The Difference One Man Can Make

By: joen1801

Fandom: Harry Potter + Game of Thrones Crossover

Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry Potter decided to travel the world. Twelve years later when a new threat attempts to destroy the progress made in Britain he returns home to deal with the situation. During the fight that puts down the small group of upstarts Harry finds himself in a world of ice and fire

Additional infos: Adventure

Published: 2015-03-22

Last updated: 2022-09-03

Words count: 299,410

Chapters count: 23

Converted using www.FF2EBOOK.com
Date: 2022-09-03

1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Game of Thrones and no profit is being made from this story.

NOTE: I got the idea for this story from a challenge by MathiasNightlord01

It was odd returning home after twelve years. For Harry Potter the years had been interesting to say the least. Following his defeat of Tom Riddle, and he refused to use the man's preferred title, Harry decided he wanted to get away from Britain and see the world. The battle had been a bloody affair; fortunately it had been far worse for the Death Eaters than it had for the defenders but he was devastated by the loss of Remus Lupin, Tonks had survived the battle though. Despite his being perpetually away from Britain he kept in contact with both Tonks and Teddy. The Weasleys had lost only one member of their large family during the battle; Percy died shielding Fred's body from a curse sent by Rookwood. The family had been devastated that their wayward member was taken from them only hours after reconciliation.

Harry's decision was helped when he realized that all of his friends were hyper-focused on their relationships; he initially thought that he might get back together with Ginny but found that she and Neville had developed a serious relationship. He didn't begrudge them their happiness and wished them all the best before he first left for foreign shores. Hermione and Ron wanted to return for their seventh year of school and explore their relationship. Luna wanted to spend time with her father after the ordeal they faced.

Harry thought that he was going to die when he walked into the forest that night and when he woke up the day after the battle he realized he was finally free. Well mostly free anyway, there were things that needed to be taken care of before he left. First and foremost amongst them was settling the issue he had with the goblins. Despite their storied ruthlessness in matters of business they were willing to listen to what Harry had to say in defense of his break in. They were placated when he presented them with the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff, which upon being inspected by a goblin trained in dark artifact detection, was confirmed as a soul receptacle for the Dark Lord. A pensieve memory offered by Harry confirmed that it was in fact concealed within their bank. All of this led to far more lenient fines, instead of being fined the entire contents of his trust vault and a large portion of the family vault he had been uninformed of, they merely took the funds necessary to repair the stonework, which left him with about three-quarters of his original funds. It was upon realizing how much money he actually had at his disposal that he decided he would be traveling for quite some time. While he was not the richest wizard in Britain he did have enough to do just that.

Then there was the matter of informing his friends and the Ministry of his plans. Ron and Hermione initially offered to go with him but he could tell it was only a half-hearted offer at best and quickly told them to stay. Their relieved smiles were all the confirmation he needed that he made the right decision. Molly had attempted to demand that he stay but she backed down quickly when his temper was roused, that was the first time he realized how much the Horcrux had been affecting him magically. When he was angered magic seemed to shift around his body and it had ended all argument on the matter from the Weasley matriarch. The others of the family had simply wished him well after that.

He decided to inform the Ministry mostly out of respect for Kingsley, the interim Minister of Magic. Harry was stunned when the man merely smiled and put up absolutely no fight. He was informed that the pureblood supremacists, at least those that had actually survived the battle, had been removed from the government. The Death Eaters that remained were few and far between and many would likely leave the country. It helped that funding for the Aurors had been appropriated from the anti-Muggle and muggleborn programs of the previous administration and was now the fighting force it should have been years ago. Harry breathed easier knowing that the country wouldn't fall into the same cycle of self-destruction it had after the last war.

In retrospect, he supposed the real motivation for traveling was a desire to learn more about the world abroad and its magic. During the war with Tom, Harry couldn't deny that he was less than motivated in his magical studies and thinking about it after all was said and done he couldn't fathom why. He had a mad man hell bent on killing him yet he chose to spend time with Ron doing little to nothing and relied on Hermione to get him through his classes. Of course, part of that came from a personal character flaw from his youth. He wanted his friends to like him and in that pursuit acted the parts they both wanted from him. In his naivety he left himself vulnerable and ill-prepared to fight his enemy. Leaving to learn was his way of ensuring he was never ill-prepared again. Harry knew he could have gone back to Hogwarts but found the idea left a bitter taste in his mouth; he had no desire to be ogled and followed around for doing something that happened only because of a quirk of magic.

Then the summer between the battle and his departure he had a shocking revelation that made returning to Hogwarts superfluous even had he decided to; he had gained much of Tom's memory. Harry found that after the Horcrux was removed he had a much easier time progressing in occlumency. One night when filing through his many memories, he came upon ones that he quickly realized were not his. So he sifted through blocking out and even removing the less… pleasant aspects of the psychotic man's memories and puled all the knowledge he could of a magical nature. Harry could easily admit that he was repulsed by the depths Tom had been willing to go in his pursuit of immortality. Still, Harry found himself better off for the gift and began working to actually become proficient in the new knowledge. It took longer than the summer but within the year he was able to fully assimilate all of the new information.

So after seeing his friends off on September 1st he began what would be years of travel, he started by traveling to Ireland. While it was not a great distance to travel it was an excellent experience. He enjoyed the natural beauty of the country and found that there were pockets of purely magical communities in the west. These communities were made up of druids, men and women who did not need wands in order to work the magic of the world. Harry was thankful that he learned the translation charm before his departure as they all spoke Gaelic. So Harry spent six months in the Emerald Isle, three months exploring the beautiful mundane areas of the country and its people.

The other three months were spent entirely with the druids who taught him their brand of magic. Harry quickly found his love of learning and enthusiastically took in everything he could from the native magicals. It was a simpler sort of magic, more subtle and Harry had no doubt that Neville would feel right at home amongst the nature loving people. The thing he found most illuminating in his time amongst the druids was learning how to feel the environment around him, the vibrations of the earth under his feet and any little thing that happened to disturb the peace. Harry wished wholeheartedly he had the capability during the war, that sort of battle awareness would have made it far easier to predict and counter enemy movements.

While in Kilarney he met a young woman named Aoife who he had a brief relationship with, she was fun loving and didn't expect anything from him. She had blood red hair and ice blue eyes and he found her incredibly enticing. When he told her that he had plans to leave Ireland in the near future she merely smiled and told him they would make the most of the time they actually had to spend together. He spent three weeks in Kilarney and the night before he left they made love till dawn. He could honestly say that he would remember the country fondly between the magic it had taught him and the woman who had given him such an intense night of pleasure. She had told him to look her up if he ever returned and he had every intention to.

From there he made his way to Iceland where he spent only three months total. They had magics that shaped ice and snow in ways he wouldn't have even imagined. He was surprised to find that he actually enjoyed the cool climate of the place and took in everything he could about the small country. Truthfully though, it was one of the least educating of his destinations. He then booked passage to the America's.

He spent five years of his life there; most of his time was spent in the United States traveling the cities and amongst the remaining people of the Indian Tribes. From them he learned a great deal about the spiritual aspects of magic, how to work within the ethereal, the things that could not be seen. Their teachings gave him a greater appreciation for what was as he began seeing beyond the veil of life and death. Visiting Gettysburg was an incredibly harrowing experience after that as beyond the ghosts that lingered there for any magical to see he could see the scars of the great battle within the spiritual realm. He visited the major cities of the country from New York to LA and everywhere in between and quickly found that he preferred the calm of the country over the hustle and bustle of the cities, part of that was probably the electromagnets of the thousands of gadgets within them tended to give him headaches.

He also met people from the wider American Magical community when he visited each cities equivalent of Diagon Alley. He quickly realized that beyond fashion and politics most were just as antiquated as the magicals of Great Britain. They did not embrace the technological advancements though there were magical alternatives to certain things. When Harry took time to think about this fact it did not surprise him. Much of what muggles achieved through technology magicals could do easily enough. Science was for all intents and purposes just another form of magic, perhaps that was why the muggles were developing the same sort of laziness and complacency that magicals had over the years; the only exception to this trend being the highly driven and intelligent. Harry had a few brief relationships during his time there but found that most were nothing more than a means to relieving physical stress; he spent no more than a month with each of these women.

South America was a different experience for him as it was the first time he was introduced to the truly poverty stricken, at least in such an obvious manner. It was for this reason that most of his time was spent with the tribes of the Amazon forest where he learned their brand of magic. He had realized over time that his power was increasing and in the isolated areas of the forest he was able to truly flex his muscles. What he found staggered him as he had no doubt that he would have been Tom's equal if they fought that day. It was at this point that he was happy he had retained the Elder Wand despite what he told his friends. His holly wand seemed to be unable to focus everything he was capable of putting into his spells anymore so he began using the legendary wand in its stead. Of course he told no one that he also held onto the Resurrection stone but what others didn't know wouldn't hurt them. He had spoken to his parents again on rare occasion never lingering to long for fear of becoming lost in those moments. He did spend some time in a couple major cities. While in Buenos Aires he met a beautiful woman who he spent two very pleasurable weeks with. The relationship lacked any substance though, so it was no true struggle to part.

From there he made his way to Asia spending another three years in the various countries. Here he learned magic of the body and quickly realized just how useful the world awareness of the druids could be when fighting in hand to hand combat. He did not go in depth into martial arts training but two months of near non-stop work in the art amplified by magical honing made him fair at defending himself with his bare hands. Something that shocked him was that Magical China was far more antiquated than even England. In India he learned parsel-magic for the first time. He was glad he had retained that ability from Tom when he found how potent the magic could be.

Finally, he returned to Europe making his way to Greece. There was little new magic to be learnt there, instead he spent his time exploring the ancient monuments. He made his way north until he reached Scandinavia. In Norway he learned the last new pieces of magic of his travels, a group of men and women who still held to Viking principles welcomed him when he bested one of their men in combat. He was surprised to find that they were magicals, they taught him the art of weapon smithing and how to wield their weapons from the longsword to the great-axe. They were an impressive lot and Harry swore he built a great deal of muscle working the hammer on anvil and rowing their long boats. They also taught him some of the Norse equivalents of the bastardized Latin used in Britain. While there, he met a beautiful blue eyed, blonde haired girl named Eira. She was the first woman since his time with Aoife in Ireland who he actually felt a connection with, he loved that she was an entirely independent woman who was willing to fight him as she was to fuck him. He regretted leaving her most of all when he finally departed their company.

He traveled south again into Germany and France. He visited the battlefields of WWI and WWII and found them to be much the same as Gettysburg, filled with ghosts and marred by the many deaths that happened there. He saw the major cites of each country and it was while in France that he heard the news that would finally drive him home. He was in Paris actually shopping for clothing when he was met by a much older Gabrielle Delacour. He was happy to find that the young woman had gotten over the girlish hero worship Fleur had informed him of, though she still blushed prettily when he complimented her looks. Anyway, it was Gabrielle who informed him of the new British 'Dark Lord', though she used the term lightly, who was attempting to resurrect the pureblood agenda that had been all but snuffed out by Minister Kingsley. After spending a week with the Delacours, Harry decided it was time to finally go home, though if he was honest he wasn't entirely looking forward to the scolding he was going to receive for staying in contact with no one but his godson and his mother.

So that was why Harry found himself standing in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Harry had scheduled a meeting with the Minister to discuss the issue of the new threat that had reared its head. Harry cautiously made his way through the Ministry but was pleasantly surprised when not a single person had taken notice beyond a cursory glance and some slightly greater interest from a few of the women he passed. The again I'm not exactly a scrawny seventeen year old anymore. That was certainly the truth,while Harry was not a hulking man he had strong arms and broad shoulders with extremely good definition. Besides his physical changes his signature scar had faded to be almost invisible and his glasses had been rendered unnecessary after taking a potion provided by the Native American's. Ten minutes of traveling the Ministry and Harry found himself accosted by Kingsley's secretary as he came to the door of the Minister's office.

The young woman was clearly irritated with him as she called out, "Excuse me! Can I help you sir?"

Harry offered her his best roguish grin and was rewarded by her cheeks pinking slightly, "My apologies Miss but I do have an appointment with the Minister and we are old friends so I thought he might not mind my simply going in."

She looked down at the schedule in front of her and then back to him, "You are the HP listed here?"

Before Harry had the opportunity to respond the Minister's deep voice interrupted him, "Yes he is my two o'clock meeting Eva." Kingsley turned to allow Harry entrance to the room, he spared Eva one more smile before he entered the room.

Kingsley indicated the chair in front of his large desk and harry graciously took the seat. Kingsley sat in silence for over a minute simply appraising the man in front of him. When finally he spoke it was a simple statement, "You look different."

Harry snorted in amusement and a smile found its way to the Minister's face, "Really twelve years away from this country and that is the best you can come up with?"

"Well it was the most obvious thing to say, you do after all look entirely different than you did."

"I suppose that's true." Harry responded genially, "How have things been King?"

"Until recently things were great. The past twelve years have seen an increase in equality across the board for muggleborns and magical creatures. Our relations with the centaurs, goblins and werewolves are better than they've ever been. Your friend Hermione has been behind quite a bit of that, though she finally learned of the symbiotic relationship between house elf and wizard and stopped trying to free them; instead, there are actual protocols for their treatment and enforced punishments should those protocols be broken." Harry was happy to hear Hermione managed to make such a difference. "A study done into the magical potential of pureblood vs. half-blood vs. muggleborn children proved once and for all that the pureblood belief in superiority was nothing more than propaganda provided by the people in power. That did much to quell what remained of the pureblood supremacists."

"All good news." Harry smiled.

"Agreed but now there is a new group that is fighting for the pureblood cause," the words dripped with disdain, "fortunately with the increased strength of Auror forces we have been able to keep their illegal actions to minimum; they managed to a muggle family though."

"What do they call themselves?"

Kingsley smirked, "Those of the Blood, they wish to make it clear that each of them is a pureblood."

"How many are they?"

"As far as we can tell somewhere before twenty five and thirty, we have been able to keep their numbers in check."

"Do you know who their leader is?

"We believe it is one of your former classmates, a Theodore Nott."

"Aye, I remember him. His father was a Death Eater that died at the Battle of Hogwarts."

"That would be correct," Kingsley looked thoughtful for a moment, "we have intel from one of their captured number that they intend to raid the Department of Mysteries for powerful magical artifacts and inventions in hopes that it will make up for their less than overwhelming number and power."

"I assume there will be an ambush waiting for them?"

"Yes and I would like you to be part of it." Kingsley was expecting him to protest. Instead there was a slightly feral grin in response.

"I thought you'd never ask. I've spent twelve years improving my magical ability and I relish the chance put them to the test again."

Kingsley snorted, "I don't know how much you will be testing your abilities, they aren't overly skilled but your presence will certainly bolster the spirits of the others and make it less likely that we suffer any losses."

"Excellent, when should I be here?"

"Arrive here at nine o'clock tomorrow night. As far as we are to understand it they plan to make their move at midnight."

"I'll be there." Kingsley smiled and Harry bade the Minister farewell. Making his way back through the many corridors, Harry was excited about the prospect of using his new knowledge in a combat situation. Granted I have had to fight a few beasts in my travels but that's different than another human. He was pulled from his musings much more violently then he expected by a hard slap across the face. When he looked to the perpetrator he was pleasantly surprised to see Hermione standing there. She looks good; finally got her hair more under control. The slap was promptly followed by a fierce hug that Harry returned gladly.

After a few moments Hermione pulled back and glared at him, "You didn't write."

Harry smiled sheepishly, "Yeah sorry about that but I figured you would talk to Tonks and I did keep in frequent contact with her and our godson."

"Not good enough," she said primly before they both burst out laughing, "It's good to see you again Harry."

"You too 'Mione."

She took on an authoritative stance, something he hadn't seen since school, "You will be at Tonks' house for dinner tonight." It was a command and seeing as that was Harry's plan anyway he didn't much care to get in an argument about it.

"I will, I'll be seeing you there I assume."

She smiled, "Of course. You look good by the way."

"Thanks, I'll see you later tonight." They bade each other farewell and Harry was able to make his way to the Apparition point and after twisting with an almost inaudible crack he found himself outside of a pleasant little house outside of Manchester. He quickly approached the door and knocked. A few moments later he was greeted by the sight of a blue haired boy of twelve years. The boy eyed him as though he had seen him somewhere before but didn't speak. Harry figured he would have to be the one to break the silence.

"Hi there, you must be Teddy," he nodded, "I'm your godfather, Harry." The boys eyes widened and a small smile graced his lips. Without a word he grabbed Harry's hand and began dragging him into the house; happy about his godson's enthusiasm Harry let it happen. When they arrived in the kitchen he was met by the sight of a pink haired Tonks speaking with her mother, Andromeda. The pair looked up from the hustle and bustle the pair caused and fell completely silent for a moment. A moment later a large grin split Tonks' pixyish face and she rose to embrace her friend.

"Wotcher Harry." He was glad that Tonks went for a less violent greeting than Hermione.

"Hey Tonks, I just came from the Ministry and wanted to see you and Teddy over there." Not seeing Teddy over the years was the only bit of guilt he harbored from his travels. I hope the enthusiastic greeting was indicative of his forgiveness.

Tonks smiled, "Of course, Teddy has heard all about you over the years and has always loved your presents, isn't that right?" she looked over in her son's direction, and he nodded enthusiastically, "But I'm sure he would like to spend some actual time with his godfather; so, why don't you go have some boy time and my mum will help me make dinner." Andromeda snorted as Tonks while not terrible was not a particularly good cook. Harry nodded and turned to Teddy who promptly took him outside to what appeared to be a makeshift Quidditch pitch. Harry missed the game slightly but he still absolutely loved flying. They found a couple of old Nimbuses in the broom shed and quickly took to the air. Harry was impressed with Teddy's flying and the young man blushed slightly at the praise. When prompted about his embarrassment he quickly replied, "Well it's not every day that you're complimented by one of the most well-known flyers in Hogwarts' history."

"Well you deserve it, you're an absolute natural on the broom."

"Thanks." He smiled proudly.

"So what house are you in?" Harry had heard much of Teddy's life but some things he wanted to ask the boy himself.

"I'm a Hufflepuff like mom." Once again a hint of pride in his voice.

"Great house, though any would have been lucky to have you." Teddy seemed mildly surprised that Harry didn't insult Slytherin's but it was his opinion that cunning and ambition were not bad things. Besides if things had been different I would have been a Slytherin. The pair continued in that nature for a couple hours. Teddy told him of his school life and his friends; Harry was happy to hear that life at Hogwarts had calmed down since he was there. No first year should have to stare into the face of death as many times as I did. In turn, he told Teddy of his many adventures since leaving Britain as Teddy had already heard much of what happened in his teenage years from his mother and godmother. Harry left out his more sordid affairs, he was none too keen to face Tonks should he corrupt his godson's mind. They were called in for dinner finally by a recently arrived Hermione.

The meal was a pleasant affair. Harry congratulated Hermione on the different pieces of legislation she spearheaded. His old friend smiled and told her of her new work to see Vampire clans better integrated so that they didn't need to feed on the innocent, the major problem they were was dealing was the older vampires who refused to stop feeding on fresh blood. She was hoping for a compromise in which they would only feed from willing humans. Tonks was promoted to Senior Auror following the war and did mostly desk work for the first ten years. With Teddy in school, she began doing field assignments again but during the summer she worked as an instructor for the Auror academy. Andromeda spent most of her time with her godson, though she did travel to mainland Europe occasionally; clearly, she still missed her murdered husband.

When finally things came to Harry's travels, he was bombarded by questions from Hermione, which he expected, about the many different forms of magic he had learned over the years. He gladly told her everything he could, but there was only so much someone could explain about complex magic in a night. Dinner had long since been finished when Harry asked the question. "So how are things with Ron?"

Hermione's face darkened and Tonks began shaking her head. Harry was not expecting the venom that laced is old friend's voice, "Ron and I split up a year after you left."

Harry was surprised, they seemed so dead set on each other when he left, "What happened?" he asked warily.

"We spent seventh year together but as time went on we began bickering constantly much the way we did before we got together. He didn't appreciate that Justin Finch-Fletchley was made Head Boy and constantly accosted me about what was going on in our private quarters. Everybody told him to back off at one point or another; Ginny was particularly vehement that he leave it be. By the end of the year he finally got over it. She paused momentarily, gathering her thoughts, "Then came graduation. During the celebration at the Burrow, he kept on talking about how we were going to get married and I was going to stay at home when we had kids. I confronted him about it and we got in a huge row. The git thought I was going to be exactly like his mother and take care of him for the rest of his life. Now I have nothing against Molly, except she can be a little overbearing, but I have life goals and they all require me to have a career. I broke things off with him."

Harry sighed, "Well I can't exactly blame you 'Mione. How did the rest of the family take it?"

She smiled, "With the exception of Molly, they all supported my decision. That obviously irritated Ron but he got over it once he got back together with Lavender. We still see each other but are nothing more than cordial to one another."

"I imagine I'll hear all about it when I visit the Burrow tomorrow."

Hermione chuckled, "Oh I'm sure you will."

"So anybody new in your life then?"

The blush that adorned her face made it obvious there was, "I've been seeing Fred actually."

That was not the response Harry was expecting, "How did that happen?"

"He and George needed help with charm work for one of their inventions so they came to me," Harry wasn't even remotely surprised, "It took about a month to get it working the way we wanted it and during that time I got to see the serious side behind the ever joking face. Both he and George are brilliant in their own way, and since the war I find it more important to laugh; he does that for me."

"Well congratulations, I certainly hope things work out."

She smiled a little dreamily, "Yeah me too." Harry didn't even need to ask Tonks of her relationship status. She had tried dating once or twice but had yet to find a man who could handle the time she spent on her son. They talked long into the night until finally Harry and Hermione left around one o'clock in the morning. Teddy had long since been sent to bed. The old friends said their goodbyes and apparated to their respective homes.

Harry landed outside of Number 12 Grimmauld Place silently and quickly made his way into the old house. The place looked nothing like it did when he was a teenager. After destroying the locket, Kreacher became an extremely dutiful house elf and when Harry returned to the old house the summer before he left Britain the old elf made quick work of the grime and darkness he had allowed to linger over the years. The portrait of Mrs. Black was moved so that it could be closer to Kreacher something he was happy about. Harry made his way upstairs and as soon as his head hit his pillows he fell asleep.

Midmorning the next day, Harry was standing outside of the misshapen house he came to love in his youth. The Burrow hadn't change much in the last twelve years and being a Sunday morning the place was noisy as ever. Harry made his way to the door and knocked loudly. Silence rained inside the building for a moment before the door was opened quickly and the face of Molly Weasley met him. She looked at him for a moment before she smiled broadly and dragged him into one of her famous hugs. Being less malnourished than he was in his youth he found it substantially less crushing. "Hello Harry dear."

"Hello Molly, I was wondering if I might be welcome for breakfast."

"Of course, please, come in." With that she ushered him into the house where he was assaulted by hugs and shoulder pats. Hermione was there sitting next to Fred, George was there with his now wife Angelina and what appeared to be their two children, Bill was standing behind Fleur and their three children, Ron sat together with Lavender and their twins, Ginny was leaning against Neville with their two children flanking them, and Charlie was alone, ever the bachelor.

The kids were excited to meet the man their parents had told them so much about over the years. The parents seemed equally enthusiastic to see their long-time gone friend. Ron was surprisingly subdued in his greeting but that may have been because of the appraising look his wife gave Harry. God he is never going to grow up is he.

When Harry sat down everybody began relaying stories from the last twelve years. Fred and George were quite simple, they continued building up the joke shop. They now had five stores; with the success of the store in Diagon Alley they were able to expand in a drastic way over the years. Now they had a store in Hogsmeade, Dublin, Paris and Lyon. They were doing extremely well for themselves and Harry found out that he had been profiting as well. As their first investor he had been given a twenty percent stake in their company. Angelina and Ginny were now starting chasers for the Holyhead Harpies. The team had been extremely successful making it to the league finals six times in the past twelve years and winning three of them. They had both taken leaves of absence when they had their children, a common thing amongst the Harpies, it was the main reason they had two full reserve teams.

Ron initially went to the Auror Academy after school but ultimately couldn't hack it. Without Hermione there to help him along that isn't entirely surprising. He had spent five years as the back-up keeper for the Cannons but because of rampant inconsistency could not break the starting lineup. Still the contract he was given along with Lavender's career as a fashion designer kept them more than comfortable. Harry was happy to hear Lavender was doing what she could to pull magical Britain out of the Victorian era. Neville was now the Herbology professor at Hogwarts, something his children were not entirely happy about from the look on their faces. Bill continued his work as a curse breaker while Fleur worked part time for Gringotts as a warder.

Of the children, only their oldest, Victoire, was old enough to attend Hogwarts. Victoire was a Ravenclaw a year younger than Teddy. Dominique and Louis their younger children were only seven and five respectively. Victoire inherited her mother's Veela features while the other two children had the red hair of their father. Though all three were beautiful young children and would likely grow up to be good looking adults if their parents were anything to go and Angelina had Roxanne who looked just like her mother with her father's eyes and little Percy, who favored his father's look almost entirely. Though based on the mischievous glimmer in his eye he was not much like his namesake. They were five and four and Neville's two children were, Harrison and Alice. Neville had insisted they honor Harry in some way when naming their children as he was responsible for the changes in his personality during their late Hogwarts years and Alice was named in honor of Neville's mother. Their children were five and three, they planned on having one more in the and Lavender had a pair of twins named Arthur and James, Ron's way of honoring his father and longtime friend; they were only two years old.

The morning passed quickly as many questions were asked; he was glad Hermione had already heard much of what he had to say as she took some of the attention away from him. At around noon, Harry was convinced to play a game of pickup Quidditch. He enjoyed the event and was glad to see he was still on his game beating Charlie to the snitch despite his now much larger frame. They had a small lunch before everybody started leaving the Burrow. He had told everybody present of his plans for that night and was given many well wishes as the others left. It was nice for harry to see all of his friends happy and whole again, no war to mar the moment.

Nightfall came quickly and at the appointed hour, Harry made his way to the Ministry. He was met by both Tonks and Kingsley. Apparently the Auror-turned-Minister refused to be left out of the action. Harry wore a basilisk leather jacket that was tailored specially for him from the skin of the one he killed in his second year. When he returned to the chamber after the war he found that the creature was still in perfect condition, the magic of the beast keeping it preserved. He also wore metal grieves and vambraces magically reinforced that he made himself while in Norway. He had the Elder wand in a wrist holster on his right arm and a steel single bearded axe on his hip. Its shaft was about eighteen inches long and its edge perpetually sharp from the magic infused into the metal. He looked like a warrior mage and everybody present stared at him when he arrived. Well at least no one stares at my scar anymore. Before the fighting began, Kingsley informed everybody lethal force was permitted but they should endeavor to take as many as they could alive. It's nice not having an incompetent Minister for once.

They waited, in silence mostly, for Those of the Blood to trip the alarm they had put at the entrance to the Department of Mysteries. Just before midnight the alarm was triggered and fifteen Aurors plus Kingsley and Harry made their way to the Department of Mysteries. The alarm was designed to also place a tracker on their movements.

"They're in the research and development area of the department." Tonks whispered calmly. They all nodded and silently moved for that door. When they entered the room they could hear quiet bustling. As Harry extended his senses outward he could see them putting various objects into magically expanded bags; there were thirty of them in total. He relayed this information to the others and they quickly surrounded the enemy group. With a nod from Kingsley the first spells were fired. Reducto spells shot out from the array of Aurors. They would attempt to incapacitate once there were not so many who could revive their fallen comrades. They took down eight of their number in the first volley and quickly saw a return fire. Their enemy was being as vicious as expected, the sickly green of the Killing curse and burnt red of the Cruciatus curse flew back toward them. Harry heard a scream across the room and knew that one of the spells had hit home. I will not allow them to do any more harm. Harry employed parsel-magic as he began pressing toward the enemy group. Their number dwindled quickly under his assault. He was a blur of spell fire and glinting steel. The Aurors took down the few stragglers who thought to flee from his attack.

When there were only ten left he felt someone attacking from his left just as he had bound another. He turned only to be met with the face of Theodore Nott. The man in front of him snarled when he saw Harry's face, "Potter, what a pleasant surprise. I'm going to enjoy killing you." Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Even when it is obvious they've lost purebloods insist upon their foolish belief that they are somehow superior.

"I don't think that is going to happen Nott. I mean Tom Riddle failed on no less than six occasions and I know for a fact you are no match for the snake faced Dark Lord." Harry smirked when he saw his opponents temper raise. From there began the only true duel of the night. Harry probably could have ended it sooner but felt the need to embarrass the ponce first. So Harry began pulling out every first and second year jinx he could think of and bombarded the bastard with them. The jelly-legs jinx, tongue tying curse, which temporarily stopped the fighting as apparently the fool was not a hundred percent proficient in silent casting, he even made him eat slugs before it was over.

Finally, after two minutes of toying with the moron Harry moved in close and drove his axe into Nott's thigh drawing an anguished cry from his opponent. He ripped the blade out and then bound him in ropes quickly. Harry's vindictiveness showed a little bit in that last moment; he enjoyed the idea that he wounded the superior pureblood with a muggle weapon. He looked around and was pleased to see that all of their enemies were either dead or incapacitated. Harry turned to Nott and smirked down at the bound man.

His old schoolmate became enraged at the sight, "Enjoy your little victory Potter but someday we will have our rightful place in society."

Harry glared at him, "Haven't you been paying any attention Nott, the purebloods are weaker than ever and the smart ones are marrying muggleborns and half-bloods to actually introduce new genes and power into their families."

"Every one of them are blood traitors, had you never defeated the Dark Lord we would have had utopia."

Harry laughed in his face bitterly, "You would have had torture and torment at the hands of a half-blood who despised everyone and everything." Nott didn't get the chance as he was dragged to his feet by an Auror and taken to remain with the rest of the survivors. Harry made his way over to Kingsley and Tonks, they nodded at his approach and smiled.

"Well Harry," Tonks began, "pretty obvious the past twelve years have been good to you; you took out almost every one of them by yourself." Tonks expected to get a blush out of her old friend but this wasn't the Harry of twelve years ago.

"Why thank you," he winked at her, "the past twelve years have been more than good to me."

Kingsley spoke up, "We're going to take the survivors in for interrogation and find out if there any who didn't participate tonight, then they'll be sent to Azkaban." The island was no longer home to dementors. The vile creatures had been drive from Britain at the conclusion of the war.

Harry nodded, "Sounds good enough, did we lose anyone?"

"Thanks to you, no we didn't. Jenkins was hit with the Cruciatus and Proudfoot will need some skele-grow for his shattered arm but everyone will be right as rain within the week." Harry was extremely pleased to hear that; as he was looking around the room something caught his eye. Sitting on a shelf was what appeared to be a glass candle alight with a black flame. Harry found himself approaching the flame as if in a daze. Behind him he was completely unaware of the scuffle that had begun.

Nott apparently had a knife in his sleeve and cut himself free. Nott attacked the nearest Auror and wrested his wand from him. Now, Nott knew that he had no hope of actually escaping so he took aim at Harry. As he said the words that would take the life of the destroyer of Voldemort he was tackled by Tonks forcing his aim to go high. Harry turned and saw as the green spell connected with a green luminesce liquid just above the candle. The glass container that held the substance shattered and it fell onto the black fire below. The interaction was immediate and violent.

The black flame exploded and began flowing around Harry. He didn't hear the screams of fear from his fellow fighters nor did he see the look of triumph on Nott's face; instead he was too busy being shocked by the lack of pain. The fire just continued to spread across his body until it covered every inch. That was when the pain came but it was not the burning sensation he expected; instead, he suddenly felt cold and then in a flash of black and green he felt as though he were ripped from existence in an instant. He was pushed through the walls of creation from his own world, though he did not yet know it. He was thrown face first into freezing snow. After about a minute of simply laying there, every muscle of his body aflame in pain, he forced himself to rise.

Harry's first reaction when he rose to see snow around him in every direction was that he had been forcibly transported to Greenland or Siberia but then he saw it. Well I think I would have heard of something like that in my travels. A wall seven hundred feet high made of only ice stood maybe fifty miles away. Where the hell am I?

AN: Always happy to hear any questions or comments, hope you enjoy the rest of the story.

2. Chapter 2

AN:

Wow so the response to the first chapter was amazing. I appreciate all of the reviews and since there are so many I am just going to address some common points instead of individual reviews.

For people who had an issue with my paragraph sizes I apologize and tried to cut them down in this chapter. I want the story to be as enjoyable as possible for everybody who reads it so let me know if it is still an issue.

