement watching Jor show off for the crowd, stretching his wings and prancing around.

Harry reached down for his hand on her thigh and laced their fingers together. Jon immediately latched on and saw she was looking at him with amusement.

“If you look any grimmer, people will think we really did marry at sword point.” The corners of her lips were curling up in a smile she was trying to contain.

He raised a brow at her, and answered dryly, “We did. They just don’t know it wasn’t necessary.” He could feel a smile tugging at his own lips.

She laughed lightly and he couldn’t help but lean close and kiss her. When he pulled away she looked flushed and he grinned at her. He heard the murmuring of the crowd pick up, “Let them know you’re mine.”

Harry squeezed his hand and dropped a quick kiss to his lips, but pushed him back when he tried to chase her mouth, “Save it for later, darling.”

He grumbled but leaned back against his chair, and picked at his food. He’d hardly eaten anything.

Harry whispered in his ear, “And eat up, you’ll need your strength later.” and threw him a mischievous look.

He felt a smile tug at his lips and picked up his fork.

—

As the several courses progressed, Jon found himself conversing with his new brother-in-law. Tommen reached for a tart, so Jon pushed the plate closer before a servant could approach to assist him.

Tommen smiled at him, shyly, “Thank you, my lord.” and took a fruit tart.

He smiled at the nine year old, “You may call me Jon, Prince Tommen.”

Tommen looked pleased, “You’re married to my sister, may I– may I call you brother?” The boy looked nervous but very earnest. “You could do the same, of course!”

Jon smiled at him, “Of course, little brother.”

The boy beamed at him and Princess Myrcella leaned over with a smile, “What about me? May I call you brother as well?”

“Of course.”

“Then you must call me sister! It is so very nice having another brother.” She seemed to genuinely mean it, and Jon found himself grateful his wife’s family had been so welcoming. Especially as he still felt like an upjumped bastard, royal blood or not.

—

As the meal was wrapping up, the guests could finally move around the tables. And so Harry finally found herself meeting her cousin Shireen. Both Uncle Stannis and Shireen eyed the dragons cautiously but with no overt fear. The two dragons were sleeping off the generous meal, curled up together on Jon’s lap.

Lord Stannis offered their congratulations in his usual gruff way and Harry could tell Shireen was terribly uncomfortable, probably due to her scars being on display for the first time. She looked nearly overwhelmed and Harry felt her heart squeeze in sympathy.

Her scars, however, were not as bad as Harry feared, they only covered her cheek, and not her neck, like it had been reported in the beginning. She longed to examine her but that would have to wait.

As soon as they finished their well wishes, Harry leaned forward eagerly, “Thank you, uncle! And Shireen, cousin, how I’ve longed to meet you in person. It gladdens my heart to see you here. Shall we meet for tea one of these days? I’d very much like to talk to you instead of simply writing letters.”

Shireen looked shyly pleased and agreed in a soft voice, and they made tentative plans for the next day. Her uncle sent her a grateful look and she beamed back at him.

—

After her uncle and cousin came her husband’s sisters, or cousins, as it may be.

Arya rushed over to Jon and Harry took the dragons into her lap, so he could embrace his little sister. Harry realized they’d probably not met since before that awful scene in the throne room.

She felt guilty it hadn’t occurred to her to invite the Starks to their chambers, so they could reassure themselves of his wellbeing. She’d been only too eager to have Jon to herself, she supposed.

Arya sniffled, arms around Jon, and then leaned back, “You’re still my brother. I don’t care what anyone says.”

Harry saw a warm smile cross Jon’s face and he kissed the little girl’s head. “Of course I am. Lord Stark is still my father, no matter who sired me.”

Arya smiled back and made way for Sansa, who had been watching closely. Sansa curtsied and then hesitated but also embraced Jon. He looked surprised but welcoming, and returned the hug. Harry smiled to herself.

“You’re still our brother.” Then she leaned back and grinned, “Even if you’re a prince now.”

Jon looked embarrassed, “I’m not a prince, just a lord.”

Harry broke in, “For him to be a prince, I’d have to be the heir to the throne, and then he’d be prince consort, but that’s not the case.”

Arya snorted, “Aren’t you?” Sansa looked confused and seemed to agree with her sister, which must have been a first.

Harry held back a grimace. It wasn’t unusual for them to think so. Harry had been seated next to her father, a place usually reserved for the queen or the heir. Not to mention there’d never been an official announcement proclaiming Tommen as heir to the throne.

And she now held a great deal of power, had a dragon, and would bring more Targaryen blood into their House, through her husband, who also had a dragon. She held back a sigh. It was likely many here shared the same impression. She would have to talk to her father.

She finally shrugged, “My father has made no announcement either way.” She threw a look at the king, and saw he was listening but didn’t seem concerned, which was rather frustrating.

Arya shrugged back and then spoke in a rush, “Can I touch the dragons?”

She half expected Sansa to scold her but even Sansa looked eager. “May we? They’re so pretty!” Harry saw Jor preen from the corner of her eye and held back a smile.

She saw Jon throw her a questioning look and she grinned, “Come along, then. Just remember to be gentle.”

They both rushed forward, Arya went to Jon’s black dragon and Sansa petted Jor’s pearlescent scales with relish. The dragons took it calmly, not at all bothered.

Lord Stark eventually called them back, and they pulled away, if reluctantly.

—

The guests were finally permitted to approach the high table and offer their congratulations, and as Jon had feared, a line quickly formed to speak to him and his wife. Any gifts they might have brought were set aside to be looked at later. Though rushed as the feast and wedding were, most houses would likely send something over later.

They spoke to the long line of guests with the dragons in their laps. Jon thought it a good idea, it made him less likely to jump across the table and stab with his steak knife the next lord that tried to look down his wife’s dress.

He was very grateful that Harry handled most of the pleasantries and graciously thanked their guests for their gifts. Though people tried to pull him into conversation distressingly often.

He also noticed the many noble ladies trying to get him to look at them while simpering in his direction. He took great pleasure in paying them no mind at all. He was really starting to understand Ser Barristan’s warnings.

One of the more memorable guests was Lord Monford Velaryon. Jon wondered if his– if Prince Rhaegar had looked anything like the pale haired Lord Velaryon.

The Lord of Driftmark had bowed deeply and looked between Jon and his wife and down to the dragons with a warm gaze, as if he was looking at his long lost children. His congratulations were all the more heartfelt for it. Jon had no idea what might be going through the lord’s mind.

After the more formal greetings, the lord went on, “I wish you every joy in your marriage, my princess, my– lord.” There Jon could tell he’d almost called him a prince. And he wondered if the slip had been purposeful, “Let us hope that with your union, all the wounds of the past may be laid to rest. House Velaryon remains your ever faithful subjects.” He glanced at where Jon was holding his wife’s hand and seemed pleased at their closeness.

Harry nudged him subtly and Jon spoke up, “We thank you for your sincere well wishes, my lord.”

Lord Velaryon bowed again, deeply, as if addressing the king and queen, and finally departed. Jon sighed in relief when he’d left and felt Harry squeeze his hand in support.

—

They barely managed to do any dancing, which considering it was their own wedding feast, he’d taken for granted. As soon as there was a pause in the well wishers, they immediately ran off to the dance floor, to finally have the opening dance, trying to avoid any more eager guests, and leaving the dragons under guard at the table.

Jon realized the danger of it when he saw several people waiting to cut in after barely a song, or ask for the next dance, both for him and for Harry. He grit his teeth and led them away from the vultures, and then Harry grabbed his hand and they sneaked away between the throng.

She led him to a small room, the entrance well hidden in a nook. He looked around as she locked the door behind them. It was a small sitting room. He’d not known it was there.

Harry grinned at him, “For when the royal family needs a break during festivities.”

Jon raised his brows in understanding and then wasted no more time, wrapping his arms around his wife and descending on her lips.

He kissed her hard, and pushed his tongue inside her mouth, while running his hands over her waist and her breasts. The dress was too tightly laced for him to be able to sneak a hand inside, so he started pulling up her skirt instead.

He had to break the kiss once he ran out of breath and started kissing down her neck, probably too eagerly. He’d leave red marks from his beard all along her neck and the top of her breasts the way he was going, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Harry obviously enjoyed it, judging by the noises she made.

She breathed out, “Jon? What’s got you so ferocious?”

He finally found her thigh beneath the voluminous skirts, and ran his hand along the silky skin. “If another lord tries to look down your dress I will run him through!”

She chuckled, “What about all the women looking at you?”

He sank to his knees and scowled up at her, “I care nothing for them.”

She smiled down at him, “And I care nothing for all those men.”

Jon went beneath her skirt, “Good! Then let me remind you why that is.”

He was about to pull down her knickers and sink his mouth into her cunt, when a knock came from the door.

“Fuck!” He stood up and they frantically put themselves to rights. Harry’s neck and chest were red, as he’d thought, and he winced. “Your neck.” She ran a hand down her skin and the marks disappeared. He let out a breath of relief, “Your magic is so very useful.” He whispered and then they finally approached the door and opened it.

King Robert was standing behind it, Lord Stark at his back, along with Ser Barristan, and Jon felt the blood leave his face. “Your Grace. Lord Stark.”

Harry pushed past him and Jon resisted the urge to cling to her like a child, “Father, is something the matter?”

The king’s stony face broke and he looked terribly amused. “The next time you try to hide away, daughter, do remember the many guards outside the door rather give you away.”

Jon exchanged an embarrassed look with Harry, as they both noticed Clegane, Ser Balon and more men guarding the nook outside the door.

“Ah, yes.” Harry cleared her throat, “We were just taking a moment away from the crowd.”

The king started chuckling until his laughter turned into a guffaw, “Just know that I expect grandchildren soon, girl.”

Jon felt a blush crawl up his face and saw Harry was no better for once.

Lord Stark shook his head, “Go back to the feast, both of you. No more sneaking out.”

They slunk past their fathers like guilty children and heard the king exclaim as they left, “Let them be, Ned! Think of the grandchildren!”

They escaped as quickly as they could after that, feeling terribly embarrassed.

—

Bonus Scene: Robb Stark

Robb read the scroll for the thousandth time. The words had not changed.

He put it away in his pocket and went back to striking the dummy with his tourney sword. There was no technique to it, just hard strikes to tire him out. He needed to calm his mind to hopefully make sense of his tangled feelings.

His brother had married his princess.

His brother was not his brother at all, but his cousin. His cousin who had hatched dragons and nearly lost his head for it.

He threw down his sword and dropped down to sit on a nearby bench. Who was he trying to fool? Jon would always be his brother, no matter his parents. But that didn’t change the fact that he was furious with him.

Harry was supposed to be his wife, to be his Lady of Winterfell. Hadn’t he already envisioned their future together multiple times, and all the places he’d show her? The Wolfswood, and Wintertown’s markets, and all his favorite spots. How many times had he imagined their wedding and finally kissing her lips? Too many to count.

None of it would come to pass now. And yet, if Jon hadn’t married Harry, he’d be dead. He could never wish his brother dead. And so he had to accept losing his future wife.

Robb groaned, leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. At least he’d moved past the bitter tears he’d shed in the beginning. He’d get over this, too, if it meant his family remained whole.

He laughed bitterly to realize that for the first time in his life, it was him looking enviously at his brother’s good fortune. Their roles had reversed.

He’d always known Jon resented being a bastard, and had not blamed him at all. Not with the way his mother would treat him. And yet, now that he knew what it felt like to be on the losing side, he couldn’t help but admire his brother all the more for his good heart.

How had Jon not hated him, if this was what it felt like to jealously want something you could not have? His green-eyed princess was forever lost to him now. He swallowed around his tight throat.

It didn’t help that ever since the news came, his mother had been in a right fury. Mostly at his father, thank the gods, and not Jon so much. Or not as much as he’d feared. His father had kept the secret too well, it seemed.

At least she no longer feared an usurpation. Why would Jon want Winterfell when he was likely getting all seven kingdoms? He ran a hand over his hair and sighed.

Robb stood and picked the sword back up. Hopefully by the time they met again, he’d be over his heartbreak.

Chapter Text

The morning after the feast, they broke their fast still bleary eyed.

“You know, we should probably join at least some of the family meals. I haven’t attended since our wedding.” Harry commented and held back a yawn. They hadn’t even done anything last night, too exhausted after the feast.

Jon nodded softly, “Of course, I appreciate you giving me time to acclimate, but we’ve hidden away long enough, I suppose. Only– I do enjoy this, too.” He reached for her free hand and laced their fingers together, still eating with the other hand.

Harry smiled almost shyly, “Me too. I like this. Maybe we could have only some meals with the family? Yours too, I know you’d join Lord Stark and your sisters sometimes.”

He smiled back at her, “I’d like that.”

She nodded, “And remember I’m taking tea with my cousin this afternoon. Would you like to come along?”

Jon shook his head, “You should have this time together, I can join you some other time.”

She nodded, “Shall we go to the yard this morning? We have really been remiss in many of our duties.”

Jon nodded and grimaced, “I don’t quite know what my duties are anymore.”

“That’s true. You’re no longer tasked with my protection as my sworn sword. You’re my husband, now.” She frowned in thought. “You’d usually help me with my– our holdings and duties. I own land and other holdings granted to me as a royal princess, but no castle, on the assumption that I would marry out. Something we can discuss with our fathers, I believe. For now, you might want to check the ledgers with our steward, so you know what falls to us.”

He nodded, pleased. “I can do that this afternoon while you’re away.”

A shriek from Jormungandr made her look at where the dragons were playfully wrestling and snapping at each other.

“Have you thought of any names for your dragon?” Harry asked curiously.

Jon shook his head, “No, I can’t think of anything.” He shrugged, “Maybe she could name herself. You said she’d be able to speak the snake tongue one day. Surely she’s clever enough to choose her own name.”

Harry agreed, “That’s true. She knows some words already. We’ll just wait, I suppose.”

—

Harry was happy to meet Shireen for tea. They sat together, in the private parlor Harry usually used for these occasions.

She’d ordered an assortment of sweets for her cousin, not knowing her preferences, and pushed a platter of cakes towards her, “These are my favorites. Do you like cakes, cousin?”

Shireen nodded shyly and took one, placing it on her plate, “Yes, thank you, princess.”

“Please call me Harry. Do you mind if I call you Shireen?”

Her cousin shook her head, “I don’t mind. I–” Shireen put her cup down, “I have to thank you, cousin, for your support all these years, and for the scar cream. Father told me how you worried for me and sought a way to bring me comfort. My scars used to be much bigger, but they’ve shrunk over the years, as the edges flaked away. The maester hopes they might continue to reduce in size. That is all thanks to you. So– so thank you.” Her courage seemed to desert her and she bowed her head, a blush creeping up her face.

Harry wanted to hug her, but that might have embarrassed her further, so instead she reached over for her hand and squeezed it tightly.

“I am only glad to have brought you some comfort, Shireen. We’re family. I will always try to help you.”

Her cousin looked at her with bright eyes and shyly smiled back, “Me too, you will always have my support.”

Harry grinned at her, “Now, what else did the maester say? Maybe I could try to improve the recipe, now that I’ve seen you.”

Shireen shook her head, “Oh, no. That’s not necessary, it works better than anyone could have imagined already.”

She hummed in thought. It might be best to let it be. She could easily tell that greyscale was indeed lightly magical in nature. It was both a disease and a curse. Though not a particularly powerful one.

If she broke it, the scars might dissolve quicker, but it would call too much attention. Shireen’s case was already unique. She decided she would weaken the curse instead, carefully, while they spoke and then let the medicine do the rest.

“Very well, then I’ll keep sending you the cream as usual. But let us speak of lighter subjects, what do you enjoy doing, cousin? And what about your lessons? Any favorites?”

“Well, I like reading, and the sea. Father and Ser Davos have been teaching me a little of sailing–”

—

Several days later, they’d mostly found a new routine. Harry went back to her duties, only with Jon at her side, instead of at her back. He took over some of the work Harry did for the Hand or Tyrion, who still served as the Hand’s assistant, and the paperwork was now shared between them. It granted Harry more free time they could spend together instead.

He also started learning to navigate the court. His serious demeanor seemed to endear him to many nobles, the decent ones at least. And she learned he had no problem being coldly cutting with the rest, when he had to be. To her amusement, he gained a bit of a reputation for being aggressively protective of her, which she secretly enjoyed.

Breakfast and lunch were now often taken privately in their chambers, and dinner was spent with their families. Mostly with hers, in the dining hall of the royal wing, and about once a week, with Lord Stark.

They also went back to their training in the yard, where Jon no longer had to refrain from touching her, and often ended their bouts by pulling her into a kiss, to a lot of whistles from the other occupants of the yard.

As they used the more private yard for this, that was mostly either the Kingsguards, or members from the king’s, the hand’s and her uncles' households.

It was especially loud when it was the Northmen witnessing this. They were apparently deeply surprised but gleeful to see Jon act so, when he’d been known as rather sullen and withdrawn, and had never paid any attention to women.

One time, Jon had kissed her after they’d moved aside, done with their training, and one of the present Northmen, one Jory Cassel, had come along to gleefully clap him on the back.

“Princess, my lord.” He bowed and grinned at them, “Not something I ever thought I’d see our Jon do. Marriage seems to really agree with you, my lord.”

Jon looked embarrassed but he didn’t step away from her, and shook Jory’s hand. “It does, Jory.” A smile crossed her husband’s face and he gave her a warm look, “It just needed to be the right woman.”

Jory smiled at them both, “Well, congratulations on your marriage.” He bowed and went back to the rest of the men.

Jon turned back to look at her and they shared a laugh.

—

Every once in a while, Harry did drag Jon out to the main training courtyard, where the lords and knights gathered.

She encouraged him to spar against others, sparring against each other only at the end. This was because every time they sparred together there, it turned into a spectacle for the court, which seemed to love their flirting while exchanging blows.

On this particular morning, she conversed with Ser Robar Royce, while they watched Jon spar against his friend Ser Lucas Corbray. Those two were one of the few that had never leered at her when in training leathers, and so they were some of her favorite knights because of this.

She nudged Robar, “A gold dragon on Jon winning.”

He snorted, “I’d be a fool to take that bet, princess. Lucas is good, but you’ve trounced him before, and we’ve seen you two spar, you’re evenly matched now.”

She giggled, “Ah, Robar. You’re spoiling my fun. What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t bet on my husband winning?”

He chuckled, “I’m still not taking that bet.” He gave her a small grin, "Instead, I’ll bet on him winning the next bout between you.”

She gasped in mock offense, letting out a peal of laughter.

Jon defeated Lucas at that moment, and they both approached, “We could hear you, you know.” Jon grinned.

Lucas spoke up in his usual quiet voice, “I’ll take that bet, Robar.” They shook hands, sealing the bet.

Jon clapped Robar’s shoulder. “Good man. I’ll make sure you win that bet.” They all chuckled and Harry raised a brow.

“Oh, will you, husband?”

Jon leaned over her with a smirk, “Indeed, I will, my wife. I might only win half our bouts, but this shall be one of them.”

She snorted and took up her sword. “We shall see.”

They ignored the people rushing to gather around and started circling each other, exchanging testing blows. Robar was right, Jon had caught up to her now. They never knew who would win their bouts, but that just made it all the more exciting.

She landed a blow on his side and grinned at him, “Don’t worry, my darling. I’ll kiss it better.” The crowd tittered around them.

He grinned back and his eyes glittered, “I’ll hold you to that, princess.” When he landed a blow on her hip moments later, he added, “And I’ll make sure to inspect that bruise closely as well. A kiss might indeed help.”

They smirked at each other, and rushed forwards, fighting in earnest now. The blows came faster and faster, to the cheering of the crowd.

Harry cursed when she miscalculated and found Jon’s sword slapping hers away at a crucial moment, allowing him to push forward, in a move that would find a fist or a dagger rushing to her face or neck. Of course, Jon instead took hold of her leathers and pulled her forward into a kiss.

The thundering cheering of the crowd broke them apart, and she laughed to see Jon beaming down at her. She also saw Lucas slap a coin onto Robar’s hand from the corner of her eye.

Jon grinned, “It’s my win indeed.” and leaned down to kiss her again.

—

Harry and Jon were coming back from dinner and stepped into the sitting room of their chambers to find it already occupied.

There was a hooded man standing by the wall, waiting for them.

Jon stopped in alarm, hand going to the pommel of his sword, and Ghost bared his teeth, but Harry placed a hand on his arm. The dragons merely watched curiously. Hedwig ignored the whole scene, asleep on her perch.

“It’s alright. He’s here to see me.” She stepped forward and Jon followed close behind her, wary. Ghost went around and laid down by the wall, watching attentively.

The man pulled down his hood and Harry gave him a small smile.

“You look terrible. Did the trip not agree with you? You came back rather quickly.”

She saw Jon startle, “Lord Varys?”

Varys bowed to them and threw her a questioning look. “Princess, my lord.”

Harry spoke up, “You may speak freely, I hold no secrets from my husband.”

He nodded, “I must congratulate you on your wedding.” He threw a look to the dragons and seemed amused, “And everything else that came from that day, I suppose. You’ve done well, princess.”

Harry sighed and moved to pour a cup of wine and handed it to Varys, who took it gratefully and sipped at it, “I assure you it was not planned. Please take a seat.” Varys sat down on a chair and she looked to Jon, who looked terribly confused, “It’s alright, darling. Lord Varys works for me. And for the realm, of course.”

Jon nodded, “I see. Shall I leave you to talk?”

She shook her head, “No, you should hear this too.” He nodded and took a seat on the sofa. The dragons moved from the floor to his lap.

Harry sat beside him, and turned to Varys, who was watching them intently. “Well?”

Varys set his cup down, “It’s done.”

She took a breath, “The boy?”

“Dead.”

“Connington?”

“Dead.” Varys paused, then went on, “Illyrio Mopatis as well.”

She raised her brows, “And how did that happen?”

Varys elaborated, “The poisoning attempt came from him, I thought it best to avoid any further incidents. I was able to have one of my little birds add the note, to warn you. But it was too risky to let him live. I made the decision to be proactive.”

Harry sighed but Jon leaned forward, looking furious, “What do you mean?” He turned to her, “Are you saying you know who tried to have you poisoned? And the man is dead?” The dragons hissed from his lap, unsettled.

Harry reached for his hand, “Yes.” She hesitated but went on, “There was a plot in Essos, to raise a Blackfyre boy and have him take the throne, pretending to be Rhaegar’s son, Aegon. Jon Connington was helping him.”

Jon frowned darkly, “And he’s dead?”

Varys spoke up, “Yes.”

Jon scowled, “Good.” He took a breath, “And how was this Illyrio Mopatis involved? Why did he try to have you killed?”

Harry squeezed his hand, “Because I was their biggest threat. He was the boy’s real father, the mother was a Blackfyre, and Varys’ sister.”

Jon looked shocked and turned to look at Varys, glaring at him, “And were you involved?”

Varys was wary behind his calm mask, she could tell.

“I have been loyal to the princess since the first attempt, two years ago.”

Jon leaned forward, menacingly, “And before that?” The dragons moved out of his lap and perched along the back of the sofa, watching intently. Harry saw Ghost creep along the wall and sit out of Vary’s line of sight, ready to pounce.

Harry scooted closer and took his arm, “Jon. Calm down. He’s loyal to me. He’s under a magical oath, it binds him so tightly that even contemplating betraying me would kill him.”

Jon turned to scowl at her. “So he was involved. Was he behind the first attempt? Why is he alive?”

“He was. I let him live because I looked into his mind and saw a genuine desire to improve the lives of the people. He begged to serve me when I went to take his life for his part in the assassination attempt, and I accepted. But I took precautions. I promise.” She leaned her head against his shoulder and felt him slowly uncoil.

Varys truly wasn’t a threat, he was under a powerful magical vow. There were no loopholes, no way to wriggle out of it. It was even better than the Imperious, in a way, because it kept his wits intact. She would have never contemplated doing something like this, and yet killing him had seemed like such a waste.

With time, Varys’ reluctant loyalty had even turned sincere, once he saw the way she worked from the shadows to improve the system and the way the people lived. Even as afraid as he was of magic. They’d been working closely ever since. Even against his nephew.

Harry sighed to herself. Sometimes she felt like she was turning more and more into Dumbledore. She even had her own turned spy working for her under an unbreakable vow. She understood the old wizard more each year, it made her uncomfortable on some level. And yet what else could she do?

Jon sighed and turned to cup her face and kiss her forehead, then nodded slowly and leaned back. He looked at Varys, “I trust my wife and her magic, but just know that I will be watching you. I will not allow any threat to her.”

Varys looked approving, “That’s good.” Then turned very serious, “I hope you understand, my lord, that you’re her weak spot. She is no mere woodswitch, she is much more than that, and you’re one of the few ways she can be hurt, so take care. You must be her shield and not a dagger used against her.”

Jon frowned but nodded in acceptance, “I will be her shield. Always.”

Varys nodded firmly, “Good.” and turned back to her, “Now, there’s more.” He paused, “Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen are dead too.”

Harry felt shock cross her face, “What? How? I thought they were with her Dothraki husband. I ordered nothing done against them.” She frowned.

Varys went on, “It wasn’t us at all. Viserys was killed by the khal for threatening her and their unborn child some moons back. And just recently, she lost her child and her husband, and she stepped onto their burning pyre and perished alongside them.” He looked uncertain for a moment, “I received reports that she burned a witch in the pyre as well, and placed the petrified dragon eggs in the flames. It’s been said she was attempting some kind of dark blood magic, but it failed, or turned against her, and she burned.”

Harry rubbed her forehead, “When was this?”

“The day of the red comet. The same day your dragons hatched and you were married.”

Jon wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “Is it significant? That it happened the same day?”

She leaned against him and frowned in thought, “It might.” She grimaced, “This has the feeling of prophecy, or fate. I don’t like it at all.”

Varys stood, “There’s this, too.” He approached a wrapped bundle on the table and brought it over, passing it to her hands.

Harry unwrapped it and a sword was revealed.

“Blackfyre.” She gasped.

Varys nodded, “I found it on Mopatis’s manse. I don’t know why it was there. It was supposed to be held by the Golden Company, and yet here it is. I thought you might find a use for it.”

Harry looked the sword over, and knew it was not meant for her. “Thank you, Lord Varys.”

The spymaster bowed deeply, “I am ever at your service, princess.” He looked between them, “I shall leave you.” and made his way to the door, leaving as inconspicuously as he’d arrived.

She stood and offered the sword to Jon, “Take it. It’s meant for you, I can tell.”

Jon startled and stood, “What? Shouldn’t it go to the king?”

Harry shook her head, “My father wouldn’t want a Targaryen blade, and he doesn’t favor the sword. Try it, if it feels right, we can speak to my father if you like, but I know it’s meant for you.”

He still hesitated, “You could wield it.”

“It’s too long for me. Try it, Jon.”

Her husband finally reached for the pommel and unsheathed the sword. It fit perfectly in his hands, she could tell. It was a hand-and-a-half longsword, and was made of Valyrian steel.

Jon grinned at her, “It’s a bastard sword.” They giggled together at that, and he smiled at the sword, “Fitting, I suppose.”

—

They went looking for her father the next day. She warned Jon not to mention the Blackfyre boy, as her father didn’t know about that part. There was no point in enraging him with the news when she’d already taken care of dismantling the plot.

The king was due his weekly talk to the Lord Hand, to discuss the state of the kingdoms, and she knew he’d appreciate an interruption. So they approached the door of the king’s office around the time when they should have been nearly done.

Jon walked alongside her, carrying Blackfyre tightly wrapped, to keep it hidden. Sandor and Ser Balon were trailing them, as always. The dragons had stayed behind in their rooms, they were growing quickly and carrying them around on their shoulders was no longer feasible.

She smiled at Ser Barristan, guarding the door, “Good morning, Ser Barristan, is my father still with Lord Stark?”

The old knight smiled at them very warmly, “He is, princess. Shall I see if he’ll receive you?” They both knew he would, but protocol had to be adhered to.

“Please.”

The knight knocked on the door and then moved inside to announce them. They were then ushered in, and Ser Barristan closed the door behind them.

The king was looking out the window, half bored, and Lord Stark sat by the desk, leafing through a pile of papers. Her father turned to them when they entered and beamed.

“Daughter! Have you come to rescue me from Ned?” Lord Stark sighed to himself and she could see Jon hold back a smile.

She snorted, “No, but I have news, and then something you should see.”

The king raised his brows and sat behind the desk, “Well, go on then.” He gestured for them to sit, and they both took chairs next to Lord Stark, who looked curious.

She took a breath, “First of all, Varys came back last night and delivered his report.”

Her father’s face darkened. “And? Was his trip successful? What did he find?”

She nodded, “Yes, the man behind the poisoning attempt is dead, one Illyrio Mopatis of Pentos.”

Her father cheered and smacked his fist against the desk, “Good, good!”

Even Lord Stark looked relieved and asked, “Do we know why he sought to remove you?”

She exchanged a look with Jon and turned back to their fathers, “Yes, he was a Targaryen supporter.” She held up a hand before her father could explode, “Both Viserys and Daenerys are dead, Father. They’re both gone.”

Both the king and Lord Stark looked shocked, the lord recovered faster, “What happened?”

“Viserys apparently threatened Daenerys and her unborn child, and was killed by her husband. This happened a few moons ago it seems, but more recently, Daenerys gave birth to a stillborn child at the same time as her husband perished. There was a pyre for both of them, and she stepped into the flames.” Harry said, feeling rather sad for the girl.

Lord Stark seemed to share her sentiment, “That poor child.”

Harry nodded, “That was a sad fate. And I do feel sorry for her.”

Her father, however, was looking at Jon. “And you boy? Do you mourn?”

“Your Grace!” Lord Stark frowned at him.

Jon looked calm, however, “I never knew her.” He paused in thought, “I understand she was my aunt, but there was no bond. And Viserys was rather mad, from what I’ve heard. I don’t know that I would have ever found anything in common with them, had things been different.” He met the king’s eyes. “Regardless, their existence meant someone wanted to kill my wife to make way for them. It might be shameful of me, but I cannot help but be grateful they’re gone.”

Harry reached for his hand and he laced their fingers together. Her father looked approving, while Lord Stark looked grim but seemed to understand.

“I don’t think anyone could blame you for that, Jon. It is only right that you put your family first.” Lord Stark looked sympathetic.

Jon nodded, “Yes, my family. That’s just it. They were kin but not family. My family are the Starks and the Baratheons, and my family comes first.” He smiled warmly at Harry and she felt a soft smile cross her face.

Her father snorted, “If you’re going to be making moon eyes at each other, you can do it elsewhere.”

Harry burst into laughter, and Jon chuckled, “One more thing, Father.” She took the wrapped sword from Jon and laid it on the desk. “Lord Varys brought this back, and I want Jon to have it.”

She unwrapped the sword and saw her father’s eyes almost pop out of his head, so surprised was he. Lord Stark was actually gaping at the sword. She exchanged a look with Jon and they both held back their laughter.

“Is that Blackfyre?” Her father reached for the sword and unsheathed it, admiring the blade. “It is!” He laid it down on the desk, “Varys did good with this.” He turned sharp eyes to her and then to Jon, “And you want it for the boy? Too big for you, I suppose.” He stared down at the blade, deep in thought, then stood abruptly and sheathed the blade. He picked it up and thrust it towards Jon, “Then take it, boy. And use it to protect our family, do you hear? If you take this, use it to guard your wife and your children. The Starks and the Baratheons, as you said. Will you do this?”

Jon rose and bowed deeply to her father, accepting the sword, “I accept. I will guard them with my life.” and sat back down, looking pleased.

Her father nodded and sank back into his chair with a sigh, “Now, please tell me that’s everything.”

Harry tilted her head, “Well, I also wanted to ask you what you mean for our future, now that I’m not marrying out. Are we getting a castle?” Her father exchanged a significant look with Lord Stark and she looked at them suspiciously. “You have discussed this, then.”

Lord Stark nodded slowly, “We have, yes.”

Her father grunted, “We’ll announce it during your name day feast. It’s fast approaching, and we’ll have decided by then. Actually, keep the sword hidden until then. So we can officially grant it to you.” He nodded to Jon, who agreed and wrapped the sword back up.