For those who felt the twelve years spent traveling were rushed I actually agree. It was hard for me to decide how much detail to give about his actual traveling as, let's be honest, I could write an entire fanfic about that twelve year time span if I wanted.

For those who want me to spend equal time between this and my other fic I have some good news. Because of the response to the first chapter I will, for the time being at least, alternate chapter to chapter which story I'm working on.

On with the story

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Game of Thrones and no profit is being made from this story.

NOTE: I got the idea for this story from a challenge by MathiasNightlord01

As Harry looked around at his unfamiliar surroundings he extended his awareness outward and found that he was five miles north from the fork of a river and two miles south of a forest. Even from here he could feel the presence of the massive structure many miles away; its magic felt alive. That thing is old, far older than Hogwarts.

Harry was situated at the bottom of a small hill. Unfortunately for him the snow on the ground was thick and so compact as to be a solid surface. The buffer caused by this snow made it impossible for Harry to feel the vibrations of an approaching man. Between this and Harry's awe at the Wall, he only knew he was in danger when he felt steel on the back of his neck.

Harry's eyes snapped open. He tilted his head to glance over his shoulder at the man behind him. He was met with the sight of a tall man probably in his late thirties or early forties all dressed in black. He had dark hair with streaks of grey throughout. Harry noticed that his right hand was missing all but its thumb and forefinger. Grey eyes appraised Harry from a grim face, and after a tense silence the man finally spoke.

"Tell me wildling, where did you go raiding to have found such a well-made axe and set of armor?" Harry was glad he at least understood the man's tongue even if he did have a distinctly northern accent. What the hell is a wildling though?

Apparently he took too long to answer as he felt more pressure on his neck and a small amount of blood began to seep down the now fresh cut. Harry could have spot apparated away from the man but he needed information about where he was. So he answered the question, "I am no wildling sir, the weapon and clothes are mine. I do not actually know where I am."

The man barked out a laugh, "I am no Ser," Harry could see out of the corner of his eye that the man now had an eyebrow raised in curiosity, "not a wildling, eh? Tell me, do you know who I am?"

Harry found the question odd, "No should I?"

"If you were a wildling you would have known me the second you set eyes on my hand." Harry thought he might remove the blade but it remained digging into his neck. "How did you come to be north of the Wall then?"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "All I remember is a black fire that consumed my body and pain before I arrived here." This was a lie obviously but trying to explain that he was no longer on the same world he was from wouldn't go over well.

"Sounds like you were dreaming and a rather unpleasant one at that." Apparently that was acknowledgement that Harry was not a threat as the blade finally left his neck but did not return to its sheath. "You're lucky it was I that found you and not one of the wildling bastards, they would have robbed you blind and you'd be lucky to be alive."

"And who exactly are these wildlings?" Harry asked as he turned to the face the man properly for the first time.

"Are you from Essos? Every man in the Kingdoms from the North to Dorne has at least heard of the wildlings." The man asked incredulously.

"I know nothing of this place as far as I can remember, so please humor me." Harry's patience was beginning to wear thin and he was tempted to merely pilfer the man's mind of information. That is a last resort only, the man has been surprisingly civil considering the situation.

"The wildlings or free folk as they call themselves are the people who live beyond the Wall. They are numerous and while some are civilized, others are savage. Some speak the common tongue, plainly as you and me, and others speak the Old Tongue of the First Men."

"Are they simply one large group of people?" Harry was genuinely curious about this new place.

"No, they are divided into hundreds of different clans and peoples. Most of the time they have no king, no one to unify them behind one cause, but once in a while, a very long while mind you, there will come a King-Beyond-the-Wall, one of their number either respected or feared enough for his strength that the others follow his will. They never last though, they usually just die when the Night's Watch along with the Lords of the North come to put them in the ground." He paused momentarily and then sheathed his blade.

"Follow me, you will need shelter from the cold and me and my brothers have made camp not far from here." Harry could probably make a far better camp with the aid of magic but he wanted to hear more of this place. As the older man turned his back Harry inconspicuously pulled his wand and cast a warming charm on himself and a subtle compulsion to help with the man's willingness to provide information. I may not want to rape his mind but that doesn't mean I am above pulling out a few tricks.

Harry realized something as they began to walk, "I never got your name."

"No I suppose you didn't," he stuck his good hand out, "Qhorin Halfhand they call me, Ranger of the Night's Watch, and second in command at the Shadow Tower." The names meant nothing but he smiled all the same and grasped Qhorin's hand.

"Harry Potter." It was satisfying as always when someone didn't recognize his name. All Qhorin did was nod his head curtly in recognition

"So what else can you tell me about these free folk?" For some reason the word wildling did not sit right with Harry when describing the men and women who lived in the tundra before him.

"They follow their own laws, if you can call them that; old traditions and superstitions, things that most people have forgotten." He chuckled bitterly for a moment, "Their women are just as dangerous as their men, trust me." Qhorin lifted his hair and pulled down the neck of his undershirt slightly to reveal a nasty cut that ran from two inches beneath his ear toward his back. "Spearwife gave me that on my very first ranging."

Harry was failing to see why it was the free folk needed to be fought or controlled. They seemed to have their own dynamic and customs so what business of it of these Kingdoms to interfere.

Qhorin continued without prompting, "The men 'steal' their women in the hopes of strengthening their clan, while the women are meant to put up as much of a fight as possible before conceding. I must give them some credit though; they never steal another man's wife, only daughters." Well that may be a bit… outdated but it is certainly no reason to kill them.

"What exactly do they do to survive in this place?" Harry found it hard to believe that any people could survive in a place like this for too long let alone thousands of years.

"They hunt what they can hunt and fish what they can fish in order to survive in this world but when they tire of the more traditional way of coming upon food they send raiding parties south into the Gift beyond the Wall and sometimes farther south," disdain was evident in the Halfhand's voice, "that is why we men of the Night's Watch go on our rangings, to counteract the threat they pose to the realm." For some reason I doubt a 700 foot wall was built to keep men out, especially a wall made with as much magic as ice.

"Do they not produce any goods that they cannot trade for the things they need?" Harry asked quickly.

"They don't, there weapons are all crude iron or bronze… nothing compared to castle forged steel and this land is not exactly ideal for production. Besides, even if they did it is unlikely that any man in the Kingdoms would be willing to accept their goods at market." Qhorin's voice held an air of finality on the matter.

Harry decided to ask a question that may blow up in his face, "Are there any magic practitioners amongst your or the free folk's number?"

Harry was emboldened by the lack of utter disbelief on Qhorin's part, "Well there are the wargs, men who can reach into an animal's mind and they say they there are still some of the Children of the Forest out there but other than that no, why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Harry said lightly, "I have always had a certain fondness for the deeper mysteries of the world." Qhorin eyed him with narrowed eyes but made no further comment on the matter. They continued on in silence for another five minutes before they reached a makeshift camp. Four small tents were assembled around what was once a fire. Four horses were huddled together for warmth just outside the ring of the tents.

"My brothers went hunting while I tended the camp," Qhorin addressed him, "they should be returning soon with food to eat. I think Gared has an extra tent in his pack, if not I suppose you'll just have to cozy up to the fire in your furs tonight." The last was said without a hint of remorse for Harry's possible plight. Lucky me magic is far more adept at warding off the weather of the world than a thin piece of cloth held up by some sticks.

Harry sat as Qhorin began rekindling the fire. The twenty-nine year old silently contemplated the situation he found himself in. Things could be worse I suppose. I am in a new place, granted a seemingly unpleasant place, and gods know how much I enjoy seeing new places. The question is can I get home, and if it is possible how? I don't even know what those things that caused this were.

Harry sighed internally. He had enjoyed his time with his friends not even eight hours ago from his point of view but they were not the same people they were twelve years ago and he wasn't either. I'll miss Teddy and Tonks though, I only just properly met him and now I might never see him again.

The truth was Harry felt conflicted, the past twelve years he had seen a great deal and he enjoyed the adventure of it all. He wasn't sure if he wanted to return home and relegate himself to an increasingly monotonous life. Just from what little I have heard of this place it will never lack for excitement. He found the idea of staying here oddly enticing. He had never been one for the technological advancements of the mundane world so that would be of little consequence. Though lack of plumbing will take some getting used to… ah, I'll just vanish it magically. From what he could tell this place was still in the early middle ages, so the only plumbing would be in large cities. For now it is a moot point, I have no way back and until I find one will simply have to make the best of things.

Fortunately for Harry that would not be as hard as it could be because during his years of traveling he had taken to keeping the truly important things with him: his wands and axe, the invisibility cloak, and the resurrection stone, as well as 500 pieces of gold for emergency expense in the wizarding world, healing potions and salves and for a time, one of the bigger-on-the-inside tents. I wish I still had that fucking tent, gods know it would be more than a little useful here. The one he had used during the war against Tom had finally broken down while he was in Asia years ago. He never got around to replacing it.

At that moment they were joined by three other men carrying a deer between them, and dressed much the same way as Qhorin. The first was a thin young man probably twenty years old, he had a long face, sharp features and blue eyes. Despite his apparent youth Harry could sense an air of command about him.

The next was a man older than Qhorin, scrawny and weathered from years of living as a ranger. Harry couldn't see it but the man had lost both of his ears to the cold. As the older man caught sight of Harry, he turned to Qhorin and raised an eyebrow in question. The Halfhand gave him no response but a small shake of his head.

The last of them was the youngest by far, he looked to be only fifteen years old and if his apparent shaking was any indication he was unused to the cold. The young man was unable to grow a proper beard as of yet as it came in patchy and sparse. His brown eyes watered slightly from the cold.

The first of the three went over to Qhorin and began speaking in hushed tones as he eyed Harry warily. I have been talked about enough in my time to know when it is happening right in front of my face. A few moments later they broke apart from each other an agreement clearly reached between the two. The long faced younger man approached Harry where he sat.

"Harry Potter, my name is Benjen Stark and I am the leader of this ranging," this was a surprise to Harry as the man was only the second oldest present. Then again I suppose that explains the respect he commands. "We are due back at Castle Black in a week, if you would like you can come with us at that time and make your way into the Kingdoms. While we could use more men manning the Wall, no man is forced to take the black; it is a choice, some freely make it and others do it to avoid harsher punishments. They tend to regret that decision once they actually come here." The last was said more to himself than Harry.

"I will stay with you for the time being," Harry answered diplomatically. I still have things to learn here. "You seem young to be in command."

While still slightly suspicious, the stern faced man quirked a smile at that, "Aye I suppose I do, two men here have been rangers longer than I have been alive yet I command them."

"Sounds particularly strange when you put it like that." Harry responded.

"It does I agree," he glanced away from Harry before his eyes returned to lock on emerald green, "I am the youngest son of one of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms. I was never raised to rule but I was raised to lead, to fight, and to hunt far better than most men who come to the Wall. Had both my brothers died from the Mad King's actions I would be in Winterfell ruling all the North with a wife in my bed."

Harry was not expecting that by any stretch of the imagination. "Why would a Lord decide to come here?"

Benjen's answer was quick in the coming, "Starks have manned the Wall for thousands of years and there is honor in taking the black." An old family indeed, there name probably stretches back much farther than any of the purebloods could have boasted.

"And what exactly does taking the black entail?" From what he had heard as of yet it didn't sound even remotely pleasant.

"In short, we fight to protect the realm and value duty over everything. As such, we take no wives and father no children." Harry scoffed internally at that, well I will most certainly not be taking the black anytime soon. If Harry's life showed anything it was that he would do what was necessary to protect others but in his experience denying yourself love, whether it be of friends or lovers, did not make doing so any easier. No it makes you bitter.

Harry decided to change the topic, "You said you have brothers?"

"I have many brothers but in terms of blood I once had two brothers and a sister but now… only one brother remains to me." Harry could empathize with the man's loss even if he had no siblings of his own.

"I am sorry for your loss ser, what happened?" Harry asked cautiously, there was no telling how some people would react to such questions.

Surprise was not what he expected, "Qhorin told me you had no knowledge of this place but from your appearance I assumed that was only applied to here in the North."

"I truly know or remember nothing of this place." Harry said earnestly, he had yet to get the opportunity to cast more compulsions so he had to resort to conventional means of persuasion with the man. Besides even on muggles a compulsion isn't full proof on those with a strong will. Even Qhorin's didn't take perfectly, he wouldn't have questioned me before answering if it had.

"Right well it is a rather long story." Benjen sat down and began telling his tale. He spoke of the Tourney of Harrenhal where Lyanna Stark was named Queen of Love and Beauty by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, in favor of his wife Elia Martell. He explained how some claimed his sister was kidnapped by the Prince and spirited away, while others said that they fell in love and ran away together. Benjen was sullen as he explained that, "Whatever the reason what followed nearly tore the Kingdoms apart."

He told Harry how his father, Rickard and brother, Brandon, went to the capital demanding the return of Lyanna, how the Mad King, as he was known across the Kingdoms, killed his father by burning him alive and forced his brother to watch while he strangled to death. The King proceeded by demanding that Jon Arryn, the man his other brother fostered with for years, send his two wards, Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon to the capital. Benjen stopped there for a moment, "You see Robert was Lyanna's betrothed and it was he who decried Rhaegar as a thieving rapist as much as Brandon."

"Did your sister love her betrothed?" Harry was not a big fan of arranged marriages but knew it was the way of things in a world ruled by Lords and Kings.

"In truth, no she did not and I care little for the man either. He is a brutish, whoring, drunkard or at least he was last I met him, and I can only imagine it has gotten worse since he lost the one thing he truly wanted in life." Benjen said a slight edge to his voice.

Benjen continued the story. Jon, Ned and Robb called their banners and through a marriage between Brandon's former betrothed, Catelyn Tully, and Ned they won the allegiance of the Riverlands. There was war that involved nearly every Kingdom of the Realm. "You see Tywin Lannister, Warden of the West, was Aerys' Hand for years but they had a falling out of sorts because of common belief that it was Tywin who truly ruled the Kingdoms. As such the Lord of Casterly Rock refused to commit his forces to either side until it favored him."

Robert's Rebellion ended in the year 283 AC, which was apparently six years ago. Rhaegar, who through most of the war had stayed in Dorne with the Lady Lyanna, took command of the Loyalist forces and met Robert's army at a crossing of the Trident River. There the two men fought in the waters of the river until finally, as Rhaegar slipped upon a rock, Robert drove his Warhammer through the Prince's chest wresting the rubies from his armor. Benjen had not a bit of concern in his voice when he told Harry, "Robert was injured in the battle and my brother was sent to take the capital."

Benjen's mood darkened, "When he arrived the Lannisters had already sacked the city. They raped and pillaged as they went. When my brother arrived in the Great Hall he found Jaime Lannister, one of the Kingsguard, sitting upon the throne with Aerys's blood still staining his blade." Despite Harry's opinion of honor he was ambivalent about the Lannister's act. He may have been sworn to protect the King but was he not also sworn to protect the people. I suppose I would need to be there in the moment to make a true judgement.

"That was far from the worst of it though… when Robert arrived Lord Tywin presented him with the bodies of Rhaegar's two children. The girl, Rhaenys, had been stabbed half a hundred times and the babe, Aegon, had been strewn across the wall and was barely recognizable." Benjen sniffed disdainfully, "Robert praised the act as killing dragonspawn. My brother raged at his friend and left the capital that day to break the Siege at Storm's End and from there travel to the Tower of Joy to retrieve our sister"

A tear escaped the stoic man's eye, "Lyanna was dead when he arrived, Ned never said how but he didn't blame Rhaegar. Robert and Ned repaired their relationship through the shared grief of my sister's death." Harry nodded in recognition. Grief can bring people together as well as tear them apart. "Before he left the capital, Ned watched Robert marry Tywin's daughter Cersei."

"When my brother came back with my sister's body it was one of the worst moments of my life. I lost most of my family to the Rebellion." Benjen smirked slightly, "Of course my brother also came home with a bastard son, or so he says. I find it hard to believe my brother would do anything to break his honor."

"And about three months later, with my brother alive and well to take the Lordship of Winterfell, I decided to take the black."

Harry had been mostly silent through the story only asking the odd question for clarification. For the wizard war was an all too familiar thing. It is hard to think that the entire war happened because two people fell in love and others reacted poorly. Still I suppose that is a better reason for fighting than blood purity. And from everything Benjen said Harry truly believed Rhaegar and Lyanna ran away together. I think Eddard would have placed the blame on the Prince for his sister's death if it were otherwise.

Harry didn't know it but the northerner appreciated the conversation. He rarely had the opportunity to talk about what had happened with anybody but the Lord Commander. It was surprisingly enjoyable for the young man to tell the story to someone without bias.

"And what of your brother now?" Harry asked idly.

"He has a true born son and daughter, but he wasn't there to see either of them born. Just a few months ago his daughter was born while he was in the Iron Islands putting down a Rebellion by their Lord, Balon Greyjoy." Benjen replied easily.

"Another war?"

"Not really no, it was just the Islands against the rest of the Kingdoms; a foolish attempt at grabbing power when the Kingdom was still recovering from the Rebellion." It was at that moment they were approached by the earless ranger.

"The deer has been prepared Benjen," he turned to Harry, "I did happen to have a spare tent with me so you won't be sleeping out in the cold tonight." The address was curt but not unkind so Harry merely nodded in response.

Benjen dismissed the man, "Thank you Gared that will be all." He turned to Harry, "Come let us eat."

Their dinner was not a particularly delicious or joyous affair but the conversation was good. Harry continued to ask questions through the meal and wouldn't be surprised if he was beginning to grate on the men's nerves. He found out that the youngest of them, Nain, had only recently been made a ranger and this was his first time beyond the Wall. The boy was caught stealing a horse and was given the choice of losing his hands or going to the Wall. He chose the Wall.

Gared didn't choose the Wall willingly either. He killed a man who he claimed had raped his sister. When captured he didn't want to die for doing what he considered the right thing, so he chose to fight for something else he considered just. I can respect that if it is true.

Harry diverged from the more personal topics, "So who commands your Night's Watch?"

"Jeor Mormont took up the position of Lord Commander a year ago when Qorgyle died of old age." Benjen informed him.

Qhorin snorted beside him, "Aye and good riddance to the old bastard." Harry was surprised by the hostility but let it slide for now. Qhorin continued, "And Stark here will be First Ranger of the Night's Watch within the month."

Benjen went with humility, "It is possible Qhorin but it is just as likely you will be made First Ranger as me."

The Halfhand shook his head with conviction, "I can lead a ranging fine Ben but commanding all the rangers of the watch is beyond me. Besides," he smirked, "five years ago Jeor Mormont was your fucking bannerman, I find it hard to believe he will even consider another."

"If I am given the position it shall be because I am a good ranger and a good leader and no other reason. I do not like the insinuation of anything different." The words came out louder and with far more heat than before.

Qhorin but up his hands up in a placating manner, "I meant no offense Ben, we all know you are the best ranger in the Watch. In five years you've come to know more about the Haunted Forest than any other ranger, and every man knows you can lead and respects you for it. Despite your high birth even the men from Flea Bottom respect your words and heed your commands, Mormont would be a fool not to name you to the position."

"My apologies Qhorin, I let my temper get the better of me." Benjen may not have so much of the wolf's blood as his brothers or sister in his blood but it was there all the same.

"No need to apologize it was I who spoke out of turn." Harry sat and watched the exchange as he devoured a piece of venison.

Conversation ended mostly after that and the men entered the tents for the night. Soon only Benjen and Harry remained awake.

The ranger smiled at him, "Get some rest Harry, I will take first watch for the night."

"No you get some rest, I imagine your day was far more trying than mine." Well that's probably not true but I would like a moment to myself. Benjen nodded his head gratefully and turned to enter his tent. Harry began to pull his wand from its holster put stopped when the man turned around abruptly.

"You are thinking of staying here north of the Wall, aren't you?" Harry was actually surprised the man had gathered that much from his reactions. Well I suppose one has to be observant if they are to be a good ranger.

Harry could have lied but there was no accusation in Benjen's voice so he chose to be honest, "You're right, from what little I've heard it seems to me the free folk appeal to my desire for freedom and it seems to me they only need someone with the will to bring them together to actually make something of themselves here." Harry chuckled in his mind. This is another example of my saving people thing rearing its head.

"You would not be the first to try you know? They do not take kindly to people trying to change them." Benjen warned.

"I don't think they need to be changed, they just need purpose. Their customs are not so terrible and they only do what they need to live." Harry argued. In truth Harry admired their freedom having been subjected to corruption far too often in his youth. From everything I've heard so far they remind me of the Norse I spent time with while in Norway not so long ago.

"You haven't even met them yet. You know nothing of the cannibals from the ice river clans or the scalpers within the Skirling Pass." Benjen's voice rose minutely.

I learned long ago not everybody could be saved but I could do some real good for the more civilized people of this place. "True Benjen but can you say there aren't some amongst them who are good men?"

"No I can't, I am sure you had the impression from Qhorin that all wildlings are vile people but the truth is despite their hate of us they still have their humanity." He chuckled, "Many a black brother has been saved by a wildling when lost and we will save orphaned children by taking them into the Watch." He paused in contemplation, "It is my opinion they could benefit from a man who could actually unite them for more than the purpose of war."

"Shouldn't it be your duty as a man of the Night's Watch to dissuade me from this line of thinking?" Harry asked a little perplexed.

Benjen rubbed at his temples before he responded, "Probably yes but I did not become a brother to fight men," his eyes took on a slightly haunted look, "there are worse things beyond the Wall than wildlings. My ancestor didn't build a 700 foot wall with the magic of the Children and the help of giants to keep men from attacking the realm." Harry made to question the man but didn't get the chance.

Benjen continued eyes narrowed now, "This is not to say, that should you choose to join the wildlings, I won't kill you if the situation demands it." His voice was nearly as cold as the air around him.

Harry had gone toe to toe with monsters so felt no fear from the young nobles glare, "I will keep that in mind in future, but I have made no decision yet."

Benjen shook his head, "Yes you have. I can see it in your eyes, if nothing else you will stay here for a time just to sate you curiosity." He was silent for a moment before continuing, "Know this, should you choose to walk the path you're considering I wish you the very best of luck." He then turned and entered his tent leaving Harry alone.

He brought out his wand and quickly gave at a wave that erected his tent in only seconds. I think I have a distinct advantage in my endeavors. With that thought he began running through all the new information he had gathered that day and filed it with occlumency.

Two days later, Harry and his current companions were making their way toward a place known as Craster's Keep, named for the man who owned it. According to Qhorin he might have information about a man they wished to bring to justice. When Harry pursued the matter further Qhorin simply fell silent. Harry had the good sense not to pursue the matter any further with the ranger.

Now Harry found himself sitting astride a horse with Gared as they neared their destination. Harry decided now would be a good time to broach the subject once again, "So who exactly is it that you are hunting?"

"Ah well you see, his name is Mance Rayder, he was one of our brothers; one of the one's who was born to the wildlings and raised by the Watch."

"And Qhorin seems so bothered by it why?"

"I would think that is obvious. They were friends for years, went beyond the wall a hundred times together over the years and then he breaks his oath. Qhorin was less than pleased when he heard about it."

Harry could understand that. It probably felt as much a personal betrayal as it did a betrayal of what they stood for. "So what made him break his oath?"

"The damnedest thing honestly," the earless brother turned to look at Harry, "He was attacked by a shadowcat while ranging. His brothers lost him but a wildling woman found him and tended to his wounds. While he recuperated she mended his black cloak with red patches. Like Qhorin he was from the Shadow Tower and when he returned the commander, Ser Denys Mallister, thought to make him replace the mended cloak with one of all black."

"I take it he did not take the instruction well." It was obviously about more than the cloak though.

"No he felt it was an infringement on his freedom and abandoned the Shadow Tower and his vows. Apparently he proved he abandoned our ways; otherwise, the wildlings would have killed him within months." He paused a moment, "I suppose in the end it was just blood showing through."

Harry chuckled and the earless man looked at him curiously, "That very well might have played a part in it, and I'm sure he enjoyed the freedom he had with the wildling woman but don't you think it more likely that it was the woman that caused his defection. He abandoned a life he had known all of his life because of a mended cloak?" Harry snorted, "I think it far more likely he could not bring himself to part with it for the sake of the woman."

Gared nodded his head, "I suppose you're right," he turned forward before informing Harry, "We're here."

Craster's Keep was made up of five buildings with one far larger than the others in the center. As they approached Harry found it odd that he could see women around but not a single man. No one had told him of the vile man's practices as of yet.

They dismounted just outside the makeshift wall that surrounded the area and walked their horses the rest of the way. Benjen addressed one of the women present, "Tell Craster that Benjen Stark would like to speak with him."

The woman nodded her head nervously and quickly made her way toward the largest building. As Harry awaited their host he took a closer look at his surroundings. The buildings were made of wood and mud, and appeared well enough made to ward out cold winds. His initial observation was correct and not a single man was present in the area. There were plenty of women ranging in age from their sixties to small girls of no more than five. The five year old was looking with large brown doe-eyes at the black clad men and Harry in his basilisk leather and metal armor. Funny no one has actually mentioned my lack of warmer apparel. The probably think it's my business if I want to freeze to death. Harry smiled and waved at the little girl and she waved back shyly with a small smile on his lips.

It was at that moment Craster came out of his 'keep' that was little more than a large home. He had grey hair that was beginning to turn white, and a cruel look about him. The man actually growled when he saw the attention Harry was giving the young child. He approached Benjen and barked, "Haven't I told you crows a thousand times, nobody looks at my wives."

Benjen didn't react to the man's anger, "He isn't a crow Craster and I'm quite sure that one is still too young to be one of your wives." Benjen had absolutely no love for the man, in fact he hated him.

The words did nothing to dull the man's anger, "Wives or daughters the rules apply all the same and you should have informed the man of the how things are here."

"My apologies Craster, he will not look at your daughters or wives again. Now can we discus business?" Benjen bit out with as much civility as he could manage.

The odious man grunted and waved for them to follow him back toward his 'keep'. Harry had kept silent but was seething internally at what he heard. This man is repugnant, even the Death Eaters didn't go this far. He sleeps with his daughters and has more daughters so he can sleep with them. Then a disturbing thought crossed his mind. What in the hell does he do with his sons? Harry determined then and there that before he left this place he was going to break into the bastard's mind.

They sat around a large fire, above them lying along the floor and looking down on them were more of the women. Harry couldn't help but glance at them from time to time, Craster apparently took notice and leaned into Harry while he wasn't looking, "Southerner, I thought we established you aren't supposed to be looking at my wives and daughters."

Harry snapped angrily at the man, "I don't look at your daughters with anything but pity ser," Harry almost hissed the word in his rage, "because they have the unfortunate fate of being both your children and wives."

Craster's reddened in anger but Benjen cut him off before he could respond, "Harry enough." He commanded, even if he agreed with the slightly older man, "Now Craster, what can you tell me of Mance?"

The wildling turned back to Benjen and snorted, "Still after your lost crow eh Stark? What difference does he make to the Old Bear?"

"He knew important information about the Night's Watch and the Lord Commander would not have it so freely available to the wildlings." Benjen answered.

"So it's secrets then?" He ran his hand through his closely shaved beard, "Your former brother came through here not too long ago and stayed a night in my home; he may have mentioned that he intended to make for Hardhome."

"How long ago was it exactly?" Qhorin asked eagerly.

"Two weeks maybe three, can't remember exactly." The man answered noncommittally.

Benjen stopped Qhorin before he could respond, "Thank you Craster, anything else you can tell us?"

"I heard word that Giantsbane is making camp about twenty miles straight north of here, I didn't here why but you crows might want to look into it."

Lines crossed Benjen's face as he scrunched it up in contemplation, "Tormund has come further south? But why?"

Gared spoke up for the first time, "He is probably warring with one of the other clans. It wouldn't be the first time."

Craster actually chuckled, "That is the truth, the man is almost as good at fighting as he is at talking."

Benjen returned his attention to the still chuckling man, "Do we have the protection of your home for the night?"

Craster nodded, "Aye Stark, but that one," he pointed to Harry, "will be sleeping outside, I don't trust him."

Benjen eyed Harry appraisingly, "As you say." Harry didn't react externally but internally he was actually happy.

Later that evening when all other occupants of the 'keep' had taken to their beds Harry was wide awake and shrouded in his invisibility cloak and approaching the door to Craster's home. When he went to retrieve his cloak he had saw the Resurrection stone for the first time since arriving here. I wonder if I will be able to call my parents here. He almost decided to try then and there but decided he had more important things to do.

Harry silenced his footsteps as he stepped onto the mud floor and quickly made his way toward the only source of noise in the building. As he drew closer he realized they were pained whimpers he was hearing. He hastened his step hoping to give the woman Craster was violating some brief respite even if it was only for the night.

There was no door separating Craster's sleeping quarters from the rest of the building just a piece of cloth that Harry was able to side step without any noticeable disturbance. The sight that met him was unpleasant to say the least.

Craster was a surprisingly fat man for somebody in such a harsh environment. Where once he could have been strong he was now round and sagging, he was kneeling on the bed thrusting into a girl who looked no more than fifteen as tears fell down her reddened cheeks. She whimpered once more and Harry was appalled as the man struck her hard.

"What did I say about your pathetic noises girl?" He snarled. The girl was smart enough to realize it was a rhetorical question.

Harry had seen enough and quickly used a Body Bind Charm on the man that stilling him instantaneously. The young girl looked back at her father-husband and tentatively moved away in hope that her ordeal was over for the night. Harry cast a quick compulsion on her that drove her from the room and out to the women's quarters in one of the other buildings.

Harry then turned his attention back to Craster and quickly covered his naked body. Now we get to see exactly what kind of monster you are. With that thought Harry stared into the man's eye and cast a silent Legilimens.

It was immediately obvious that the man had a weak will. Harry tore through memory after memory in hopes of finding what was done to the man's sons and what other information he may have omitted earlier.

He saw as Craster's life flashed by, he had once been a raider under the command of a wildling of little skill or respect named Garel, when Craster went off to steal his first woman he decided to never return. He took up residence in the Haunted Forest and developed a tentative alliance with the Night's Watch in order to maintain himself. Since they needed the information he was able to procure and his hospitality in times of distress he was able to do well for himself. The first child he had with his first wife, who was now long dead, was a girl. When his daughter had her first blood he took her to bed and did the same with every successive daughter after that.

As way of ensuring there was no outside threat to his control he kept none of the sons that his daughter-wives birthed. Instead he would take them into the forest and sacrifice them to the gods, or at least what he believed to be the gods. Harry did catch a glimpse of pale skin in one of the man's many memories of offering his sons.

Apparently Mance Rayder had been here more recently than the man claimed as it had been only a week since he left Craster's home. Other than that his information was honest. One bit of interesting information was that wildling and crow alike detested the man and all his spawn for his practice of incest.

This left Harry with a decision to make. I could kill the piece of shit and do the women here a favor but they would be dead within the month with no one to help them. Plus if I kill him I have no doubt that Benjen will know it was me and I'd rather not have to remove the man's memory. So Harry came to decision, despite his desire to do otherwise he would let the man live but not without inflicting some bit of pain for everything he had done.

After his own war and seeing what leniency earned men who could do something about injustice Harry had run low on mercy. So Harry canceled the petrification spell, silencing and binding him instead. I want him to feel this pain as it happens. Harry cast Snape's dark Severing Charm at his ear detaching it from his head with a spurt blood. Harry let the man bleed out for a while before he healed the gaping wound.

Harry then decided to pull out one of Tom's favorite ways of punishing his followers. It was an old spell designed to punish men in the Middle Ages; every time Craster neared completion while enjoying a woman it would cause him excruciating pain throughout his groin. Hopefully it will give these girls some small reprieve.

When all of this was done he reentered the man's mind and implanted a false memory of losing his ear to the cold. Harry was quite positive Craster's wives would notice the change but likely make no comment on the matter. As he left he cast an overpowered Stupefication Spell that would have the man sleeping long after he had left this place. Harry returned outside quietly as he came and slept peacefully the rest of the night.

Harry and the black brothers awoke early the next day. As they were making ready to leave Benjen approached Harry and spoke in hushed tones, "If you wish to join the free folk you should part company with us here and now."

"Why?" Harry questioned eyebrow raised.

"Tormund Giantsbane is just twenty miles north of here and you could reach him by tomorrow." Harry almost chuckled at that. By spot apparating he could travel twenty miles in little more than an hour.

Benjen continued unaware of Harry's thoughts, "The man has no love for the Night's Watch but he would do what is necessary to see his people and all free folk prosper." Benjen became slightly more insistent as he continued, "Find him and prove your worth. If you think you could manage to beat him in combat do so and he and his people will follow you. There are few better fighters amongst the wildlings than his clan and they are some of the better educated as well."