Harry nodded to her father. “Very well. Then we shall leave you.” She came around the desk and kissed her father’s cheek, “Thank you, Father. We shall see you at dinner.”

Jon stood and they both bowed and stepped out the door. He reached for her hand and held it as they walked along the keep.

—

Bonus Scene: Varys

It was good when the gods smiled upon you. A dragon would now guard the princess. Three, if one counted the boy and his dragon, he tittered to himself.

To think there’d once been a time when he’d meant to remove the princess from the board. He shook his head. What hubris. Raising a boy to hopefully be a good king did not compare to a known heir that has already proven herself.

He saw the wisdom of his choice every day, when he walked through the city and saw the decreasing filth, the many new businesses owned by the crown and their many new employees who could now afford to eat; the well managed orphanages, and the clean water pouring from the fountains in the city.

He’d made sure there were whispers it was all thanks to the princess, of course. The people had to love her, and they did, with a devotion he was certain the princess was not aware of.

The comparison with even just a few years ago was staggering.

And all of it at the discretion of a mere princess. What heights could she reach once she was queen? It was only a matter of time until she was named heir now, with two dragons and a Targaryen husband.

And what a surprise the boy had been. Ned Stark had really fooled them all. Even he’d never suspected the plot.

Now Daenerys and Viserys had also perished, there were no other contenders for the throne. What a stroke of luck that had been. He’d never received a whisper of madness from the girl. And yet what else could it be that drove her to step into the flames?

Varys shook his head. It only benefitted them. The princess would ascend the throne uncontested. Even her brother would happily support her claim. And good thing, too. As poor Tommen Waters had no real blood claim.

He reached the exit of the passage and emerged into the city, putting away the token that allowed him the use of the tunnels, now magically guarded. He adopted a slight hunch and a limp to go with his disguise and made his wandering way through the streets.

He dropped gracelessly on a fountain’s edge and pretended to be occupied drinking the clear running water, watching a woman and her children do the same.

The woman guided a child’s hands to catch the water and bring it to his lips, “There you go, the water’s clean, don’t worry, my boy.”

The older boy giggled, “T’is now, there was no water b’fore, was there, Ma?”

The woman took their hands and they began walking away, “So there wasn’t, but the princess got the fountains built, the Seven bless her–”

Varys lumbered away, satisfied.

Chapter Text

It was like Varys’ arrival had opened the floodgates. The Tyrells had arrived in King's Landing, and her grandfather would be next, she knew. Harry grimaced to herself.

They met Lady Olenna, Lady Margaery and Lord Willas Tyrell for tea, soon after their arrival.

—

Jon saw Lady Margaery run her fingertips over Harry’s hand and felt the sudden need to stab her questing hand with his fork. Luckily, Harry deftly avoided her touch and raised an eyebrow, mirth in her eyes.

He realized the lady was not trying to seduce him but both of them, and grit his teeth in jealous fury. He felt himself glare quite fiercely at her and distantly heard Lady Olenna snort.

“I think you had better stop trying, my dear. Before this one jumps over the table and throttles you.”

Harry turned to look at him and chuckled, reaching over for his hand and removing the fork from his grip, putting it down on the table and lacing her fingers through his.

Jon gripped her hand tightly and took a deep breath. He turned his attention back to the Tyrells and saw Lady Olenna looking thoughtful, while Lady Margaery and Lord Willas looked almost wistful.

Harry sipped her tea with her free hand, “What exactly were you trying to achieve?”

Lady Olenna spoke up, “Well, you have to admit rumours about legendary romances are rarely accurate. I can’t believe the love ballads are actually true.”

Harry snorted, “There’s love ballads already?”

Jon raised his eyebrows incredulously.

Lady Margaery grinned cheerily, “Oh, yes, The Wolf and the Doe, and The Princess and the Hidden Dragon.”

Harry sighed and Jon held back the urge to cover his face with his hand.

“Of course there are.” He grumbled.

Harry waved that away, “Never mind that. We both know you’re trying to distract us. So, what are your aims here? Surely you must have heard already that any seduction was likely to fail, whether you believed it or not. So why try?” Harry tilted her head, “I can only assume you were trying to test us.”

The old lady pursed her lips, “Clever.” Then she sighed, “You would have done well as my grandson’s wife.”

Lord Willas blushed and hissed, “Grandmother!”

Jon glared at the old woman and she glared back, “Oh, don’t give me that look, boy. Your wife has a brain in her head, do you know how rare that is? How many twittering birds I’ve had to deal with?” She shook her head, “But what’s done is done. So, yes. We were testing you. Can you blame us? Do you know how long Loras has been singing your praises?” She threw a look to Jon, and then to the dragons sleeping on the rug. “I suppose you found the one boy we couldn’t compete with.”

Lady Margaery leaned forward, “We truly didn’t mean any harm.” She said earnestly.

Jon frowned, “How is it not harmful when you’re trying to seduce my wife?” He grit his teeth, “I don’t share. And neither does she.”

That made the lady smile at him, “Are all northerners like you, Lord Jon?”

That made him blink and he saw Harry smile from the corner of his eye. She responded in his stead, “No, but I think I know why you’re asking, my lady. So I will tell you this, Robb Stark is a good man. Better than most. But if you wish to charm a Northman, you’ll have to set aside your games, it is honesty they value.”

The lady looked surprised and then grateful, “Thank you. I– I’m glad to hear that.” She hesitated and exchanged a look with her grandmother, “We’re planning to make an offer to Lord Stark, as you can already guess. Though we wanted to take your measure first.”

Lord Willas sighed, “What my sister means is that we were hoping for a clue on what Lord Robb might be like, with the assumption that having been raised as brothers you would hold similar values.”

Jon nodded and felt his frown lighten, “Family is important to us. Robb would treat any wife of his well, but if you wish for more–” He looked to his own wife and ran his thumb over her knuckles, “–then my wife is right. Honesty is your best recourse to win his heart.”

Lady Margaery nodded thoughtfully and smiled softly at them, “Thank you both, for your kind words. I will heed them. And in the interest of honesty, I do apologize. I shouldn’t have tried to win your regard in that way. Anyone can see you love each other dearly. I do confess to feeling envious. I hope to find the same happiness in my own marriage.” The wistfulness in her face was now obvious and she sighed softly. Her brother reached out to squeeze her shoulder for a moment.

Lady Olenna spoke up, rolling her eyes, “Yes, yes. Young love and all that. You’ll get your moment, girl.”

—

When the Tyrells finally left, Harry asked the servants to give them a few moments and locked the door. Jon saw her make a gesture with her hand, and so assumed she’d also spelled the door closed. The dragons flew out the window, back to their rooms and the balcony there, he could tell. So she must have sent Jor away. Then she approached and laid her hands on his chest.

“Will you tell me now, what’s been bothering you so?”

Jon laid his brow against hers and sighed, “Willas Tyrell was one of the likely contenders for your hand, I knew that already. And yet, meeting him and knowing you might have considered him.” He grit his teeth and his eyes flashed, “It makes me terribly jealous to think of any man touching you. If he’d tried to seduce you, the way the lady did, I don’t know what I might have done, especially if you had allowed his touch.” He bared his teeth just to imagine.

Harry snorted, “Darling, if you ever touched another woman, I would kill her, and I don’t quite know what I’d do to you, but you’d certainly never get to touch me again. I promise you that.”

Was it very strange that he found the savage grin and the dangerous glint in her eye so very arousing?

He felt a smile pull at his lips, “My love, that is not something you need to worry about.” He tilted his head, and grinned wolfishly, “And should you touch another man, I’ll make him an eunuch and cut off his hands before I take his life.”

She took a couple steps back, eyes intense, a smirk tugging at her lips, “And me? What would you do to me?” She ran a hand slowly from her neck to her breasts and Jon stalked forward and licked a stripe along the same path her fingers had taken, “I’d have to remind you why I should be the only man you ever touch, thoroughly. Until the lesson stuck.”

He gripped her hips and pulled her forward against him, letting her feel his hardness against her body, and felt her breathing speed up. He attacked her mouth with all the ferociousness he could feel running through his veins and felt her respond the same way.

He groaned against her lips and started frantically pulling up her skirts. She helpfully held them up while he sneaked a hand into her knickers and sank a finger inside her. He started pumping it harshly, and she moaned throatily against his mouth. He broke the kiss, out of breath, and started raining wet kisses down her neck, adding a second finger and rubbing at her nub.

Harry clung to his shoulders, panting, and still holding her dress up. Jon was so hard he felt he might come in his trousers if he didn’t get inside her right that moment. So he removed his hand and turned her around. She gamely bent over the table. He lifted the back of her skirt and pulled down her knickers impatiently.

He unlaced his trousers and almost tore the laces in his rush. When he finally sank inside her, he let out a guttural groan and started a harsh pace, gripping her hips firmly, possessively.

Harry was leaning her head against her arms and whining softly. He palmed her arse with relish and looked down at where his cock was disappearing into her cunt and the sight almost undid him.

He leaned over his wife, draping himself over her back and moved her hair away so he could kiss and lick along her shoulder and the back of her neck, tasting her skin.

He whispered in her ear, “You feel so very good, wife. So very good. And you’re all mine.” He moaned softly and snapped his hips to hear her whine.

“Jon.” Her voice was breathy and the sound of her moaning his name like that went straight to his cock.

“Fuck.” He increased his pace and brought a hand around to rub her nub. She jerked and in mere moments had to cover her mouth to muffle her scream as she came, making her spasm and tighten around him.

“Harry.” He moaned into her ear and felt a wave of pleasure crash against him and sweep him away.

When he came to, he was still on top of her, half laying on the table. The cups had spilled, and he realized they must have been shaking the table quite badly. It’d even moved along the floor, heavy as it was.

He started kissing his wife’s face, which was turned to the side, cheek against the tabletop. “I’m yours, and you’re mine. And no others. I will keep my vows, wife.” His voice was hoarse and he felt shaky. That had been a powerful peak, for both of them, he felt.

She hummed, “I will also keep my vows, husband.” She raised her head and looked around. “Though I feel we’ve made quite the mess.”

He chuckled against her skin and finally lifted himself up from where he was draped over her back. He slipped out of her and tucked himself away, then helped her up. Her legs were shaky, which made him feel terribly smug.

He might have been too obvious about that, because she threw him an annoyed look, though he could see a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

He looked for a clean rag to help her clean up but couldn’t find any, so he simply crouched, kissed her thighs and pulled her knickers up before standing, “Sorry, love. We’ll have to go back to our rooms to clean up properly.”

Her skirts fell back down around her legs and she wrapped her arms around his neck. He leaned down to kiss her softly, in contrast to the hard coupling they’d just had.

She hummed against his lips, “That’s alright, darling. I don’t mind.” and kissed his nose, grinning at him.

Jon felt his heart overflow from his love for her and pulled her closer, wrapping his arms more tightly around her. “I love you. I will always love you.”

A brilliant smile bloomed on her face, “I love you, too. Always.” and she pulled him down to a kiss.

—

Her grandfather arrived in King’s Landing like a storm. They all knew he was coming and dreaded it, especially her Uncle Tyrion. Harry was more concerned about whether her mother had accompanied him.

He came to see her soon after his arrival. She’d been expecting such, so she arranged for refreshments to be brought to the table in the balcony of their chambers. She sat there with Jon, watching the dragons fly about, showing off for the people that could see them from other parts of the keep, and would point to them in amazement.

The dragons were already the size of dogs, and it’d only been two moons since their hatching. There was no carrying them around on their shoulders anymore. They could still lift them and carry them in arms with some effort, but at the rate they were growing, that would also be gone very shortly.

When her grandfather was announced as waiting at the door, Harry gave leave for him to enter and they stood to receive him. Jon looked vaguely nervous but quickly hid that away behind his northern mask of stoicism.

Lord Tywin focused on them the moment he stepped onto the balcony and Harry could see him analyze them. Especially Jon, who was unknown to him.

“Grandfather. Welcome.” She curtsied lightly, and to her surprise, her grandfather approached to lightly kiss her cheek.

“Granddaughter.” He must have been absolutely overcome with affection for such a thing. Or gone mad. She kept her shock off her face but she very much felt it.

She shook herself, “This is my husband, Jon Baratheon.”

He shook Jon’s hand and she could see them assess each other.

“Lord Tywin.”

“Jon Baratheon, is it? Or Stark, or Targaryen.” He smirked and turned to her, “Clever of you.”

She gestured for them to sit, and a servant approached to offer wine to her grandfather. Harry and Jon were already drinking tea, though depending on how the conversation went, they might end up reaching for the wine as well.

“I proposed we marry, but it was Jon’s idea to join our house instead.” She sipped her tea.

“Then it was clever of you both. Now where are the famous creatures?”

Harry looked up and called Jor to her. A screech announced his arrival, Jon’s dragon close on his heels. They both landed lightly and trotted over. Jor looked at her grandfather curiously but otherwise ignored him and leaned up over her chair.

Harry ran a hand over his head and neck and Jor nuzzled against her.

‘Treat? Is there meat? Or cake?’

Harry chuckled and slipped him a small piece of cake, “No more than that, Jor.”

The black dragon had gone to lay down next to Jon, and she saw him slip her something from his plate too.

She turned back to her grandfather and saw the way his eyes glittered in triumph. She was half afraid to know what might be going through his mind.

He shook his head, “To think that after almost two hundred years, dragons are back in the world, and one of the dragon riders is half Lannister.” Very slowly, a true smile crept over his face and Harry had to stop herself from gaping at him.

She’d never seen her grandfather smile before. Smirk, yes, but never a true smile. The world must have gone mad.

Jon spoke up, “We’re not dragon riders quite yet.”

Lord Tywin waved that away, “Soon enough. These dragons don’t look stunted like the last dragons after the Dance. Even if they have four legs.”

Jormungandr tilted his head and clambered up onto her lap, he was getting heavy, ‘Who is this?’

Harry petted along his side and spoke to him, “This is my grandfather, Jor. My mother’s father.” She explained, while pretending he hadn’t spoken. They were quite practiced at that by now.

Jor looked up at her and then to her grandfather, and very carefully nodded his head in greeting.

Her grandfather’s eyebrows climbed higher, “Fascinating. They’re smart beasts, then?”

She could feel Jor being half offended at being called a beast and ran a hand along his back to soothe him. “They are very smart.”

He nodded and drank his wine in silence, still watching them intently. She and Jon exchanged a look and reached for their tea. Jormungandr jumped off and went to join the other dragon, curled up to the side.

Harry sipped at her cup and put it down, “Grandfather, did my mother join you? Or my uncle?”

Lord Tywin’s face did not change, and yet she felt he was displeased.

“Your mother refused to leave the Rock, and Jaime, as always, stayed clinging to her skirts.” He paused, and then went on, bitterly, “My children are ever a disappointment.” He drained his cup, “It will fall to my grandchildren to continue my legacy.” A servant approached to refill his cup.

There was also her Uncle Tyrion, but such a reminder would not be well received, and she would not want to make things more difficult for Tyrion.

She sighed instead, “How is Mother?”

“Still mourning her lost son, instead of remembering she still has three living children.”

Jon reached for her hand and held it, trying to comfort her, but she only felt relief.

Her grandfather watched this closely, “You will need to be each other’s strength. You cannot afford to be weak, now more than ever, and your mother is weak. So worry not, I’ll keep her at Casterly Rock, where she cannot get in too much trouble.”

She nodded softly, “Yes, that might be best.”

Her grandfather set his cup down firmly and stood, “If the king doesn’t make you heir to the throne, which I doubt very much, then I’m giving you the Rock.”

Harry blinked rapidly, “I beg your pardon?” and saw Jon stiffen next to her.

“If you’re not to be queen, then you’ll be my heir. Otherwise, then your brother will do, I suppose. So prepare yourself.”

They stood slowly, still in shock and he came over to kiss her cheek and pat Jon on the back, and then went on his merry way, leaving them still flabbergasted.

They turned to look at each other, “Oh, gods.” She said, horrified.

Jon grimaced, “Must we?”

“Which option? Casterly Rock or the throne?” She grimaced back.

“Either, both.” He sighed tiredly and pulled her into his arms.

“I don’t think we can get out of both, my love.” She laid her head on his shoulder and groaned. He groaned back.

—

The weirwood sapling had finally arrived from the North. It was speedily planted in the Godswood of the Red Keep and it seemed to take well enough. Only it had no face, and yet the Old Gods’ presence could already be felt.

It was enough for Jon to wish to marry again in the Northern way. So they had a small, private ceremony one night, without involving the court.

They wore their wedding cloaks once again, and met King Robert, Renly, Stannis, Shireen, Tommen, Myrcella, Tyrion, Lord Tywin, Kevan Lannister, Lord Stark, Sansa, Arya and some other members of the various households in the Godswood, including Ser Davos and Jory Cassel.

Even with just their various family members there were a great deal of people in attendance.

The dragons perched nearby, as did Hedwig, and Ghost sat with the Stark girls’ direwolves by the guests.

Her father brought her forward while Jon waited by the Heart Tree, with all the guests arranged around them.

Jon called out, “Who comes before the gods?"

King Robert answered, “Princess Hariel of House Baratheon comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?”

“Jon Stark. I claim her. Who gives her?”

“King Robert Baratheon, her father.” He turned to her, “Will you take this man?”

She could feel the giddy smile on her face, “I take this man.” She stepped forward to take Jon’s hand and they smiled warmly at each other.

They kneeled before the tree, and prayed for a few moments, then they stood and her father took off her cloak as Jon covered her shoulders with his own. Then they repeated the double cloaking, with her taking the Baratheon cloak and placing it over Jon’s shoulders.

Then Jon cupped her face and brought her forward into a kiss, to the cheers of their families.

And it was done. The ceremony had only taken a few short minutes, and they all made their way to a private feast in celebration.

—

Harry enjoyed this feast much better than their official wedding feast, as there was no one to avoid. They danced several dances and then switched partners. Harry danced with her father, her uncles, her brother and then with nearly every man in attendance. And Jon twirled both their sisters around the floor, and even Shireen, to her cousin’s shy pleasure.

They met again later, both laughing and out of breath. Jon swept her up into his arms and twirled around, while she held onto his shoulders and laughed. Then they kissed until they ran out of breath, ignoring the whistling and raucous calls of their family members.

They broke apart and Harry hid her blushing face against his shoulder, but then laughed it off.

Jon kissed her cheek, “I am so very happy.” He brushed his nose against hers when she leaned back to look at him and she felt herself positively melt.

“Me too.”

She could see Sansa, Arya, Shireen and Myrcella sitting together. Both Sansa and Myrcella were sighing wistfully while looking at them. Arya looked fairly revolted while Shireen had a small smile on her face.

Harry called Jon’s attention to them and he laughed, “I’m glad our families are getting along. Though I do wish my brothers were here.”

They made their way back to the table, ducking around the other guests.

“I’m sure we’ll visit at some point, or they might come south.”

He nodded, looking cheered, “That’s true.” They emptied their cups, thirsty after all the dancing. Then he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “Do you think we could sneak away and have another wedding night?”

She grinned at him gleefully, “Oh, I’m sure they’re expecting us to do exactly that.”

—

Bonus Scene: Olenna Tyrell

The princess and her husband were strolling through the gardens. Olenna watched from a balcony, leaning on the balustrade. Margaery, Willas and Loras spoke in low voices nearby.

She watched the boy pull the princess into a kiss and saw his hand creep down to her arse. “If that girl is not pregnant yet, I’ll eat my hat.”

Her granddaughter let out a choked giggle and approached with her brothers. “Grandmother! You’ll be heard!” She said teasingly.

Olenna rolled her eyes, “Do you think I’m the only one thinking such?” She nodded towards where a flock of useless twittering ladies were standing further down the path, watching the couple and giggling, looking delightedly scandalized. “Those two will have many children, mark my words.”

Her dear granddaughter looked at the still kissing couple with interest, “I’ve never seen a couple so taken with each other.” She fiddled with a ribbon on her sleeve, “Do you think Robb Stark will like me?”

Olenna threw her an incredulous look, “Of course he will. Why would he not?” It was unlike her granddaughter to be insecure.

Margaery bit her lip, “I heard he was quite taken with the princess.”

Olenna harrumphed, “So were you. You can bond over your mutual admiration of the girl and sigh over her together. It will give you something to talk about.” She smirked and her grandchildren laughed.

Loras leaned against the railing, “It’s a shame she won’t join the family, I would have liked to call her sister.” He smiled, “She calls me uncle, you know.” She rolled her eyes, they knew, he’d said so several times.

Willas tapped his cane, “It is a shame, but your closeness with her is a boon to us.”

His disinterest didn’t fool her. Olenna knew very well how disappointed Willas was about it. Especially once he met the princess and she paid no mind at all to his lame leg. Not once had she looked askance or looked at him with disdain, or worse, with pity.

She patted his arm, “Your turn will come, boy. We must make a move soon, now that the offer for Robb Stark has been made. Either Sansa Stark or Myrcella Baratheon for you, I think. The younger princess would be better, but she’s younger than the Stark girl.” She pursed her lips in consideration.

Willas looked surprised, “Even if Marge marries Robb Stark?”

“If they accept our offer, then we’ll try for Myrcella.” She ran calculations in her head. “It’s the best move we can make to get closer to the royal family in this generation. For the next, we shall try to secure a match with their heir. Perhaps one of your children, Margaery. Robb Stark and Jon Baratheon are close, by all accounts, they might be pleased to join their lines.”

“Yes, grandmother.” Her granddaughter looked pleased by that.

Olenna sighed, “Or they might choose to bring more Baratheon blood into their line instead. So we must make sure to secure Myrcella.” The dragons truly made scheming so much harder.

She turned back to the subject of their conversation and huffed in amusement when she saw they’d continued down the path, all while the boy kept an arm tight around the girl. “Possessive that one. He turns into a snarling wolf when anyone so much as looks at her.”

Margaery snorted delicately, “Or a roaring dragon.” She giggled. “I thought he would leap over the table, and I barely touched her hand and gave her a look.”

Olenna laughed, “I hadn’t had such an entertaining teatime in a while.” She smirked, “I heard a little rumour that they locked themselves in the room after we were gone. The table was left a mess, apparently. I think we all know what happened there.”

They all laughed.

“I don’t think you’ll need to eat your hat, grandmother.” Loras chuckled.

She nodded firmly, “And you’ll keep us appraised.” It was not a question.

Loras nodded, “Of course.”

Chapter Text

Jon ran into Ser Barristan one day while his wife was spending time with all their female family members in their chambers.

He had originally simply moved to the balcony and left the sitting room to the ladies, but then had thought it best to run away when the giggling turned too gleeful.

Ser Balon followed behind him while Clegane had stayed at their door, and he sighed to himself. It was so very strange having an assigned guard. Usually he could just pretend they were all for Harry, but wandering alone through Maegor’s Holdfast, he couldn’t trick himself into thinking that way.

Ghost trotted along next to him as well. A ruby set in silver glinted from his neck, tied to a leather strap, too loose to be called a collar. Only Jon and Harry knew that it was actually a protective amulet. The direwolf stopped every few steps to sniff at things and mostly wandered around in the same general direction. Jon made a mental note to let him out to hunt properly one of these days. All three direwolves would probably appreciate it.

He ran into Ser Barristan when the old knight was probably coming off his shift. Jon was leaning against the balustrade overlooking a small courtyard when the knight came up to him with a smile.

“Lord Baratheon.”

“Ser Barristan, please, it’s just Jon to you. Not long ago I was still your squire.” Jon gave him a small smile.

The knight nodded, looking pleased, and then spoke wryly, “You know, when you told me your lady love was too highborn for you, I didn’t quite realize what you meant.”

Jon pushed away the embarrassment, “Ah, well. I couldn’t exactly confess to being in love with the princess.”

Ser Barristan let out a startled laugh, “No, I suppose not.” His smile turned melancholy, “I am just glad to see you both so happy. And so grateful that things turned out the way they did.” He shook his head, “Who could have thought such a thing could happen? Not long ago I would have never contemplated His Grace would welcome a son of Rhaegar into his family and his House. And yet here you are.”

He suddenly looked very sad and grasped his shoulder, “I knew your father, you know. At the time, I thought him to be everything a prince should be, and yet the decisions he made at the end of his life put everything into question. Now that I’ve met you, and have had the privilege to teach you, I’m just glad to see the son has far surpassed the father.” He squeezed his shoulder and released him.

Jon felt tears sting his eyes but held them back, and swallowed roughly, “Thank you, Ser Barristan.”

“Of course, my boy. It is the privilege of the Kingsguard to guard the royal family. I am glad to see the next generation is so very worthy.”

The knight bowed and went on his way, nodding to Ser Balon as he passed him.

—

When Jon finally returned to their chambers, he was relieved to see his wife alone. He crept inside and looked around warily.

“Are the girls gone?”

Harry laughed at him, “Yes, my darling. The danger has passed.”

He took a relieved breath and moved over to his wife, laying his head on her lap and jostling Jormungandr next to her, who gave him an annoyed look.

He grinned at the dragon, “Sorry, Jor.”

The bond at the back of his mind came to life as his own dragon, watching from the rug, passed along Jor’s words, ‘How rude! But I forgive you, because I’m very nice like that.’

The pale dragon sniffed imperiously but settled back down, taking up half the sofa, and Jon muffled his laughter against his wife’s thighs. Harry chuckled above him and reached out to pat Jor, “You are very nice indeed, Jormungandr.”

The dragon nodded, ‘Yes, Fenrir says so, too.’

Jon saw Harry blink at him, “Fenrir?”

The black dragon stood and approached, ‘He means me.’

“What?” Jon sat up and reached out to pat her, “You’ve chosen a name?”

She nodded primly, ‘I have! Fenrir, so I can match Jormungandr.’

Jor jumped down and pounced on her, nuzzling close, ‘Yes, we match now! And she’s even the right colour too! Like in the stories!’

Harry looked confused, “But Fenrir was a black wolf, and you’re a dragon!”

Fenrir seemed to shrug daintily with her wings, ‘But he’s a wolf.’ She looked at Jon, ‘So it’s appropriate, I think.’

Harry gaped at them, but Jon smiled warmly and sat on the floor so he could hold Fenrir close and scratch at her scales the way she liked, “I think it’s a lovely name. And you should tell me all about those stories, as I don’t know them.”

Fenrir nodded, looking pleased, and looked at Harry expectantly.

Harry shook herself and looked chagrined, but nodded hurriedly, “Yes, of course it’s a lovely name. And you’re right, it does suit you, Fenrir.” The dragon laid back down next to Jor, looking satisfied.

Jon could tell Harry was still bewildered but was making an effort to support Fenrir. He held back a smile and threw her an amused look. She laughed and leaned down to pat both dragons.

She murmured, “I just don’t know how we’re going to explain their names.”

Jon shrugged and leaned his head against her knees, “No one has asked about Jor, we can just say the names came to us, or we read them somewhere perhaps.”

Harry nodded slowly, “That’s true.” She dropped a kiss on his head.

—

One morning, Harry woke up to Jon kissing her thighs. She hummed in pleasure and let her awareness turn towards the delicious feelings he evoked in her body, still half asleep. He nibbled on the soft skin on the inside of her thigh, and she noticed something odd in her awareness.

She suddenly sat up with a gasp, wide eyed.

Jon jumped and sat up as well, grabbing her shoulders, “Harry! What is it?”

She didn’t answer, concentrating her awareness inwards. Her hands slipped up to cover her belly and she burst into tears.

Jon looked incredibly alarmed, “Love? You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” He pulled her into his arms and she started laughing amidst her tears.

“Jon!” She took his hand and laid it over her belly, “I’m pregnant!”

His face went slack in shock and he stayed that way for several moments until he too started crying and laughing. He pushed her back so he could start kissing her belly.

“A baby! Our baby!” He crawled up and kissed her lips and then all over her face. Then he paused and looked into her eyes, looking overwhelmed, “Harry! I’m going to be a father!”

She stared back, wide eyed, “I’m going to be a mother! I don’t know how to be a mother!” Her own mother was a terrible example. How would she know what to do?

Jon kissed her lips softly, “You’re going to be a great mother.”

She smiled at him softly, throat tight, “And you’re going to be a great father.”

They kissed hungrily until Jon broke the kiss, “Wait, should you see a maester? Are you feeling well?” He looked worried, like he was about to jump off the bed and carry her off to a healer.

She giggled and wrapped her legs around him, keeping him in place. “I’m perfectly alright. I’ll call my healer, not the grand maester, but not until we finish what you started.” She grinned at him.

He laughed joyfully and returned to settling between her legs, eager to continue where he’d left off.

—

Healer Pavelo, originally from Braavos and in her employment for many years now, examined her that morning after breakfast.

After the examination, he asked her many questions in his usual straightforward manner and then sat back with a smile, “Well, princess. I am very certain you’re with child. A moon along I would say, perhaps a little longer, as you’ve only missed your moonblood once.” He beamed at them, “My deepest felicitations.”

Jon swept her up into a hug, kissed her brow and then proceeded to interrogate the healer on her health and all the things they needed to watch for. Harry sat back and felt a deep tenderness to see her husband’s worried frown and the close attention he was paying to the healer’s instructions.

“And we can still– Ah, when do we need to stop–” He paused, embarrassed, but the healer had no such compunctions.

“Ah, no need to stop copulating! So long as you’re careful of her belly once she starts showing there’s no need to refrain. Indeed, it might even help!” The healer cheerfully explained, and then he went on to elaborate on how some women had a greater appetite during pregnancy and completely ignored Jon’s embarrassed face and Harry’s gleeful enjoyment of his embarrassment.

After the healer left, Jon looked around at all their animal companions, the dragons, Ghost and Hedwig, and said very seriously, “We have to keep a close eye on Harry now, understand? One of you needs to be with her whenever we leave these rooms if I’m not there.”

They all looked back at him very seriously, though she wasn’t sure how much Ghost understood, but Hedwig hooted softly and the dragons nodded seriously.

Harry held back a smile through sheer force of will, “I’m sure that’s not necessary, love.”

Jon looked back at her with a frown, “Yes, it is. There’s been two attempts against your life already.” He raised a hand when she tried to interrupt, “I know that’s been taken care of, and you can look after yourself, but there’s two of you now. And it would make me feel better.”

She deflated at that. That was probably the only argument she couldn’t win against. She sighed in defeat, “Alright. But I’m not sure we want to share the news just yet, it’s still very early.”

Jon nodded in agreement, “We can keep it to ourselves for now.” Then he smiled in excitement and pulled her into his arms. He laid his brow against hers and kissed her cheek, “Our babe will be here in just a few moons.”

She smiled back, “Soon.” and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him down for a kiss.

—

Jon and Harry joined his father and sisters for dinner one night. Ghost, Nymeria, Lady and the dragons curled up together to the side.

“Have you received any news from Winterfell, Father?” Jon asked, while he added another serving to Harry’s plate, ignoring her annoyed look.

His father looked bemused, watching him push the plates closer to Harry, but Jon couldn’t help being constantly worried over her. He forced himself to stop and looked at his father expectantly.

Lord Stark shook himself and responded, “Yes, as a matter of fact I have, I received a raven just yesterday. Your brother has accepted the betrothal to Lady Margaery. Though where the wedding will take place is still under discussion. I want it to be in Winterfell, but the Tyrells want it to happen here, as there’s no proper Sept in Winterfell.”

Harry asked, “Are they marrying under both faiths, like we did?”

His father nodded, “Yes, I proposed they simply have a septon marry them before the Weirwood in Winterfell.”

Sansa cut in, “But they could marry in the Great Sept and then marry again in the Godswood in Winterfell.”

Arya rolled her eyes, bored with the conversation, but kept the peace.

Lord Stark nodded to his daughter, “That might be a good compromise.”

Jon added, “Our weddings were also at different times, as we had to wait for the Weirwood. It’s not a bad idea, if you really want it to happen in the North.”

Jon still felt guilty over having stolen Harry away from Robb. He knew it wasn’t so, and yet a part of him worried he’d hurt his brother, and hoped Robb wouldn’t hate him for it. He could only hope his brother found happiness with Lady Margaery.