Harry pondered the proposal silently. I want to help these people and from what Benjen says Tormund and his will be as good a start toward unifying them as any others. Harry actually found it funny that he was going to seek out leadership. There was a time where the very idea would have sent me running. But he had learned, as the war with Tom went on, that he had it in him to lead people and they were willing to follow. Harry roused himself from his thoughts with a quick shake of the head that caused Benjen to frown thinking it was his refusal to the idea.

Harry noticed the look and quickly alleviated the man's tension, "I agree with you, this is as a good a time as any to part ways."

Benjen handed him a packet of what was left from the deer killed three nights prior which Harry took gratefully, "Aye that it is."

Harry extended his hand toward the ranger, "It was good meeting you Benjen Stark."

"And you Harry Potter. I hope next we meet you have made something of the free folk and that I don't have to kill you." He said the last with a completely straight face that caused Harry to burst out with laughter.

"Yeah mate," he fell into a bit of his own vernacular, "wouldn't want your sword stuck through my chest next I see you." Benjen cracked a smile at that. "You'll tell the others I've left?"

"Yes, Qhorin and I already discussed your departure so it will come as little surprise to him at least." He paused for a moment, "Oh and feel free to keep the tent." Benjen left him to join his brothers as Harry finished his packing.

As Harry walked to the edge of Craster's Keep and out of sight of the people there he came across the same doe-eyed little girl from the day before. She smiled shyly at him and he quickly leaned down and drew his wand so that he was holding only the tip with the rest mostly up his sleeve. He waved it almost imperceptibly and a white rose came into being in his left hand.

The little girl stared in wide eyed fascination for two reasons , the first being that she had never actually seen flowers before and the second being the fact that the man in front of her made it appear as if from nothing. Harry bent down and handed her the flower and she beamed up at him. I certainly hope my little present for her bastard father saves her from his attentions in future.

Harry reached the edge of the Keep's gate, and with one last glance over his shoulder at the little girl who was still staring at him in wide eyed fascination, he disappeared with an almost imperceptible crack. He had no idea that the little girl would tell no one of what she saw.

Harry landed about 200 yards away amongst the trees and smiled to himself. Twenty miles due north… well that shouldn't take more than an hour or so. He quickly apparated once again and repeated the process another eight times before coming to a stop.

The issue with short range rapid apparition wasn't power, no Harry could easily apparate a hundred times in the same fashion without any drain, the issue was disorientation and increased likelihood of splinching as the body is continually compressed and decompressed. So Harry took a three minute break after every tenth apparition.

A half an hour later Harry landed and took a rest after another ten apparitions. He had traveled eleven miles so far and should be close to the location he was given in another twenty five minutes. As Harry stood there he looked around and saw a great white tree with a face carved into its surface. As Harry approached he had the distinct feeling he was being watched and looked around in all directions only to find nothing. So he resorted to magic and began extending his awareness through the environment, what he found shocked him.

He was being watched not by any person or creature but by the tree itself. It had its own sort of sentience and as he retreated back to himself he felt like his very soul was being weighed. I feel like it may be bad if I am found wanting.

As he stared at the tree he suddenly sensed a second presence looking at him so Harry extended himself again and found something else within the tree that looked at him for only a moment before disappearing entirely. Well this will merit further investigation in the future. As Harry looked into the face of the tree he felt a sense of approval before he turned back north and apparated once again.

Harry had reached his destination and could see them now. Roughly two hundred of the free folk were encamped in a rather sparse area of the forest. He didn't immediately approach them instead donning his invisibility cloak and doing what he could to observe them.

His conclusion was that they were a surprisingly normal group of people all things considered. It was still early in the morning and he watched as man and woman alike awoke and began preparing meals on a per tent basis. He watched as children rose at their parents' command and began doing what they could to help.

After they finished eating, Harry watched as the men and spearwives made their way to the largest of the tents, where he had seen a large auburn- haired man with a thick beard exit earlier, for some sort of meeting. All things considered Harry could only assume the man was Tormund Giantsbane. When they all exited the tent they went about gathering the young men and women and some were taken away from the encampment to hunt while others were taken to train in a makeshift yard with the sword, spear or whatever other weapon could be mustered up. I will be able to give them all proper weapons and armor soon enough.

The younger children of the group were attended to by the women who did not fight whether they were their children or another's.

Harry watched for a good two hours and decided they were a people worth helping so heeding Benjen's advice he sought out Tormund Giantsbane who he had seen enter his tent not long ago.

Invisible with footfalls silenced and cushioned to avoid making indentations in the snow, Harry entered their camp and quickly made his way toward the largest tent. As he entered he removed his cloak. The sight that met him was much what he expected. There was a fire at the center of the tent and furs on a makeshift bed. Tormund was sitting with what could only be his daughter from the look of her.

Upon noticing Harry's presence the large man jumped into action, "Who are you and what do you want?" His voice was gruff but strong.

"My name is Harry Potter and I am here because I hear yours are a good group of fighters… and I could use a good fight." Harry said with a small smirk.

"If it is a fight you want then there are a hundred men and seventy women who would be more than happy to give it to you out there," He responded indicating the entrance from which he came, "so get out."

"Oh you see I hear you are the best fighter of the bunch so I think it would be best if I fought you." Harry said confidently.

The man laughed uproariously before responding, "You must have balls the size o' a mammoth's with what just came out o' your mouth." Suddenly his mood turned serious, "Do you know what you're asking boy?"

Harry didn't like the use of the word boy but let the slight slide, "I am asking the leader of a clan to fight me in single combat and should I win I will have proven I am the strongest and gain control of your clan here and now. If I lose and make a good showing it is at your discretion whether to simply kill me or allow me entrance into your people to strengthen them."

"But if I wipe the floor with your pretty face, you die no matter what." Tormund finished for him. He eyed Harry critically for a moment before continuing, "You don't look a crow but you don't sound or look like one of the free folk either."

"I met a few crows, as you call them, and they offered to bring me to the Wall where I could take the black or travel south into the Kingdoms." Tormund made a hand gesture for him to continue, "They told me what being a crow entails and I love the feel of a woman's body far too much to even consider that." This drew a bark of laughter from the larger man, "And as to going to the Kingdoms I haven't fancied myself a follower in a very long time and the only way I would even be willing to follow is if I know the quality of the man."

Tormund was silent for a moment before nodding his head, "Very well Harry Potter," he started walking toward the entrance and gestured for Harry to follow, "you shall have your fight."

As they walked through the encampment Tormund began calling out to every man, woman and child present that he would be fighting a single combat for control of the clan. Harry couldn't help but think the man would make a good public speaker as he effortlessly grabbed the attention of all and played it up as best he could. Harry hadn't been been told all of Tormund's various monikers but he had been told some and Talltalker certainly fit. He will be good to have around for no other reason than keeping people inspired.

After a short walk they reached the makeshift training yard and every person not on the hunt came to watch the event. Many eyed Harry in curiosity having never seen him before not to mention the fact he made quite an odd sight in his high quality armor and basilisk leather. As Harry withdrew his axe Tormund took up a position across from him. This isn't the first time I am glad for my increased size. Harry thought wryly.

Tormund nodded toward his axe, "That is a fine weapon you have there, did you steel it from some southerner?" There was a hint of respect in his voice.

"No I forged it myself years ago." The man's eyes lit up at that bit of information.

"You are a proper smith then? One who could make such weapons for my people?" Harry nodded his ascent with the statement even if he had never produced weapons in mass. It's good to have magic for such things.

Tormund smiled toothily, "I hope you know how to use that thing because you will almost certainly be a member of this clan if you can." He pulled his own blade from its sheath; it was an old steel blade with a simple grip and wide blade of about thirty inches.

As if by unspoken agreement they struck out at each other. Harry decided before this started to only use magic as a last resort, as such his wand was still in its holster. This is a test of strength and skill, if I want to rule these people I cannot ignore their traditions.

Tormund Giantsbane was leader of his clan for a reason, he knew how to fight and would put many of the southern knights to shame with his years of experience. Fortunately Harry was no slouch as a fighter, he traded attack with Tormund blow for blow, deflecting slashes with the shaft of his axe and then striking back with fierce and quick strikes of his own. The spectators found themselves impressed with the stranger as he traded each strike with equal vigor as their respected leader.

Ten minutes in both men were panting from the exertion and sweating despite the chilly northern air. Harry could feel the muscle in his left arm, the one he had trained tow wield weapons with, throbbing from the many times metal had met metal but he ignored it for the time being. Harry cried out as he struck at the head of the Talltalker the blow was met with metal and before Harry had the opportunity to pull back Tormund gripped the shaft of his axe and ripped it from his hand, throwing it across the fighting area. Before Tormund had the chance to go in for the finish Harry had already closed the distance between them and resorted to the martial arts training he received while in Asia.

He led with a precise punch square to the man's temple with his right hand and quickly followed by lashing out with his left foot driving it into the man's gut and forcing him backward and onto one knee. Harry seizing the opportunity retrieved his axe and approached his kneeling opponent. As he got closer Tormund rose up abruptly and attempted to head-butt him but years of tested and honed reflexes availed the younger man greatly as he avoided the hit and brought the haft of his axe into Tormund's nose, blood spurted out on contact. Harry didn't give him the chance to recover and kneed him while he was trying to regain his balance and the large man fell to his back. A mere second later Harry's blade was sitting at his neck.

The crowd had gone completely silent as they awaited Harry's decision, with a smile on his face because of the fight he said just one word, "Yield?"

Tormund opened his eyes and grey met emerald green, "Aye, I yield." And then he began chuckling as every spectator actually began cheering for their showing. Harry leaned down to help his opponent up.

Harry leaned in close, "I have something we should discuss, should we retire to your tent?"

"Your tent," Tormund corrected him but Harry just shook his head.

"I am but one man with no family, so it shall remain your tent. Besides, even if I lead these people now you shall still be an important man under my command." Harry said kindly.

As they walked back to the largest tent many congratulated both Harry and Tormund on a well fought battle. When they entered Tormund's less than permanent home Harry was happy to see it was now empty and bid the older man sit.

"I have a goal in all of this Tormund." Harry decided to be blunt about his intentions. These are the sort of people that appreciate the straight forward approach.

"I figured that, you may be a good fighter, great even, but there is far more than a desire for battle behind those eyes o' yours." Tormund confessed. "So what do you plan?"

"I want to see the free folk as respected as they are feared and for that to happen they must be unified under one banner." Harry said calmly.

"You would be King o' the Free Folk?" Harry nodded, "There hasn't been one of them since Raymun Redbeard almost sixty years ago and things never end well for those who take the title." Tormund warned.

"So I have heard, the difference is that I will not unite the Free Folk in hopes of attacking the southern realm; instead, I want to make the men and women who live beyond the wall strong here and prosperous here." Harry said a little excitedly.

Tormund was more than a little skeptical, "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

Harry lifted his axe and presented it to the Talltalker, "I will start by giving every fighting member of this clan weapons and armor of this quality."

"And where exactly will you get the materials?"

Harry was slightly ambivalent about what he was about to do next but knew he needed to reveal at least a portion of his capabilities. He released his wand from its holster and conjured iron right there in front of Tormund. Harry resisted the urge to laugh at the man's reaction. I suppose they can add Wide-Eyed to his many monikers now. "I understand magic and have the ability to bend it to my will. I will start by building a forge and producing weapons of the same quality as my axe and armor to match it."

Tormund shook himself of bewilderment, "You are like one o' the Children of old but in the body o' a man."

"From what tales I've heard since arriving here just three days ago that seems like a good comparison."

Tormund was silent for a good three minutes before he finally spoke again, "You decided all o' this in just three days?"

Harry actually smiled a little sheepishly, "The freedom of your people appeals to me about your people and I believe given the right purpose they can be truly great. Not to mention of always had a tendency toward charging forward." Though at least I thought this through a little bit at least.

Tormund chuckled lightly at his last comment, "So you don't intend to change our traditions?"

Harry shook his head with conviction, "I agree with most of your traditions, particularly following the strong and allowing your women to do anything the men can. I can make the free folk stronger than they've ever been." Harry was still less than convince about the 'stealing' of women but that would be a fight for another time.

"There will be some who fight you and others who will never be civilized enough for what you want, you know this?" Harry nodded and Tormund smiled, "Alright then, we do this, if nothing else I have a feeling I'm going to get more than one good fight out of it."

"That is certain, though I hope some can be persuaded to join us without it coming to battle." Harry said with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"That look there is what makes me believe this may actually work. There is cunning in you and it takes cunning to be a King." Harry was quite sure that was the first time someone called him a Slytherin in his entire life and meant it as a compliment.

AN:

To everyone who wanted me to write a fic set during the Rebellion south of the Wall, all I can say is I'm sorry but I decided to go with this instead. Opinions on which way I should have gone went both ways and I just decided to go with the one I was able to develop a plot in mind for first (I don't actually write outlines or anything). That being said I have decided that once I finish my ASOIAF fanfiction I will write a crossover with a younger Harry during the Rebellion.

Now with regards to this chapter, I hope everyone enjoyed what I did decide on.

I hope I made it clear that Harry's decision to join with the free folk, while quick, was not just to move the plot along because I was explicitly trying to avoid that. I don't like it when characters make a decision solely for the sake of plot. From my point of view, the decision was based in some deep seated personal beliefs, namely freedom and a desire to help a people that reminded him of the Norse wizards he had grown extremely fond of. That and the fact my Harry is not the sort to second guess himself, enjoys the adventures he has instead of resenting them and actually accepts that he is a good leader helped him be decisive.

For those who want to know, with the way I've decided to go with this I'm thinking the pairing is going to be either Harry/OC or Harry/Val, I suppose Harry/Ygritte is a possibility too.

There will be time skips to cover the ten years between now and events from the show and book. If I don't do any it will take me at least ten chapters of near this length before I get to any recognizable material and I don't want to do that. So you can expect three maybe four chapters of Harry building up his Kingdom-Beyond-the-Wall before it gets to the start of Game of Thrones.

Well I would say that is everything, please fav, follow or leave a review.

Thank everyone

3. Chapter 3

Thank you for all the reviews and happy so many people are enjoying the story.

Most people wanted Val as the pairing and I decided to go with that. Ygritte is too young, which is the same reason it is no one from the Seven Kingdoms and while someone recommended Osha I just didn't see it. And while I had an idea for an OC I have to agree with people that it is better to use cannon characters, though I have to say I did like the character I had in mind.

For everybody who brought up the Harry's use of the word "ser" instead of "sir" I have to apologize that was completely unintentional on my part and it has been changed. It was kind of second nature for me after using it so frequently in my other fic, sorry about that.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Game of Thrones and no profit is being made from this story.

NOTE: I got the idea for this story from a challenge by MathiasNightlord01

It was hard for Harry to believe it had been three years since he found himself in a new place and time; they had been eventful to say the least.

The first thing Harry did the day after defeating Tormund was build a forge to give proper weapons to his new people as promised. He quickly realized that he would need them to trust him and more importantly his magic in order to accomplish that goal; as without coal, he would need to use a magical fire to heat the metal.

The people of his new clan were wary but not hostile when he showed them a fraction of his capability. If anything the fear served to help me in the beginning, between that and the respect they harbored for my victory in battle I was able to gain more control. Some were more fearful than others thinking that his sorcery was uncontrolled and would be their doom but were dissuaded from the belief when he made it clear that magic his bent to his will not the other way around. He found out later that their fears came from the claim of a former King-Beyond-the-Wall, the Horned Lord, who said sorcery was like a sword without a hilt. For the untrained, sorcery might be a sword without a hilt but they learned quickly enough that was not the case for me.

In the first day after he took control of Tormund's clan rocks were collected to form the forge itself. There was no small amount of grumbling about the seemingly pointless task but they were quickly silenced when each person watched amazed as Harry fused the stones together. The next move was lighting the fire which was surprisingly less impressive in the mind of those present; however when he began the process of conjuring the iron needed make weapons their jaws once more hit the floor.

Now usually Harry would be concerned about using conjured metals for something he wanted to be permanent and in the future he hoped to find a permanent an actual iron vein but he decided that conjured metal would have to do. In order to avoid the possibility of having the conjuration break down over time or from interfering magic, Harry decided to draw runes on each of the new weapons and pieces of armor something that would help with their quality and longevity.

Now obviously it wouldn't be realistic for him to do every bit of forging and carving himself in future so he took on any willing to learn the craft. He had three young men and one girl willing to work the forge with him.

One of the young men was Tormund's second son, Torwynd the Tame. Unlike his father the boy was not particularly big, though he had strong enough arms for the hammer. He had black hair, which he must have inherited from his mother if the red of his father was any indication, and grey eyes. His nose was over large and his chin dimpled. The boy was thirteen years old and unlike his older brother was not much of a fighter; he was happy to find he had skill in smithing. Tormund was more than a little happy for him as well.

The others were Varma, a boy of fifteen, who seemed to have a particular talent for making smaller pieces of armor, namely the fingers for the hands of gauntlets. He was fair haired with pale blue eyes, something that some amongst the free folk found a little disconcerting. He was the biggest of Harry's new apprentices. The boy's face reminded him of Draco Malfoy but his personality was reserved, speaking little and taking his direction without question. Definitely nothing like the blond ponce even if he looked a bit lite him.

Grigg, the oldest of the boys at seventeen, would eventually have a flair for the ornate bits of work on armor, adding designs that Harry couldn't hope to craft without the aid of his magic. The young man was tall and Harry found out part of the reason he chose to help was because with his height he seemed to lack the coordination necessary to be successful in battle.

Falyn, a fourteen year old girl, was a short thing but strong and Harry was more than a little surprised she wasn't one of the spearwives. She had light brown hair and hazel eyes, her face was square and her teeth slightly crooked. Harry stopped himself from laughing every time he caught her and Varma share glances with one another. Probably one of the reasons the girl decided to help in the first place. Over time, she took to doing the very best of pommels and grips on the various weapons.

None of his apprentices, for lack of a better word, were perfect from the onset but they made passable pieces quickly and within a month of beginning they had produced enough armor and weapons to outfit every fighting man and woman in the clan.

Chiseling the runes into the metal was done by two other people. Mella was a handsome older woman of fifty whose children had long since grown. Her brown hair had turned mostly grey but her grey eyes still held a great deal of light in them. She was only slightly shorter than Harry and from her figure he had no doubt that she was once a very beautiful young woman. Despite her age, or maybe because of it, she had a deft hand for detail, and made quick work of learning the runes Harry required; he figured her talent was more than a little wasted before his arrival.

Though the more surprising of his extra rune carvers was Munda, Tormund's youngest child at only five, a headstrong little girl with her father's red hair. Touched by fire they call it, I suppose the Weasley family was touched by a whole inferno. She had grey eyes and an ever present smile despite the conditions in the North. When it came to the actual carving, the little girl was blessed with a flair for the artistry necessary to carve runes.

When first they brought him their finished products he was surprised to find not only the Norse and Gaelic runes he specified as necessary but also runes of the First Men or at least that is what he was told. Now Harry was initially worried that the extra runes would interfere with the properties of the entire piece; as such, he was pleasantly surprised when after charging the runes with magic nothing exploded and the extra runes had no affect beyond a slight strengthening of the other effects.

Beyond the runes to keep from breaking down magically, the armor had runes for warmth, padding and decreased weight; though many of the free folk still padded their armor with furs because of custom.

Some of the fighters wanted full plate while others took the same route as Harry, only wearing bracers, gauntlets, grieves and metal coverings for his feet. These were the people who preferred mobility in battle over brute force. Harry just wished he had more basilisk skin so that he might fashion strong leather armor for his new people instead of having to rely on metal alone.

They were a sight to behold when all were finally arrayed in their steel armor and weapons in hand, they looked less a group of wildlings but an actual fighting force.

Harry had been informed over the month it took to make their weapons why Tormund's group had come there to begin with. They had initially planned to attack another group of wildlings led by a man named Arvyn, which was just thirty miles west of where Harry had found his new people. Apparently the man had insulted Tormund at some point and he planned on showing him the error of his ways. Their group was of comparable size to Harry's but supposedly far less skilled in battle. So Harry saw it as an opportunity, one where he could both see just what his new fighters were capable of and expand their numbers in the process.

Before they marched Harry made a single command, they were not to rape and pillage when the battle was won. This had caused no small amount of anger and Tormund glared at him angrily. Well I couldn't really blame him after saying I wasn't going to change any of their traditions. Harry refused to back down on the matter though as he saw this as the first step in ending the only common wildling practice he took issue with. As the arguing on the matter went on the free folk found themselves subject to a wizard's anger, his magic swirled around him and his voice boomed as he silenced all present. They were placated, but not happy, when he explained that he planned to strengthen their clan by adding both the men and women of Arvyn's clan.

The battle's outcome was exactly what he hoped, an absolute rout. Not only did they have more men with better equipment but they were also the better fighters. Arvyn's forces only numbered about 100 men and women total and by the time they surrendered they were down to about half of that. Harry's number lost only five in total, as Harry was able to heal the other seven who suffered injury. The act engendered even more loyalty form his people even if they had yet to fully accept his magic.

Of course Harry noticed one glaring issue during the fight, though it didn't surprise him in hindsight. They lacked discipline something Harry would work to fix. Now the usual protocol after such a victory would be to take anything they desired from the defeated group including the women and leave all others bereft of anything useful.

Harry's approach was far different. He gathered the surviving fighters along with the twenty or so people who didn't fight in the center of the camp, there he made them an offer; join and thrive under his command or refuse and likely deal with him and his in the future. Many were persuaded when they saw the quality of the weapons Harry and his apprentices had wrought. They had no wish to face Harry's people in the future and all there joined his group.

The fear of his magic was there but soothed by the original members of the group and they were quickly assimilated into Harry's group. Harry was more than a little happy when Tormund approached him after the battle and actually understood Harry's decision to protect the conquered people instead of pillage them as was the norm. The question after the victory was what to do next.

Harry decided to return his clan back to the forge fora time, to outfit their new fighters but he knew the little clearing in the forest would never be the permanent settlement he desired. They went to work at the forges again making arms for the new members who were subsequently trained by Tormund and his warriors. Two weeks later Tormund and Harry had a conversation about something that had sat heavily on his mind over that first month.

They were sitting in Tormund's tent as it was still the largest in the camp. Tormund's woman and children had left them at Harry's request.

"What did you want to talk about Harry?" Tormund asked gruffly as he chewed on a bit of deer meat.

"What is your opinion of Craster?" Harry asked seriously as while he was happy he had doled out some level of pain to the awful man felt it didn't feel like he had done enough.

"The man is awful," he began, "goes against the gods the things he does. He is cursed as are every one o' his spawn."

"Yet nothing is done to end his practices," Harry said a little heatedly, "why?"

"The crows leave him be because he provides them with information and shelter. We leave him alone because he helps the crows."

"But you have no love for the crows, so why care if the man is still around?" Harry was more than a little perplexed by the matter.

Tormund shrugged, "Why kill the man when it would only bring their attention to us."

"So you fear the crows and their possible retaliation?"

"Yes most do, we know that their numbers have declined over the years but what we don't know is how much. Provoke them and suddenly my clan might be the focus of a hundred crows all set against us specifically." Tormund was genuinely concerned about the wellbeing of his people.

Harry snorted and Tormund glared at the younger man, "My clan Tormund. You do know your thinking was incredibly foolish, by leaving him alive you let the crows retain a source that willingly gives out information on other free folk; trust me I know, I was there. I was only able to find you with such ease because he gave me your location. Besides I did not think you such a coward." He was intentionally aggravating the man by this point.

Tormund rose to his feet as he bellowed at Harry, "I am no craven little man. I simply value the lives of my people more than I hate Craster."

"I would say we have far less to worry about now than we did two months ago from the crows." Harry glared slightly at the Talltalker and he backed off slightly.

"So what would you do? Go to Craster's and kill him and his?" Tormund asked with more than a hint of incredulity.

"No," Tormund smiled triumphantly, and slightly yellow teeth showed through his thick red beard, "I would only kill the man himself, the women I would save."

The smile quickly turned to a grimace, "People would not accept them, they would see them as a curse."

"And why would that be?" Harry asked eyebrow raised.

Tormund spoke as though he was addressing someone touched in the head, "They are wed to their father, each and every one of those who are left; they are cursed by the gods."

"Is it their fault that they are forced to wed and bed their father? I would hope the gods would place blame where it belongs; on the man who takes advantage of children and essentially keeps them captive in their own home. To me, it sounds like they are the furthest from being truly free folk." Harry reasoned as calmly as he could manage.

"So you'll kill him and bring them to us?" Harry nodded, "People won't like it Harry, and there is still some small amount of fear for both you and your magic. Doing this will only cause more distrust."

"How great is their distrust now?" Harry asked a little annoyed.

Tormund shrugged, "Not so great that you have anything to worry about but this will not sit well with them."

"So if I were to explain the decision in a way that is in their best interest it would do little harm?" Tormund could see the wheels turning in the dark-haired man's head.

"How would you do that?"

"The man barter's with the crows on a regular basis from what I was told," Tormund nodded, "I imagine his larder is filled to the brim with as much food as he can manage. I will bring every scrap back with me along with the women who choose to join me; they are free folk after all I will not force them. I imagine my people will be far more willing to accept them when they come with a months' worth of food, if they just happen to appreciate my leadership even more as a result all the better." Harry finished with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"That might actually work." Tormund said as he ran a hand through his beard, "Will you do it yourself?"

"Aye, it's only one old man, even if he is an old bastard, I think I will be able to handle him by myself. I mean, you haven't even seen what I am capable of with combat magic yet, one man is absolutely nothing." Tormund chuckled nervously and that was the end of the conversation.

That night Harry did what he wished he could have done the day he first arrived at Craster's Keep. He apparated just a short distance from the outer wall of the place and donned his invisibility cloak as usual; he knew he could simply use a Disillusionment Charm but preferred the family heirloom. He made his way silently through the premises and quickly into the main building, he was happy to find the old bastard alone in his bed. I only hope that spell kept him from violating his daughter-wives before I could return.

Harry knew instinctively that the Killing Cure would raise suspicion once Craster's body was found. It was far too clean for anything that a wildling might do and he sincerely doubted that any crow would think the man died of a heart attack. That thought in mind, Harry fired a silent Cutting Curse straight at the man's throat. The reaction was immediate as he gasped awake, eyes widening in horror as he clutched at his now gushing neck wound. The blood seeped around his fingers and bled into his clean shirt. Wanting the bastard to see who finally had the will to kill him, Harry removed the invisibility cloak and watched as the man's blood ran onto the dark brown furs beneath him. Grey eyes locked onto emerald green and recognition dawned momentarily. The man removed his hand from his neck and made to strike Harry but before the blow could reach its target the light left his eyes, a snarl of rage still upon his lips.

Harry could easily transfigure the body and throw it into a river but he wanted people to know this man was dead so left him where he was as he made his way back out of the building. It was early morning when he finally roused the women and girls from their quarters.

"What are you doing here?" The oldest of Craster's remaining wives asked warily as they left their quarters.

"Craster is dead and I am here to take you with me to join my clan should you wish it." Murmurs of joy broke out amongst the younger girls present while the older women eyed him with more than a little suspicion.

"Just six weeks ago you were standing with crows and now you are leader of a group of free folk?" The oldest woman, who he would later learn was named Ferny asked skeptically.

"I took control of a group of wildling the very same day that I left you, since then I have made them stronger than any of the smaller clans." Harry didn't mean to sound arrogant but the facts were the facts.

The woman snorted back in disbelief, "And how did you convince your people to take us in? The other free folk hate us for being what we are."

"And what are you?" Harry snapped back quickly, "Because all I see are nineteen women and girls who were the unfortunate children of a very sick man."

"We are cursed according to the rest of our people and by killing Craster you have doomed us all." She responded with a sneer.

"You are only doomed if you choose. Come with me and I cannot promise you will be accepted right away but I can promise that you will live." The assembled females eyed each other waiting for the first one to make a move.

Harry was unsurprised when it was a five year old little girl who approached him first and took his hand, he smiled down at her kindly and soon all there chose to come with him if for no other reason than they would not leave their own.

Harry instructed the women to gather all of the food from the larder and bring it into the yard between the five buildings. The women realizing that he was alone and didn't even have a beast of burden to carry the admittedly large amount of food were wondering what he was planning to do with it all. He shocked them when he pulled his wand from his holster and began portkeying all of the food stuffs to a location outside of his clan's current camping location. It took only ten minutes to move what would feed 400 people a month.

When he looked up from his work he couldn't help the quick bark of laughter that bubbled up at the absolute befuddled looks etched on each of his spectators' faces. Once he had himself fully under control he grabbed a large thin tree branch from the ground and turned it into a portkey.

"What will it do?" Asked the fifteen year old he had saved from Craster's attentions the last time he was there.

"Take us to a point not far from our current encampment. It will be rather disorienting and it is good that no one has broken their fast yet you may feel the urge to vomit." With that he had everyone grip the long branch while he grabbed the youngest girls hand tightly and with a whispered word in parseltongue the portkey activated and took them to a location a mile walk from the encampment where he had a sledge waiting to carry the food stuffs back. Knowing that at some point Harry would need to come up with a way to grow vegetable he took one of each present on the larder for future use. He could keep it fresh with a charm and hopefully find a suitable place to plant them in future. The cold of the ground could be overcome but he couldn't just make ground fertile so he would need to wait.

As they entered the encampment people eyed the new arrivals curiously and Harry had no doubt his people would wonder why Harry brought back a group of nineteen women, only maybe two of which would be useful for battle at this point in their lives. However, the curiosity was quickly replaced by a great deal of enthusiasm as they saw the sledge full completely filled with food. What would have fed twenty people for a year would now provide for the clan for the next month.

The reaction to the new arrivals, once they found out where who they were, was frosty at first, nearly hostile for the staunchest of the superstitious but as they proved their value quickly Harry's decision was celebrated. The older women were more than willing to help with the rearing of young children, having done it their entire lives. Two of the younger girls, the fifteen year old named Dyah and a thirteen year old named Briga proved to be skilled hunters and were took to be spearwives, like fish to water.

Harry was finally told the youngest of the group's name, Gilly. She enthusiastically helped with the runic carvings and became good friends with Tormund's youngest, Munda. Harry smiled when the little girl showed him that she kept the flower he had conjured for her, he made sure the conjuration didn't break down when he saw it.

For a month it appeared that the crows had no inkling that it was Harry or any member of his group that killed Craster; however, when three rangers came poking around their encampment Harry decided it might be best to move; he did need a better location for a permanent settlement anyway. Within the day everything was packed and they started moving,

Harry was informed that the sea was to the east, while to the far north was an area known as Thenn, ruled by men who still spoke the Old Tongue and had their own system of leadership and nobility. Harry was surprised to find out that the entirety of the northwest, beyond the Skirling Pass and the Frostfangs, had yet to even be plotted by any man; known as the Land of Always Winter. While his curiosity was piqued by the idea of an entirely unknown land he knew it was not anywhere within the realm of practicality to take his people there.

So bearing in mind that he needed to find a sustainable source of food for what he hoped would be an ever expanding group of free folk, Harry decided that the eastern shores would be best. As far as Tormund could tell him, the free folk had no true fishing villages or even fishing boats; Harry planned on correcting that.

Harry put out the magical fire that sustained the forge and pulled the fused stones from the ground, shrunk them, and placed them in his pocket. When asked why he decided to bring it with Harry had merely shrugged and answered with a question of his own, 'Why waste a perfectly good forge?' That was more than enough answer for the free folk and they began their movement, Harry wouldn't call it a march, to the sea.

Now Harry considered simply apparating himself the great distance and then once he found a suitable location for their settlement going back and using a portkey to transport the rest of his people but he decided it best to let his people walk. It was quite simple in Harry's mind if he traveled alone to the sea there would be no opportunity for other free folk to join them.

They traveled northeast toward where the coast was nearest their current position and what should have taken two weeks took nearly six as they encountered multiple groups of other wildlings, seven in total, that were near in number or smaller then their group. The two smallest, who only numbered about fifty total people each, joined with no fight when Harry offered union over destruction. These were the first of their encounters on their way to the sea and only delayed them a couple of days each.

Five clans fought and of those five, the remains of four joined them. The first numbered roughly 100 fighting men and women and another twenty who merely worked the camp, they were led by a grim faced, white-bearded man, likely in his late sixties to mid-seventies, who had actually laughed when he saw Harry's youth before the fight. The man had loudly proclaimed he had children older than 'the little cunt who would take my clan from me." Harry killed that man first and did it with combat magic; as the enemy charged he took quick aim at the man who insulted him and fired a Bone Breaker Hex right at the his unguarded skull. The effect was immediate, as his skull was cracked with a sickening crunch, people looked on in stunned silence from the now downed clan leader to the piece of wood that had ended his life in a heartbeat.