—

Her name day feast found Harry feeling rather nervous. She was two months pregnant and felt perfectly alright. There were no obvious signs yet, aside from a vague nausea every now and then. Though she still despaired over their ages, she was just seventeen, and Jon would be eighteen in less than a moon. And yet there was nothing to be done about that.

The feast itself was much more contained and not so crowded as their wedding feast, thank the gods. So they didn’t feel so much like hunted prey.

The dragons were in attendance again, though in their own cordoned off space by the high table, instead of on the table itself, as they were much too large for that now. At three moons, they were the size of hounds, and too heavy to carry anymore, in another moon or two they’d be the size of ponies.

When the King rose for the announcement, Harry felt her stomach tighten into knots. Jon must have noticed because he reached for her hand under the table and laced their fingers together. She had the terrible feeling she knew what her father would say. Everyone probably knew.

King Robert rose and stood before the high table, looking out at the crowded hall. The people immediately quieted, looking eager.

“I’ve been hearing a lot of confusion over my heir. So let me make things clear.” Her father paused and looked over the crowd, “I declare my daughter, Hariel of House Baratheon as heir to the Iron Throne.”

The crowd exploded into whispers, and Robert gestured for both her and Jon to stand beside him. They approached, and Harry kept her face carefully neutral. The dragons rushed over to their sides, looking curious.

Her father then bid them kneel and they sank to their knees. A servant approached with two circlets in a velvet pillow, which her father placed on their heads.

“Rise, as Crown Princess Hariel and Prince Consort Jon of House Baratheon.” They both rose to their feet and their hands found each other and tangled together.

The crowd started cheering and clapping, with people banging on the tables and whistling. Harry smiled carefully and curtsied lightly to the crowd, while Jon gave a short bow beside her. There was no need for such, as they now outranked everyone there, aside from her father, but the gesture denoted respect for their subjects and couldn’t hurt at this point.

Then King Robert waved another servant forward, carrying another velvet pillow. The king took up the sword and displayed it for the crowd.

“The sword Blackfyre.” The nobles gasped and murmured, astounded. “I grant this sword to Prince Jon Baratheon, to guard his wife and my heir, and their line. Let this be the start of a new purpose for this blade.”

Her father held out the sword, “Use it well.”

And her husband stepped forward and bowed, accepting it. “I will, Your Grace.”

That finally ended the ceremony and they went back to their seats. Harry clung to Jon’s hand, still reeling from the weight of her new role.

‘Oh, gods. I knew it.’

She exchanged a look with Jon, and knew he was also barely holding back his apprehension.

—

Harry had to wait until the next day to question her father. She finally pounced during the family breakfast.

“Why Crown Princess?” She asked, half whining.

Her father snorted, “Because both Renly and Lord Tywin wanted to make you their heir, and the dragons need to stay with the crown.”

Jon almost choked on his food and coughed. He finally cleared his throat and asked, “Storm’s End, too?” He gave her a look, “We knew about Casterly Rock.”

King Robert drank from his goblet and nodded, looking around the table at her siblings.

“There was a long, loud discussion between the Hand, Lord Tywin, Renly, Stannis and I.” He sighed, “Tommen will take the Lannister name and inherit the Rock, and Shireen will stand as Renly’s heir, until he marries and sires his own heir, which will likely never happen. Stannis was pleased about that.” He snorted, “So that will leave Dragonstone back in the crown’s possession once my brother passes. You can choose to turn it into the heir’s seat again when the time comes, if you wish.” He leaned back in his chair, looking pleased, “I can finally leave it all officially to you. As my heir, you have the authority to rule in my name with my blessing, along with the Hand.”

Harry sighed deeply and turned to Jon, who reached over to squeeze her hand. “You’re not alone in this, wife.”

She felt a smile pull at her lips, “And thank the gods for that.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. Once she was queen, her husband would likely be named Lord Protector of the Realm as well, and would help her handle all military matters at the very least.

“What about Uncle Tyrion?” asked Tommen, “Shouldn’t the Rock go to him?” He looked nervous and Harry tried to smile at him comfortingly.

Robert shrugged, “Tywin refused to name him heir to the Westerlands.”

Myrcella added, thoughtfully, “He might be Lord Hand instead.”

Jon nodded at her sister, “My father will not wish to stay forever, Lord Tyrion would make a good Hand, from what I’ve heard.”

Harry nodded slowly, “That does tie things up neatly. It remains to be seen how Uncle Tyrion takes it, of course. He might not be pleased to lose the Rock, but the position of Hand might just be enough consolation.” She shrugged, and then had to lean over the table a moment, waiting for the sudden nausea to pass.

Jon immediately passed her a glass of water and rubbed her back. She drank slowly and willed her stomach to settle.

Her father looked alarmed, “Daughter? Shall I call the maester?”

She groaned, "Absolutely not, Pycelle is not touching me. And I’m fine, I just felt momentarily unwell.”

Jon leaned over to whisper in her ear, “You might as well tell them, the King will not let this go.”

She looked up and saw her father’s frown. No, he wouldn’t let it go. He also looked suspicious, so might as well.

“I’m perfectly well, Father. I’ve already seen my healer.” She bit her lip and took the plunge, “I’m with child.” Her father and siblings looked at her astounded, “I’m just two moons along, so it’s too early for any announcements.”

Her father then jumped to his feet with a shout, knocking his chair noisily to the floor, and rushed over to pull her from her chair and embrace her surprisingly gently, considering his enthusiasm. The guards had entered the room due to the noise, and she knew there was no way it would stay a secret.

“A grandchild!” He laughed loudly, “Wait until Ned hears about this! Ha! I told him!” He then grabbed Jon into a crushing embrace as well and smacked him loudly in the back, “Well done! Well done!” Jon looked surprised but laughed along with her father, while she tried to push back any embarrassment.

Her siblings ran over to embrace her, "Congratulations, sister!” The room turned really loud. Ser Barristan approached to congratulate them, Ser Balon and Clegane following behind.

Then her uncle Renly peeked into the room, Loras at his back, likely attracted by all the shouting. And she knew that was that, the whole city would know by the end of the day.

—

Jon looked around the room, feeling baffled to be here.

The king was laughing loudly, smacking his knee. Lord Stark was between Jon and the king, shaking his head but holding back a smile. Lords Renly and Stannis were seated together with Lord Tywin and his brother Kevan, speaking quietly. And Lord Tyrion was seated on Jon’s other side.

They were all drinking heavily. Jon had been dragged here, in celebration of his wife’s pregnancy. The king had wanted to take him to a tavern but everyone had shouted that down, and so all the men had gathered to drink together.

Lord Tyrion reached over to top up Jon’s cup, for the third time, “Drink up, boy!”

Jon scowled at him, “You’re going to get me drunk.”

Tyrion laughed, “That’s the point! Your wife is having a child. You need to celebrate!”

Jon grumbled and the king smacked his fist on the table, “That’s right! I’m getting a grandchild! My daughter is having a child!” The king was looking ruddy under his beard and he raised his cup, “To Harry!”

“To Harry!” The whole table emptied their cup and Jon followed along. Though he dreaded to imagine what he’d look like by the time the night was over.

—

Jon was smashed. That was very clear from the way he had to be helped to the bedroom by Ser Balon.

“Just lay him on the bed, Ser Balon, thank you very much for your assistance.” She set aside her book.

The knight poured her husband onto the mattress next to her and bowed, leaving the room and returning to his post guarding their door.

Jon blinked blearily and finally seemed to realize he was back in their rooms. “Harry! My love!” He clumsily scooted closer, leaning his head against her hip, where she was sitting up against the headboard, and threw an arm around her legs. “I love you, so very much! My darling wife, we’re married! And we’re having a baby!” He babblered, and sighed contentedly, nuzzling against her.

She tried to hold back a smile at his drunken rambling and failed, “I love you, too, my darling. And I see you had an eventful night.”

He frowned at that, and seemed to regain his wits a bit, “Yes, everyone kept refilling my cup. I think they meant to get me drunk.” He grumbled.

She laughed lightly, “And succeeded.”

He tried to frown but a smile won out. He stared at her for several moments, with a rather sappy expression and then suddenly he seemed rather sad.

“I imagine sometimes, what my life would have been like if we hadn’t met. It’s not a happy tale, what comes to mind.” His words were slightly slurred but perfectly understandable.

Harry ran her hand through his hair and scooted down, to bring her closer to his face. “Oh, Jon.”

She cupped his face and he kissed her palm.

Then he went on, “Lord Tyrion told me of the Night’s Watch, I imagined myself there and–” His eyes filled with tears. “I wonder if the version of me that actually went there ever even smiles. I bet he doesn’t know the meaning of the word. If I hadn’t known you or married you, and never known the joy of knowing my wife is carrying our child. I–” He cut off with a sob.

She crooned, “Oh, my darling. But you do smile every day, and here–” She grabbed his hand and laid it over the bump in her belly, “And here is our child.”

Jon sobbed drunkenly and laid a sloppy kiss on her lips, and then laid his head down over her belly and sniffled for a few moments.

When he was quiet for too long, she realized he had already fallen asleep and swallowed a giggle. It took some maneuvering to get him undressed and properly under the covers, but she managed. Magic was very useful like that.

She held him close and felt how he wrapped around her, even drunk and mostly asleep as he was, and felt her heart squeeze in her chest with her love for this ridiculous man.

—

Bonus Scene: Jon Arryn

Jon Arryn clapped heartily, “Well done, Robin! Try again.” His son beamed back at him and raised his training sword, facing off against the master-at-arms, who ran him through the movements again.

It made his old heart good to see his boy so improved. It was like looking at a different child. He was taller, the persistent paleness and shaking had gone away. He was healthy and strong.

He leaned back against his chair and felt very grateful to have had the time to see this. His day was getting ever closer, he knew. Soon, it would be his time to depart. He could now do so with a light heart and his mind at peace.

His legacy was secured, his son would live and thrive. Lord Royce would be a good regent, and would watch over him as he grew. He'd proven himself already, with the good work he’d done so far.

The kingdoms were at peace for the moment, and Robert’s heir was both trueborn and dutiful. The princess would rule with a firm but fair hand, the way he’d taught her. And by all accounts, her husband would protect her with all the fierceness of a wolf or even a dragon. He would stand at her side and secure her claim.

He chuckled to himself. Rhaegar’s son was so enamoured of Robert’s daughter that he’d gladly support her ascension to the throne. It baffled the mind, and yet it was justice in a way, wasn’t it?

Rhaegar had been willing to plunge the kingdoms into war, heedless of the lost lives, thinking he could do as he pleased. So different and yet so alike his father, Mad King Aerys. And now, his son would prop up the new Baratheon dynasty.

He’d even given them dragons. Dragons! By the Seven, but that had been a surprise. If he weren’t so very old, he might have gone to look at them himself. It must have been a blessing from the gods themselves that the drop of Targaryen blood in the princess had been enough to claim one of the beasts herself.

Their children would surely be able to carry on the legacy. He sighed peacefully. What a blessing! All his worries could be put to rest now.

Prince Tommen and Princess Myrcella’s dubious parentage was of no consequence anymore, with their trueborn sister taking the throne. There would be no usurpation of the royal bloodline. War could be averted. Let Tywin Lannister make the boy his heir, as he intended, he certainly had the right blood for that, he laughed to himself.

His laughter turned into a cough. It rattled his bones and drove him inside, away from the chill. His time was coming. He could feel the Stranger lurking, but he could meet him gladly now.

Chapter Text

Tywin Lannister

His new heir was not useless, at least. He could clearly see his granddaughter’s hand in him.

Tommen was polite and obedient, but not blindly so. His education was well advanced, and though he was shyer than he’d prefer, he liked that better than the bravado Jaime exhibited as a child, and which had ended up bringing nothing but disappointment.

He would remain in King’s Landing for some time, and take the boy as his page and apprentice. His remaining grandson was young enough that he could still benefit from his granddaughter’s guiding hand. And encouraging their closeness could only be a boon.

Tommen should have no problems even should he become Lord of Casterly Rock at a young age, not with the ever present protective shadow of Hariel and her surprisingly dangerous husband.

He knew his granddaughter preferred fostering a kinder image, and keeping her ruthlessness in the shadows, but her husband could play the steel to her silk glove surprisingly well.

He held back a smile while watching Prince Jon menace a lordling who thought he could presume on the princess’s time, and had tried to corner her while she was doing her rounds before court.

The prince was looming over the lordling, a dark look upon his face, “I see. And so you thought you could impose upon my wife, because– because what was it, exactly? Do tell.”

The boy, second son of a minor Crownlands lord, he was fairly certain, shook in his boots, “My prince, I only meant–”

The prince smiled a smile full of teeth, mirroring the direwolf as his side, “You thought you could avoid having to bring your petition before the court, knowing it would be denied. Was that it?”

Tywin heard a nearby lady titter, “He must be new, provoking the prince so.” and share a laugh with her companions.

A lord added, “He even tried to grab her. He’s lucky he didn’t lose his hand.” This provoked more titters.

His granddaughter intervened after enough time had passed that the presumptuous boy had learnt the lesson, “Oh, husband, it’s quite alright. I’m sure it was all a misunderstanding, wasn’t it, Lord Follard? I’m sure he will present his case as is required.” The boy took the lifeline provided, agreeing eagerly. He threw her a grateful look and bowed repeatedly, before scampering away.

The prince snorted and turned to check on his wife, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. And yet, no one would think him weak for doting on her so, not after that scene.

Hariel moved on, and Tywin stepped forward, laying a hand on the prince’s shoulder.

He received a nod, “Lord Tywin.”

Tywin nodded back, “That was well done. Don’t let them think they can walk over her.”

Jon smirked, “I think we both know Harry can fight her own battles, my lord. But that doesn’t mean I won’t gladly take some of the burden from her.”

Tywin felt deep satisfaction. “Good. Very good.” He squeezed the boy’s shoulder and moved away.

Things were turning out far better than he’d ever hoped for.

He would have accepted the prince, even had he been a fool, purely for his blood. But he was turning out to be everything he could have hoped for in a grandson instead. The perfect match for his favored granddaughter, who had taken her father’s weak reign and turned it into unbreakable strength.

‘Aerys must be spinning in his grave.’ The thought brought its usual feeling of spiteful delight.

He stepped out into the courtyard and found the two dragons lying down to the side. There were a great deal of people standing around, watching them with reverence.

Tywin felt deep pride fill him, and made to approach them, enjoying the gasps of the crowd.

He nodded to the beasts when they raised their heads at his approach, and was not surprised to see the dragons nod back, not anymore. “My granddaughter just had a fool annoy her.” The dragons bared their teeth and he nodded, “Indeed, the prince has already taken care of it. But perhaps a reminder of your presence to those in the hall might be of benefit?”

He could swear the pale dragon had just given him a look filled with glee. But the important part was that they both rose to their feet and trotted away, heading to the open doors leading inside.

He strode away, parting the crowd with ease, and snorted at the awed looks. Fools, the lot of them.

Now, he only had to ensure his foolish children didn’t ruin things for his grandchildren with their indiscretions. As if he wouldn’t find out with them residing in his own castle. He wouldn’t allow them any more failures, any more mistakes.

He’d ensure that Cersei stayed well away, one way or another. As for Jaime, time would tell. At least Tyrion was making himself useful, for once. As much as he detested to admit it.

He shook the thought away and strode off. It was time for Tommen’s lessons.

‘Who’s laughing now, old friend?’

—

Oberyn Martell

“Viserys and Daenerys are dead! We have lost our chance! What are we meant to do now? How are you planning to avenge Elia, brother?” He hissed.

Doran didn’t answer, his face like stone.

He didn’t know why he’d expected anything else. He laughed bitterly, “And now the Baratheons have dragons! Dragons of all things! As if they shouldn’t have been Aegon’s and Rhaenys’. But no! Instead, it’s the wolf bitch’s son that will be a dragon rider!” He panted, out of breath.

Ellaria tried to approach to soothe him but he waved her off and continued, “You’ve been so set on waiting for the right moment, that it passed you by and you didn’t even notice.”

Doran closed his eyes, and then looked at him, “What would you have me do, Oberyn? What else is there to do?”

He leaned forward, gazing intently at his brother, “Send me to King’s Landing, I can poison the boy or the girl. Kill the dragons if I’m able.”

Doran laughed bitterly, “So I can lose a brother, too? You think I haven’t sent people to the city, to keep an eye on things? Every one of them that gets close to the royal family disappears. Every single one! Quietly, no leads, no remains. Anyone at all with ill intentions is gone the moment they get close.”

Oberyn stared at him, shocked. “How many?”

Doran sighed, “Half a dozen of our best the last few years.”

He frowned at him, “The Spider?”

His brother shrugged, “If it is him, he must have help. Or his reach is greater than we thought. It’s like they know the moment someone decides to act. And they have dragons now, brother. All reports say the beasts grow fast, much faster than expected.”

“Dragons can be killed. Dorne has done it before.” He insisted.

Doran scoffed, “By scorpions and ballistas. Not by a single man, which is what you would be. And it would drag us into war. Dorne alone cannot go to war with all the rest of the kingdoms. And make no mistake, we would stand alone. The Usurper’s reign has not been ruinous like we expected. It is stronger than ever. The realm prospers.”

Oberyn overturned a nearby table, sending fruit rolling on the floor, “Do you expect me to just let this go? Just forget that our sister was butchered along with her children?”

Ellaria cut in, “What about their killers? Is that not what you really want? Forget about the Baratheons, they are untouchable right now. But they owe you.” She tapped his chest, “Ask them to give up their killers.”

He scoffed, “Like that fucking stag would do such a thing, not to mention the old lion. And the Mountain is dead already, found in a gutter, of all things.”

She shook her head, “There is still Rhaenys’ killer. And I don’t mean the king, ask the heir and her consort. The crown princess is competent according to the whispers, and she holds no grudge against you. And you forget the boy would have been their brother. It might mean something to him.”

Oberyn stopped and thought about it. As infuriating as it was, the boy was his niece’s and nephew’s brother. Elia might have even taken him in herself had things been different.

He grimaced, his sister might not have been pleased to hear him wish for the boy’s death. He sighed to himself. Could he be satisfied with Rhaenys’ killer facing Dornish justice? He didn’t know. But they were out of options, and it was better than nothing.

He nodded to his brother, “Get me Rhaenys’ killer. That will be a start. Or I will go to King’s Landing, with or without your leave, brother, and take their measure myself.”

Doran sighed, “I will have our people send a message to the Spider. Let us see what their response is. If they are willing to negotiate, we might even get a marriage out of them. Your lady is right, they owe us. Young Shireen is now heir to the Stormlands, is she not? I have a son about her age, and Baratheon blood is more valuable than ever.”

Ellaria spoke quietly, “What about the younger princess?”

Oberyn dropped heavily onto a chair and grudgingly added, “She’s not inheriting anything, and we have no male heir to offer her.”

He sighed heavily, maybe all was not lost. Though their restitution would not look anything like what he would have hoped for. Still, they would get their due, even if he had to face down a dragon and demand it.

—

Jaime Lannister

Jaime winced as he heard Cersei scream at their aunt Genna, who merely watched stone-faced.

Their aunt finally had enough, “Your father’s orders are final, Cersei. You may scream as much as you like but you’re not going anywhere. You should have joined your father when he left. You refused and it’s too late now.”

“I’m the queen! And I will see my daughter! I must know what nonsense this is about dragons and a son of Rhaegar. My daughter wouldn’t have married without me there!”

“It’s all been confirmed as true. And the marriage wasn’t planned, but it happened and it is done. I have told you this multiple times. You just refuse to listen, and I am done listening to you.”

Genna took his arm and pulled him out of the room, all while Cersei kept screaming. She closed the door firmly and spoke to the guards outside the door, “You know your orders.” They nodded firmly.

His aunt pulled him down the corridor and into a sitting room. “And you need to stop feeding her madness.” Her eyes looked flinty. “Your sister is not well. We will not let her cause any damage to her daughter’s future reign. Hariel has everything well in hand. Cersei must stay away. Your father was very clear on this.”

Jaime wavered, “But, shouldn’t she get to see her daughter? All her children?”

“And what do you think she’d do, if we sent her over to King’s Landing? Do you think she’d be able to get along cordially with the king, with Ned Stark and most of all, with Rhaegar’s son? The son she thinks should have been hers?” Jaime went pale, “Don’t give me that look. Did you think I wouldn’t know? That your father wouldn’t know about all your sister’s mad ramblings?”

Jaime closed his eyes and covered his face with a hand. Cersei was not well. She wasn’t. That was clear. But it wasn’t a sudden thing like they all thought. It had just been made obvious with Joffrey’s death. His sister had always been cruel. But had she always been like this? Mad, as they thought? Had he simply not noticed?

What could he do? If he helped her go back to the capital like she wanted to, what would she do? He swallowed roughly when he realized he didn’t know. Could he risk Harry, or Harry’s happiness, for Cersei?

What about Tommen and Myrcella? He rubbed his mouth and began pacing around, while his aunt watched him patiently. Would they want their mother back? He ran a hand over his hair. They wouldn’t, he knew they wouldn’t. Would he choose to follow their mother’s whims, over the happiness of those two poor children he could never acknowledge as his own?

At least Harry was not his. At least he’d been able to be close to the niece that was truly just his niece. Not like Myrcella and Tommen, who he’d always kept at arm’s length.

He stopped abruptly and bowed his head. He couldn’t sacrifice the children for Cersei. If she was in her right mind, she’d want the same. If her absence ensured the children’s happiness then she would have wanted to stay away.

So he’d keep her here, even locked away like their father kept her, where she couldn’t bend anyone to her will. He felt a deep grief fill him, but remained firm in his decision.

“I won’t help her escape, aunt, if that is your concern.” His voice was subdued, but unwavering, he thought.

“Good.” His aunt approached and cupped his cheek. “You’re a good boy, Jaime. Don’t let your sister drag you down with her. She’s done enough of that.” She kissed his cheek and left the room.

Jaime was left alone, and he dropped gracelessly onto a chair. He’d make sure Cersei was comfortable. He’d stay for as long as needed, and then maybe he’d be able to return to King’s Landing. A Kingsguard belonged with the royal family, and his sister was clearly no longer queen, whatever she might think.

He slumped against the back of the chair. He just hoped he was doing the right thing for once in his life.

—

Catelyn Stark

Catelyn stared down at the latest scroll from King’s Landing, the words blurring before her eyes. Her husband’s handwriting stared back at her. Even this small reminder of her husband was enough to have a bitter rage fill her.

How could she face Ned, when he came back? She wanted to scream at him, to rage and break things. And finally ask him, why? Why did he not trust her with the secret? Why had she learnt of it with the rest of the kingdoms?

She loved her husband, the gods knew she did, but a part of her might never forgive him for this. So many years of marriage and five children had not been enough for her reticent husband to trust her. She would always be an outsider here.

She closed the scroll and dropped it carelessly on the desk.

The boy was a prince now. Prince Consort, but a prince none the less.

It should have been Robb. Bran could have taken up the mantle of Lord of Winterfell if needed, and Robb would have been King Consort.

Shame filled her, like a bitter draught down her throat. Even now, she couldn’t let go of her hate and resentment. Catelyn closed her eyes tightly and pursed her lips. She’d expected the announcement, everyone had. It still filled her with dread.

The boy must hate her. He must. After all, she’d done her best to make his life difficult, for something that wasn’t even true. No, she had to admit the truth to herself. It was shameful, what she did, even had he really been her husband’s bastard. She’d even prayed for his death, once.

The question was, did he hate her more than he loved her children? She didn’t think so. For all the many faults she’d found in him throughout his life, his love for her children had not been one of them.

It would be the very bonds she’d done her best to break that would save them from any retribution for her sins. She’d been wrong, so very wrong. And it might be her children that paid for her mistakes, if she stepped out of line.

So she would swallow her pride and treat the prince with all respect due his rank, should she ever meet him again. She would keep any recriminations behind her teeth, any comments about how Robb had all but been promised the princess. She would grit her teeth and comfort her sweet boy, still heartbroken over his imagined future being torn apart.

She would even apologize, if the boy would accept such words from her.

‘Family, duty, honor.’

She’d shamed herself enough. May the Seven forgive her.

Chapter Text

“And then I stepped out of the open tomb, covered in flour and moaning like a ghost. Sansa ran shrieking and Bran started sobbing, but Robb and I just laughed and laughed.” He let out a peal of laughter, “Arya tried to punch me, for making baby Bran cry. I did feel bad but they were laughing too, soon enough.”

Harry howled with laughter, likely imagining the scene, and Jon joined her, feeling so happy it felt unreal. They were both naked in bed, snuggled under the covers.

She finally got her laughter under control, and spoke breathlessly, “Oh, you must have been the dearest child.” She cupped his face and Jon felt his heart overflow with love, “I wish I’d known you then.”

He held her hand against his face and pressed a kiss against her palm, “I wish I’d known you, too. I’ve heard a lot about your childhood by now, even the servants have stories.” He grinned at her mischievously, “I just know I would have fallen in love with you, even young as I was then.”

He leaned forward to brush his nose against hers, and she smiled back at him, “I would have, too. Or maybe we would have been best friends first.”

Jon hummed and dropped a kiss on her red lips, “Though perhaps it was best this way. If we’d met as children we would have had to be apart for years afterwards. I just know I wouldn’t have been able to bear it, and would have tried to sneak into your luggage.”

Harry laughed at that, throwing her head back, and Jon took the opportunity to kiss down her neck, biting gently at her collarbone. His wife was so very beautiful. So lovely, and all just for him. He ran his hands over her breasts and her sides and gently caressed the bump in her belly.

She sighed softly in pleasure and pulled him closer, “Again, beloved?”

He whispered into her skin, “Yes.” and parted her thighs, settling between them.

—

Now that they were the Crown Princess and her Prince Consort there was no avoiding having a larger household. Harry had groaned but given in, and pulled Jon into the search. Or as she liked to call it, recruitment.

They’d need ladies-in-waiting for her, and knights or lords for Jon, to act as both companions and guards. They currently only had Sandor, the rest assigned to their protection were either Kingsguard or Baratheon men-at-arms.

The first few choices were easy, from the North she invited Sansa, who’d been thrilled to accept, and Wynafryd Manderly; and from the Westerlands she’d invited Alysanne Lefford and her cousin Joy Hill.

After that, things got more complicated, her first thought had been Margaery Tyrell, but Jon would have thrown a fit, and so she refrained. Not to mention she’d likely marry soon. After consulting with her uncle Renly, he recommended Brienne of Tarth.

There was a dearth of ladies of the right age in the Stormlands, unfortunately, but Brienne, though somewhat older, was also a warrior. Harry had thought her perfect and had sent off an invitation.

For Jon, it’d been harder. They ended up inviting Daryn Hornwood for the North, one of the boys who he had gotten along the best with, and had interviewed others present in the capital. Their choices ended up being Robar Royce and Lucas Corbray from the Vale; and Patrek Mallister from the Riverlands.

Then Jon had met Samwell Tarly, delayed in the city on his way to the Night’s Watch due to sickness, and had promptly invited him to stay. Harry had agreed once she met the shy but brilliant boy, and he’d explained his situation. It’d been easy enough to get his father to simply grant the heirship to his second son instead, so Sam wouldn’t have to go to the Wall.

The two groups became fast friends, and she was happy to see Jon have his own trusted circle of people. When both the lords and ladies got together, things could get quite raucous.

Five ladies and five lords seemed like more than enough to start, though she’d continue looking for representatives from the other kingdoms as well.

Unexpectedly, Bran would also be joining their household as Jon’s squire. The request had come through Lord Stark, who had confessed the boy had been asking for such an arrangement for a while now, ever since Jon had been knighted.

Lord Stark had refused on account of Bran’s young age, but had agreed that soon he’d be old enough to squire. Jon had accepted happily and Bran would join them in a few moons.

—

Jon was sparring in the yard against Robar, with Daryn, Lucas, Patrek and Clegane watching nearby, when a page ran over.

“My prince! You’re being summoned to the throne room.”

Jon cursed and strode off, he’d need to clean up and change as quickly as possible. Clegane and the men followed behind, flanking him.

“Any idea what’s going on?” He asked them. He got several negatives.

“Nothing good, in all likeness.” Robar mumbled.

He made it to his room and looked around. The men waited outside the door.

“My wife?” He asked one of the servants.

“The princess has already been summoned, my prince.”

He nodded in thanks and ran off to get cleaned and changed in record time. Harry must have gone ahead and taken Ghost and the dragons. Hedwig had left to go hunting that morning.

He stepped outside their chambers and made his way out of Maegor’s Holdfast, several guards peeling off to follow him once outside the family keep, in addition to his own household. He was slowly getting used to being a prince and being guarded so assiduously.

He ran into Sam on the way over, “Jon! I was just coming to look for you.”

“Do you know what’s happened, Sam?” Asked Lucas quietly.

“I heard there’s a messenger here to see the king, but didn’t get the chance to ask about it.”

Jon nodded and waved that off. “We’re about to find out.”

He reached the throne room and entered, finding the king on the throne, with Lord Stark and Harry standing to the side, Lady Brienne and Ser Balon guarding her back. Ghost was laying at her feet, like a great white rug, with the dragons curled up next to the direwolf. He could see Myrcella and Tommen standing to the other side of the throne with Lord Tyrion.

Harry’s ladies were standing close by, and his men went off to join them.

He ran over to join his wife and kissed her cheek in greeting. “Harry, what’s going on?”

She took his arm and squeezed gently, “Your uncle is here. He has something to present to the king and the court.”

He blinked at her, “What? My uncle Benjen?”

Their conversation was interrupted by the herald.

“First Ranger Benjen Stark and Maester Aemon Targaryen of the Night’s Watch.”

Jon couldn’t hold back a gasp and exchanged a bewildered look with Harry, who looked just as taken aback. A Targaryen, here? The dragons had lifted their heads, and Jon could feel Fenrir’s curiosity in the back of his mind. She sent him a wordless question and he mentally shrugged back. He had no idea what was happening.

He was overjoyed to see his uncle step into the great hall, though the old, blind man he was guiding forward came as a great surprise. Aemon Targaryen must be a hundred years old, and he looked like it too. Though he walked with great dignity, even stooped over with age as he was.

They reached the throne and bowed before the king.

Benjen spoke up, “Your Grace, we thank you for receiving us. We bear an urgent message from the Wall.” Benjen looked back at where a few servants were bringing forward a covered cage.

—

Harry watched in disbelief as Benjen Stark unveiled an inferi, and proceeded to explain how the dead were walking beyond the Wall, led by something called the White Walkers.

The inferi, which they called a wight, screeched during his explanation, and many members of the court screamed and drew away hurriedly. More than one lady fainted.

She felt Jon reach for her and try to place her behind him but she resisted. So he pulled her close instead, arm around her and hand on her belly and the other on Blackfyre’s pommel. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, “In the North, there are many tales of the Long Night.” His voice shook, “I never thought Old Nan’s tales would come to life before my eyes.”

Harry swallowed hard and reached for his hand, holding it tightly. She watched her father descend the throne and stare at the reanimated corpse in disbelief.

An uneasy feeling was crawling up her spine. Danger, it said. She knew with certainty, while looking into those cold blue eyes, that this was the reason she’d been born in this place and time.

She closed her eyes for a moment and then stepped out of Jon’s arms and went to stand beside her father. Jon tried to pull her back but she shook her head, so he followed instead, looking unhappy.

Ghost stayed close behind them but the dragons placed themselves at their side, and screeched back at the wight. Several people in the crowd screamed again.

Aemon Targaryen turned his head in their direction, a complicated look on his face, clear despite his blind eyes.

King Robert spoke up, “What in the seven hells is this?”

Lord Stark approached, looking as grim as she’d ever seen him, “Benjen, are you saying the Long Night has come again?”

Benjen nodded slowly, “The White Walkers are coming again, raising the dead beyond the Wall. So, yes, Ned. The Long Night is here.”

Maester Aemon spoke up, voice tremulous but strong, “The Night’s Watch is asking for help from the crown. We cannot fight this alone.”

Harry turned to her father and saw a light come into his eyes. His voice boomed, “And you will not have to.” A savage grin overtook his face, “The crown will answer. This will be a war the likes of which hasn’t been seen in a thousand years. The age of heroes has come again.”