Now no one would be so foolish as to call the free folk cowards, except for when Harry really wanted to piss off Tormund, so the opposing group charged leaderless headlong into Harry's forces. Thirty of the opposing force was cut down before their best warrior, a woman named Del, threw down her arms in surrender and the others followed her example. Like with the group led by Arvyn they joined up, whether out of fear or respect Harry did not particularly care, all he knew was that his people were 500 people strong after that fight with about half being proper fighters and more that would be trained to do the same. The second was much the same as the first the only difference being they were larger in number and Harry was able to gain another 150 good hunters and fighters with another twenty non-fighters from their camp.

It was the third group they encountered, just after crossing the Antler River, that Harry destroyed almost entirely. He remembered being told of the cannibals near the ice river, but being told about something and actually seeing something are two entirely different things. Harry's force was greater, by a wide margin now, with nearly 500 fighting men and women. The cannibals met them in the forest despite their lesser numbers. Harry noted that unlike the other groups they faced this one was more heavily male than female. They wore helms of what appeared to be made of bone that Harry would later learn were the skulls of their many meals. Their leader was a repulsive man, Holvin, who had grown fat on his constant consumption of human flesh. The battle was quick and unlike previous groups these men didn't surrender until only a quarter of their number remained.

When Harry reached their camp he was disgusted. Men and women alike were strung up and butchered in the same fashion as a pig. There were arms and legs roasting on the spit. Harry ordered the still hanging pieces of what were unfortunately little more than meat now taken down. There were only thirty-five people remaining of the cannibal tribe: twenty men, ten women, and five children. Harry was almost surprised they didn't simply eat their young. The children were all young, no older than five years old, and the women appeared abused and with the exception of two the women.

Wanting to know exactly what sort of people each of those remaining were Harry entered their minds and found that the eight frail looking women had been stolen and were used as little more than brood mothers by the cannibals as they didn't value those not of their clan. When he had seen all he needed Harry came to a decision; all of the males were killed and added to the bodies prepared for burning, the two women who he came to find out were Holvin's wife and daughter met the same fate. Only thirteen members were added to Harry's clan from that fight and it was eight emaciated women and five small children.

A pyre big enough to burn all who fell in the battle as well as the unfortunate victims of the cannibals was built in the center of their little village. Harry unleashed an inferno of flames turning everything to ash within minutes. Not wanting to be in the place any longer than necessary, he ordered all useable tents and furs gathered and left within the hour.

Three days from the coast they met the last of the groups along their path, they were the largest by far, numbering somewhere around 500 total and as many fighting men and women as Harry's group. They were led by a man only slightly older than Harry named Ulf. Harry briefly thought the man would concede the fight but apparently decided that he would rather fight than willingly give up control of his people. It was probably because he would be reviled by his former followers if he merely let me have control. That was the difference between the larger and smaller groups, a leader couldn't afford to appear weak.

Harry's people while not fully outfitted with steel due to the extra fighters they gathered while traveling, were still far better equipped than their opponent. They were also fortunate in that the younger and newer fighters developed quite a bit of experience in their recent fighting and at Harry's direction were actually beginning to develop a level of strategy when in battle instead of running straight into the enemy lines. That being said they actually flanked the opposition this time and were able to defeat them with minimal loss to both sides when they laid down their arms upon finding themselves pinned and surrounded with no hope of retreat just ten minutes into the fight they chose to throw down their arms instead of being crushed.

Ulf survived the battle and when Harry offered the now usual terms upon their victory; he was surprised to find that the man immediately agreed and watched as his people quickly followed suit.

The thing, or person, he found most interesting amongst the group was the warg they had with them, as it was the first he met. Ygon probably ten years older than Harry who had with him a large cat that seemed to move like liquid smoke, a shadowcat. When Harry approached it was obvious the impressive predator had beyond average animal intelligence so he chose to enter its mind and quickly found the consciousness of the man who sat nearby. They both pulled back from the creature quickly and sat staring at each other for a long moment.

Taking his first proper look at Ygon as they stared at each other; he was short, maybe five foot six, and had a crooked scar that ran through the empty socket of his left eye. They stared at each other for quite a long time before the warg finally spoke. What came next was an intense discussion, at least on Harry's end, that explained the basics of being a warg.

Harry was fascinated to say the least. From what he had been told he figured it was simple; he was wrong. Unlike with legillimency, warging could actually affect the mind of the human who entered the beast: dogs were easiest because of their attachment to men, wolves more difficult because they could never be tamed fully, birds were most tempting because one could lose touch with the world and wish only to fly, cats were vain and needed to be forced no matter how many times you entered their minds, elk and deer were prey and would turn a warg to a coward.

Harry could fully understand the temptation of staying within a bird, he had always loved to fly more than most. He imagined he would be able to ward off the effects of entering the animal mind with the help of occlumency. Harry had never decided become an animagus so decided in future that he would try make an attempt at becoming a warg.

As they continued their march toward the sea again he was informed, by Ulf, of a hot spring about ten miles further up the coast that would provide warmth for Harry's clan. So four days later instead of three they finally reached their final destination. Harry could use the natural heating of the hot spring to warm any building instead of resorting to runic means. It would require far less power on his part and would be absolutely permanent instead of possibly breaking down in the future.

So with over a thousand men, women and children at his command, Harry began work at forming a true free folk settlement far greater than what was once at Hardhome. Harry had heard briefly of Hardhome when in Craster's Keep but since then was told the full story of the destroyed settlement.

According to Tormund the people of Hardhome were captured by slavers from the east some 600 years ago and the place was set ablaze. The place was now considered cursed and few ventured there any longer unless they absolutely needed to. Harry was obviously curious as to why Mance Rayder had decided to go there then but Tormund had no answers for him. The destroyed settlement was across the Bay from where they had officially made their new home.

The tents were put up until enough stones could be collected to form actual buildings but the very first permanent fixture to the settlement was the forge Harry placed in what be the absolute center of the settlement. It was from there that they derived the name of their new settlement, First Forge.

Harry remembered quite clearly the next conversation with Tormund and Ulf, who he decided would be a good addition to his conversations with the loyalty his former people had shown him. The discussion would be extremely important to their future.

"We need sustainable source of food for our growing numbers, I would say fishing is our best option, and in order to fish properly we will need boats. There is a great forest mere miles away from us, I say we cut down a few hundred for the necessary wood." Harry was unconcerned about taking from the forest, the druids had taught him more than enough to replace whatever they needed.

"Why not do as you have with the metal?" Tormund asked gruffly.

"A fair point, truthfully I wish I did not have to conjure metals for our weapons and armor; it would be far more stable and efficient if we found a metal quarry somewhere beneath the snow. I will not risk a possible deconstruction with a boat when it is unlikely I will be around to fix the situation." Harry explained.

"And you would just destroy the forest?"

"No, we will take only what is needed and I can have new trees growing to the same size within the year."

A hint of incredulity in his voice, Ulf questioned, "And how will you do that?"

"You have seen me do more than one piece of magic since you joined us, tell me do you think growing a couple of trees will be beyond my ability?" A hint of sarcasm entered his voice.

Tormund laughed uproariously, "Aye it would seem he has you there, let's not forget he can kill a man easily enough with his magic, why wouldn't he be able to grow a couple of trees." The man quickly became serious after the moment of levity, "You will not touch the weirwoods." It wasn't a question.

"I had no plans to, any weirwood we encounter will be left untouched; I have seen them and they are far too beautiful to destroy." Harry stated evenly.

"They are our connection to the gods and while people fashion their branches into bows and spears we do not cut them down."

"Understood," Harry quickly changed subject, "now back to the matter of boats."

Tormund chewed a piece of meat before responding, "You need men to sail them, and no man or woman amongst the free folks is a sailor."

"No man or woman was ever a blacksmith before me either but now I have four of the free folk working the forge."

Tormund chuckled, "A fair point that, so who will work these ships?"

"Any man who is willing, I will not force any to take up the job, but like your Torwynd there are some people who just aren't suited to the hunt or the fight. I'm sure there will be more than one person willing to take up the task." Harry responded.

Ulf spoke up, "So we are to eat only fish for the rest of our lives?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "We will still have hunters and plenty of them, but if we wish to live a prosperous life we will need a more reliable source of food. That being said I would not rely on a single source of, what sort of cattle are to be had in the area?" If he could gather some sort of cattle he could use their dung as fertilizer for the plants he had kept from Craster's.

"Cattle, well we take aurochs from south of the Wall when we have the opportunity and there are a few groups of wild aurochs here north of the Wall. We are always sure not to hunt them to death lest there be no more left to eat." Now that was what Harry wanted to hear; aurochs were extinct in his world some four hundred years ago but they were the ancestors of the modern cow and could be domesticated in the same fashion.

"We find them and we breed them and soon we will have cattle from which to take milk and once there are enough of them meat as well. I have vegetables that can be planted once there is cow dung to fertilize the ground."

Tormund snorted in response, "I remember you telling me you wouldn't try to change us, that you would let us hold to our traditions but now you tell me you want to turn us into fisherman, cow herders, and farmers, what am I supposed to think of this?"

Harry glared at the older man, "You are supposed to think that despite the changes there is very little that is actually different; I have forced no man to accept the changes I am implementing, they chose to join me after I defeated their fighters, and I do not ask them to bow and scrape at my feet. I give them opportunities that will make their lives easier, their fighters stronger, and give their lives more meaning. There is more than one way to make a people strong and while my people will be the best in battle, they will also be able to sustain themselves long after I am gone."

Tormund didn't react to Harry's slight show of anger and just replied calmly, "Aye I suppose that is true, doubt we would have as many men or won as many battles if you hadn't come along."

Harry laughed, "And I know you enjoyed the battles old man."

The man threw his head back in mirth, "I did at that."

Harry returned to the topic at hand, "The hunters, do you think they would be able to find a herd of aurochs?"

Erik answered the question, "They might but if you want to bring them back here alive and whole you will have to get them yourself sorcerer."

Harry nodded and with that the conversation ended.

The next day Harry felled fifty trees and turned them into planks of wood in a matter of minutes. He asked who amongst the clan would be willing to help him build the ships and was rewarded with fifty men and ten women spanning from ages twelve to fifty, who took to the job with vigor. Harry was never gladder that he spent time in Norway as the Norse people had been skilled ship builders and he had learned the craft both magically and mundanely.

He conjured the necessary tools and taught them how to curve the boards and bind them together. The binding was done with a mixture of both nails, which were forged by Harry's apprentices at his bidding, and ropes he fashion transfigured. The whole building process took three days and when they were done they had a long boat slightly wider than the ones Harry had built in the past that would be able to carry plenty of fish. Harry There was plenty of wood left for the new shipwrights to continue their work so Harry put his mind to other issues.

Finding fisherman to man the boats was not so hard, particularly when they realized they would be gathering a great deal more food. Their first ship left shore two days after it was built, cloth sails and strong oars were manned by thirty men and five women. They were equipped with large nets with which to catch the fish, mallets to kill the fish, and barrels to carry them. Harry was under no illusions that they would be the greatest of sailors and fishermen from the get go but with time he had no doubt they would take to it.

That situation dealt with for the time being Harry began addressing other matters. He decided that tents would suffice as homes for a time, so decided to look for the aurochs he had been informed of. He was wont to leave his clan but seeing as most were more than a little occupied with their various duties and they had an ever growing respect for his abilities and command he decided it was worth the risk.

While he was gone he commanded his blacksmiths continue making weapons for the new members of their clan. The hunters and fighters went about their business as usual, while he assigned the younger children an important task that he presented as a game; they were to collect stones, as many as they could, so that upon his return he could begin establishing permanent homes for his free folk.

Before leaving he asked more than one person if they had any idea where he might find this supposed group of aurochs but all anyone could tell him is that they could be found somewhere east probably near the Milkwater River, which only ran over 200 miles south to north. Yeah that was really specific. Harry did not particularly look forward to searching but he needed those beasts.

In a second he found himself standing in the area where they won their first battle as it was the furthest point west he had traveled as of yet. Taking only a moment to look around he apparated again almost immediately, the River was a good fifty miles away and Harry wanted to have it done with as quickly as he could.

What happened next Harry would not soon forget.

He had moved thirty miles and needed to stop to reorient himself when he noticed there was someone just ahead him maybe twenty yards. Harry began walking toward the figure tentatively, they're hood was up but Harry could tell there was a womanly figure underneath. When he was maybe fifteen feet away he stopped. Well maybe she'll know where the aurochs are.

The woman was wearing all white from head to toe: white woolen breeches tucked into high boots of bleached white leather, white bearskin cloak pinned at the shoulder with a carved weirwood face, and a white tunic with bone fastenings. What Harry wasn't expecting was that when the hood came down he would see one of the most beautiful women he had ever met.

She was somewhere around twenty years old if he were any judge. She had long blonde hair the color of dark honey tied in a long braid that sat along her right shoulder, big blue-grey eyes sat above high sharp cheekbones. Her nose was smallish and her nostrils were slightly flared. Her cheeks were red from the cold and her full lips slightly parted. Her pale slender neck was all that was visible of her body but Harry had no doubt it was as beautiful as her face. Harry imagined there had been more than one attempt at trying to steal the woman in front of him.

After examining her features, Harry actually took note of her aggressive stance and narrowed eyes; he proceeded to back up a step as way of showing he meant no harm.

She made a gesture toward his apparel, "Little light in the furs for this place aren't you."

Harry couldn't help the laugh that was pulled from his body, when he regained control of himself, after a moment he smiled as he responded, "I'm sorry but I have been here nearly three months and you are the first of the free folk to actually comment on my choice of clothing."

"You've only been here three months? You don't look a crow and I can't imagine a southerner would choose to come here." The woman brought her spear a little higher as she spoke. "So who are you?"

Very quick this one. "You would be right, I have no memory of where I was before I arrived here beyond the Wall; I am now the leader of what was once Tormund Giantsbane's clan."

"I hear that clan moved east, which would make you very far from your people… now how did you get so far from your people so quickly? It wouldn't have something to do with your just popping up out of thin air." She said accusingly.

"What makes you think I popped up out of nowhere?"

"Because I watched it happen, and I trust my eyes far more than any lie you might tell me."

Harry chuckled, "Fair enough, no reason to lie to you then miss."

"Did you really just call me miss?" She asked seemingly offended but with a bit of mirth in her eyes, "You definitely haven't been here very long."

"Would you prefer woman or perhaps lady?"

She scowled at being called lady, "If you must call me anything it might as well be Val."

"Then call me Harry," he said with a half-smile that he had been told many a time was quite appealing. "To answer your question, I popped into existence with the use of magic." He said as nonchalantly as he could manage.

"Magic… that is not like any magic I have ever heard of or seen," Harry could see a hint of fear in her eyes but was impressed when she merely plowed on, "I've seen wargs who can enter the minds of animals and I know that the Children could do more than a little bit of magic if the story of the Wall has any truth to it but I have never met a man who could move through magic."

"Well I can." Harry replied easily.

"You remember where you're from don't you Harry?" It was as much an accusation as it was a question.

"What makes you think that?"

"You claim to not remember where you're from but you have enough knowledge of your magic that you are capable of popping up in the middle of the forest. And I'm going to bet you've done more than a little magic to convince your new clan to follow you." Harry didn't exactly like the implication but couldn't deny that his use of magic had a significant effect on how people viewed him.

"I have though… not in the way you might think, I've just done what I can to make them stronger and they have certainly appreciated my efforts."

"I'm sure," she sounded unconvinced, "but that brings us to what you are doing here so far from your new clan?" She still hadn't dropped the spear.

"I was told I could find a herd of aurochs not far from here, I hope to collect a few of them and begin breeding them." Harry knew someday his tendency toward honesty would get him in trouble but he had a feeling this woman would be able to tell him what he wanted to know. Besides even if he didn't want to do it to the beautiful woman he could always remove the memory.

"Not here to steal yourself a woman then?"

"No, more important things to worry about at the moment."

She snorted in a very unladylike manner, "You would be the first man I've met that crows included that didn't think with the thing between your legs then."

"Oh don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to having a beautiful woman in my bed, or furs as it were, but I need to find the aurochs… so if that is all Val, I really should be going." He almost wished he had a hat just so he could tip to the lovely woman.

Before he could leave she stopped him, "I know this forest better than any crow and most of the free folk as well; I know where those Aurochs are."

Having stopped mid-turn, Harry returned his gaze to the woman, "Can you take me to them?"

"Yes and we should be able to reach them quickly enough they are only about twenty miles north of here." Val responded.

"I could get us there much faster," Harry smirked.

"And would I have to pop in and out of existence to get there faster?" Val asked one eyebrow raised.

"Well yes and I would have to enter your mind to get the location." She scowled at the last bit.

"You are not entering my mind." Her tone brokered no argument on the matter.

"I would only have done it if you gave me permission." She appeared slightly mollified by that and gestured for him to follow her.

"I won't be able to make it back to my camp by nightfall, my sister will wonder where I am but it wouldn't be the first time I was away from camp for more than a day." Harry nodded and they began making their way north, Harry slightly in front of Val at her insistence.

For seven hours they walked together luckily avoiding any wildlife or other wildlings. They talked as they went, Harry explained what he was trying to do with the clan. Val was intrigued if not impressed and Harry found himself drawn to the beautiful and willful woman. She told him more about the north that even Tormund seemed unable to explain and spoke of her sister lovingly.

When they were about thirty miles from a large hill that could be seen peeking out over the trees even at such a great distance, which Val informed him was the Fist of the First men, they reached the aurochs. There were forty in total, five calves, five 'bulls' and thirty females. Harry turned to Val and smiled.

"You really do know your way around the forest better than most, don't you?" Harry asked a little surprised and more than a little impressed.

"Aye that I do, now we found your aurochs; how do you plan on getting them back to your clan?" She was staring at him when he turned to look at her.

"That will be easy enough." He turned back to the herd in front of him and donned his invisibility cloak. Val looked on with wide eyes as he disappeared. He approached the group of aurochs and quickly picked out twenty females and two males close together not wanting them to experience any fear while traveling he stunned them all with five quick and silent spells. He took out ten coins and turned them into portkeys and quickly placed one on each of the bovines. The rest of the herd was alarmed immediately and started searching for the person that harmed their herd but Harry apparated away immediately after the deed was done.

He was standing next to Val and when he removed his cloak once again head and spear snapped toward him in response. "Now I thought we were past hostilities hours ago." Harry said teasingly.

"Yes well it would probably be wise not to sneak up on an armed and alone woman unless you are planning on stealing them because otherwise they are going to assume you're trying to steal them and they will try to kill you." Val informed him confidently.

"I'll keep that in mind," He smiled at her, "before I leave I just wanted to offer my thanks for your help. I have a feeling I would have spent much longer searching with you."

"You would have, of that I have no doubt."

"Your confidence in me is heartwarming, truly." Harry deadpanned.

Val smirked, "I have no reason to have confidence in you, the only reason I even led you here was for the opportunity to see more of your magic."

"And so you did, I suppose I will leave you then."

"You really aren't going to try to steal me then?" She sounded surprised.

"You almost sound disappointed," he said with his own smirk now.

Val just continued on evenly, "I've had more than one man try to take me over the years, you wouldn't have been the first who tried subtlety over brute force."

"Ah well the customs where I am from are far different, the whole concept of stealing is strange to me. The women in my bed were always there willingly." He explained calmly.

"I'm sure there is many a girl who will be upset about that Harry, I've met enough men in my life to know a pretty one when I see him." Harry wasn't sure how to feel about being called pretty but Val continued a hint of mischief in her beautiful eyes, "I suppose some woman will just have to steal you instead."

Harry started to laugh but quickly stopped as he thought about it. Something tells me with my luck that is probably what is going to happen; well at least the woman would be in my bed willingly. The last thought caused him to chuckle internally. He brought his attention back to Val, "Well, I suppose we'll find out won't we." The smile she gave him was both alarming and a little arousing.

Just as he turned to apparated he looked her in the eye, "I assume you know of the hot springs along the eastern coast?" She nodded, "If you ever wish to find me and mine we have taken up permanent residence there." As he turned to leave he hoped he would meet the fascinating woman again.

When Harry arrived back, Tormund was shocked that he managed to find the aurochs in less than a day but when Harry informed he had help from another of the free folk was far less surprised. Before he took to his tent that night he made sure to form a pen to keep the aurochs from running off in the night.

Over the next nine months things progressed well and with only small amounts of hostility from smaller groups around them that were quickly beaten down and then given the opportunity to join, Harry was able to build up the infrastructure in relative peace. Three men and two women took to tending the cattle, milking them and insuring they reproduced. They couldn't kill them for their meat until there were more but the milk was much appreciated throughout the settlement.

As planned the aurochs dung was used to fertilize the ground and ten people took to tending the potatoes, lettuce, garlic, and onions Harry was able to plant. It was unfortunate that he was unable to plant any fruit but for now the few vegetable would have to do.

They had five fishing vessels manned by a total of 150 men and women that brought in a consistent take of fish. Apparently because of the free folk's lack of ships the fish in the northern waters were able to prosper. Upon seeing a crab within one of their takes Harry thought to build lobster and crab cages assuming there were more at the bottom of the Shivering Sea. He was happy to find that he was right.

The younger children managed to collect thousands of stones of varying sizes that Harry started manipulating into building around the hot spring itself and vented for natural heating. He realized quickly that instead of developing plumbing and running the risk of polluting their drinking water he could install bathrooms of a sort that had purifying runes engraved into the bottom that would destroy the excrement when it reached the bottom of the bowl. Harry was glad for that as he had no desire to put together a full set of plumbing for thousands of people.

The homes were rather easy to make as long as he had the base material. He fashioned them to have a room for cooking, a room for whatever children would live there, and a room for the adults. They were not extravagant homes but they were far better than a simple tent. Over a hundred were built in the last nine months of Harry's first year there. With over 2,000 men women and children in their settlement, Harry knew that wasn't enough to house all the free folk under his command.

Fortunately it never became a true issue because the hunter's preferred to stay in their tents as the summer, while cold, did not necessitate them being in one of the warmer homes to survive, particularly when the warmth of the spring was so close.

The largest building was what Harry would call a town center, which became known as the Hall. It was large enough to hold over five hundred people and it was built for when Harry the need to gather his people and discuss a major decision. He may be leader but he knew he wasn't infallible and if something came up truly important to all those in the clan he would take other opinions in to consideration.

More people took to working the forge and cutting runes. The first of Harry's apprentices became increasingly more skilled over time and took to making more ornate pieces of armor and weaponry as their skills progressed. Many of the fighters replaced their original arms with the better equipment as it was produced.

Speaking of the fighters Harry was able to fashion them a proper fighting yard in which to train. They appreciated it immensely and Harry spent more than a little time keeping his own skills sharp in the courtyard. The fights became a source of entertainment as young fighters would challenge one another to see who was best. Harry never allowed the fights to go to the death only first blood.

A month after Harry's year anniversary in the far North of this foreign land a surprising sight walked out of the forest, 800 of the free folk that not a single one of the hunters had reported on. Thinking they were a threat, Harry quickly mobilized his forces and marched out to meet them. When he arrived he was surprised to find that not a single one of them had their weapons drawn. Standing at the front of them was a familiar blond haired woman he was happy to see again, she smiled smugly when she saw the stunned expression on his handsome face. He noticed a woman who, from the similarities, must be Dalla, the sister Val had mentioned when last he saw her.

After the large influx of people was settled Harry approached Val and had to ask how she managed it. She just smiled mysteriously and told him she could be extremely persuasive if she needed to be; it helped that word had spread of what he was trying to do along the coast and the leaderless free folk were more than a little interested.

After that Val quickly became one of the most important people within the settlement, she had an air about her that was hard to describe that went beyond her mere beauty. She was one of the best hunters, people respected her, and she was able to help wherever she was needed. Harry came to value her presence as much as Tormund's and she became one of the people he turned to when he was in need of advice.

It was Val who told him about the other free folk leaders that could be a problem in the future. There was the Weeper, probably one of most vicious of the free folk and actually deserved the name wildling, who had over 5,000 men and women who paid homage to him in the south of the Frostfangs.

Harma the Dogshead was one of the most infamous of the wildling leaders. She killed a dog every fortnight and used it as her standard. She was the leader of 7,500 wildlings along the western bank of the Milkwater north of the Fist.

The Lord of Bones, or Rattleshirt to those who disliked the man, warred with Harma near constantly. Val had chuckled when telling him this as it was her opinion that Rattleshirt only fought Harma because he was unable to steal her years ago. He wore armor made of bones, hence the name, and wore a giant's head for a helm. He controlled the same number of wildlings as Harma and was situated on the other side of the Fist from Harma and further north.

Varamyr Sixskins was a skinchanger who had a dozen different 'villages' and over 3,000 men and women under him. Val's voice dripped with distaste for the man who would apparently use a shadowcat he controlled to steal women from the villages.

Alfyn Crowkiller, as evident by his name, killed more than his fair share of crows. The man was one of the bloodiest of the free folk and took pride in the many brothers he had killed over the years. It was his group that was closet to Harry being further about eighty miles north and fifty miles west of the First Forge. He had control of 8,000 free folk.

The Thenns, led by Styr the Magnar, were the largest and most civilized group of free folk. They had a system of nobility of their own believing that the Magnar was a god made flesh. They lived in tight knit groups and spoke only the Old Tongue. Unlike many of the other free folk they had bronze weapons and armor of high quality. Val did not know their exact numbers only ever having been told of the men who lived to the far north but rumor said that they were over 15,000 strong.

The Thenns were close with what few giants remained. Apparently the giants rode mammoths into battle and like the Thenns spoke the Old Tongue. Unlike the giants from Harry's world, these giants were covered by pelts of fur and grew to about ten to twelve feet, unlike the twenty to thirty feet of the giants he was accustomed to.

There were said to be a 100,000 free folk beyond the wall which left over 50,000 who lived independent of the various leaders. Of course he was informed that quite of few of that number were cannibals who lived along the Frozen Shore, west of the mountains and south of the Land of Always Winter.

Harry was more than a little grateful for the lesson but Val had only shrugged and told him it was best if he knew who could be a threat in the future. When he asked Tormund why the man hadn't provided him with the same knowledge he had just laughed and told Harry he never asked.

Over the next year their numbers grew from 2,800, with the addition of the people Val brought with her, to 4,000. It was toward the end of the second year that they had their first real run in with a crow. Granted they had seen crows more than once over his first year but had no interaction with the black clad men.

Harry was standing in the Hall when one of the younger hunters, Wyle, came running in.

"Harry! We found an injured crow in the forest." He said in a rush.

Harry immediately started walking toward him, "What was done to him?"

" 'e was brought to the edge of the settlement and we're doing what we can to keep him alive." Harry was glad his people were some of the more forgiving to the Night's Watch. The crow will be happy it wasn't the Crowkiller who found him by the time I'm done.

Harry immediately apparated to the edge of what was now a settlement that ran fifteen miles along the coast and five miles inland and quickly found the wounded crow surrounded by three hunters doing what they could to save the man's life.

With the infrastructure of the settlement now firmly in place, beyond just commanding his people, Harry took to helping them in the hunt, fighting in the yard, and most importantly in this moment, healing the wounded with some of the older women. Magic gave him a huge advantage in the practice, and multiple flasks of essence of dittany from when he first arrived only helped. Because of this it took a severe injury for one of his people to die; the crow was about to become his most recent patient.

As he approached his hunters backed away from the fallen man and Harry quickly knelt down and began examining his wounds. It became quickly apparent that the man had been attacked by an animal, a large animal.

"What did you see?" Harry asked calmly as he pulled essence of dittany from his bat and began applying it to the wound.

"There was a direwolf attacking him when we came upon him, the beast ran when he realized it was there were so many of us, probably to find its pack. We decided not to leave the man to his death and brought him back here as quickly as we could." Harry had never actually seen a direwolf, they had been extinct for thousands of years in his own world, but he had heard they were incredibly dangerous here and from description, far larger than any wolf from his world, past or present.

The man's wounds began sewing up slowly as the dittany hit the deep gashes while Harry did what he could with his wand to fix any tissue damage. Fortunately none of his bones were broken.

Five minutes later, while not good as new, the man had regained much of the color he had lost from his face and with any luck he wouldn't scar too terribly. "I'll take him to the Hall, I assume you gathered his things?" They nodded and with that Harry apparated back the still unconscious crow in tow.

The crow woke from a long slumber the next day and was treated by one of the older women for the next week. The man was nearly good as new three days later when he left. Harry escorted him to edge of the settlement and had his only actual conversation with the man. It was only now that Harry took note of the man's appearance. He had a noble look to him, with a chiseled jaw and green eyes. He was slightly taller than Harry.

"I hear you are the man I have to thank for saving me." The crow extended his hand.

Harry grasped it briefly before pulling back, "Aye, I never actually got your name crow."

"Ser Jaremy Rykker, of Castle Black."

"A knight then?" The black clad man nodded minutely, "Tell me Ser Jaremy, what do they say about my people at Castle Black?"

"Your people? You're the one Benjen spoke about a while back then?" The question was more to himself than Harry, "You're not quite what I expected. As to what we say of you and your people at Castle Black, let's just say the opinion is varying; some think you are a threat while others think you are a godsend. As of yet you have shown us no ill will so we just keep tabs on you when we can."

"I would say you are the closest any of you crows has ever been to this place, what do you think of it?" Harry asked curiously.

"It is surprisingly homely and the people while still more brash and uncivilized than when I experienced in the south are far different than any other wildling I've met. I would say the most surprising thing is the armor and weapons, where the hell did you get it all?" The man hadn't been allowed to see the forge and even if he did he still wouldn't know where they were getting all of the iron to make their steel.

Harry just chuckled and tapped his nose, "Trade secret mate."

"Didn't think you would tell me but it was worth a shot." The man sighed.

"Well farewell Ser Jaremy Rykker, we would try to help you find your brothers but we doubt they are anywhere near by at this point, so I would suggest you make your way back to Castle Black."

"My thoughts were the same."

"I have no doubt you will be telling the Lord Commander about this place and what you've seen here, be sure to tell him the truth I wouldn't want to find a group of crows attacking at my doorstep because of you." Harry smirked.

"I don't think that will be a problem." The man smiled and turned to leave. Harry could only hope that the little encounter would engender some good will from the Watch.

It did or at least things continued the way they had with neither group bothering the other. As his third year began the only change was something Val had warned him about; women attempted to steal him. In all honesty it was mostly Tormund's fault as the man made comment about Harry's lack of woman and every untaken female from fifteen to forty took it as a bit of a challenge, or at least the more willful ones did.

That is every woman except Val; while the pair had a good relationship and Harry had no problem admitting he fancied the woman, neither ever made any attempt to steal the other. She was smart in a survivalist sort of way and incredibly intuitive when making decisions. He found that her advice was always helpful and found himself seeking her company more often the longer she was around. There were times when he wanted a warm soft woman in his bed that he wished he had the temperament to follow the wildling tradition and take the woman he wanted.

He didn't though and both Harry and Val remained unattached throughout his second year and into his third year beyond the Wall. Harry didn't want to remember the ribbing he had gotten from Tormund about the whole thing but he did.

"You want her and she wants you, just go grab her, take her to your home and fuck her till neither of you can stand comfortably for a couple of days." While Harry was certainly not opposed to the idea he didn't know if he liked it being put that way.

"Other things to worry about Tormund." They both knew that was only a half truth. First Forge was coming along nicely and there was little that needed Harry's daily attention anymore.

"If you don't use your member soon it's going to fall off!" He shouted loud enough that just about anybody could hear, "Is it because you have a wee member, or maybe you've never been with a woman before. If you need…"

Harry cut him off before he could continue, "It isn't 'wee' Tormund and I've been with more than one woman in my time."

"So what's holding you back lad, it's clear she wouldn't protest too much. If I could fuck a bear, I think you could get a woman who clearly wants you."

Harry snorted, "I've met your woman Tormund, and Tilda may be a fierce one but she is no bear and from the way she tells it she keeps you plenty satisfied in her bed. So stop saying you fucked a bear when we both know you never did Talltalker."

Tormund laughed, "Well I wouldn't be much of a Talltalker if I stopped telling me stories now would I?"

"I suppose you wouldn't." Harry said with a smile.

"I mean it though, wait much longer and you're members going to fall off from the cold." He chuckled, "But more importantly, that woman is beautiful, fierce as fierce could be and beautiful and eventually somebody is going to come along that manages to steal her. Then, you're going be right pissed you missed out on your chance."

Those words haunted Harry for another three months until everything came to a head.