There was a sudden silence in the crowded room after that proclamation, and then people started speaking loudly and shouting questions.

Lord Stark raised a hand for silence and the din quieted slightly, so he asked, “Do we know their weaknesses? Can they be killed?”

Benjen nodded his head, “No one has been able to kill a White Walker so far, but we have reliable information that they can be killed by dragonglass and Valyrian Steel. We know fire also kills the wights, they go up like kindling.”

Benjen then took a wrapped bundle from a nearby servant and offered it to Harry, “Which is why I brought this, I was instructed to present it to the princess. It is meant for her.”

Harry took a deep breath and stepped forward, unwrapping the bundle in Benjen’s hands. Jon and Lord Stark stiffened in surprise, while her father swore loudly.

Harry took up the sword and swallowed back her dread, “Dark Sister.” The sword brought with it the feeling of destiny. It made her skin prickle.

The murmuring of the crowd picked up, and she felt Jon lay a hand on her shoulder, “Harry, you can’t. The baby.” He looked terribly worried.

She shook her head slowly, “I must. The war will not happen immediately, Jon. But we will eventually have to go North.” She turned to him and cupped his face, “Not yet, but once our child is old enough to travel, we’re going to Winterfell, and then to Castle Black.”

The king was frowning, looking unhappy. Lord Stark cut in, “Your Grace, I must return home.” He gave them a look, “After the birth, I must resign as Hand.”

Her father sighed, “Yes, you’ll need to hold the North. There’s much planning to be done.” He turned to the crowd, “Court is dismissed! But leave that vile creature here. Let people see what we’re up against.” He then turned to them, “Let us gather elsewhere.”

The crowd started dispersing, though many approached the cage. Several guards stood around it, holding back anyone foolish enough to approach too closely.

—

Jon looked around at all those present. The king, the Hand, both the king’s brothers, Lord Tywin and Lord Tyrion. The other members of the small council, like Lord Varys and Kevan Lannister. Several retainers and companions, including Ser Davos and Ser Loras. Ser Barristan, Ser Balon and Clegane. And of course, his uncle Benjen and Maester Aemon. It was a full council.

The meeting lasted hours. The skepticism he’d been expecting had finally appeared and yet no one could deny the wight was something unnatural. In the end, it was decided to investigate what was happening beyond the Wall, and begin preparations for a winter campaign.

Dragonglass would start being mined from Dragonstone, and they would reach out to all bearers of Valyrian Steel. In a few moons, his father would return North, and Tyrion Lannister would become Hand of the King.

People started leaving in small groups once the meeting finally wrapped up and they were dismissed. Jon and Harry stayed behind in the council chamber.

They were standing to the side while people slowly drifted away, as the dragons were restless.

Jormungandr was pacing before them, ‘I don’t like this at all.’

Fenrir was laying down, wings tucked primly at her side, ‘There are more of those creatures? It felt– wrong.’

Jon crouched down and nodded, speaking softly, to avoid being heard, “There’s probably a whole army of them.”

Jormungandr bared his teeth and hissed, ‘We’re too small to help you.’

Jon saw others look in their direction, looking unnerved.

Harry ran a hand over Jor’s head comfortingly. She didn’t have to bend down to do that anymore, he was as tall as she was, “You will grow. We’re not going off to battle just yet. Don’t fret.”

Fenrir fluttered her wings and snapped her tail against the floor, ‘We’ll keep you safe.’

Jor made a jerky movement that signaled a nod. Actually nodding their heads was not a natural movement for the dragons. They only bothered with that for other people.

Shuffling steps interrupted their conversation and they all turned to see the old maester approach them. The room was nearly empty, only Benjen and Lord Stark remained, aside from themselves and Maester Aemon.

“My boy? Would you allow me to know you?” The maester’s voice trembled, this time not from age.

Jon stared at him wide eyed. This was his great uncle. Great, great uncle perhaps? Harry gave him a nudge and a significant look. He swallowed roughly and approached the old man.

He took the hand that was reaching towards him and spoke very softly, “Hello, great uncle. My name is Jon Baratheon.” He hesitated and went on in a whisper, “Son of Rhaegar. Though my mother named me Jaehaerys.”

He felt Harry’s hand on his back, and was grateful he’d already shared that detail with her. He turned his attention back to the maester and realized there were tears streaming down his old face.

“I am Aemon Targaryen, son of Maekar. And aye, great uncle is about right, nephew.” He laughed wetly and reached for him.

Jon went willingly and gently embraced him, patting his back and feeling him tremble slightly. When he finally leaned back, his eyes were stinging.

“Uncle, this is my wife, Harry.” He smiled, “We are expecting our first child.”

Harry stepped forward and took Aemon’s hand, squeezing gently, “Hello uncle. We are both glad to meet you.”

Aemon smiled warmly, “It gladdens my heart to see my family still lives on, my dears.” He swallowed, “May I see you?” He reached with his hands and Harry guided them to her face, allowing him to trace her features.

Aemon smiled and thanked her, “I see why there are so many tales of your beauty, my dear.” Harry laughed lightly.

The maester then reached for Jon and ran his fingertips lightly over his face. He chuckled when he was done, “You do have some of the Targaryen look, my boy.”

Jon frowned in confusion, “I’ve been told I look very much a Stark, great uncle.”

Aemon nodded with a smile, “I have no doubt. And yet, you have the Targaryen cheekbones, nose and chin.” He chuckled, “Now, may I meet the marvelous creatures I can hear over there?”

Ghost approached first, snuffling softly at the maester, “This is Ghost, he’s a direwolf.”

Aemon stroked his soft fur, “Marvelous, simply marvelous.” Ghost lost interest and trotted away.

Harry threw a significant look to the chairs and his very old uncle, and Jon made sure they were both settled before waving forward the dragons.

Jor and Fenrir approached curiously. He carefully placed Aemon’s hand over Fenrir’s head. “This is Fenrir, she is my dragon.”

Aemon gasped and ran his hands over Fenrir’s scales gently, patting her sides and tracing her wings and her legs very carefully. “Four legs, like I’d heard. There’s never been a dragon like you before, pretty lady.” He scratched behind her horns.

Harry smiled and said, “And now there are two.”

Fenrir snorted softly and spoke in Jon’s mind, ‘He’s very polite. This is your kin? I like him.’

Jon sent her a wordless feeling of agreement over the bond.

Jor sniffed at Aemon and Harry guided the maester’s hand to him. “This is Jormungandr, uncle.”

The pale dragon gladly allowed the maester to pet him and nudged Harry with his snout, ‘Tell him how beautiful I am.’

She giggled and said, “Jor is a beautiful pearlescent white, with soft pink wings like a pearl, and green eyes.” Jor looked pleased and she went on, “While Fenrir is a deep black, though her scales have a metallic sheen in the light. Her wings and eyes are bronze.”

Maester Aemon chuckled, “And their eggs were black and white, I assume.”

Jon nodded, “Yes.”

Aemon went on, “That is as I thought. You see, I had two dragon eggs hidden away. I was quite surprised to realize they’d disappeared.”

They all gaped at him for several moments, and Jon shook himself, “I found the eggs in the Godswood in Winterfell, by the Heart Tree. Are you saying the eggs were yours, uncle? Do you know how they got to Winterfell?”

The maester shook his head and shrugged with a smile, “Magic, I suppose, or the will of the gods. No one knew where they were, except for a man long dead. But regardless of how it happened, they were obviously meant for you, so I am glad you’ve found each other.”

Harry and Jon shared a smile and reached for the dragons, petting them softly. “We are glad, too.”

—

Harry watched nervously as Jon placed a pillow under her feet and then started massaging them, all while frowning in thought.

She raised herself a little more on the bed, made difficult by her large belly, and waited for him to finish digesting her words.

He finally spoke up, “So Tommen and Myrcella are not the king’s?”

She spoke very softly, “No.”

“And neither was Joffrey.”

“No.”

He sighed softly, “Then it’s a good thing you’re inheriting the crown and not any of them.”

He gave her a wry smile and she felt a sharp relief. Her eyes filled with tears, but they always did these days. She wiped at them, frustrated. And Jon chuckled, coming closer so he could gently wipe away her tears and kiss her lips.

“I understand why you kept this quiet. It is not right, but exposing her would weaken the crown and put you in a difficult position. You did the best that could be done, I think.” He paused and something seemed to occur to him, “This is why you were so concerned over Joffrey, before he died. He had no right to the crown and would have been a terrible king as well.”

She bit her lip, “Yes, I feared–”

“You feared you would have to remove him yourself, before the boar took care of it.”

She whispered, “Yes.”

Jon stroked her cheek, “I would not have held it against you if you had. Joffrey could not be king, I barely knew him and even I could see it.” He dropped a kiss on her lips, “But I am glad you were not forced to do so. It would have brought you much grief, so I am very glad things happened the way they did.” He brushed his lips against hers, “So very glad.”

She sighed happily and kissed him very softly, “You don’t regret it? This? Me?”

Jon looked at her very seriously, and cupped her face with both hands, “Never! Never. If I could go back, I would do it all the same. So long as it led us here, to this moment.”

Harry felt new tears drop down her face and smiled, filled to bursting with both happiness and love. “I love you, Jon.” She rained kisses all over his face and he laughed softly.

He kissed her hard, “I love you, too, my wife.”

—

Bonus Scene: Aemon Targaryen

A Targaryen alone was a terrible thing. But his nephew was not alone.

And his wife was no mere princess. Aemon could feel a strange prickling on his skin whenever she was near. Like the air before a storm, charged with energy. Maybe he’d become more sensitive with his blindness, or his proximity to the Wall for so many years. Maybe it was both. Either way, he was certain there was more to the princess than met the eye.

And they were happy together, that was clear. The realization that at least some of his family still lived filled him with profound joy. He still grieved for those poor children across the sea, dead so young, especially Daenerys. He’d wept when he’d heard of her fate.

Disaster and tragedy had haunted his House for generations now. Maybe now what was left of his blood could live and thrive. He’d pray for it, if he still believed in such things. He’d trust in his nephew instead. The boy was everything Rhaegar should have been.

To think he and Benjen shared a nephew now.

He chuckled to himself, sitting comfortably in his guest quarters within Maegor’s Holdfast. He never thought he’d set foot on these stones again. He still knew every corridor and every hall, he needed no guide here.

What was new was the sound of great wings outside the keep every once in a while. It’s been many generations since any Targaryen was used to such things. He imagined the castle itself rejoiced to hear that sound, after so long without it.

He sighed, and his thoughts turned to the events of the day.

When Benjen had been lost for many moons, beyond the Wall, he’d despaired for the Watch, with the loss of their best ranger. When he’d come back with a monster from legend and a legendary blade, he’d felt a strange mixture of both despair and hope.

He now knew why. All was not lost. The dead were coming, but heroes would rise up to meet them. The realm would answer their cry for help.

His family might now go by another name, but dragon’s blood still ran through their veins. Dragons were back in the world, and they would soar the sky, raining fire on the true enemy.

A knock came from the door, and he bid them enter.

“Uncle.” It was his nephew. “Are you comfortable? I’ve sent for refreshments. You didn’t eat much during dinner.”

He chuckled, “At my age, my boy, you don’t eat much.” He waved him forward, “Come, sit, sit.”

Jon stepped closer and sat on the chair next to his, before the hearth. “Have you considered Harry’s offer? About staying here? At least for the birth.”

He hummed, “I have. I think I will stay, if you will have me. I don’t have long in this world, I can feel it. And I’d love nothing more than to meet your child before I go.”

“Of course. We’ll be glad to have you. There’s much I want to ask you. Will you tell me about your life?”

“Ah, well. That is a long tale indeed–”

Winter might be coming, and the Long Night with it, but the dawn would come again.

Chapter Text

300 AC.

Harry watched her grandfather, the most feared lord of the Seven Kingdoms, smile softly down at her son while carrying him in his arms, and felt as if the world had somehow tilted to the left.

It was the strangest thing. There he was, Lord Tywin Lannister, holding her baby and smiling at him while speaking quietly with her husband, who looked about to burst with pride. Both of them were practically beaming at the newborn.

Her son was, of course, entirely deserving of such, but it would never stop shocking her to see her grandfather thus. Orys was perfect, though too newlyborn to be able to tell who he would favor in looks. He already had a full head of dark hair at least.

Both her father and Lord Stark had already had their turn with her baby, before her grandfather had monopolized him, and she could see Maester Aemon and her uncles waiting their turn, as well as her siblings and Jon’s. Not to mention Jon had been hard pressed to pass him over in the first place.

Surely she’d get her baby back at some point.

She hoped.

—

Jon carefully joined his wife on their bed, where she was nursing their son. He pressed close to her side and wrapped an arm around her back, and used the other to gently cup his son’s head. His heart felt like it might burst out of his chest. How could a person feel so much joy?

Harry leaned over to nuzzle his cheek, “You should see the look on your face, Jon.”

He chuckled, “I can imagine.” He brushed his lips against hers, kissing her sweetly. “My lovely wife.” He sighed in appreciation. “You’ve never looked more beautiful than you do with our son at your breast.”

She actually blushed, which caused him to laugh with delight. “I am certainly glad you think so, husband. You’ll be seeing a lot of this, I’m sure.”

He grinned and started trailing kisses down her neck, “Good.”

She gasped when he licked at her pulse, “Jon, you know we can’t, not yet.”

He hummed, “I know. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop touching you, my love. I can be patient.”

Harry chuckled softly and tilted her head to give him better access, “Oh, good.”

He kissed down to the curve of her bare breast and was surprised to feel a little fist smack him on the face. He gaped at their son and they both burst into laughter while Orys calmly kept nursing.

“I don’t think your son is willing to share, husband.” Harry choked out between giggles.

Jon mock-scowled, “Orys will have to learn to share, with me and with all the many siblings he will have.”

His wife laughed again and grasped their baby’s little fist. Orys immediately clasped her finger. “Did you hear that, little one?” She cooed.

Jon leaned forward and kissed the baby’s forehead. “We’ll teach him. We will be there for him, both of us.” He said, fiercely.

Harry gave him a soft look and cupped his face, bringing him closer, and into a kiss, “We will.”

—

Jon fidgeted while waiting for his brothers’ riding party to arrive. Robb and Bran would be here any moment. Robb for his wedding and Bran to take up his position as his squire.

But it was only one of those meetings that made him feel so apprehensive. At least he wasn’t the only one feeling impatient. Both Arya and Sansa had eager looks on their faces, and though his father looked calm, he too must be eagerly waiting for their arrival.

Harry was the only one that looked truly calm, her arm in his. Orys had been left behind in the nursery for the moment. They’d decided to keep the greeting party to just family, so there were no other lords and ladies either.

Jon gasped when the riding party finally crossed the gate. His brother had grown! Both of them had!

Bran dismounted in a hurry and ran forward, “Father!”

His father and sisters greeted his little brother, though Jon remained behind for a moment, and met Robb’s eyes. His brother looked at him and then at Harry at his side.

Jon looked away when Bran slammed into him, and he pushed away his anxiousness to greet his little brother. “Bran! Look at you! You’ve grown! Soon you’ll be taller than me.” He embraced him tightly and grinned at him.

Bran stepped back and beamed back, “I will! You’ll see. Thank you for taking me as your squire, Jon. I’m ready to begin my duties.”

Jon laughed, “Of course, little brother. But let us get through the greetings first.”

Bran blushed in embarrassment but smiled and turned to Harry, “Princess.” He bowed, “Congratulations on your baby!” He looked at them both. “Can I meet him? And the dragons?” He was bouncing in excitement.

Harry laughed and drew Bran into a light embrace, kissing his cheek, which made his little brother blush, “Of course, but I’m sure your family will wish to spend time with you first. We’ll have dinner together and I’ll bring Orys with me, so you can meet him. The dragons, too.”

Jon was distracted by Robb stepping closer, and he took a step forward. They stared at each other for a long moment and then Robb drew him into an embrace, “Brother.”

Jon sighed with sheer relief and returned the embrace tightly, “Brother. I am so very happy to see you.”

Robb leaned back and smiled at him, “Me too. You gave me quite a scare, when we got the news. I’m glad to see you well.”

Jon winced, “Robb, I–”

Robb shook his head, “We’ll speak later.”

Jon looked around at all those present and nodded. “We will.”

The servants had begun unloading their things, and the rest of the riding party, a few northern lords, with their many guards and servants, had dismounted and were being greeted by his father.

Robb moved over to where Harry was speaking with Bran, Sansa and Arya. Harry broke away to join him so they could greet the lords, and met Robb on the way. She greeted him warmly, like a brother, like she’d done with Bran. She embraced him and kissed his cheek.

And if he noticed Robb held her a little tighter and a little longer than Bran had, then that could be excused, he supposed.

—

Jon leaned over to whisper in his wife’s ear, “They look happy enough.”

He looked at Robb dancing with his new Tyrell wife, a small smile on his face while she beamed back at him, and breathed a sigh of relief.

Harry whispered back, “They do. I’m glad.”

He nuzzled against her cheek, “Me too. I was worried he’d hate me.”

She brushed her nose against his, “He’s your brother, he could never hate you.”

“We still haven’t had the chance to speak.” He frowned.

Harry kissed his jaw, “Things should settle now the wedding is done. You’ll get the chance.”

Jon hummed in agreement and kissed her softly, ignoring the scandalized murmurs around them. They were all used to their displays of affection by now, the court just loved to pretend otherwise.

He tried to ignore how he’d noticed Robb would steal looks at Harry now and then. He didn’t think she’d noticed, but he had, and it made his gut squirm with discomfort. His brother likely still harbored some feelings for his wife, but they would hopefully fade in time. Especially now he had his own wife to pay attention to.

As he thought this, Robb spun Margaery around and for a moment, his eyes slid towards them, his face tightening when he saw they’d been kissing. But then his eyes turned back to his new wife and he smiled tentatively.

Jon sighed to himself and hoped for his brother’s happiness. Maybe one day he’d be able to stop feeling guilty about his own.

—

They finally had the chance to speak privately two days after the wedding. Jon met Robb in their chambers, while Harry was out with Orys, all their sisters, and her ladies.

Robb entered and looked around, then bowed playfully when Jon rose to receive him, “My prince.”

Jon laughed, “Stop that.”

They embraced and clapped each other’s back, then dropped to a seat. Jon poured ale in two cups and passed one over to Robb.

Robb took a drink and looked pleasantly surprised, “This is good. Where is it from? I thought ale was shit south of the neck.”

Jon snorted, “Oh, it is, but this is from the royal brewery. One of Harry’s many projects.” The mention of his wife seemed to break the lighthearted mood. Jon sighed, “Robb, I’m sorry. I know you wanted to marry her. I never wanted to hurt you.”

Robb shook his head, “I’m not angry, not anymore. I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt. It did. But what else were you supposed to do? Your marriage saved your life. Jon, you’re my brother. I don’t care who your parents were. I care more about you keeping your head on your shoulders than my hurt feelings.”

Jon felt tears fill his eyes and blinked them away, “You’ll always be my brother, too. I want you to know that. And it means a lot to hear that from you.”

Robb gave him a small smile and then turned serious, “Besides– I’ve only been in the city a few short days, and I already know it was a love match, Jon. No matter the rumours of guards at your back during the ceremony.” He sighed, “And I’ve seen you together. She– she’s happy with you. You’re happy together, a blind man could see that.” He bowed his head and scrubbed at his face, “I wish you every happiness. And I will beg your forgiveness if I stare a little too long. It will pass. It is only the shock of seeing her again.”

Jon swallowed harshly and nodded, meeting his brother’s eyes, “I understand.”

They stared at each other for long moments and then chuckled.

Jon smiled teasingly, “Now tell me of your new wife. Are you happy?”

Robb smiled softly, a tender look on his face, “I think I will be. We spoke and– I think she’ll be good to me. She’s eager to make this work. And so am I. We have a very good chance to find happiness together, I think.”

Jon felt relief spread across his chest, “I’m glad.”

Robb smirked, “She admires your wife too, you know. She told me all about your meeting.”

Jon felt a scowl creep upon his face, “I know.”

His brother let out a peal of laughter, “So that’s the face she was speaking of. I see what she meant.”

Jon grimaced, embarrassed, but felt secretly glad for his brother’s teasing. Their relationship had not been damaged by everything that had happened.

They were still brothers, and always would be.

—

Her brother looked massive holding her baby in his arms. Harry chuckled to herself. He also looked nervous.

Gendry gave her a wide eyed look, “He’s so small.”

She laughed at that, “Of course he is. He was just born a few moons ago.” She laid a hand on his shoulder, “I’m glad you finally came up to the keep. Now that it’s safe enough.”

He shrugged, looking embarrassed, “I wanted to meet your baby.”

She took a seat next to him on the sofa, “Have you considered my offer?”

Gendry grimaced, “I don’t want to live in the Red Keep. And I’d rather have my own shop than be the royal blacksmith or join your household.” He looked at her, “I appreciate it, but court life is not for me. I’m just a lowborn bastard.”

She sighed and patted his shoulder, “I thought as much. You did always say you wanted your own shop.”

He nodded firmly, “That’s the plan. But first, I’ll be going with you, when you go north to war.” He set his jaw, and she knew he would not be moved from it.

She still had to try, “Gendry. I’ve told you of the danger, if you go, you might not come back. It’s war.”

He scowled, “You’re going. And I’m not letting my sister go off to fight without me to watch her back.” She made to speak but he shook his head, “I’m going. Even if I have to make my own way north.”

Harry groaned but nodded her head, “Alright, but if you really mean to fight, then you’ll be coming to the keep to train. Or I’m leaving you behind.”

He smiled at her and nodded, “I will. I know how to swing a hammer, I just need to learn how to swing it at people.”

She laughed lightly at that, feeling resigned. She’d just have to make sure he was as prepared as he could be. Jon would help, she was certain of it.

—

“So they were married? What about Princess Elia?” Jon frowned, feeling dismayed.

His father nodded, “We found letters and documents. I’ll send them over once I’m back in Winterfell. But I didn’t want to depart without telling you this.” He sighed sadly, “I don’t know about Princess Elia. The marriage might have been annulled or maybe he took your mother as a second wife.”

Jon clenched his fists and scowled, “Not that it matters that I’m legitimate, not anymore. And he still abandoned his wife and children to the mercy of his mad father, all while he spent several moons away with my mother. How could he do such a thing? If Princess Elia had agreed to it, then why wouldn’t he take her with him?”

His father reached over and clasped his shoulder, “I don’t know, Jon. I truly don’t. We can only guess at his reasons.”

He ran a hand through his hair, “Even if he hadn’t loved his wife, did he care nothing for his children? Now that I have a son, I understand him even less.” He shook his head and grimaced.

Lord Stark squeezed his shoulder and released him, leaning back, “Aye, I have wondered for years myself, and have never found an answer. Why did he take my sister? Why did Lyanna agree? Was their love truly so all-consuming they cared nothing for the consequences?”

Jon snorted, “I know all about all-consuming love, and Harry and I would have never done such a thing. Never. There is always another way.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees and clenching his hands together, “Harry told me once that I was better than him, more honorable. This is the first time I’ve truly believed it.”

His father gave him a small smile, “You are, Jon. Much better than him. Better than me. I am proud of the man you’ve become, son.”

He looked up at his father and felt his eyes sting, “And you’re a much better father than Rhaegar would have been. I’m sure of it.” He snorted, “We’ve seen his care for his children, or the lack of it, I should say.” He sighed, “It was better this way. Maybe this is how things were supposed to play out. Maybe it was fate, all of it, you taking me in, meeting Harry, the dragons and our marriage.” A soft smile crossed his face, “I have much to thank the gods for, if so.”

His father gave him a rueful smile, “Aye, you might be right, son. There is much to feel grateful for.”

—

Harry sighed wistfully, “My House in Hogwarts was Ravenclaw. That’s why our bedchamber is blue.” She laid her head on Jon’s naked shoulder, and pulled the covers up over her breasts.

He ran his hand along her side and grasped her hip. “The one with the eagle?”

She pressed a kiss against his skin, “Yes, that’s the one.”

He smiled down at her, “Maybe you should have been an Arryn.”

She laughed, “Their sigil is a falcon and it’s a different shade of blue. Besides, my father was a stag animagus. And both my parents were Gryffindors, the house of the lions. So being a Baratheon and a Lannister is entirely appropriate.”

Jon hummed in thought, “So he could turn into a stag? Why a stag?”

She shrugged, “Who knows, you can’t choose your animal form. Some say it is a reflection of your inner self.”

“Were you an animagus?” He looked curious.

She shook her head, “I meant to try, but there was always something else to study. And now I couldn’t, the things I would need don’t exist here.”

He looked disappointed, “That’s a shame, it sounds very useful, being able to turn into an animal.”

Harry snorted softly, “Darling, you’re a warg. That’s as close as you can get.”

Jon threw her an offended look, “It’s not the same! My body is still here, it’s just my mind that goes into the animal.”
He tickled her side, pulling her under him while she laughed.

—

Jon stepped into the nursery in the middle of the night to find the king rocking his son. He’d woken up, not knowing why, and had thought to check on him, leaving Harry asleep in their bed.

“Your Grace, is everything alright?” He asked quietly and approached. Orys looked peacefully asleep.

King Robert looked up at him, “Boy–” He sighed, “Jon, yes, I just thought to check on my grandson.” Jon blinked, surprised. The king rarely called him by name. “And call me Robert, or good-father, if you’d like.”

He was fairly certain his shock was written on his face, and he shook himself, “Very well, good-father.” Calling the king by his bare name felt like too much, this would have to do.

The king sat on the rocking chair Harry had commissioned and spoke softly, “I had a dream–” He swallowed roughly but went on, “I had a dream Lyanna came to me, she thanked me– for you, for your happiness.”

Jon stared wide eyed, and rubbed his mouth. “I– see.” Could the dream have been real? Magic existed, he knew. “I’ve never thanked you. You’ve given me my greatest treasure, in your daughter. I will always be grateful for that.”

King Robert sighed, “It nearly went differently, as well you know.” He lifted Orys and kissed his head, then stood and placed the baby in his arms. Jon held him carefully against his chest and felt his good-father clasp his shoulder, “You’ll be a good father, Jon. I can tell. And a good husband. You already are. I don’t regret my choice, in letting you live, and giving you my daughter. You’ll take good care of them.”

Jon nodded, eyes shiny, “I will. I swear.”

The king nodded, squeezed his shoulder and left the nursery. Jon felt his breath hitch and held his son gently against his chest. He leaned down to drop a kiss on his head and breathe in his baby smell.

He would take care of his family, always.

—

Jon stepped into their chambers and saw Harry pacing around, humming one of the tunes from her old life, rocking Orys in her arms, and was suddenly struck with the feeling that he’d seen this before. Those long ago visions by the Heart Tree came to his mind.

She saw him at the door and smiled at him, “Jon, won’t you see your son?” She spoke teasingly, “I finally got my father to relinquish him, so we have him all to ourselves for now.” She crooned down at their baby, “Yes, we do.” and dropped a sweet kiss on his little head.

She looked up again and stopped cold, “Jon?” She looked alarmed, “What’s wrong?”

He realized there were tears dropping down his face, and laughed, a little hysterically, “Nothing. There’s absolutely nothing wrong.” He strode forward and wrapped his arms around his wife and his son and started kissing all over her face and her lips, and then ran a hand over their little one’s head.

Harry still looked terribly confused and he kissed her softly, trying to pour all his love into the kiss. She looked dazed when he leaned back to look at her and he laid his brow against hers. “I love you, that’s all.”

—

301 AC.

Harry adjusted Dark Sister at her side, and checked her armour one last time. She also carried a Valyrian Steel dagger at her belt, with a dragonbone hilt.

She looked around at the group gathered there.

Jon and Gendry stood at her side. Her husband carried Blackfyre. And Gendry had a warhammer with both dragonglass and Valyrian steel spikes, the massive weapon was of his own creation.

Lucas Corbray carried Lady Forlorn, inherited from his unlamented late brother, Lyn Corbray. Robar Royce carried Lamentation, recovered by Harry herself from the ruins of the Dragonpit. Jorah Mormont carried Longclaw, after he’d begged to be allowed to join them and atone for his past crimes.

Thoros of Myr, Sandor Clegane and Ser Balon Swann carried borrowed Valyrian steel swords acquired from Essos at their sides.

Tormund Giantsbane completed the circle, the Free Folk man would be their guide once beyond the Wall. He was armed with a dragonglass spear and knives.

Not all Valyrian steel could go with them, however. Many other blades were gathered here, and would stay to hold the Wall. Lord Stark carried Ice, her uncle Jaime carried Brightroar, recovered by the Red Priests, Dickon Tarly carried Heartsbane, and many more had come, even from across the sea.

They would all stand with the king. Her father had commissioned a hammer like Gendry’s, and most everyone else was armed with dragonglass.

For a moment, she wished Jon would stay behind, but knew he would never agree to it. Even Gendry had refused to stay.

She steeled her spine and addressed the group, “Check your things one last time, and say your good-byes. We are not coming back until either the Night King is dead or we return as part of their dead army.”

They all carried a bottomless bag for their supplies, bequeathed to them and their lines by herself. The origin of the bag’s magic, along with the magical tent and the various magical objects they would use, was a tightly held secret. Only this group knew about her magic, having sworn their lives to the quest and to keep her secrets.

They all nodded and dispersed, approaching the various family members gathered around.

Ghost waited by the gate, while Jormungandr and Fenrir were curled up outside Castle Black, too large to enter the keep. They both carried saddles, though they wouldn’t be riding them just yet. Stealth was paramount to their departure.

Hedwig would stay behind, serving as messenger bird between the commanders of the armies, and would hopefully also be able to find them beyond the Wall.

Jon reached for her hand and they both made their way to their son, currently held by his nurse. Tommen and her father were close by, as was Lord Stark, along with Robb and Bran.

Harry picked up Orys and held him close while he wrapped his little arms around her, “Mama!” Her baby was over a year old, time had flown by so quickly.

Her heart was breaking in her chest, but all she could do was get this done quickly, so they could return to their baby and their families.

She heard Bran murmur to Jon, “I should go with you, a squire’s place is by his knight.”

Jon murmured back, “You cannot.” Bran started crying and Jon pulled him into an embrace, “Bran, listen to me. You can’t come with me, but I leave you an important task, none the less. Protect my son. Will you do this?”

Bran nodded, crying too hard to answer. Jon moved on to embrace the rest of their joint family, and she saw him exchange a tearful farewell with Lord Stark.

Harry looked away and kissed her baby’s precious face and breathed him in, before passing him over to Jon, to let him say his good-byes.

She turned to her brother, her father and the Starks and embraced them all one by one.

King Robert was red eyed, “It should be me.”

She shook her head, “It was always meant to be me, Father. You are needed here, to hold the Wall.” Even now, the sound of battle could be heard in the distance. The combined armies of the Seven Kingdoms holding the Wall against the many thousands of wights.

She pushed back her tears and finished her good-byes. Her uncles Renly and Loras were present, as was her grandfather. Though Tyrion had stayed behind in King’s Landing, holding the city in his role as Hand of the King. And her Uncle Stannis led the fleet. Shireen was back in Dragonstone.

Myrcella had stayed behind in King’s Landing. The only reason Tommen was here was because he was still her grandfather’s page. The rest of their household had scattered. Sam was running around playing assistant to Tyrion. Patrek, Daryn and Brienne would stay at the Wall and fight. And the rest of her ladies, Wynafryd, Sansa, Alysanne and Joy, were in Winterfell, and would look after Orys, along with his nurses.

There would be plenty of people to look after their son, he would be well protected. And yet being apart from him would break her heart.

By the time she was standing by the gate her throat felt unbearably tight. Jon reached for her hand and she held back desperately.

Once the rest of their group stood around them, they mounted their horses and she signaled the sentries to raise the gate.

“Ready?” She called out.

“Ready!” Several voices answered.

As soon as the gate was high enough, she nudged her horse into a gallop and they were off.

Ghost was a white streak ahead of them, leading the way. And the dragons were a distant shape in the sky, shadowing them from high above.

They avoided the straggling wights while their attack was concentrated to the east, and made for the Haunted Forest.