Val and Harry were in the fighting yard late at night, just the two of them; she worked with a pair of daggers while Harry worked with a sword. While he loved his axe it was not always conducive for fighting with his wand at the same time.

Harry's strength when fighting didn't come from blocking or even from the blade itself, he had after all only been fighting with mundane weapons for about three years, no it came from the same thing that was his greatest strength when dueling, his ability to dodge and anticipate. Thank god for being a Seeker… and all those childhood near death experiences.

So while Val was probably better with the weapon she had in hand, just as Tormund had been two years ago, Harry was not overmatched because of his natural ability.

They fought intensely for many minutes, both of them developing a sweat despite the cold. Harry threw a slash toward Val's arm hoping to end it with first blood but she pivoted to the right and went to cut at his cheek. Glad I made it where these can only break the skin. It was a rather complex spell and would be useless in battle as it had to be applied to each individual weapon but it made it where they could fight each other hard as possible without killing harming one another.

The downward cut missed as Harry moved his head backward at the last second and lashed out with his right hand trying to catch her in the stomach and knock the wind from her. Before the hit could reach home she brought her forearm down to block the strike and punched him in the shoulder knocking him off balance. She followed that up by quickly kicking him in the right leg harder than he would have expected and pushing him to the ground.

She dove atop him and brought her knife down. Harry moved at the last second and the blade drove into the ground behind his head. Unfortunately he was momentarily distracted by the grinding of her hips against him and as she wretched her dagger from the ground the blade dragged across his cheek leaving a faint trail of blood.

Val stayed mounted atop him with a smirk upon her face, "To bad I didn't challenge you, I would be leader of this little clan now wouldn't I?"

"It's not so little you know." Harry pointed out and then felt himself wince as she ground her hips against him yet again.

"Hmmm I do know Harry," his name left her lips breathily and it sent a pleasant shiver up his spine.

"I suppose I have you to thank for that," she smiled smugly, "you did bring 800 people to the clan all by yourself." He deadpanned and watched as she scowled minutely at him.

She loomed over him a little imperiously as pale blue-grey eyes locked onto emerald green, "Always so clever aren't you?" She leaned close to him and Harry was quite sure he was about to feel her soft lips crash into his, as he closed his eyes she suddenly grasped his arm and pulled him to his feet. She twisted his arm behind his back and began marching him forward. Harry probably could have overpowered the smaller woman behind him but he somehow figured he would like where this was going.

Silently, she pushed him through the settlement toward the small home he made for himself, being only a single man who lived alone he didn't see the need for something big. She pushed him through the door and then shut it behind them. He drew his wand subtly and locked it behind them and then cast a cast a quick contraception charm at Val's stomach in case this was going where he expected, she was so focused she didn't even notice.

She pushed him until he was at the edge of his bed and then turned him around and gave him a hard shove. He watched spellbound as she began to disrobe. "I have been waiting for you to steal me for months now but you haven't because of your own view of thing and I respect that… but I am not the sort of woman who waits for something she wants. I beat you wizard and I plan on stealing you tonight."

Harry wasn't going to argue and watched as she finished stripping off her clothing; Harry was focused solely on her as her body came into full view. Her breasts were large, bigger than a handful and she had a thin waist that drew the eye to her flared hips and the blond tuft of hair that covered her cleft. She crawled over him onto the bed and quickly divested him of his clothing as well.

As she lined herself up with his manhood Harry saw the first hint of apprehension in her eyes. Harry whispered softly to her, "I'm going to assume, since no one ever managed to steal you that this is your first time." She nodded without her usual confidence.

He gripped her hips and spun them on the bed so she was beneath him, "Well then you are going to be as relaxed as possible before we go any further."

She gasped as she felt his tongue brush against her and he had her screaming his name within minutes. Thank god for parseltongue. When he had her good and ready he took her maidenhead as he kissed her passionately. They didn't get much sleep that night and no one saw them till afternoon the next day.

From that day onward everybody knew that Harry was Val's and Val was Harry's, of course it was kind of hard not to know considering Harry didn't put up any silencing spells that first night.

It was six months after Val stole Harry, and two and half years after his arrival, that the trouble began, the hunters would return more and more frequently to report that they were attacked by men or women following Alfyn Crowkiller. None of his were killed at first, only a few injuries here or there but two months after the first attack Harry was told of his hunters being assailed by a group of over fifty people, they fought back for a time before retreating; four of his were killed.

Tired of the Crowkiller's little games Harry decided he wanted to know why this was happening. He commanded every one of his hunters to make capturing one of Alfyn's men a priority.

It was a month before a man was dragged before him struggling by Tormund and his eldest son Toregg. The man was a small thing with beady black eyes and thinning mousy brown hair, he reminded Harry of Peter Pettigrew.

He was dropped in a heap at Harry's feet and looked anywhere but at the man in front of him. Harry decided to get straight to the point, "Why is Alfyn attacking my people?"

"Don't know," was the muttered response as the man still refused to look at Harry.

He took a step forward which caused the man to wince for some reason, "Why won't you look at me?"

"Alfyn says you have some sort of dark magic and that you'll hurt us if we look at you." The man said in a rush.

"Hmm he does now, the man has never met me so it would be impossible for him to know what I am capable of with magic." Harry paused to let that idea sink in, "Now if you don't want me doing anything to you with that magic you fear so much you will tell me why the Crowkiller is attacking my people!" Harry finished with a yell.

The man began shaking as he stuttered out a reply, "He… He doesn't like the competition or… or that you do magic. He wan… wants your weapons, your aurochs and your people… He plans to kill you."

It was the response Harry was expecting but it didn't mean he had to like it. Harry gestured to Toregg, "Get him out of my sight."

Harry turned to Val, Ulf and Tormund, "I am going to destroy him."

"He has more people than you." Ulf reasoned.

"Yes but in the nearly three years I've been here our numbers have reached 5,000 and I doubt his people are nearly as skilled as ours."

Val spoke up, "You're right, he may have 8,000 people who follow him but only 5,000 are fighters."

"We have 3,500 including the hunters and 450 sailors working the ships."

"You are going to give him a fight then?" Tormund said a bit of a gleam in his eye. They hadn't had a proper fight since taking up residence along the coast almost three years ago. Yes there were small skirmishes but nothing of any real note.

"Yes, I tire of him of his constant attacks. We may very well be able to catch him unawares and even if we can't, between our weapons and the practice we've had, we will be able to end the threat he poses."

Plans were made and three months later they were put into action. Tormund would take 1000 men and women in their thirty-five boats, twenty of them newly made for the fight, north along the coast; meanwhile Harry would lead 2000 of their fighters north on foot, two days after Tormund departed. Harry would await a signal from Tormund, then they would pinch Alfyn from both the north and south and as far as they knew they would be catching him unawares.

500 fighters were less than happy to be left behind, but did so when Harry explained they would be there to protect the people should there be any other attackers while they were away. Harry realized when leaving that he really needed to put up fortifications at some point. He would just have to hope that 500 men and women along with the magical traps he had placed for any unfriendly visitor would suffice while the majority of the fighters were away.

All of that is how Harry found himself walking at the front of his host of free folk, Val by his side, heading north and just another day's march from where reports tagged Alfyn Crowkiller.

The beautiful blond at his side pulled him from his own thoughts, "Be sure to stay alive during the fight tomorrow, I've grown accustom to your warmth in my bed and I would hate to go cold again."

Harry smirked, "You're nights might be more restful though."

She chuckled lightly, "Aye that might be true," she turned to stare at him, "but I don't want more restful nights, I want my man in my bed… so stay safe."

Harry nodded seriously, the humor leaving his eyes, "I will, but I won't be the only one in danger tomorrow." He looked at her meaningfully.

"Oh no need to worry about me there green eyes, I know my way around a fight plenty well enough." They smiled at one another but then Val took on a puzzled look as she considered asking something that had been on her mind, "Tell me though, why are you doing this? Ever since you established the First Forge you have avoided a fight as much as possible, only trying to make the people you had better but now a few hunters are attacked and you are willing to go to battle over it."

Harry's face hardened, "He is attacking my people, my friends, for no other reason than he wants what we have. Don't get me wrong I know that is the free folk's way, but it is my way to defend the things I care about. I refuse to let him destroy what we've made and the best way to make it stop is to make it stop."

"Now that is a good reason," Val said quietly. "Will you give his people the same offer you gave the others you've beaten?"

Harry appreciated her confidence in what was going to happen tomorrow, "Yes, once the Crowkiller is dead those that remain will be given a choice."

"That will be a lot of new mouths to feed."

"We have huge surpluses in fish as it is, and after the next round of births from the aurochs we will be able to start killing them for meat as well."

"I suppose you're right but you will need to expand the fields for your vegetable production."

"You're right, but that is assuming any of them will wish to join us."

She looked at him as though he was touched, "Trust me wizard, they will want to join."

As he lay on his furs that night, a naked Val resting on his chest, Harry couldn't help but think that tomorrow would be the first defining moment for his people.

AN:

I'm not completely happy with this chapter, I like it but I think it could be better so I may go back and add things in the future.

Before anybody even mentions it Val didn't just immediately trust Harry but she was intrigued from the get go. For those who haven't read the books, the reason I had her 'steal' Harry is because in the books she steals a man named Jarl, which I always found an interesting part of her character.

Also the Thenns aren't cannibals, and I don't know why they made them cannibals in the show.

Decided not to write a detailed lemon for Harry and Val, if people want me to let me know and I can go back and add detail to that scen

A couple of people mentioned getting a beta and I'm completely open to the idea, if their is anybody interest let me know.

Next chapter will be the fight with Alfyn Crowkiller, a conversation with Bloodraven that I'm looking forward to writing and then Harry's reaction to that conversation.

Thanks for reading as always

4. Chapter 4

AN:

Somebody wanted to know exactly where First Forge is; if you look at a map of beyond the Wall it is north of the mouth of the Antler River along the coast and pretty much straight across from Hardhome.

Glad people seemed to like the last chapter, I responded to reviews with direct questions and appreciated any suggestions for continuing to build up First Forge.

Just wanted to say I appreciate everybody who offered to be my beta and I now have one. I would like to thank Tellemicus Sundance who has agreed to beta for me; we've already had quite a bit of discussion about the story and have come up with some interesting story arcs.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Game of Thrones and no profit is being made from this story.

They were waiting in the woods two miles from the widely dispersed people of Alfyn Crowkiller. Scouts informed Harry that the Crowkiller was gathering his fighters in the eastern stretch of their 'encampment', for lack of a better word. He was gladdened by this news as it would make it easier to avoid harming noncombatants. His people had already been informed that they were not to pillage the beaten people but many had never actually fought as a member of this clan before, so he still had his concerns.

Harry knew that he could just kill their leader discreetly, much the way he had Craster, but he also knew that his people wanted a good fight, and Alfyn's people wouldn't be half as willing to join up if Harry killed him by such 'cowardly' means. I would call it smart but the Free Folk are not known for being discreet.

Harry was clad in his usual basilisk skin armor with steel armor along his forearms, hands, shins and feet. On his hip Harry had a sword instead of the axe he arrived with; over the years he found that the axe did not allow him to be as effective in his spell spellcasting. In his right hand was the Elder Wand and in his left Harry held a simple stone that would heat up when Tormund crushed an enchanted piece of glass he had given him. It wasn't long before the signal came and Harry did the same with a similar piece of glass in acknowledgement.

Harry turned to look at the commanders he had with him: Ulf, Del, and Val, and signaled their forward movement. Harry was impressed as his people held rank as they moved through the trees and approached Alfyn's encampment. We really do need a better name then just Harry's clan or Harry's people. Harry shook his head slightly to shake the random thought. That really isn't particularly important when I'm getting ready to go and fight a battle. He chastised himself.

They made quick work of the distance between them and the enemy and in a half hour could see the large gathering of their enemy's fighters. There was a single man who seemed to have their undivided attention standing in front of the largest building in the small village that clearly couldn't hold the near 5,000 men and women.

Looking at him, Harry couldn't help but feel he wasn't a particularly impressive man. He was short, only about five foot seven, and thin; though that wasn't exactly uncommon. He had long dark hair, with a few lines of grey and thick eyebrows that covered a good deal of his forehead. His nose was tiny and pug-like while his mouth was mostly hidden in a scraggly beard. He was waving around his spear emphatically as he reached the climax of his little speech.

The Crowkiller's people were thoroughly distracted by their leader's speech, which Harry assumed was some diatribe against him and his that they didn't even notice Harry's forces until they were right on top of them. On the other side of the forest, Harry could see Tormund's forces waiting until the battle was joined to attack Alfyn's rear flank.

As the battle was joined Harry could hear the Crowkiller roar over the top of his people, "See here lads! They've come to us... let's make 'em regret it!"

The clash of metal on metal rang out through the trees of the forest as Alfyn's 5,000 crashed into the ranks of Harry's people. Archers from the rear loosed a volley of steel-tipped arrows that pierced through the simple armor and furs of the enemy.

Despite the superior numbers of Alfyn's people Harry could see they were felling far more than they were losing. Still he had to admit that Alfyn's people were far better fighters than any of the groups they had fought in the past. As they pushed them further back they were once more within the confines of the small village. It was at this point that Tormund crashed into the rearguard of the enemy and the battle was fought on two fronts.

Twenty minutes in as they pushed further in Harry found himself battling a very large man, nearly seven feet tall with a broad axe he hefted with a strength Hagrid would have been envious of. The man had a great brown beard but no hair on the top of his head. Unlike many of his fellows, he was wearing bronze armor with some of the same runic markings as the swords Harry's people used. Looking at the man Harry couldn't help but be surprised the man followed Alfyn

While Harry had the advantage of magic, he couldn't just throw out wide area spells for fear of hitting his own people. This limited him to the more direct spells but he quickly found that the man in front of him, while not familiar with his brand of magic, had incredibly good instinct when it came to avoiding the brightly colored light that left his wand. So Harry took to more physical means of attacking the man in front of him, lashing out with his sword. He hoped to get close enough that the man wouldn't be able to avoid his spells.

So Harry did what he could to close the distance between them, ducking underneath a swing of the great axe and moving into forward roll. He felt the tips of his hair graze the sharpened edge as he ducked underneath the swipe. Harry thrust forward with his sword and was satisfied as steel met flesh, sinking deep into the massive man's shoulder blade. The satisfaction was short lived, as the man seemingly shrugged it off and brought his fist around to punch Harry hard in the face. He felt blood seep from his nose as he turned to see the man heft his axe over his head to swing it down upon Harry's skull.

With a quick swish and flick of his wand the axe was pulled from the huge fighter's grasp before the impeding strike could fall. Just as Harry hoped the man was properly surprised by the loss of his weapon giving him the opportunity to strike. Harry bounced to his feet and made a slash right at the man's extended neck. The blade sliced through like warm knife through butter, blood spurted out from the man's severed neck. The cold caused the warm blood to smoke as it stained the white snow red. The man's eyes found Harry's in a moment of clarity before he slumped forward lifelessly.

As Harry took stock of the battle around him he had to hold back a gag because of the smell of blood and shit that was thick in the air. About fifty yards to his left Val killed another spearwife with a dagger thrust straight through the heart. Harry was relieved to see that while his lover had a cut along her cheek she was otherwise unharmed as of yet.

Twenty feet to Harry's left he saw Ulf in a fight with a man using two daggers and it appeared that Ulf didn't know how to handle the knife fighter. Harry hurried to his friend and advisor just as a dagger was driven down into Ulf's thigh. Fortunately, before the killing blow could be struck Harry was able to fire off a Bone Breaking hex at the other man's chest that hit home giving Ulf the opportunity to regain his bearings and kill his opponent. He looked around to Harry and gave a quick nod before moving on to the next man, completely ignoring his wounded leg.

Harry wanted to end this sooner rather than later. That thought in mind he searched out the Crowkiller, pushing his way through the battle while fending people off with both sword and magic. In every direction, he could hear screams of pain and see splatters of blood. At a gut-wrenching scream from his left, he turned to watch one his fighters had his arm cut off at the elbow. Harry's initial reaction was to go and avenge his fallen member but was forced to stay his fury when he sensed someone approaching him from behind.

Harry jumped quickly to his left quickly turning his body so that he could face his attacker. When he turned a woman using a dagger was making another attempt to stick him, this one aimed at his ribs. Reacting quickly, he brought the sword in his left hand up to and slashed at her wrist. The attack hit home but the woman paid no attention to her wound even as it forced her to drop her weapon and made to claw at Harry's eyes. Seeing his opportunity as she closed in he threw a Cutting Curse at the woman that opened her up from navel to collarbone. She stopped immediately and brought her hands to her stomach in a futile attempt to hold in her escaping organs. He decided to put her out of her misery by firing off a strong stunner that knocked her out instantly. Ignoring the small amount of bile that rose in his throat, Harry pushed forward throwing spells and lashing out with his sword with brutally efficiency. Ten minutes later, when he finally found the man he was looking for the opposing forces simply removed themselves from his path in hopes of avoiding the onslaught.

Alfyn was fighting in the northern part of the battle against the people led by Tormund and his son, when Harry found him he was fighting Toregg. He wielded a spear and a dagger with an ease born of years of experience; Toregg was skilled but it was easy to see that he was outmatched by the wildling leader. As Harry approached a thrust from Alfyn's spear drove through Toregg's stomach. A gut-wrenching scream went up somewhere to Harry's right and he knew without looking that it was Tormund distressed over his son's possible fate. The Crowkiller smirked and with a malicious glint in his eye turned to look in Tormund's direction as he brought his dagger to Toregg's throat. Tormund sprinted to help his son but Harry beat him to it.

He apperated behind Alfyn and shot an Expelliarmus at the knife held at Toregg's throat. The blade shot out of Alfyn's hand, leaving just a shallow cut along the right side of Toregg's throat and landed fifteen feet away. With the young man no longer having his life in jeopardy he shot an Expulso at Toregg, pushing him forward and right near his father.

In the time it took Harry to do this Alfyn wasn't idle, he brought his spear around and hit Harry in the jaw with the end of it. Harry stumbled backward but regained his balance before the blade of the spear could drive into his leg. As the fight began it became clear that Alfyn was trying to keep Harry far enough away that he could still avoid the magic that left his wand.

After five minutes Harry was tiring of the whole affair, he wanted this over with so decided to flex a bit more of his muscle. He apperated as Alfyn went to attack him and landed five feet behind him already in the process of firing a Levicorpus, Harry was surprised when the man managed to avoid it with a roll and came up with his spear thrusting forward. Harry grunted in pain as he felt the tip of the spear push through the metal covering his left hand, it caused him to drop his sword but he cared little at that point.

Harry unleashed a torrent of spells, from Bonebreakers to Cutting Curses and forced the wildling backward toward Harry's other men. Neither of the combatants noticed that most of the other fighters in the area had stopped to watch their fight. Finally after about thirty seconds of impressive dodging Harry landed a Sectumsempra that cut Alfyn's leg off at the knee, not that Harry really cared; he had every intention of seeing this man dead for the constant attacks on his hunters.

Harry shot another Levicorpus at the downed man, this one hitting home, and everybody nearby watched as the infamous wildling was lifted into the air upside down. Harry went to retrieve his sword and approached the suspended man. Before Harry even had the opportunity to speak spoke Alfyn spat blood at his feet, "Fucking coward, you couldn't even beat me without the use of your gods damned magic."

"You are the fucking coward, attacking people who did you no harm all because you took issue with me." Harry spat out. "Let this serve as an example to all others what happens when you hurt my friends."

"I have a child in nearly every village from Thenn to the Wall, one of them will avenge me." Alfyn sneered.

Harry smirked, "Let them come, something tells me they will not be as willing to fight their father's killer as you think."

Blood leaking down his far from his forcibly amputated leg Alfyn yelled, "Do it then, kill me you witch bastard!"

Harry just nodded grimly as he put his wand in its holster and gripped his sword with both hands. He brought the blade to the suspended man's neck, drew back and with a quick slash cleaved Alfyn's head from his shoulders. I really hope people don't take to calling me a witch.

There was silence amongst those nearby but Harry could still hear fighting going on further away. He pulled his wand once again and thrust it into the air with a mighty thunderclap that caused all other sound in the area to cease immediately. He cast a Sonorous charm on his voice before he began speaking.

"Alfyn Crowkiller is dead." A soft murmur could be heard as the thousands of combatants moved closer, "My name is Harry Potter, leader of the people of First Forge. I am sure that you have heard many stories about me over the past few months and I would guess that most of them are untrue."

"My people thrive under my leadership because while we hold to the traditions of the Free Folk, we are also doing what is necessary to do more than just survive here in the North." He turned to look many of his former enemies in the eye, "You can do the same, your men, your women and your children can live a better life if you just join with me and return with us to First Forge."

There was an older man toward the front of the thousands that now surrounded Harry that spoke up, "And you'll force us to do this with your magic?"

Harry shook his head, "I will force you to do nothing, those who choose to come with me and mine will be welcomed and when they reach First Forge they will choose how they would like to benefit the settlement. If you choose to stay here then I can only wish you the best of luck and promise that should you be part of any group that threatens us again you will feel the sting of our blades."

As Harry let that statement sink in as he looked around the many faces surrounding him only to realize there was something rather important that needed his attention. On the ground about twenty feet away from him Tormund was frantically trying to apply pressure to his son's stomach and stem the flow of blood. Harry was over there in a flash and quickly began tearing at the furs that kept him from the wound.

For the first time ever Harry saw Tormund with tears in his eye, the large man's voice sounded broken as he spoke, "You saved a crow; I know you can save him, please save him."

Harry looked at Tormund a moment and nodded firmly before taking to his task. As he looked at the wound he realized there was quite a bit of blood and that the spear appeared to have gone all the way through. Harry only hoped that the blade hadn't hit Toregg's spinal cord as for all of his healing capability, he didn't know how to fix a wound of that nature.

Fortunately, it wasn't particularly hard to heal. He pulled essence of dittany from his pocket and quickly began applying it to the wound and watched as it sewed up the torn tissue around the wound. Harry turned to Tormund, "Help me turn him over."

Without a response, they quickly turned Toregg so his front was to the ground and Harry went to work on the exit wound. Harry was relieved to see that his spine had not been damaged and his kidneys were unharmed. The entire process took five minutes and when he was done there was no doubt Toregg would live through the wound. An injury of that nature would take some time to heal though.

Tormund surprised the younger man by pulling him into a fierce hug, "Thank you."

Harry felt mildly uncomfortable but could understand Tormund's reaction since it was his oldest son who had just been saved from death, he patted the man's back lightly, "He is your son, one of my friends, and one of my people. I couldn't do anything less. "

Tormund pulled away and went to pull Toregg to his feet; the younger man groaned in pain, "Father, I had a spear shoved through my stomach, try being a little gentler."

The three men all chuckled before Harry spoke, "Toregg is right, he will need to take it easy for the next week or so and walking unassisted will hurt for the next few days."

They both nodded as Harry returned his attention to the beaten people of Alfyn Crowkiller, many if not all were staring a bit wide eyed at Harry's act of healing. While they had seen their fair share of his destructive capability during the fight, to see how well he treated one of his own convinced many of them joining would be the best course of action.

It was the same older man who questioned him earlier that stepped forward first, "I am Dwyn, and I would follow you." After Dwyn's statement the cries of ascent followed like a tidal wave and when all was said and done every fighting man and woman there decided to go to First Forge.

The entire battle only took a little over an hour but before Harry even considered returning to First Forge he had all those who died in the fight gathered and burned as was the free folk custom. While the bodies were gathered he took the time to end any curse he may have hit someone with in his rampage through the battlefield while trying to find Alfyn and then healed any injuries he could. Many of the fighters returned to the villages where noncombatants stayed to inform them of the choice they had. The entire process took almost the rest of the day.

It was as Harry finished healing Ulf's injured thigh that Harry saw Val approaching him, the gruff man smiled as he looked over at his leader, "You know I couldn't be happier that you beat me three years ago, I doubt I would have seen such amazing things or been part of such a good fight if I hadn't." He stood then and bounced on his once injured leg like it was good as new.

Harry chuckled at the man's antics turning as Val came up beside him, she leaned up to kiss him before speaking, "I took the liberty of getting the number of dead, I figured you would like to know."

Harry's eyes darted to the smoke of the pyre that was burning outside the small village. He returned his gaze to the fierce woman next to him, "How many?"

"About 2500 in total, 500 of ours and 2000 of what were Alfyn's." Val said softly, she was well aware that he didn't revel in the act of killing like some of the other Free Folk leaders but understood the importance of defending yourself from a threat.

"Well, I suppose I couldn't have hoped for any better. To go up against greater numbers and come out with that kind of success is… good." Harry responded slowly.

"You did what was necessary Harry."

He shook himself and smiled at her slightly, "I know and I appreciate you saying that, part of my problem is that I could have taken Alfyn down in an instant with just a spell. There would have been no need for 2,500 men and women to die."

"Yes but you know it as much about the clan's strength as it is yours. You couldn't just go and kill Alfyn because his attack was on all of your people not just you. They wanted his head just as badly if not more than you did." Val reasoned.

"You're right, in the end I think this was a good thing. We just won a decisive victory over a greater force and doubled our numbers in both fighters and overall people in the process. The best part was actually watching us fight, when I first arrived here three years ago there was nothing like the kind of discipline we showed here today." Harry ended enthusiastically. While he did not love the need for battle, he could definitely appreciate how far his people had come.

They were interrupted at that moment by a running Del, "Harry we have a bit of a problem?" she gasped out between breaths.

Harry became alert immediately, "What is it?"

After fully catching her breath the spearwife continued, "One of the newest members of First Forge, Erik, didn't exactly follow your orders."

He began walking in the direction she had come both of the women right on his heels, "What happened?"

"He stole from one of the homes in a village about a mile from here."

"What could he possibly have stolen that we don't already have?" Val asked incredulously.

"He tried to take some snow bear furs that he took a liking to apparently, when the rest of us saw what he was doing we quickly stopped it but I thought it best to inform you of the situation." As they walked Harry's mind was racing. This was the first time he had an issue with one of his orders being followed, the problem was that pillaging was a long standing tradition of the free folk. No one else has had an issue with it in the three years I've been leader, this cannot go without some sort of punishment. The question was how to deal with the situation.

After a fifteen minute walk in the moonlight they arrived at another of the small villages, as they walked in Harry noticed a grove of weirwoods about a hundred yards away. In the center of the town people had gathered around where Erik was being held, they parted as Harry walked through.

The young man, if you could even call him that, was probably only fourteen years old. He had short cut blonde hair, and gray eyes that were looking at Harry with a hint of defiance. The boy had an overlarge nose and thin lips and a slight bit of stubble on his adolescent chin. Harry almost laughed when he saw him. Even in a place like this, teenagers will be teenagers; this is just a rebellious act of youth against authority.

Harry knelt down in front of the young man and stared him in the eye, "Tell me why you disobeyed my direct orders."

Erik met his gaze for a long moment but Harry's emerald eyes eventually caused the young man to look away, he spoke in a still developing voice that cracked on the first word, "It is the way of the Free Folk; when we win we take what we like from the people who we beat."

Harry straightened up and looked down at the youth, "Except you forget that we may have beaten them but they are our people now, you tried to steal from a member of your own clan."

"That is not our way." He responded defiantly.

"I am leader here and it is my way. You will serve in the fields for the next month, tending to the aurochs, for disobeying my orders." Harry turned to leave, his decision reached when he heard a derisive snort behind him.

The young man stood and Harry found that he was a good head taller than the younger boy, "I am a fighter not a farmer."

Harry stepped closer, invading Erik's personal space, "You might be a fighter but maybe a bit of time as a farmer will teach you what is necessary to actually remain at First Forge."

Erik paled significantly, "You would throw me from the settlement?"

"If you do as I have commanded no," Harry responded with a hint of steel in his voice, "but disobey and you may just find yourself in search of a new home." Harry did not like the fact that he had to make such threats but he could not allow a direct order to be ignored, it would show weakness and if there was one thing the Free Folk detested, it was weakness. Erik nodded stiffly clearly understanding the error in his judgement far better now.

Harry turned only to see Val nod her approval before he turned to leave

The crowd dispersed after that. Harry went to ensure the tents were all set up while Val went to set up their own tent. Harry knew he could simply portkey everybody back to First Forge, which he planned to do, but didn't think it would be a good idea to drop an extra 6,000 people into the settlement so late at night. There is going to be much work to do starting tomorrow, we'll have twice as many mouths to feed.

As he walked to check the state of things his eye kept being drawn to the weirwoods not far away, he could feel the same presence looking at him much the way he had three years ago and decided to investigate. As he approached he felt the second presence join him at the tree only this time it didn't retreat as Harry extended his presence outward instead it welcomed him.

By the time he was just in front of the weirwood tree, he staring at the face oblivious to all else. He extended a hand out to touch the pale white bark. He wasn't expecting what happened next.

He was pulled from that place outside of Alfyn Crowkiller's camp not in body but in mind. To Harry it felt much the same way as falling into a pensive. Miles and miles he crossed in a mere moment until he was standing in front of a great weirwood, taller and stronger than any other he had seen. A rasping voice spoke to him, "Find me traveler, we have much to discuss." Flashes much like memories, but not, assaulted Harry's mind as he was pushed back into his own body. He saw deep blue eyes that stared out from ethereal faces, dragons bigger and stronger than even the Horntail he had fought as a teenager and finally a three-eyed crow that squawked just in front of his vision.

Harry gasped as he found himself back within his own body and mind again. He staggered a moment before collapsing to his knees as he failed to regain his bearings. Harry sat there in silence for a long time just thinking about what he had seen. I've never had much belief in divination but that certainly felt like the out of body experience Trelawney babbled on about in her classes when she wasn't predicting my death. I want to know how it managed to get past my occlumency shields though.

Harry had the image of that great weirwood tree embedded in his mind so vividly he had no doubt that he could apparate there but, as he prepared to do just that footsteps stopped him from turning on the spot and finding out just who it was that had pulled him from his own body. Approaching from behind, him torch in hand was Val, a look of concern marring her beautiful features, "Harry all of the tents have been up and the people asleep for going on two hours now, why have you not yet come to our tent?"

Harry stared at her for a moment almost unseeing before his eyes focused on the lovely woman in front of him. She smiled at him worriedly before he began speaking, "I saw something when I touched the weirwood," he gestured toward the white tree behind him, "I was getting ready to go to the place it showed me before you arrived." He explained honestly.

"What did it show you?" Val asked calmly, while inside she was more than a little worried about the whole thing.

"A great weirwood further north, blue eyes, dragons, and a three-eyed crow." Harry listed as though they were the most common things in the world, while Val just became more uneasy.

She scowled at him after a moment, "You planned to go tonight, without telling anyone… not even me?"

Harry rubbed the back of his head nervously; he hadn't had to inform anybody of his whereabouts in years. "When you put it like that you just make me sound like a right prat."

She chuckled, "You know I will never get completely used to some of the things you say, but if prat means you were being a stupid ass than yes you were being a prat."

Harry smiled sheepishly, "I'll wait till after everybody is settled back in at First Forge before I go then?" he half asked, half stated.

She cared deeply for the man in front of her and as such knew she couldn't dissuade him from this, he was curious by nature and wouldn't let it go until he knew exactly what the vision he had seen meant, "That sounds like a much better plan than leaving in the dead of night without telling anybody where you are going."

"To be fair, I honestly think I would have been able to leave and come back before anybody knew that I was gone."

Val raised a single eyebrow, "You have no idea exactly what is waiting for you where you plan to go and yet you just assumed it would be a short trip and then you pop back here before the camp was awake."

Damn me and my more Gryffydorish qualities. He smiled at her, "You're right of course, glad you were able to reach me before I decided to run off like a fool."

She smirked, "Well it seems to be part of my job to make sure you don't go off unprepared. That is how we met after all." She laughed as he walked forward, lifted her up and starting walking her back toward the village.

"Trust me I remember Val, it's pretty hard to forget considering you were the first and only person to actually call me out on that little tale I tell about not remembering where I'm from." He placed her back on her feet and they walked quickly back toward their tent.

She smirked, "Well it was obvious; besides , it is a good thing I am the only one who knows because it means I get to hear all of your stories that just about anybody else would call you mad for."

They continued in silence and ten minutes later reached their tent where they quickly entered, disrobed and fell asleep after the tiring day of battle.

The next morning all 9,000 people were gathered in front of the building Alfyn had been giving his grand speech before Harry and his people arrived. The people who were already members of First Forge would be sent back first. Don't want to freak out the newbies by forcing them to experience my magic without seeing the others do it first.

In order to return everybody in a timely manner Harry had approached one of the Ironwood trees in the forest, felled it, and then turned the wood into long shafts that could be used to portkey a hundred people at a time. The process began about two hours after dawn. Harry stayed throughout the transportation process while his advisors went first to coordinate the new arrivals. It was around an hour before the villages that once paid homage to Alfyn Crowkiller were all but empty. When the last of women and children were pulled from the place Harry turned on the spot and apperated himself back to First Forge.

Arriving back Harry was impressed to see the level of organization that was taking place amongst the new settlers. He had to laugh when he saw the blacksmith's eyes light up when they saw the number of new fighters they would be making weapons for.

When Harry arrived at the Hall he was surprised to see a large, and he meant extremely large, pile of stones near it. As he walked in he was stopped by a group of five children led by Gilly and Munda looking extremely excited, it was Craster's daughter that began excitedly, "Harry, we found something while you were away."

Harry turned to the veritable mountain of rocks they had assembled for building and turned to them with amusement in his emerald eyes, "I can see that."

All of the children followed his gaze before huffing exasperatedly, "Not that, we find rocks for the buildings all the time."

That's true so what could they have possible found. "Okay I'll bite, what did you find?"

The girls giggled before Gilly spoke up, "We don't want you to bite us."

Harry just shook his head good naturedly, before the little girl continued, "We were looking around north of here maybe ten miles," Harry got ready to reprimand the children but was stopped, "with a group of the hunters."

"Why did you decide to go with the hunters?" Harry asked more than a little confused.

"There are only so many rocks to collect here, we wanted to find more." Gilly said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Munda smiled at Harry, "Anyway when we were looking for rocks we found rocks that looked like the iron you conjure for the blacksmiths so we can do the carvings." Harry's eyebrows shot into his hair.

"Girls, could you take me back there if you needed to?" They all nodded enthusiastically and Harry smiled happily, he wasn't expecting that kind of surprise after the battle the previous day.

"Good we will go soon." They all nodded and ran off quickly. Harry meanwhile was contemplating what needed to be done with this new information. They said the iron deposit is ten miles away; we will need to fell the trees around what will become the quarry, build up around the quarry for any who decide to mine the area, and finally build some sort of road between here and there or maybe just set up some sort of a system with portkeys or we could build docks and ship them to and from the location.

Whatever it took Harry didn't care, he would prefer being able to mine the iron instead of conjuring thousands of pieces of iron for the 3,000 new fighters, not to mention any of the younger men and women who would decide to take up arms.

When he was joined by Val, Tormund, and Ulf, he quickly brought up possible deposit.

"The children think they found an iron deposit while out with the hunters." Harry began once they were all sitting.

Ulf smiled, "This is good isn't it? You have been looking for one of those since we made First Forge."

Tormund scoffed, "Try since before First Forge was built. He has been worried about finding some sort of deposit since the day after he had me flat on my ass with an axe next to my throat."

Harry resisted the urge to laugh as he pressed onward, "Anyway, back to the actual news. Mining is no easy thing, I can make the initial process easier but I can't be there all the time."

"You made farming, shipbuilding, and blacksmithing easier too," Val reasoned, "why is this any different?"

"Mining can be absolutely brutal, I can't imagine we will have as many volunteers."

Tormund snorted loudly, "You have been with us for quite some time now Harry but clearly you don't fully understand what has happened here."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked confused.

Tormund's voice became surprisingly soft as he answered, "Our lives were brutal before you came, even in the summer this place is harsh and in the winters we we're lucky if a third o' the Free Folk survived. We may not kneel but there has never been such loyalty from the Free Folk to any leader."

Harry was stunned into silence for a moment, "Right then, so you think there will be more than a few willing to mine the metal?"

Tormund shrugged, "It's hard to say for sure but it is not as though building ships, farming the land, tending the cattle, or forging weapons and armor are easy things and you had plenty people willing to take up the job when you asked."

"What do you think we should do about transporting the iron?" Ulf asked.

"A road, a proper road that we build from here to there; with the way we have been expanding we won't be able to stay in just this area forever, this mine could be an opportunity to expand beyond the confines of First Forge."

"The snows will cover the road within days." Ulf commented.

"I'll enchant it to keep warm the same way I do the houses that are further from the hot spring."

"You will need far more stone than we have collected to cover that sort of distance." Val commented.

Harry shook his head, "For this I could fashion it from the earth itself. To do the buildings I would have needed to delve into the structure of the Earth, pulling it up and completely reshaping it; it would have taken far longer and I wouldn't have been able to produce nearly as many houses at a time. For this I can just smooth the ground without needing to dig in, it will take substantially less out of me."

Val smiled liking the idea, "So a road then?"

"I think so, I could just make portkeys but I think properly expanding is the better option."

Tormund laughed, "Then that is what we do, but first you need to find this iron deposit..."

"… and find out if there is enough there for it to be worth the effort." Ulf finished for the red-headed man.

"Very true," Harry responded, "but I would think there is if iron is visible on the surface."

"Right then, I'm fucking hungry and want to see my woman." Everybody chuckled as Tormund rose to make his way back to his home.

The rest of the day was spent building homes for the newest members of First Forge and finding out just who would be willing to take up mining once the location was established. Harry was surprised when ninety-three men and twelve women willingly volunteered even after he made completely clear just how unpleasant the task might be.

Harry was standing in his home while Val was sat on their bed, covered only by the furs, looking at him with obvious worry written across her face, "I would still prefer if you took someone with you."

Harry sighed, "No Val, I would not risk anyone else even if I truly believe there is no danger."

"Yet you would risk yourself, when you are by far the most important person in this place?" She stood in her anger, careless to her own nudity.

Harry found it amazing how even devoid of clothing she could look incredibly fierce, "Val, I will be fine. There was no malicious intent behind whatever happened in front of that weirwood tree."

"But how can you know?" Val said pleadingly.

Harry looked at her for a moment, he had shared some of his past with Val but not all of it and very little of his younger years. Looking at the concern marring her beautiful face he decided to tell her a bit more, "When I was a child a dark wizard murdered my parents, the man who did it then attempted to kill me but it didn't work." Val's eyes widened in shock but she didn't make to speak.

"Instead his body was destroyed and a part of his soul attached itself to me." He lifted the fringe of his hair to show the very faint lightning bolt scar that once housed a piece of Tom Riddle's soul, "When I was fourteen years old, he used a dark ritual to return himself to his body." Val looked properly stricken hearing this, it was the Free Folk's firm belief that the dead should stay dead.

"After that event I would frequently have visions through the connection I shared with him in my scar. I could feel the malevolence in that man's actions, thoughts and his very heart. So when I tell you that there was no malicious intent behind what I saw in front of the weirwood, I am positive I am correct."

Val approached him slowly and pressed herself to him in a tight hug, "You are going to tell me the full story someday," Harry gave a slight nod into her hair, "alright then, I don't like this but I trust you so… I will see you soon and you damn well better keep yourself safe."

Harry squirmed minutely, Val's full bosom was flattened against his chest and he could feel himself beginning to stir slightly, he pushed her away gently and was unsurprised to see a self-satisfied smirk on her lips as she looked down at his pelvis, "Right then, hopefully I'll be back by the morning but regardless I promise I'll be home soon."

With a final smile in Val's direction, he pictured the weirwood in his mind and turned on the spot. When he opened his eyes the great white sentinel seemed to glow in the darkness of the night. Like all weirwood trees he encountered it had its own presence only stronger. As he walked closer to the tree he could feel there was someone, not just something, looking at him.

Along the base of the tree saw a hollow passage and wide cat-like eyes staring out from it, his initial response was to assume that it was some sort of animal but looking at the eyes there was a level of intelligence and wisdom that no animal, not even Fawkes or Hedwig, could hope to match. The creature looked to him like a mix between an animal and a small child.

She, as it was clearly female, was about the size of a House Elf but with darker skin and shorter ears that looked almost like a deer's. Her hands had only three fingers and a thumb and each was tipped with claws instead of nails. She had large liquid gold-green eyes slitted like a cat's. Her hair was a tangle of brown, red and gold, autumn colors, with vines and twigs and withered flowers woven through it. She wore a cloak of leaves.

From the stories Harry had been told he could only guess that this was one of the Children of the Forest. The pair stared at each other for a long moment before she spoke, "You are the one he's seen, come he wishes to speak to you." She gestured for Harry to follow further into the tree.

They traveled together, as the cave descended steeply down. The route was cramped, branching tunnels running off from the route they took, each one full of weirwood roots. Harry walked slowly behind her and looked down at the diminutive creature, "What's your name?"

"Leaf." She answered simply.

"Would it be safe to assume you're one of the Children?"

She seemed to find this funny, "You have heard the stories apparently, yet you haven't been here that long from what he says. Tell me how old would you think I am?"

Harry couldn't even hazard a guess considering he knew nothing of the Children beyond the descriptions he had been given, "Fifty years old." He decided with absolutely no confidence.

"I am almost two hundred years old, and my people were thousands of years old before humans even walked the lands, so tell me traveler do you think 'child' is really a fitting description of my people." Leaf was not angry but seemed to genuinely want his opinion.

Harry couldn't help but stare at her more critically. She is older than Dumbledore, which would explain the clear sense of wisdom I saw when looking in her eyes. "No, I suppose child wouldn't be a fitting word for such a long-lived and old race, but that is all I know to call you."

"I didn't take offence, I just wanted to hear your opinion on the matter." She became solemn, "All that remains of my people remain in this tree, only some sixty of us. Soon we will depart this world forever, but he thinks you might be able to change that and even I can't deny that there is a magic in you the likes of which I have never felt."

Harry couldn't help but be saddened that such an old race was dying out, "If I can help you I will."

They came to a great cavern that opened up to black abyss. There was a rushing river some 600 feet below. Leaf turned and looked him in the eye, "Your magic alone makes me feel stronger than I have in some time, there might still be hope for us." She gestured to a natural bridge that crossed the abyss, "He's just there."

Harry nodded and walked across the bridge. On the other side a great deal of the weirwood's root system exposed. Apparently it was a night of seeing new things as he was met with the sight of a man that was as much a part of the tree as he was human flesh. One red eye that looked out and focused on him the moment he came into view, the man still had a small amount of pale white hair and his skin was the same color as the bark of the weirwood.

The rasping voice he heard in his vision came slowly from the half man, half tree, "Very good, you have come."

"And who exactly are you?" Harry asked as he eyed the man speculatively.

"I have gone by many names over the years: Lord Commander, Hand of the King, Lord Bloodraven, the three-eyed crow but my mother called me Brynden. In my time I was known as a sorcerer, though not one like you, and a greenseer; a thousand eyes and one they used to say."

This was a bit of surprise to Harry, the closest he had come to magic since arriving had been the wargs, "Please indulge me, but what is a greenseer?"

A small smile stretched across the bark like face, "One who can see beyond the here and now into what was and what might be."

Harry was ambivalent about his claim but would allow him to explain, "Very well then Brynden, why did you wish to speak to me?" Harry asked as he leaned himself against the wall of the cave.

"You are new, something that I did not see. You have done more to change the song in three years than most do in their entire lives."

Harry wanted to groan. Something tells me that talking to this man is going to be as riddle filled as talking to the Headmaster. "I have made a difference in many people's lives, what of it?"

"People have taken notice, the grey rats have heard of your magic and they will come to learn and to destroy." Brynden told him slowly.

Yep definitely riddles, gods damn it. "These rats, why will they come to destroy me?"

"Why do most people do what they do? Fear, fear that you will affect the balance of power." Brynden said sagely.

"Will these grey rats succeed?" Harry could tell this wasn't like Trelawney's constant predictions of death, this man could truly see.

"Perhaps, but should they fail the snakes will come from the south after hearing from the wise rat; they will try to win you over." Harry did not particularly like the sound of this but stayed silent.

"Years from now in the south, the stag will be the death of the wolf, the lion will fight the wolf's son and the kingdoms will bleed."

"And why should I care?" Harry interrupted.

Not at all perturbed Brynden responded easily, "They will come for you, your people will fight in a war that is not their own and all the Lords of the South shall call you King though your own people will never kneel."

"We do not take part in the affairs of the South, why would that change?" Harry asked hastily.

"Because you will need the support of the southern kingdoms when things both terrible and powerful come to take you."

Harry pushed off from the wall taking these warnings more seriously, "What will come to take us?"

"From across the Sea will come legends born back into the world, Dragons whose fire could burn all in its path. From the Far North will come the Old Enemy of both the Children and man, the Others, and with them will come the Long Night."

Harry felt a sense of dread settle in the pit of his stomach, feeling there was a truth in his words. "And how could I guarantee my people are strong enough to weather this storm?"

"Continue as you have, always growing stronger but do not avoid possible alliances." He paused for a moment, "There is a land to the east where the Free Folk have never willingly traveled, go there. If nothing else, learn all you can of this world so that you might be better prepared to fight your enemies."

Harry appreciated the warnings but there was one thing bothering him, "Why tell me all of this, what is in it for you?"

Brynden was silent for a long moment his red eye locked on Harry's emerald green, "You will be instrumental in whatever comes, the world could be shrouded in darkness or consumed in fire but it is unclear to me what shall be the end… and there are other possibilities. That is because of you and others you have yet to meet; I thought it best that you have all the help you can muster."

Harry nodded slowly, "I will think on what you have said. You will be here should I have need to speak to you again?"

"Yes, I shall be here till my end traveler," he said softly, "The closest city in the east is a place called Braavos, you will know it from the great statue carved from stone that guards its harbor. Go there and learn what you can of this world."

Harry nodded and they continued to talk for a while longer, mostly about who Bloodraven once was. When Harry went to apparate an hour later he was surprised to find that he was unable to. Apparently the magic of this place stops such modes of transportation. So, he started walking away from the roots of the tree. Back to where he had landed, he apperated back to First Forge returning before anyone but Val knew he was gone. As he climbed into his bed, curling up beside the lovely blond warming the furs, he was unaware of the conversation that took place back at the large weirwood.

Leaf approached the former Lord Hand, "Do you think he will succeed?"

"I do, there is a spark in him. His people love him and will do as he bids, I can only hope he heeds my warning lest conspirators take him from the game long before his moves truly matter."

The next morning Harry awoke to find grey-blue eyes staring at him intently, "Good morning." She said with a small smile.

Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes before leaning in to kiss her, "Morning."

"So what happened?" Harry sighed before relaying the details of the conversation he had the previous night.

Val showed a small bit of fear as she looked at him, "The Others, truly?"

"That is what I was told," Harry responded, "what exactly can you tell me about them?"

"I know only the tales you have probably already heard. They say they were beautiful in a terrible, inhuman sort of way. They rode giant ice spiders and the cold seemed to follow them wherever they went. All of humanity nearly died during their last attack, a time known as the Long Night." She paused and her voice became bitter, "then when it was all over, the Wall was put up to defend from the Others in the future and all those on the northern side were forgotten and eventually reviled."

Harry couldn't help but remember what Benjen Stark had told him that first day he arrived, "The Wall wasn't built to keep out men, there are more terrible things in the cold places of the world."

Val nodded, "Exactly."

"Do you know what he meant by the grey rats? Or the snakes? Or the direwolf?" Harry strung together questions quickly in a way reminiscent of a certain bushy-haired friend he used to know.

"Relax green eyes," Val ran a soothing hand through his hair, "you'll go mad if you keep up like that. To answer your question, I only know that the direwolf is the sigil of House Stark."

"Right, I met Benjen Stark the first day I arrived here. I don't remember if he mentioned that."

"Yes well, I can't tell you what the other warnings mean. I suppose we'll have to figure it out as things come."

"You're right, but what do you think should be done?"

She pondered it for a moment, "The Free Folk have never sailed across the sea but we had never had true ships until you came either. If you asked they would go but it would have to be for other reasons beyond gaining more information about the world."

Harry paused for a moment before coming up with a solution, "We trade, or barter more like. I have gold enough to buy what needs to be bought and we can use that and our surplus weapons and goods to trade for things that would benefit First Forge."

"What would you trade for?" Val wanted this to be well thought out before it was presented to the others.

"Sheep, more crops, and perhaps some leathers that can be worked into armor for those who prefer to fight light."

"They would probably go for that, especially the sheep; I doubt anybody would be against the idea of having different kinds of meat to eat."

"And we can shave them for their fur and make wool to go underneath our furs to better keep warm." Val looked at him sideways but shrugged and just took his word for it.

Harry sat in silence for a moment before speaking again, "We will need to build a Wall."

"What?" Val responded frostily.

"Not a 700 foot wall meant to keep all people out," he hastily explained realizing how that could have been taken the wrong way, "but if the Others really are coming I would prefer having some sort of a barrier between us and them."

Val calmed quickly after he explained himself and stared at a point on the ceiling above them as she thought, "You are right but if there really is a solid iron deposit north of here you will have to build a wall around Forgers who settle there too."

"Forgers? You know I was thinking we needed a change in name as well." Harry chuckled slightly.

"I've gotten tired of calling us your people, Harry's people or Harry's clan. You are the leader but we have become more than that."

"I completely agree." He said with a smile.

That afternoon they presented the idea to the others and after hearing Harry's proposal all decided that it would be a worthwhile endeavor. The sailors were actually quite enthusiastic when they heard they would get to do more than sail into the Shivering Sea for fishing. Docks were to be made to make loading the ships easier, something Harry realized should have been done long ago.

Creating walls around what was quickly becoming a fully developed city took a bit more convincing, especially since Harry did not want to panic his people by talking about the possibility of the Others attacking in the near or distant future; Bloodraven hadn't been particularly specific. It took Harry explaining that the gate would be open unless there was an actual hostile force that the other Forgers agreed to Harry's plan.

All of this left Harry with a great deal of work to do before he could actually leave with the first trade ships. Adding the docks proved to be the easiest of tasks, Harry felled some of the Ironwoods that had been regrown over the years and began forming a functioning dock along the coast line. They didn't need to dock all thirty-five of their ships at once, so they just built a dock large enough for five ships to take on goods and supplies. As such, the whole process took only three days with the help of about fifty people. The dock was sturdy and the pillars that held it up were embedded deep into the bedrock of the cold shores.

Next Harry took to building the wall around First Forge. With the drastic increase people he decided to put the western portion of the wall just half a mile from the edge of the haunted forest and gave a mile of space along both the northern and southern outskirts of the flourishing city. This left Harry with a great deal of leeway for any future additions to the settlement, as well as space to increase the size of any of their current, farming or cattle rearing operations.

He started by creating a large trench twenty five feet wide in a circle along the in the ground, displacing a large amount of stone and earth that he would use with wooden pillars to make the actual wall. Harry took the time to put together more buildings for new arrivals after he finished the trench the first day. The second day the actual wall began to take form.

The exterior was twenty feet high and two feet wide. The interior was only fifteen feet high with stairs leading up to a fifteen foot wide walkway that would allow for archers to shoot at any enemies that might attack First Forge.

The actual formation of the wall took a good month, not because of any limitations on Harry's magical ability but because it was still a transfigured piece of material and so the now fifteen runic etchers were placing stabilizing and strengthening runes every hundred feet along the wall. The runes were larger than any placed on the armor but the end result would be a wall that could withstand siege equipment for quite some time before being brought down. Harry would build about 1,500 feet of wall each day and then attend to other duties while the etchers did their work on the wall.

Openings were left in the wall's structure to along in the west and northwest for doorways that were designed to elongated entrances so that fire and arrows could be rained down on any army that actually manage to break what would be the first set of heavy steel doors.

Two weeks in, he saw two crows in the forest staring absolutely gob smacked at their construction. Harry had just smirked in their direction before taking up his work again.

When all was said and done they had a wall in the shape of a half circle that extended out five miles from the center of the burgeoning city in any direction. The doors were to be made once the iron could be acquired from the deposit that Harry made his next priority.

The day after the wall was finally completed, Harry grabbed Gilly and Munda and apperated them to the edge of the forest ten miles northeast of First Forge as that was the general location the girls had given him. When they arrived he knelt down next to them and looked them in the eye, "Okay girls which way do you remember the iron being?" They both pointed into the trees and a little northward.

"Right then, let's go." They both nodded enthusiastically happy to be able to help one of their favorite people. In all honesty with a combination of his environmental sensing and the point me spell he could probably find the location just as quickly but the girls had made this discovery and he knew they really wanted to help him.

They were walking for about twenty minutes when the girls noticed something and started running forward at a dead sprint, Harry extended his sense outward and down and quickly found the deposit they talked about. It was quite wide, maybe two miles, and they were on the southern edge of the deposit but more importantly the thing ran deep, very deep as far as Harry could tell. Fortunately the snow was mercifully light here so he wouldn't have to spend much time clearing that out before he began the digging process.

When they arrived at a large black rock with an obvious iron vein running through it the girls started bouncing up and down excitedly, "See… see we told you that we found what you had been looking for."

He smiled and opened up his arms so that each of the two girls could give him a hug, they gladly accepted and after a moment Harry pulled away, "Okay girls time to return home." They both pouted slightly but grabbed Harry's hands nonetheless.

He quickly released the children before returning to the location of the deposit. Harry evaluated his options as he didn't want to waste any of the iron in the area and in the end he decided to lift the iron and everything around it straight up and out. Of course he had no intention of doing this all himself but he needed to set up the starting point for the quarry and begin building the homes of the just over hundred men and women who had volunteered for the task.

He started by felling the trees in the area and turning them into planks that could be used to make scaffolding once the quarry was dug in. With that done he took to the task of delving into the ground separating any of the actual iron he encountered from the stone; the stone would be used to build houses in the area. An hour later he had delved 500 feet into the ground where the very last the iron stopped, he apperated back up to the surface and started assembling the scaffolding and placing it in the newly made hole

From there he took to building the houses that would be used by the new miners. He built twenty five in total about fifty feet from the edge of the quarry, enough that they would be able to house four to a building. He also had the good sense to put together a building to store any wood and equipment they would be using.

There was little daylight left by the time he finished the buildings, so he did one of the things he wasn't the most skilled in, he warded the area to be unnoticed so that no random wildling would stumble upon the quarry.

That night he brought the iron he managed to retrieve in the process of starting the quarry and went to give it to the blacksmiths only to be met with a rather awkward situation. As he levitated over a ton of iron near the smithy he wasn't paying attention to what was going on around him. He really didn't expect anybody else to be present so late at night. He was broken of this misconception when he heard a clearly pleasured moan sound off behind him.

Varma and Falyn, two of his first apprentices, were fucking each other rapidly on top of one of the work stations. Harry resisted the urge to laugh at the sight, since he had seen this coming three years ago when they first decided to learn the craft. While he was happy for the young pair he had no interest in watching Varma's pale ass as he took the young girl. He averted his eyes quickly and dropped the metal off before beating a hasty retreat back to his own home where he promptly began laughing.

Val who was eating a bit of aurochs that had recently been slaughtered looked at him questioningly. After taking a moment to gain control, he answered the unspoken question, "I was just at the Forge dropping off the iron I was able to pull out today."

"Right, and why does that have you laughing like a mad man?" Val asked slowl

"Oh well, I wasn't really paying attention to what was going on around me as I entered the forge and when I finally took a look around me I was met with the sight of two of the blacksmiths going at it on one of the workbenches."

Val shrugged, "I'm assuming it was Falyn and Varma, they have been going at it like that for a couple months now; they tip-toed around each other nearly as much as you tip-toed around me."

Harry snorted, "As far as I remember you tip-toed around me just as much as I did you love."

Val glared but it lost its edge with the slight curve to her lips, "That might be true but it was me that finally stole you."

Harry laughed, "Well I certainly can't deny that." He sat down to grab himself a chunk of aurochs and they made light conversation as they ate their evening meal together.

The next morning Harry returned to the forge and informed the blacksmiths that the iron he had already retrieved was to be used to make doors for wall. The three blacksmiths and their ten helpers were enthusiastic about the undertaking and started working immediately. From there he along with a group of the runic carvers made their way back to the new mining operation and began putting up a wall similar to the one around First Forge.

The second wall took only two weeks to make and when finished the new miners began moving into their homes. Meanwhile Harry started making the first ever road north of the Wall.

There were five miles between the southern part of the quarry's walls and the walls of First Forge; it took five days for Harry to span that distance. The road was fifteen feet wide, so people could travel either direction should they wish. Much like the buildings and walls Harry had made to this point, it was a continuous solid piece of stone inlaid into the ground. The carvers didn't need to do as many carvings into the road, only adding strengthening and heating runes. The heating was Harry's way to ensure that the snow didn't bury the path.

There was only one problem that Harry hadn't considered. How the hell is the Iron going to get back to the forge without me here to take it? Walking a wheelbarrow full of heavy stone and metal was possible but he sincerely doubted any of the miners would want to take up that particular task.

When he presented this issue to his advisors they were of a mixed opinion on the matter.

"Let them walk the metal from there to here, we all realize we can't expect your magic to solve every task." Ulf explained as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry sighed, "I was not saying we should find a magical solution to the problem, but I do not think any will want to carry stone five miles to get it back to the forge."

"So move the forge," Tormund spoke up, "you've done it before, why not do it again?"

Val snorted derisively at his suggestion, "That plan wouldn't solve anything Tormund Shite-Talker," he scowled at her for the insult, "people would still have to carry any finished weapons the five miles from there to here."

Tormund wanted to retort but knew the younger woman was right. They were all interrupted by a voice behind them, "Use the beasts to pull the stone along the new road, they might not be particularly well suited for it but they will work for a time until a better option can be found."

Harry turned to see Dalla standing there looking at them all as if they were completely foolish and he couldn't help but think she was absolutely right. Meanwhile, Val just smiled at her sister, "That sounds like an excellent idea."

Harry nodded his agreement, "We can build carts, load them with the iron and have it brought here by some of the aurochs." However, he had to agree that aurochs were not the animal best suited to the task. Perhaps I can find some oxen to trade for on our little trade adventure into the east.

Dalla looked rather smug that she was able to solve the little conundrum that the four most prominent members of First Forge could not, "Well as I am one of the people who helps tend to the herd of aurochs I will be sure to inform the others of this change," she turned to speak just with her sister, "Val, I wanted to speak with you when you had a moment."

Val smiled at her sister and her older sister quickly left the room, Val smirked slightly, "Well I guess that problem is solved."

Harry chuckled, "It would seem so, perhaps we should seek out her counsel more often?"

Val winced slightly and Harry looked at her curiously, "While Dalla has come to enjoy her life here, as it is free of the concerns that most people north of the Wall have to deal with, she is still slightly wary of your magic." Harry was surprised by this as Val had always been accepting of his talents.

She continued unaware of Harry's surprise, "Our mother told us constantly of the Horned-Lord's old saying, and while I have always been more curious, she has been more cautious."

"So she doesn't trust me then?" Harry asked without accusation.

Val shook her head, "I wouldn't say she doesn't trust you, she wouldn't have provided you with any sort of advice if that were the case. In fact she probably wouldn't even be here. She has just taken longer to accept that your magic helps without turning back against us."

Harry smiled happily, "I am glad to hear it."

The meeting broke up after that, each of them going their own way. Harry and Val were walking along the shore inspecting the docks and vessels. Harry would only be taking on the trade journey; it had an expanded hull to allow more cargo. They would be taking ten aurochs, a dozen barrels of fish, an assortment of vegetables and some of the older weapons that had gone into disuse despite their quality.

Val broke the silence, "When do you plan to leave?"

"Two days from now. I have done everything I can to make this place safe in my absence."

"I want to go with you." She said abruptly.

Harry turned to look at her for a moment and was surprised to see pleading in her eyes, "You know you can't Val, I am only going because I need certain things the others wouldn't know to procure and to make sure the ships make it on their first journey. You are many things love but you aren't a sailor."

"And you are?" She asked with some heat.

"I have spent some time on ships yes, how do you think I was able to design the ones we have now?" She glared at him half-heartedly but didn't respond, "I trust you to look after everything while I am away even more than Tormund and Ulf."

"When you say look after everything, are you afraid that someone will attempt to take control while you are away?"

He shrugged his shoulders, "No, I don't expect there will be any trouble while I am away and everybody knows I do what I do for the betterment of First Forge. Unless there is some sort of attack while I am away I can't imagine anybody will even have the opportunity to try and usurp my position."

Val smiled mischievously, "And what if I decided to take that position, oh great leader?"

He grabbed her waist, "Hmm well as long as I continue to share your bed it wouldn't be so bad."

Val pressed closer to his side, and leaned up to whisper in his ear, "You could be sharing my bed right now. You're going to be gone for gods only know how long. I think a couple days in bed making sure that you don't feel the need to… warm yourself with any eastern girls would be good." She said a little dangerously.

Harry ignored the shiver that shot up his spine as he pulled away to look into her eyes, "You don't need to worry about that. You are mine and I am yours that won't change just because I am away." He smiled lasciviously, "That being said I am far from opposed to the idea of showing you the truth of that statement."

She smiled coyly, a different look for the beautiful woman, before she started running toward their home. Harry followed close behind and when they burst through the door mere minutes later, he pulled out his wand to silence and lock the door behind him.

As he turned back to Val he noticed her looking at him at him a bit speculatively, "You know, I've noticed that when we lie together you tend to throw a spell at me before we start. I haven't questioned you because I know you wouldn't willingly do me any harm. What is it?"

Harry had a feeling this wasn't going to go over well but didn't have the heart to lie to her, "It is a contraceptive spell." At her confused look Harry elaborated, "It is designed to keep you from getting pregnant."

Val's reaction was exactly what he expected as she slapped him rather hard across the face, what Harry wasn't expecting was the tears in her eyes, "Why would you do such a thing?"

Harry grabbed her hands and led her over to the bed, "Mostly it was because I didn't know if you would want children with everything we need to do."

He was interrupted by Val huffing exasperatedly, "I wouldn't have stolen you if I didn't want that you idiot."

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "Right, didn't think about that."

In a quick movement Val pushed Harry onto his back, "Never again," she said fiercely, "if we are to have a child, we are to have a child. I will not have you actively stopping it."

Harry brought his hand to her cheek, "Alright."

Val leaned down and claimed his lips in a heated kiss. They spent the next two days almost perpetually sweaty and naked, only taking brief breaks for necessary nourishment and so Harry could oversee the building of one of the new carts. Fifteen people had taken to their production and decided to do more wood-working after they were finished.

As the pair stood on the docks the day of his departure Harry pulled a mirror from his pocket and handed it to Val, she turned it over in her hands before looking at Harry inquiringly, "What is this for?"

Harry smiled, "I have one that is similar, say my name into yours and mine will vibrate. Once I answer we will be able to communicate." Harry was happy when he saw Val's eyes light up.

"This is an amazing gift, you'll be able to stay informed about how things are going here while you're away." Harry smiled at her enthusiasm, though he had admittedly done it for her and her alone; she was right that it would have other uses. Leave it to Val to come up with a far better use for something than me.

They kissed briefly before Harry stepped onto the boat. As he stood on the deck, he turned back to see all of First Forge's 11,000 people looking back at them. Waving, he couldn't help the sense of accomplishment that overcame him at the sight. But there is still so much more to be done.

AN:

Don't have much to say about this chapter except that I enjoyed it and for those who want Harry to use more large scale battle magic there will be some of that but I am trying to find a balance between being an unholy killing machine and just a skilled fighter. Also, he was planning on allowing the people he was fighting to join First Forge so it wouldn't make sense to just have him destroy them all.

5. Chapter 5

AN: A sincere thank you for the reviews, I tried to answer questions via PM. If I forgot to answer a question I apologize and just let me know via a PM and I'll correct my mistake

For the guests who ask me specific questions I'll try to cover as many of them as I can right now.

coldblue: Yes the giants and mammoths will eventually have some sort of part to play.

ezekiel: Harry's rise to power could be comparable to Spartacus's the difference being that they are not former slaves they were already free. You'll just have to wait to see how it plays out over time.

Guest: Just because a wound stitched or cauterized doesn't mean you would be feeling fresh as a daisy. The damage Toregg took was severe even a magic can't take away all the pain.

theosey: While I have always thought it would be an interesting show I have never actually seen Vikings. I will likely watch it at some point in the future though. That being said searching Lagertha on google I would say that she is an excellent person to have in mind when thinking of Val. As for people in mind when writing characters that is a little bit harder as the image I have in my mind for each character doesn't exactly match up with a specific person for pretty much anybody but Tormund at this point, Kristofer Hivju would be the person I have in mind. If there is any person you feel looks like the character as I write them let me know and I'd be happy to give my opinion.

I would like to thank my Beta Tellimicus Sundance again, the guy is great.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Game of Thrones and no profit is being made from this story.

They planned to sail east toward Hardhome and then south through the common wildling passage along the Bay of Seals. Harry strongly considered stopping at Skagos to get an idea of the sort of people they were and their willingness to interact with First Forge. Plus there are supposedly unicorns on the island and it would be interesting to see if they are like the ones from my own world. More importantly, when he and Val had children he would need the ingredients to make new wands. I really need to find the time to explore the magical capabilities of the wargs as well, both for myself regarding their power and to find out whether or not they have the ability to use my brand of magic. Still he decided that a detour to Skagos could wait until either the return journey or after they returned to First Forge.

Once they were past the Bay of Seals they would travel along the eastern coast of Westeros, hopefully avoiding the attention of any Northerners, until they reached a lone castle on a thin peninsula after which the land turned westward. According to Lord Bloodraven, the castle was known as Widow's Watch. While the greenseer hadn't been able to provide Harry with the exact location of Braavos he had given him directions of a sort. From Widow's Watch they would continue south toward the Kingdom known as the Vale. Once they could see land again they would turn east and travel across the northern most stretch of what was known as the Narrow Sea. It would be 400 miles across the open waters before they reached Braavos which would be incredibly easy to spot because of the massive Titan of Braavos that was nearly as tall as the Wall was high.

The entire journey would be over 1,800 miles and even with the advantage of a wizard aboard the ship it would take around a month to reach their destination, and that was assuming that they were gifted with only friendly weather and didn't encounter any unfriendly ships.

Their ship could average around seventy miles a day; well that is if Harry wasn't on board. While he could not simply change the weather of the world, he could help drive the boat along faster by pushing wind into the sails; that being said, they would likely get an extra ten or so miles on a good day.

The first two days were by far the easiest as they sailed along the Shivering Sea toward Hardhome without any difficulty. As they sailed passed the ruined town Harry couldn't understand why any of the Free Folk feared the place. The structures that still stood were dilapidated and it was obvious from the still visible burn marks that the town had been taken in some sort of attack but the rumors of the screams still echoing in the little cove where the town sat were just that, rumors. He could see a pack of sea lions sitting on the rocks and even from a distance it was obvious that there were fish a plenty in the water. I will have to visit there on my return. It would be interesting what the dead of that place will have to tell me. More importantly, they could reestablish the area as a viable town to help support the ever growing numbers who flocked to Harry's banner. And the peninsula where the town is situated would be a strongly defensible point.

As they passed Hardhome they encountered the vast emptiness of the northern Shivering Sea and the weather that accompanied such open waters. Turning south, they began the portion of the journey that could be the most dangerous for them in terms of possible detection. Sailing through the Bay of Seals in such a large ship was unheard of for the Free Folk and the crows at Eastwatch-by- the-Sea would likely take notice of them if they drew too close to the castle.

It was another two days and just after sailing past the island of Skane, an area long ago conquered by the Skagosi, that the Wall became visible in the clear morning light. Even thirty miles off shore it was an obvious part of the landscape as it jutted up abruptly from the flat land to the south and towered hundreds of feet higher than the Haunted Forest to the north. This was the closest Harry had been to the amazing piece of architecture since his arrival in the world. Seeing the barrier between the Seven Kingdoms and the true North reminded Harry of his onetime encounter with the now First Ranger Benjen Stark. I should try to send word to the man about the warning Bloodraven gave me.

Harry could probably infiltrate Castle Black easily but he was none too keen about the idea of entering a castle filled with people who made it their life's work to kill wildlings. Even with the advantages magic provided, he would much prefer the idea of simply finding him on a ranging or sending him a letter somehow. It's moments like these that I truly miss Hedwig, the old girl could have found anybody.

They were able to sail by Eastwatch-by-the-Sea without any incident, though they did see more than one ship in the distance that was either departing from or traveling to the seaside castle of the Night's Watch. It was as they exited the Bay of Seals two days later that the first bit of actual trouble hit them, they were about five miles from the coast when they were bombarded by heavy rains and waves crashing into the ship almost non-stop. The inexperienced sailors aboard the trading ship were more than a little grateful of Harry's presence as he warred against the weather of the world. He was able to keep them moving south as he did what he could to clash against the oncoming storm. The rains were kept away from the boat easily enough but the ship was still pushed ever closer toward the rocks along the eastern coast of the North by the strong wind and waves.

He could dull their affects and keep the boat from being consumed by the sea entirely but even a wizard of Harry's power couldn't entirely change the weather. Still the twenty-five men and five women aboard the trading vessel watched spellbound as their leader was able to force down the greatest of the incoming waves and turn what would have been disastrous hits to the hull into mere annoyances that sent them rocking along. It was on the fourth day of the struggle and almost constant storming during which they only traveled 100 miles when they should have traveled 400 that Harry came to a decision.

They made landfall ten days into their journey and made camp on the coast just ten miles from a stretch of forest. Harry had the good sense to inform Val and in turn First Forge of the turn of events.

He spoke his lovers name into the mirror and a few moments later was greeted with the sight of a smiling beauty. The smile quickly fell as she could see the landscape around him and could obviously tell that it wasn't what it was supposed to be.

"What happened?" She asked concern obvious in her voice.

"We have been delayed, storms have been raging in the sea four days now and I thought the men could use a rest; they are out hunting now. So far we have been delayed for three days and chances are we will be stuck here at least another few days."

Val was clearly none too happy about the news, "So you will be gone longer than expected?"

"Yes it would appear that way, the journey was already going to take no less than a month each way; now it will probably be half again that much at least." He said somewhat apologetically.

She huffed in exasperation, "Well I suppose it was unavoidable, I sincerely doubt there was anyone who thought you would face no troubles in your journey."

Harry smirked slightly, "Well I certainly didn't. I don't think I've ever gone an adventure without some kind of trouble."

"So I've been told." She responded with a bit of a chuckle in her voice, "Though I would like to be told more."

"You will, love, no need to worry. You have heard quite a bit as it is though."

"Oh really, I've heard a great deal about your travels around your world just prior to your arrival here but from what you've told me something makes me think your younger years were far more interesting."

Harry smiled a little sheepishly, "I suppose that is true."

"An issue for another time, right now you have to be concerned about some southern lord coming along and giving you trouble." Harry's eyes widened only slightly and Val rolled hers in response, "Let me guess, you didn't think of that when you decided to return to shore did you?"

Harry shrugged, "I was more concerned with the safety of the rest of the sailors; they are more than a little worn out from the constant bombardment we've been facing the past few days."

"And you have every right to be concerned about their well-being but something tells me whoever the lord of that land is won't be happy about a group of 'wildlings'," her distaste at using the word was obvious, "running around in their forest."

Harry nodded, "You're right of course, we will be sure to remain as inconspicuous as possible." He paused for just a moment, "How are things at home?"

Val chuckled, "You have been gone for only ten days Harry no need to worry."

"I'm not worried… just curious." He said a little indignantly.

"You're worried but I guess I can't blame you. It is your first time properly away from the place after all." She teased lightly before continuing, "Anyway things are going along as you would expect. Tormund and Ulf continue to train all of the younger fighters, Dalla has arranged for the aurochs to drag the carts along your road just as she promised and as such we have had a steady influx of iron from the new mine over the past few days. The new cart-makers have taken to working with wood for other things. They seem to enjoy it and seeing as they have been making some rather marvelous furniture no one is complaining."

"And what have you been up to?" He asked curiously.

"Same as always, I help where I am needed. I spent yesterday helping my sister tend to the aurochs, the day before that I was in the yard helping Tormund and Ulf, the day before that I went hunting with Del. Would you like me to continue on or do you get the idea?" She finished with a wink.

"I get the idea. Let me know if anything important happens." He finished with a smile.

"I will, oh fearless leader." With that the mirror reflected only Harry's face.

The few men who went hunting returned a few hours later, a deer carried between them and a couple of pheasants as well. There was more than enough for the thirty sailors and with Harry's help a fire was made that was unaffected by the still raging storm. They found themselves waiting along the coast for the storm to die down for a total of four more days. It was the day before they left that Val's words proved to be prophetic.

Around noon the third day, a dozen men rode out of the forest clad all in their armor and thick furs upon their shoulders bearing a standard that featured a white sun on black. Harry did not know the sigils of the Noble Houses of the Seven Kingdoms but he had seen enough in his life to know when he was faced with somebody of importance, or at least somebody who thought themselves important.

As the small group of men approached Harry noticed his fellows begin to reach for their various weapons. The youngest of their group was a thirteen year old lad name Eyron, with dark hair and greenish-grey eyes. He had a good build for a sailor but wasn't much of a fighter. Still sensing a threat he quickly acted and started moving toward the oncoming horses. Harry noticed the movement and quickly stepped in front of the young man lest he find himself trampled by the oncoming Lord and his men.

The young man stared at Harry for a moment even as he lowered his weapon, the other sailors seeing the expression on Harry's face quickly followed suit despite their instinct to face the incoming threat head on. The men approaching stopped about fifteen feet away from Harry's little encampment though they did not dismount.

The man at the center urged his horse a little further forward than the others. The man was large and wore no helmet, so his gaunt face and greying hair were easy for all to see, "Who is it that would hunt in my lands without permission?"

Harry stepped forward while the others simply eyed the 'southern' lord with distaste. Harry decided that courtesy would be the best way of this ending peacefully for all parties, "I am sorry sir, but I did not realize we were hunting on your lands."

Before he could continue a bearded man to the left of the lord interrupted him heatedly. The man was obviously of some relation to the lord as he had the same build and facial feature though he looked slightly older as his hair had more grey in it, "You will address my nephew by his appropriate title."

Harry smirked, "I don't know what his appropriate title is so that would be quite impossible."

"He is Lord Rickard Karstark, Lord of Karhold." The man was clearly less than pleased with Harry's lack of respect.

"Ah," Harry began undisturbed by the man's anger, "well than Lord Rickard Karstark, I apologize that we hunted on your lands but we found it necessary to make land fall in the recent storms." He gestured toward the still rolling waves in the sea behind him, "We would not be very good traders if we ate from our own stores and since we have some talent for hunting thought it best if we simply find our own food. I was not aware that hunting was against the law."

The Lord smiled slightly, "It isn't against the law to hunt, just to hunt without permission of the lord of the land."

"Right then, would you be willing to give me your permission or would you prefer that we didn't continue hunting in your forest for as long as we're here… my Lord." He added the honorific as an afterthought.

Lord Rickard expression had become more curious then anything as he looked down from atop his horse, "Where exactly are you from stranger that you would not know the laws of the Seven Kingdoms?"

Harry knew that he needed to be extremely careful with this matter, he had no interest in performing magic let alone obliviating twelve men when he didn't know if there were any others around to watch this little drama unfold, "We are from the east my Lord. It is our first trade journey into the Seven Kingdoms." Harry lied easily.

The older man's eyes narrowed in suspicion, "You speak the common tongue surprisingly well for someone who has never been to the Seven Kingdoms, I detect almost no accent."

"Well a wise trader takes the time to ensure that he can actually communicate with the people he intends to trade with."

"How did you end up so far north?" Lord Karstark pressed harder.

"We left from a port near Lorath and found ourselves lost in the storms, it must have pushed us ever further north if we are as far as Karhold."

"Where were you intending to go?" The man still didn't seem entirely satisfied with Harry's explanation though he seemed slightly more relaxed.

Harry had very little knowledge of the trading cities along the coast but he did remember Bloodraven mentioning the northern port, "White Harbor was our first intended destination, then we planned to travel to the capital for a time before returning home."

"Very well," Lord Karstark began though he still sounded more than a little suspicious, "I believe you, but I do not grant you right to further hunt within this forest. The storm should be breaking within the next day or so, you would be wise to leave this place when it does."

Harry nodded his head in understanding, "As you will my Lord."

It was at that moment that Lord Karstark's uncle decided to speak up, "It is customary to kneel before the Lord of the land as a show of respect." There was a hint of victory in the man's voice.

Harry stiffened and the sailors stared at him in anticipation. While he wanted this to end peacefully and he had no problem being respectful to the Lord of Karhold this was not something he would do. He turned to look at the man who had likely figured out where they were really from, "I did not get your name ser?" The question was obvious in his voice.

"Cregan Karstark." The man responded a little too self-importantly for Harry's taste.

"Well Lord Karstark, Cregan," Harry knew his next words would confirm the older man's suspicions and subtly signaled his men to be ready should they find themselves in a fight, "we do not kneel."

Cregan smiled triumphantly while Lord Karstark's eyes widen in immediate understanding. The twelve seated men all went for their swords quickly but Harry and his were already upon them with their weapons drawn. Wand concealed in his sleeve Harry spoke to the Northern men once again, "There is no need for there to be any bloodshed here today."

"You are wildling raiders." Cregan spat in Harry's direction.

"Are we?" Harry asked sarcastically, "I wasn't aware, as far as I can tell we have done nothing but hunt while we were forced to delay our trade journey."

"Wildlings don't trade, they don't even have proper ships." Lord Karstark was far less hostile but there was a certainty in his voice that Harry didn't appreciate.

Harry gestured behind him, "I would say the vessel just there is more than enough proof of that falsehood. Now can we part without any further issue or are you going to force us to take action."

Lord Karstark looked to the bowmen who had arrows pointed squarely at his men's torsos and the swords that were mere feet away from him and decided that it would be best to avoid any further conflict for the moment, "We will leave you in peace."

Harry smiled, "Excellent, but there is the small issue of you sending a greater force against us should I let you go."

"I swear on my honor as Lord of Karhold that no harm shall come to you so long as you remain in my lands so long as you cease your poaching, though I make no promises should it happen in the future."

Harry smiled, "Promises are all well and good my Lord, but I have a better way of ensuring your silence."

"You said you wouldn't harm us!" Cregan shouted angrily.

Harry turned to stare at the man as he drew his wand, "And I won't at least not in any way you will remember." With that Harry drew his wand and in a flurry fired off stunners that left the first six men unconscious while the other attempted to flee to no avail. Within a minute all twelve men were unconscious and Harry began the process of obliviating their memory of the meeting. I really should have had the good sense to put up a notice-me-not around the area to avoid this whole situation. Of course that may not have even worked considering they were actually looking for the people who were hunting in their lands.

Harry did what he could to make the obliviation as subtle as possible making each man believe they were unable to find the men who had been hunting in their lands and gave them the suggestion of returning home to their castle. Harry and his men walked the twelve horses over toward the woods from which they came. Then Harry, while under cover of his invisibility cloak, woke the men who after shaking themselves quickly started off at a gallop back into the forest. He could only hope that none of the men had a strong enough mind to break through his memory charm and speak of the little encounter.

He didn't know it but just a week after their little encounter one of the soldiers amongst the retinue broke through the memory charm and informed only one man of the encounter.

When Harry told Val of the little encounter she had just given him a look that clearly said 'I told you so' before they discussed how things had been going back at First Forge. A hundred people had joined the city since his departure and many of them believed that it was Val who was the leader; she was more than a little smug about the fact considering Tormund was slightly insulted. The crows had been seen more frequently though they had yet to actually approach the gates. This little tidbit of information worried Harry slightly, "Why do you think they are choosing now to pay more attention to us?"

Val shrugged, "They are probably just having a bit of panic because of the changes that have occurred here. The walls in particular probably worry them as they can't attack us without actually putting together a major offensive if they really are worried about us. You worry too much Harry." She finished affectionately.

"My worrying isn't a bad thing Val, it will only serve to keep us safe in the future." Harry said a little defensively.

"I know it isn't green-eyes but in this case you are worried over nothing. The crows don't pose a threat with how strong we've become. The only way there will be anybody to threaten us as of now is if the Weeper, Harma, and Rattleshirt were to all join up together or if the Thenns decided to take an interest in us."

"We will have to deal with each of them eventually."

"True but you have time, keep focused on getting yourself to and from Braavos safely and then you can worry about unifying the rest of the Free Folk before the real threats come." She seemed to hesitate for a moment as though she would speak again but decided not to.

"You're right of course, I will speak to you later Val." He gave her an affectionate smile before the connection ended.

Once they began traveling along the coast again they found the seas to be much calmer. They weren't able to make up any of their lost time but they did maintain their eighty mile a day pace and after another week reached Widow's Watch. The castle was quite easy to spot as it was the only prominent structure in the thin jutting peninsula between the Shivering Sea and the Bite. They did not sail so close as to draw the attention of the northern family that held the castle.

They encountered more than one ship the further south they traveled and more than once Harry thought they were being pursued by a pirate ship, fortunately their ship was smaller and therefore much quicker than the vast majority of ships he feared might be after them. The two hundred mile stretch of open water between Widow's Watch and the Vale provided the sailors some much needed experience in choppy waters that wouldn't destroy the ship unlike the storms they had faced earlier.

The travel was slower going over that stretch and it took the ship three and a half days to do what he expected to only take two. Wanting the sailors to be well rested before they crossed the Narrow Sea he had them bring the ship into a small inlet just south of an extremely unimpressive castle along what was known as the Fingers. They took two days to recuperate before heading off for the city of Braavos. If their luck held they would be there within five days; a month to the day since they had departed.

Their luck did not hold though, another storm rose up out of the east the day after they started sailing away from the Vale and toward Braavos. The only small gift was that the waves were not quite as great in the Narrow Sea as they had been along the Shivering Sea. The rains were heavy though and the wind pushed them back hard enough that Harry could do little to counter it and they were forced to use the oars to do what they could to make progress. Their usual eighty miles a day of travel was cut to only thirty during the three days of storms so instead of arriving in Braavos just five days after their departure from the Vale it was nine days later. The constant storming made Harry consider if maybe there might be a better way of traveling from First Forge to Braavos. Something to look into if nothing else.

While the storms were unpleasant the only truly frightening moment was when two of the sailors, Dagon and Ril, were thrown from the ship by one of the waves. Harry did what he could to keep the ship rooted in place as Eyron actually dove in and brought his fellow sailors back on board by himself. The man and woman were both more than a little thankful for the rescue and from the way Eyron blushed when Ril leaned in to whisper in his ear Harry could only guess that the young man would be having a good roll in the sheets once they were on calmer waters.

As promised by Bloodraven it was incredibly easy to spot Braavos on the clear afternoon. The Titan rose at least 500 feet into the air and even Harry, who had seen a good bit more in his lifetime than the Free Folk aboard the ship, simply gawped in astonishment at the sight of it. The Wall was incredibly impressive but Harry could feel the magic that ran through that amazing structure and from what could tell the Titan of Braavos was an entirely manmade creation.

The feet of the statue laid on two separate islands, each set upon a mountain. The islands were covered in soldier pines and black spruce. The legs were made of the same black granite that formed the islands upon which it stood. One hand rested on the top of a ridge, its bronze fingers wrapped around the stone. The other hand thrust into the air holding the hilt of a broken sword. In its eyes burnt large fires and its hair was of hempen rope dyed green. Its head was crested with a bronze half helm and its breastplate was made of bronze and filled with arrow slits. The Titan's hips were encased in an armored skirt of a green bronze hue, the bottom covered in murder holes.

Harry doubted that any army had every successfully made it past the giant structure that was obviously the cities primary defense. As they sailed between the legs a horn rang that must have warned of their arrival. As they entered the bay they were directed by local ships toward the foreign merchant's docks to the west.

Looking at the city for the first time Harry was reminded of Venice as there were many canals that could be seen that Harry could only assume ran further into the city; though the big difference was that Braavos did not appear to be sinking back into the sea. There were merchants peddling their wares all along the dock but Harry knew the things he sought would likely be on the other end of the city, away from all the fish and whores.

As they eased themselves into the dock Harry decided it would be best to give the Forgers with him a bit of friendly advice, "Lads stay away from the whorehouses," he flipped them each two golden coins, "feel free to get yourselves a couple of cups of wine but I don't want you too pissed." He turned to the five women aboard the ship and flipped them a couple of coins each as well, "All of you try not to get into too much trouble. We will trade our goods, get the things we need and then leave. I am hoping we will be here no longer than a day or two." They all nodded head understanding, each realizing that Harry was extremely serious on the matter.

"Now I am going to need at least a few people to help me go about taking the aurochs to market, who will come with me." Dagon and Yorik volunteered without any trouble and Harry figured they would be enough to handle the ten aurochs aboard the ship.

As they tied themselves off to the dock Harry was approached by a slightly rotund, balding, middle-aged man in simple cotton clothes that was much more appropriate for the heat of summer than the thick clothing the sailors were wearing. Before the man had the chance to speak Harry decided to ask the important question, "How much to dock here?"

The man shook his head surprised Harry had even noticed his approach before speaking in what Harry could only assume was a Braavosi accent, "It is ten stags a day."

Harry pulled one of the gold galleons from his pocket and flipped it toward the man, "How long will that get me."

The man caught it with a deft hand and eyed the large piece of precious metal carefully, "This is quite a bit larger than the standard dragon, this would get you a month docking."

Harry's eyes widened minutely in surprise. Apparently gold is worth a fair bit more here than it was even back home, not that the galleon was anything to sniff at. "Alright, I'll only need a week." He decided to add the extra time in case they were unexpectedly delayed.

The man nodded before handing over 230 silver coins adorned with a silver stag upon each face. He quickly took up a quill and turned to Harry once again, "Now what are you here to trade?"

Harry was unsurprised by the question as it was only good practice to know why a man was in the city, "We have weapons, food stuffs, fish and ten aurochs."

The man eyed Harry's smaller than average vessel skeptically at the last bit of information, "You fit ten aurochs on that?" Even as he asked the question the sailors were ushering one of the aurochs up and out of the hold. Harry just turned back to the dock-master with a raised eyebrow, challenging him to repeat the question.

The man cleared his throat, "You will be able to trade the livestock and food stuffs to the south. Many men duel near the Moon Pool at night so if your weapons are of any great quality you might find yourself selling them there. As you can see fish are traded along the docks." Harry nodded his head and handed him an extra ten stags in thanks.

Before the man turned to leave Harry had one final question, "Tell me do you know where I might acquire a few good history books."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly a little caught off guard by the request but answered nonetheless, "There is one store just up the Long Canal," he gestured toward the substantially larger of the canals in the center of the city that had barges traveling along it, "that sells books, though I would warn you they are quite expensive."

Harry expected that, "Thank you good man, do most speak the Westerosi tongue?"

"It is certainly obvious you have never been to Braavos before," he chuckled, "but yes you will find that most people from Braavos also speak the common tongue, we do a great deal of trade after all." Harry finally allowed the man to turn and leave. When he turned back to the ship he found that all of the aurochs were on the deck and all of the sailors were awaiting his word.

"Right then off with the lot of you, I expect you back to the ship to sleep tonight… no use buying beds in an inn when we have plenty of room here on the boat." A few passersby looked at Harry quizzically at that statement but none of them were aware of the vastly expanded hull that allowed more than enough room for each of the thirty men to travel comfortably even with all of the supplies and livestock.

Everyone but Dagon and Yorik quickly made their way off the ship and into the city, most of them simply looking around in wonder at the city with almost no natural features.

They first took the time to sell the barrels of fish they had upon the ship. The fish were apparently of quite high quality and exotic according to the local merchants so they were able to sell five barrels for ten golden dragons each.

The aurochs were the next truly important matter to attend to. As Harry and his two companions made their way through the city, weaving through the throng of people, he noticed that Braavos was really an interconnected series of islands. There were peddlers all along the city and he had to break the others from staring at some of the scantily clad women along their route. It took nearly two hours before they finally reached the livestock and foods market just a couple of miles south of the dock. Harry was more than a little relieved to find that the fishing city did in fact have oxen and sheep for sale. He also noticed that there was a wide variety of fruits, vegetables and even grains available; something he would be glad to take advantage of.

Dozens of men came by and inspected the aurochs, which were not a particularly common sight in Braavos, being a native breed of Westeros. It was another hour of waiting around before a large man in extremely ostentatious clothing came around and made a real offer for them, "100 gold dragons for the lot of them."

Harry smirked at the bright orange clad man and just shook his head, "350 gold dragons and that is a deal the two males are worth five times as much as the females. You'll be able to breed them easily enough, that is how I have ten to sell myself after all."

The man nodded his understanding, "200, I will have to move them to my farmlands along the coast at my own expense. The marshes to the south are not suitable to keeping livestock."

"250 that is my last offer." Harry kept a straight face even if he found the whole concept of bartering like this rather humorous. The man stuck out his hand and they shook on it. He gestured to a man behind him who quickly approached with a large back of gold.

"A good bargain." The heavy man said with a smile as the agreed upon sum was quickly counted out and Harry found himself ten aurochs shorter but with quite a bit more gold with which to gather the goods he desired.

Harry immediately approached a man with six oxen, "How much for the lot?"

"300 dragons," The merchant had a thick accent that was actually Norvosi, though Harry didn't know it. The man was not the smiling sort but Harry didn't care as long as they could do business.

"100, they're only beasts of burden." Harry countered.

"200, as they are the very best beasts of burden." Harry thought for a moment before he stuck out his hand and they quickly shook. Harry counted out the necessary coins quickly and bid the stern faced former oxen owner goodbye before seeking out a goat and sheepherder amongst the many merchants.

The sheepherder was a far friendlier man than the oxen owner, something that Harry couldn't help but note wasn't necessarily the best trait for a salesman. Harry approached the man who was using the stereotypical crooked staff of the trade. He was thin with a grey beard and light blue eyes, "How much for four goats and fifteen ewes?"

"Forty gold dragons." Harry was surprised by the number as that was what he expected to work his way down to with some bargaining. Taking pity on the clearly out of place man Harry decided to accept the number outright.

He returned to their 'stall', which was really just a bit of dirt where they had placed their goods, to find Yorik actually bartering with a man for what remained of their potatoes and cabbage. It was only a few minutes later before the sale was made. Harry was surprised to find that his fellow Free Folk managed to make another fifty gold dragons on their twenty barrels of food stuffs.

Harry took the time to go about and buy some new crops for the settlement. He bought wheat, a bushel of corn, a large thing of apples and grapes, and an assortment of various herbs that could be used for both healing if push came to shove and for seasoning, something he missed in his cooking in the past few years. Harry wasn't entirely sure if he would be able to make the fruits survive in the cold of the North but he would damn well try to make it work. Even after all of his spending he still had a forty dragons remaining and decided he may as well buy a few pigs to go with their ever expanding group of animals.

When all was said and done they used their new oxen to carry their goods back through the city where they dropped off everything before he allowed Yorik and Dagon to go off and do as they pleased. Harry then shrunk the weapons and armor they had stored and took it with him toward what he was told was the best armorer in the entire city. It was obvious as Harry traveled closer to the store that he was certainly amongst the richer area of the city. The sign for Tarro's Fine Armors and Weapons was quite easy to spot and it was clear the man was well thought of if the size of his workplace was any indication. Harry walked into a little alcove away from prying eyes and enlarged the shrunken weapons before entering the armorers with a barrel full of swords and assorted armors.

The man Harry could only assume was Tarro was not like most of the Braavosi he had encountered as of yet; instead of the ostentatious colors the merchants seemed to favor he was shirtless but wearing a blacksmith's apron and working tirelessly at the forge. He had dark skin, almost black and his arms and shoulders were large as was common amongst blacksmiths. He was a tall man, probably six and a half feet tall, and Harry could honestly admit surprise that the man made weapons instead of fighting with them.

Harry waited patiently for the man to finish what he was working on, knowing full well it was more than a little irritating when interrupted during something so intensive. The man finally quenched the steel he was working on before turning his attention toward Harry. He seemed to take note of the armor on his arms and legs in a moment. "You are well armed friend, why do you come to speak with Tarro?"

Harry gestured to the weapons behind him, "I would sell you the steel behind me at fair price." He knew he could have simply allowed his blacksmiths to repurpose the steel but with the new mine he would much prefer if they started making steel from non-conjured materials.

Tarro walked over to the barrel and began inspecting the weapons carefully, "These are fine blades, nothing wrong with them, why sell?"

The man's broken speech didn't bother Harry at all, "They were not mine to be honest, I found them while… around." Harry hesitated only briefly but the lie sufficed.

"Tarro repurpose good steel, and this look better than most. Tarro give you 750 dragons for the lot." Harry was inclined to agree before something caught his eye on a shelf to his left. The sword there was beautiful and clearly of the finest quality, the steel had a rippled quality that made it obvious indicating it had been folded in on itself countless times. The most interesting thing in Harry's opinion though was the magic he could feel emanating from the blade.

The burly man noticed Harry's gaze, "That Valyrian steel, made with magic."

"Is it for sale?" Harry asked eagerly, he would love the opportunity to study the magic in that blade and learn to replicate it.

"It not be on display if not for sale. Valyrian steel expensive though, worth much more than your blades and armor."

"How much?" Harry asked curiously, something told him he wouldn't be able to match the price though.

"Best price Tarro could give would be 20,000 dragons." The man's chest rumbled deeply in laughter when he saw Harry's eyes widen and jaw drop in obvious surprise.

"Why so expensive?" Harry asked mouth still slightly open in his shock.

"Secrets of making Valyrian Steel lost during the Doom, very few of the long and greatswords remain, most family heirlooms in the West." The man paused for a moment before making his way toward a shelf behind him from which he pulled a dagger, "This dagger made of Valyrian steel as well, they far more common. Tarro will give you it and 150 dragons in exchange for your steel. Tarro is impressed with the runes on your steel otherwise he would not be so kind. Tarro will likely be able to sell without reforging." Harry considered the offer for all of a moment before he readily agreed to the offer. Even if I can't figure out everything even one more bit of magic to make our steel better is worthwhile.

The dagger was a beautiful piece of work, the blade itself was roughly twelve inches long and curved slightly. The hilt had no cross-guard but was inlaid with a single sapphire on each side and a small amount of inlaid gold. The actual material of the handle wasn't any wood but something harder, "What is the handle of the blade made from?"

Tarro smiled slightly, "That dragon bone." Ah that makes sense. Harry had seen dragon bone used in such a way before and was surprised that he hadn't been able to discern the material of the handle just from touch.

Tarro dropped a bag of gold dragons down on a counter just in front of Harry before he began moving his new goods. Harry said a quick farewell before he started on the path back toward the foreign docks. He was glad he didn't have to go through the process of peddling his wares near the Moon Pool for hours. Selling to the clearly talented blacksmith and getting something in return was far better in his opinion.

The streets in this area of the city were largely empty as the rich stayed inside their large homes during the day and sent their servants out to do anything that wasn't particularly important. It was for that reason that Harry was able to hear the faint sniffling in an alley as he passed by, moving quickly to ensure that there wasn't anything wrong he stopped as he turned the corner. Sitting up against the wall of one of the walls surrounding the beautiful homes along Braavos' Long Canal sat a little girl of maybe seven or eight years old. The little girl had unusual features or at least unusual in Harry's experience, silver-blonde hair that seemed to gleam in the setting sun and violet eyes the likes of which he had never seen. A steady stream of tears was falling from each of the little girl's unique eyes.

"Excuse me," violet locked onto emerald instantly, "are you okay?" She brought up tiny hands to wipe at her cheeks quickly before shaking her head fearfully. Harry walked over to the wall and slowly slid himself down beside her, hoping not to frighten her any more than she already was.

"So what happened?" He asked gently. Harry wasn't sure exactly why he decided to concern himself with the distraught child but it had always been in his nature to help people when he had the opportunity. That is pretty much the entire reason for First Forge.

The little girls voice came out barely above a whisper, "My brother and I were forced out of our home today. He says we are leaving here tomorrow, the Magisters of Lorath claim they will take us in. I really don't want to go."

Harry smiled sadly down at the timid child, "I'm guessing you loved your home very much?" The girl only nodded. He didn't know what he could really do, he couldn't simply fix this problem by giving back the little girl's home. He decided it would be best to at least put a smile on her face. He subtly drew his wand from its holster and conjured a flower the same color as the girl's eyes that he promptly handed her.

She stared wide-eyed at the flower much the same way Gilly had three years prior, she spoke far louder now wonder evident in her tone, "How did you do that?"

Harry just smiled mysteriously down at the little girl, "Magic of course." She giggled at that. He leaned in to make it seem like they were sharing secrets, "So what is your name?"

She hesitated for a moment before answering, "Daenerys, what's yours?"

"Harry," he responded with a smile, "have you lived in Braavos long?"

She nodded, "I've lived here as long as I can remember but I wasn't born here. My brother tells me I was born on the island of Dragonstone during a great storm, they call me the Stormborn." Harry realized that he was likely talking to someone slightly more important than he initially thought.

"Daenerys Stormborn, quite the title for a little girl to have." Harry was unsurprised that she huffed in indignation at being called a little girl but the facts stood she was only eight after all.

They talked for quite a while and Harry was able to gather that she was one of the last Targaryens, a name that Harry remembered from speaking with Benjen. Her older brother Rhaegar had been partially responsible for the Rebellion in the Seven Kingdoms. She told him how her brother Viserys believed the rumors about their father were just lies told by the Usurper to slander their good name. It was as the sun finally set half an hour later that the little girl stood. "I have to go. My brother will worry about me, and he is not fun to be around when he is angry." She spoke with far more strength than she had when he first sat down.

"Where are you staying since you were driven from your home?" He asked concerned.

"At an inn along the docks where our ship is set to leave."

Harry nodded his understanding before he surprised her by leaning down for a gentle hug, while they were close he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Hold on to that flower, it will never wilt."

She pulled away with a small smile on her face, "My brother is always telling me to avoid people because they might be assassins sent by the Usurper to finish off the Targaryen line but you were far too kind for something like that." Harry smiled and allowed her to walk away casting a mild Notice-me-Not at her back to ensure she made her way through the streets unharmed.

Harry smiled to himself slightly, glad that he was able to brighten the distraught child's day if only slightly before he started walking along the Long Canal again. He crossed a bridge then hoping he would find the bookstore he hadn't seen on his way to Tarro's.

It was just fifteen minutes later when he found the place. It had a surprisingly worn down sign for a store on the main thoroughfare of the city. As he expected the store was clearly closed for the night so he would return the following morning.

An hour later Harry stepped along the gang-plank back onto the ship before going down into the magically expanded hull, he checked on the livestock in their own separate area that had once been occupied by the aurochs. A couple of the oxen were happily chewing on bales of hay while most of the other animals were sleeping quietly.

Weary from a long day in the city Harry decided to find his bed. He was happy to find that fifteen of the men and women had already made it back to the ship safely, though a few smelled quite strongly of alcohol, though he expected that even if he warned against it. There was a distinct moaning in a bed a short distance away from him. It would appear that Ril made good on her promise to Eyron while I was away.

Being far more interested in a good night's sleep than he was listening to the two having a go beneath the furs, he threw up a quick silencing spell around their bed that would allow him to sleep in peace.

The next morning Harry awoke early to find that everybody had arrived safely back to the ship as he hoped, though it appeared that Raymun had been in some sort of scrum if the swollen eye and busted lip was any indication. I'll get the story later.

He awoke the hungover crewmembers loudly, particularly the younger lads and ladies, to their displeasure. He only smirked at them, before telling them they should probably consider backing off the drink next time they hit the taverns. He was happy to learn that none of the men ventured into the brothels, when he asked Dagon why not he was given a slightly surprising response, "We do not pay for women to warm our beds there is no challenge in it."

Harry nodded his understanding, "Right well I have business to attend to. Depending on when I return we may depart today." Dagon and a couple of the others didn't seem particularly pleased about this, "Problem?"

"We hoped to watch the fights at the Moon Pool tonight, we only heard about them toward the end last night." Harry considered this for a moment but couldn't find a good reason not to wait another day before leaving.

"That is fine but we will leave early tomorrow morning." Everyone appeared pleased with his decision so Harry left without further comment and made his toward the book shop he found the previous night. Unlike the previous day which had been quite clear, there was a rather thick fog in the air and a very light drizzle that seemingly bounced off of Harry as he walked.

He was pleased to find that the store was open despite how early he arrived. He opened the door to find a large store filled with even larger volumes comparable to the book Hermione had found Nicholas Flamel's name in in their first year. Harry perused the title's absently not seeing anyone around to actually speak to; there were dozens of volumes most of which were of a historical nature as he expected. Harry had quite a bit of gold on him, over 800 pieces total, but he knew the volumes would likely be more than a little expensive.

He began picking up volumes with titles that would hopefully provide him with some knowledge about the world beyond the Wall: The Histories of the Greater and Lesser Houses, A History of the Great Sieges of Westeros, The Doom: the Rise and Fall of the Valyrian Freehold, Aegon the Conqueror and His Dragons, The Watchers on the Wall, and last one that sounded particularly interesting The Book of Lost Books by Maester Marwyn.

The first two books he hoped would help give him an understanding of the political structure of the Kingdoms and the possible weaknesses of their strongholds should, like Bloodraven warned, they end up fighting in the south some point in the future. Harry had to admit the book about Valyria was grabbed to satisfy the curiosity he was beginning to develop about the once magic practicing nation. He had learned enough to know that Aegon was the man who unified the Seven Kingdoms and thought it best to know the king's story. The book about the Night's Watch would hopefully give Harry a better understanding of why the Wall was built though he had a feeling it would be about as speculative as the tales shared amongst the Free Folk. The last book sounded as though it might contain more esoteric bits of knowledge than any of the others.

It was as he pulled the last of the books down from the shelves a gentleman with a short cut goatee dyed a surprisingly bright shade of green made his way into the room. He was wearing white silk robes.

"Ah a customer," for such a seemingly over the top man he had an extremely soft voice, "I am Allim, and I see you have already found the things you are looking for."

"Yes, you have quite the collection."

"Thank you," he replied with a serene smile, "There are very few who have the money to buy my wares and I only sell books that I myself have read."

Harry whistled appreciatively. The man has the same kind of thirst for reading that Hermione did. "You have read an impressive number of books then?"

"That is true I suppose, though you sound like quite the learned man yourself."

"That's true though I find my knowledge of the history of the world lacking."

The slightly odd man looked at the titles of the books Harry selected, "I see that my friend, though you are a wise man to correct that error." He paused for a moment, "If you don't mind me asking where is it that you are from, your accent is quite interesting?" There was no accusation in the question just genuine curiosity.

"I am one of the northern Free Folk of Westeros." Harry said with a small hint of pride.

"Ah one of the Norfolk," Harry raised a curious eyebrow though the man continued without noticing, "I hear your people brought aurochs to the Free City and I am a friend of Tarro's, he was quite impressed by your weapons."

"I'm sorry but Norfolk?" Harry asked curiously.

"A bastardization I believe," the man replied lightly, "Your friends probably introduced themselves to somebody who didn't speak the common tongue quite so well and that was the result." If Harry was honest he quite liked it. Forgers is perfectly fine but not all of our people will remain in First Forge forever; we will need a name that encompasses all of us in time. Besides, I believe Val and I are the only ones who have taken to referring to ourselves as Forgers anyway. I'll have to see how the others feel about it.

"Well it seems quite the appropriate name." Harry said genially before finally turning to the business at hand, "How much for the books?"

Allim looked at the titles one more time, "I won't take any less than 180 dragons for the lot of them."

Harry wasn't surprised by the sum but he knew the galleons he had were worth more than any gold dragon so pulled one from his poach to present to Allim, "How many of these would it take to pay for your books." The man looked at the piece of precious metal curiously while weighing it in his hand.

"I would take 110 of these in place of the dragons." The response was prompt. Harry removed eighty of his galleons from the seemingly bottomless poach and another thirty dragons and placed them on the counter.

"I would say that will do." The man simply nodded, "It was a pleasure doing business with you Allim."

"Likewise." Harry quickly lifted the large books with surprising ease. Once outside he found a secluded area and shrunk the books before putting them away.

Harry realized that he had little to do for the rest of the day and decided he may as well explore the city. The palace of the Sealord was a beautiful thing made up of domed marble structures. It housed the Purple Harbor where all local ships docked; it was far cleaner and less busy than the foreign dock. Harry did not have the opportunity to see or meet the city's ruler and did not much care, though he had to admit he was impressed that the city's most important person was elected.

It was while walking along the southerly most area of the city that he found out his earlier assumption about Braavos being unlike Venice was absolutely wrong; he found what was known as the Drowned Town, where the only thing remaining of the beautiful marble and granite buildings was their domed tops.

Harry walked around aimlessly for hours just taking in the sights of the city, the decorated bridges were quite lovely; one was painted with thousands of eyes, another with the various fish and crustacean native to the area, and the last he crossed was carved to look as though it had vines and leaves covering its surface.

It was as he crossed the last bridge that he came to an island dedicated to the worship of the gods; though it wasn't to any specific god; it appeared that all religions were welcomed in Braavos if the various temples were any indication. The most prominent buildings on the island were the Temple of the Moonsingers which honored the escaped slaves who established the city hundreds of years ago. Just next to this was a great red stone tower with flames on each side of the door and a great flame atop its roof. There was a priest outside the door proclaiming the majesty of the Red God, R'hllor, and telling all who walked by to fight the forces of the Great Other. Harry had no time for the ramblings of some random priest though, he was of the northern religion now and he felt the presence of the Old gods every time he stood before a weirwood tree.

There were also smaller temples: a sept for the Seven called the Sept-Beyond-the-Sea, a shrine of the Weeping Lady of Lys, the Gardens of Gelenei, the wooden hall of the Lord of Harmony, the house of the Great Shepherd, a three-turreted tower honoring Trios, the Stones of the Silent God, the Patternmaker's Maze, the temple of Aquan the Red Bull, and twin temples honoring Semosh and Selloso. Even gods that no longer had followers were honored in a temple called the Holy Refuge or as the Braavosi called it, the Warren.

The last building he came upon was a simple yet large temple sitting on a small hill with only one Black and White door as an entrance. Harry decided to enter this temple as there were no priests attempting to convert passersby; in fact it seemed nearly as abandoned as the Warren.

The entrance hall to the large building was simple though there were various statues in the room, some of which he had seen outside of other temples on the isle. He was surprised to even see the carved face of a weirwood. It was as he walked around the room that he came upon a surprising sight; a dead man still prostrate in prayer. Harry acted quickly examining the body to see if there was any sign of foul play but found nothing. As he looked up from the man he was encountered with two dark eyes as big as saucers, the size of them reminded him of Luna though they lacked the dreaminess he used to see in his unique friend. They belonged to a waiflike girl who regarded him calmly.

"There is nothing you can do to help and he wouldn't accept it anyway." The seemingly young child told him firmly. Harry could tell she was quite a bit older than she appeared though.

"What exactly is this place?" Harry asked curiously.

"You come to our temple without knowing who or what we serve?" Harry simply nodded, "We are the House of Black and White that serves the Many-Faced God."

"And who exactly is the Many-Faced God?"

"He goes by many names in many different religions but most call him Death, the servants of this temple help those who wish to receive his gift." The childlike woman responded evenly.

Harry's mouth dropped open. Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. It was at that moment that a kindly looking older gentleman entered the room and spoke to the waif, "Deal with the body, I shall answer any of this man's questions." His command was quickly followed and soon it was just the two men standing within the chamber.

It was funny for Harry to be standing in a temple devoted to Death, he who had unified the Hallows and would have been given the title Master of Death, if people actually learned of the achievement. Though the artifacts while powerful did not grant him power over death nor did they seem to slow his aging any more than his magic would have naturally. The truth is that there can be no master of Death, it will come for us all in the end, powerful magical artifacts or not.

Harry broke from his musings only to find the kindly man looking at him patiently, "Do you have any other questions?"

"The gift? Why do you assist people in their desire for death?" Harry was surprised there was no anger in his voice.

"Valar Morghulis, all men must die stranger. The gift is a natural end to the suffering of life, we Faceless Men would not deny from any who seek it." Harry had a feeling there was more to this order than the man was saying but decided not to comment any further. He felt a small amount of magic emanating from the man and extended his senses briefly only to find that there was some sort of glamour on him only more precise and certainly not the sort of thing that could be counteracted by a simple finite. It feels similar to the effects of polyjuice potion actually.

Smiling slightly, Harry inclined his head, "Thank you for the information, I do not find myself in need of the gift so I will depart."

The kindly man inclined his head in turn, "Valar Dohaeris, all men must serve." Harry assumed it was a common form of farewell so he just left the building without any further word. It was funny that he had no idea he just stumbled upon the headquarters of the most feared and skilled assassins in the world.

The rest of the day was less eventful. Harry returned to the foreign docks and watched a bit of eel fighting for a time. As the sun was setting he decided to go into one of the inns for a quick drink only to find Ril, Eyron and Dagon sitting there drinking merrily. They drank together for a time none of them getting properly pissed knowing they would be departing bright and early the next morning. When people started filing out of the place to watch the bravos fight at the Moon Pool the quartet of Norfolk as they were called by their fellow patrons followed along.

The duels were quite simple, just two men in a small fighting ring using thin blades akin to rapiers. Harry felt the fighters were a little too pompous for his taste, strutting around like overstuffed peacocks in their silk finery. However, that didn't mean the fights weren't fun to watch.

The Braavosi fighting style was called water dancing and Harry thought the name was more than appropriate. The fluidity with which they moved was incredibly impressive though clearly tailored to fighting men in little armor.

The very last fight of the night came as quite the surprise to Harry, the Braavosi who walked into the little fighting yard was not the puffed up peacock the other bravos appeared to be; the man was tall and lanky with not a single hair on his head and a beaklike nose. A murmur sprang up amongst the crowd and he heard the words 'First Sword' and 'Syrio Forel' frequently.

The real surprise for Harry was the man's opponent as it was Yorik. His initial reaction was to stop the sailor from fighting as he had no doubt it would be quite the failure but decided against it. None of the fights had been lethal so he truly had no reason to worry. Outside of the fact that Yorik is far from a fighter, he is a sailor.

The fight went exactly as Harry expected, Syrio was kind enough to let the overmatched northerner keep his dignity before knocking him to the ground with a simple push after one of his slashes knocked Yorik off balance. Harry was more than a little surprised when the man approached him as the crowd dispersed.

"I am Syrio Forel, First Sword of Braavos," He introduced himself with a flourish, "Your man, he is brave."

Harry quirked an eyebrow, "And how would you know that he is my man?"

"You are the captain of the Norfolk vessel he serves on, the man who has done great feats of magic to build a city in the north." Harry winced internally at that. I really shouldn't have let them drink. I know people are bound to find out about me in time but it would have been nice if it could've been avoided a little longer.

"Exaggerations I assure you."

"I'm sure," though he sounded skeptical at best, "the Sealord has even heard of your talents and had he not been told you are leaving tomorrow would likely have called you to his palace to speak."

"Ah well I am afraid I would not delay our departure, I have a loving woman to return home to after all."

"A fine thing and something no man, certainly not the Sealord, would begrudge you." He paused a moment, "I should return now, the Sealord allowed me this small diversion but I would not be away from him too long. It was good to meet you Harry." As Syrio extended his hand, Harry's eyes narrowed upon hearing his name seeing as he never actually gave it. With a small amount of hesitance he extended his hand and shook the bald man's hand who just smiled genially.

"Perhaps next time you are in Braavos you will visit the Sealord's palace." Harry just nodded his head with a small smile before they parted ways.

Harry joined his fellow group of Free Folk before all of them returned to the boat for the night. As they lay in their beds that night Ril was the one who asked him the question he was waiting for, "So will you be using your magic to get us back to First Forge once we leave the city."

Harry just shook his head, "There are limits to what I am capable of in terms of transportation. Apparating by myself I might be able to hit the eastern coast of Westeros in one jump though it would be a stretch, but to portkey this entire vessel and all of its occupants would be nearly impossible without causing catastrophic damage to the ship. No I'm sorry to say that we will have to sail back to First Forge the conventional way."

Even if they were slightly surprised they just nodded their understanding, a few seemed happy at the prospect of getting to test their metal at sea again.

As the others fell asleep Harry pulled the mirror from his pocket and called Val, something he realized he probably should have done the day he arrived in Braavos.

"Val," a moment later her face reflected in the mirror he held, "we will start back toward First Forge tomorrow."

She scowled at him slightly, "You reached Braavos and didn't have the sense to tell me."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "In my defense we were quite busy."

"Right then," she huffed, "did you manage everything you intended?"

"Yes, we have the beasts that we discussed and even some pigs to go along with them, the farmers will have new crops to tend and I found myself a new personal project along with more than a few books that will hopefully provide me with some much needed history."

"Sounds like quite the trip, I trust you haven't been spending any of your time in another woman's bed." She finished teasingly.

"No," he responded with a smile, "why would I take another to bed when I have you waiting for me at home?"

"Because men are stupid," she said with conviction though there was no bite to her tone, "though I suppose you are smarter than most." She finished with a wink.

"I appreciate the vote of confidence love." He paused a moment, "We will have to read through those books together once I return."

She looked sideways for a moment before speaking with far less confidence than he was accustomed to, "I can't read."

The idea that Val couldn't read never even occurred to Harry despite the culture she came from, she always seemed so incredibly knowledgeable in things that her being unable to read and write didn't even occur to him. He smiled softly at her, "Well I will just have to teach you then."

She returned the smile, "I think I would like that." They were both quiet for a long moment before she spoke again, "Harry there is something I should tell you."

The seriousness in her tone had him alert immediately, "Is something wrong, has something happened at the Forge?"

"No there is nothing wrong. The city is fine, the people are fine and everything is running well in your absence even if we might not be expanding quite as quickly as usual. Oh and there were another hundred new arrivals since last we spoke."

"Val," he spoke softly, "if there is nothing wrong what had you so serious?"

"I haven't had my blood since you departed."

Harry took the information in for a moment before a wide grin split across his face, "You're with child then?" She nodded firmly a tiny smile on her face, "That is absolutely fantastic news love." He whooped loudly at the end

She laughed at his reaction even as her smile widened considerably, "I'm glad you think so." They talked for another hour of random things before ending the connection and heading to bed.

The next day the entire ship was awake with the sun and departed an hour later. The journey across the Narrow Sea was mercifully calm, though the fact they didn't have the winds driving them forward on their way west forced them to get out the oars for a good portion of the journey. Harry helped them along with as much wind as he could muster but he couldn't sustain it all day and night without some fatigue.

Calm waters were apparently far more common in the summer and the two storms they encountered on their way to Braavos were more anomalous than anything.

After three weeks of traveling they found themselves entering the Bay of Seals again and everyone was thankful that they were getting closer to home. Harry in particular missed sleeping in his own bed with Val to keep him warm. He spent a good portion of the journey in the hold reading what he could of the books, though it was difficult with the motion of the ship. He even started giving Val reading lessons and found that her keen mind was not limit to just practical applications. She struggled at times but she recognized most of the letters after their ten or so short sessions working on it. He had no doubt that she would be reading easily in short order.

As they rounded the peninsula on which Hardhome sat Harry realized one small problem that he failed to address before he left. They would likely reach First Forge during the night in two days' time, but he didn't think to build a lighthouse. So taking advantage of the mirrors he spoke to Val, "I'm going to need you to do something for me two nights from now."

"And what would that be?"

"Light five large fires along the coast, we will need them if you don't want to have to wait an extra night to see me again." He finished with a smirk.

As they sailed closer to First Forge two nights later there was a happy yell that went up amongst the crew of the ship as they saw the large blazing fires along the coast, each man and woman was happy to be home after the two month journey. They were able to safely dock the ship and as Harry disembarked ship he saw Val standing at the end of the dock furs along her shoulders. Tormund stood next to her with a clearly excited Munda and Gilly, the young girls ran to hug him while the adults waited patiently.

He disengaged himself from the excited girls before walking down the dock, he clasped hands with Tormund before being pulled down into a passionate kiss by the blonde woman who he missed most during the trip, even if he did speak with her frequently.

She broke away and looked him in the eye, "Let the others worry about unloading the ship, we are going to bed." Tormund was laughing loudly beside them but he stopped abruptly when Val shot him a nasty glare.

"I'm not going to argue." Harry said with a wide smile. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind her. It is certainly good to be home.

Okay so another chapter finished. I just want to say how much I appreciate the support I am getting for this story, and that I really am trying to get the chapters out quickly for both this and my other story.

Thanks everybody. Until next time.

6. Chapter 6

AN: So first, I did go back and change the amount of money he made on each sale. Some people may feel that they are too high but they are not the obscene amounts I had in there before. I can completely admit I went way overboard on the amounts originally.

A general note, there will still be time skips but they won't be nearly as big as I originally intended because there is a lot to do and there are certain storylines I've decided to explore.

I responded to any reviews that asked specific questions or had particular concerns. If I forgot to get to yours please let me know as I really don't mean to.

As for the guest reviews I'll respond to some of them here

horndiggity: My opinion is that just isn't part of Harry's temperament. As for Osha, just because Natalia Tena played both parts doesn't mean he would have any feelings for her.

littlepiggynice: I can't tell you exactly where I'm going with the story but I do have plans to involve Harry in more than one of the bigger canon events.

DracoJoffrey: There has already been some change in wildling tactics and Harry will continue to integrate better unit cohesion and tactics among other things.

ragnar-the-red: Harry will eventually set up a more firm set of laws integrating both the traditions that currently govern the Norfolk and things that develop as a result of the new society. They will have a sigil and words eventually but it will be for them as a people instead of just Harry's family. Your last point is certainly possible.

Binliner: As far as I remember the giants aren't particularly feared amongst the Free Folk but Harry's experience could still play a role.

dorenzo: I don't have any plans for Harry to interact with the Dothraki as of now but that doesn't mean it won't happen

theosey: I would say you hit it on the head, iron age but slightly more advanced because of Harry's skill with magic.

coldblue: 1) probably not but he will face other hardships 2)Harry will sort of be able to recreate Valyrian steel 3)I'll let you see how I handle those things 4) Harry's children will likely be magical but it might not be all of them.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Game of Thrones and no profit is being made from this story.

Robert Baratheon, King of the Andals, the Rhonyar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, was an extremely bored monarch. The once hulking beast of a man was turning soft. Where once there was nothing but hard muscle on his large frame there were now ever growing layers of fat instead. His once tightly trimmed black beard had been abandoned in favor of a veritable crow's nest that served to hide the multiple chins upon his neck. Idleness hadn't been remotely kind to the man who rose up in rebellion against a dynasty.

The slightly drunken, as per usual, king just finished disciplining his oldest son, Joffrey, for mutilating one of the resident cats of the Red Keep. And the boy thought it was something to be proud of, like going on a hunt. Of course his mother, the frigid bitch, would likely undo whatever good his bit of disciplining could manage by doting on him as though the sun shown out of his ass.

Robert would much rather be in his rooms with a half-dozen whores than dealing with his children or worrying about the business of his kingdom but instead he was forced to interact with his child and was currently headed toward the small council chambers because Jon Arryn had informed him that there was business that actually required his presence. It better not be a matter of counting fucking coppers or I'll be walking straight out. Robert cheered up though shortly after, maybe something needs killing. It's been over three years since the Greyjoy Rebellion and there hasn't been a good fight to be had. Gods know that the tourneys don't provide the same kind of excitement.

So Robert made his way through the Red Keep toward the Tower of the Hand. Gods I'm going to have to have the meeting place for these things changed, too many fucking stairs. His ever present squire, Lancel Lannister followed close behind as did Ser Barristan Selmy, an older man still regarded as one of the most skilled knights in the entire realm. Lancel fucking Lannister, why in the Seven Hells did I agree to surround myself with even more of the golden haired pricks; that's right, it's because even from Casterly Rock, Lord Tywin has a grip on my balls thanks to that gold everybody claims he shits.

Finally after what felt like an age to the thirty year old monarch they reached the small council chambers, last apparently. Jon Arryn, Robert's Hand, looking healthy and hale as ever, despite his advancing age, sat to the right of the head of the table. The Master of Ships, Stannis, Robert's ever dour brother, sat next to the Lord of the Vale scowling at seemingly nothing. Then again his expression could be due to the fact he was next to Grand Maester Pycelle, with his long beard and chains indicating his various accomplishments at the Citadel. The longtime resident of King's Landing sat there in his usual plain grey robes and appeared to be on the verge of falling asleep.

On the other side of the table sat his Master of Coin, a smallish man with a tightly cropped goatee. All Robert really cared about as it pertained to Lord Baelish was his ability to rub two coppers together and produce the dragons needed for his every extravagance. Of course that talent didn't stop the crown from being millions of dragons in debt between Lord Tywin and the Iron Bank of Braavos. The Master of Laws, his other brother Renly, dressed up like a prideful peacock, sat there looking nearly as bored as Robert felt. The man needs to worry less about the way he looks. Then again from what I've heard he is a sword swallower so not much to be done about it. Finally there was Lord Varys, his Master of Whispers the bald eunuch was dressed in light purple silk and smelled strongly of perfumes. The smell made Robert go into a brief coughing fit as he entered the room.

He quickly made his way toward the head of the table, grabbed the goblet that sat there and extended it toward his squire. A moment later he found himself gulping down the finest Arbor gold the Seven Kingdoms had to offer.

Wiping his beard of the spillage his less than graceful bit of drinking caused Robert finally addressed his small council, "Alright then Jon, what in the Seven Hells could possibly be going on that you need to drag me all the way up to the Tower of the Hand." Robert's booming voice reverberated throughout the room.

"We have some… distressing news from the North." Jon began.

"Aye and what trouble has Ned gotten into that you couldn't handle?"

Varys' saccharine voice pulled Robert's attention further down the table, "If I may your Grace, this news does not pertain to your old friend but matters further north."

"There is hardly anything further north than Winterfell and most of that is simply desolate wasteland, so tell me Lord Varys what exactly is the issue?" Robert had no interest in beating around the bush, he wanted to be done with this meeting so he could return to more pleasurable ventures.

"My little bird bring me news from Braavos your Grace, the wildlings have made a trade journey there and acquired goods, many goods in fact."

"So the uncivilized bastards have learned to sail, I would think that is good news." Robert turned to Jon Arryn, "If that is all I will take my leave."

"No Robert that isn't all." Jon said with a finality that stopped Robert in his tracks. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms he may be but that didn't change the fact that he still felt like a child every time his father figure spoke to him in such a manner.

"Very well Jon, tell me why I should worry about a group of wildlings that learned to sail half a world away."

Jon gestured for Varys to continue, "There is more your Grace, we received a raven from Lord Commander Jeor Mormont of the Night's Watch. He says that this group of wildlings isn't only sailing but banding together. They number over 10,000 as far as the Lord Commander can estimate."

"What of it, the wildlings have banded together behind various Kings-Beyond-the-Wall in the past and always the Starks have beaten them back. Let Ned handle this, knowing him he would likely have it dealt with in a month."

Stannis seemed to have enough of his brother's constant protestations, "Would you just listen your Grace so we can finish this meeting sooner rather than later?"

Robert huffed but remained silent, so the Spider continued his explanation, "It isn't just that they have banded together but how they have done it. They have built a city with strong walls over twenty feet high, they have built ships and homes, raised livestock and grown crops all while training how to fight properly. And yet, they do not war with the other groups of wildlings unless provoked. When they fight, they don't simply destroy their enemies but try and bring in those who remain." Varys paused for a moment, "They do all of this with steel as good as or better than any castle forged weapons when just a few years ago many still used bronze or stone."

Robert had stopped his bickering and listened more intently. Perhaps there might be a fight in this. "Even so 10,000 wildling could be dealt with easily enough regardless of whether they have good steel or not."

Varys spoke up again, "Normally we would agree with you your Grace but there was one more bit of information from my little birds and the Lord Commander. Their leader is unlike any other wildling we have heard of before. He is called Harry though no surname was given. Mormont tells us some call him the Witch-King-Beyond-the-Wall and they say he is a magician of impressive talent. He formed the wall around their city in a month, their road in a week and their mine in just two days. He can build things out of nothing as though it is the most natural thing in the world."

Now Robert could understand why they wanted him here for this meeting, he addressed Jon, "Does Ned know of this?"

"Yes, Mormont said he would inform him as well."

"What does he plan to do?"

"As far as I know nothing, these wildlings appear to have no intention of coming south of the Wall, so Ned has no intention of interfering when it is the Night's Watch's concern." Jon explained calmly.

"I don't like it," Robert began before turning to Stannis, "you have enough ships in the Narrow Sea to make your way north and attack these wildlings where they make berth?"

"I do but I doubt I can convince any of my bannerman to make the voyage north when it is warm in their own castles for a fight with men who have done nothing but try and better themselves."

Robert huffed and it was at that moment that Grand Maester Pycelle spoke up for the first time having listened far more closely than anybody would have guessed. The seventy-six year old man's voice rasped out slowly, "If I may your Grace, perhaps it would be prudent to approach this with care."

"And what would you recommend with your years of experience?" Littlefinger asked with more than a little bit of sarcasm.

"This is not some roaming band of savages your Grace," the old man continued ignoring the Master of Coins comment, "perhaps it would be best to send an emissary of sorts, find out what we can about them up close and personal and then make an informed decision about what needs to be done."

"And who would you recommend takes on this duty Grand Maester?" Renly asked skeptically.

"It is the duty of the Citadel to provide a maester to every Lord of the realm, if the news from Varys' little birds is to be trusted, this man suits that description. I will send a raven to the maesters at Oldtown and request that they send an emissary who will take up duties there." In a rare moment the Lords in the room could all see the cunning in Pycelle that allowed him to survive the capital for so long, "A maester can get close enough to this man to find out all of his secrets and should his reports be particularly alarming he might just feel the need to tip the less than pleasant contents of any number of vials into the man's evening drink."

Everybody stared at the old maester for a long moment before Robert's strong voice broke the silence, "See it done Grand Maester, from what Ned always told me the wildlings follow the strong. Should we need to remove this man those who follow him will fall into chaos and the threat will be gone that easily." At least that is what history told them, though this new group of wildlings wasn't like anything they had seen in history.

Robert stood, "Keep me updated on this matter in future. Oh, and from now on these meeting shall be held in Red Keep instead of the Tower of the Hand." The others present responded in the affirmative though they knew Robert was unlikely to attend any of these meetings despite the change in location.

Grand Maester Pycelle quickly made his way toward his flock of ravens. Of course the old man had already had his own tidings regarding this new King-Beyond-the-Wall from the Citadel, Maester Aemon from Castle Black sent the maesters a message detailing the situation and they received an odd message from Maester Garman at Karhold who claimed one man from a hunt recalled a dark-haired green eyed man who seemed to be able to remove his fellows from consciousness with just a wave of a stick. There was little doubt amongst the Archmaesters that these two men were one and the same. It was good that they now had royal sanction to continue as they saw fit. Of course, regardless of reports the man will have to die once we learn what we can of him, there is no room in this world for magic of that nature.

Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, sat in front of a small pool just in front of the heart tree of Winterfell's godswood; a godswood that saw every Stark as far back as Bran the Builder. He had the grey eyes and dark hair common of his family, his dark beard was beginning to grey making him appear older than his years.

Ned was cleaning the Stark ancestral sword, Ice. He had just come from the execution of a murderer. The man was given the option of the Wall and decided he would prefer death over living his life fighting wildlings in the coldest part of the world.

Robb and Jon both joined him for the first time that day. Catelyn protested of course, at least to Robb's coming, but despite her time spent in the North she still didn't fully understand their traditions. It was a lesson both boys handled well. Neither of them looked away even as the sword stroke fell. With just a glance after the deed was done Ned could see Robb looked a bit pained at the sight while Jon held the same grim expression that looked almost out of place on the nine year old's face. Ned was proud of them, he had done much the same over twenty years ago when his father took him to watch an execution.

As he removed the last of the dried blood from the Valyrian steel blade Ned took a moment to just relax in the presence of the Old gods. The godswood was a place of solace for Lord of Winterfell though it had become less so since his younger daughter took to roaming around the castle when she could get away from her mother and septa. Arya seems to have as much of the wolf's blood in her as Lyanna ever did. She certainly has the northern look to her as well. Ned could only hope that it didn't lead his daughter down the same path.

Of course his older daughter seemed to have more of her mother's temperament than any of the other Stark children. She followed her mother around everywhere and seemed to want nothing more than to be the perfect little lady, loving to hear of knights, their great deeds and the ladies who loved them. Ned truly hoped that his daughter never lost that innocence but knew the world tended not to be that kind.

As he sat there Ned could hear faint footsteps in the distance, not the cautious paddings of one of his children but those of an adult. Ned suspected it was his wife come to retrieve him for one thing or another. As they drew nearer he was surprised to see a face similar to his own amongst the trees.

"When I heard there had been an execution today I knew this is where I would find you."

"Ben I hadn't thought to see you, why are you away from the Wall?" Ned was genuinely curious as he hadn't realized his brother planned on visiting.

"Is that the sort of welcome you give your younger brother?" They shared a small smile before embracing briefly.

"Now, why are you here Ben? I have sent everyone I can to man the Wall and you didn't send a letter warning of your impending visit." While he had no problem seeing his younger brother, Ned was not the sort of man to waste time.

"The Lord Commander asked that I come to speak with you on a matter of some importance." Ben said slowly, seemingly weighing each word.

"Aye and what could it be that caused the Lord Commander to send his First Ranger so far from the Wall?"

"Haven't you heard brother? There is a new King-Beyond-the-Wall but this one doesn't seem to want to come south."

Ned's eyebrows rose toward his hairline in surprise before furrowing in confusion, "Wouldn't a raven have sufficed to inform me of the situation, a new King-Beyond-the-Wall is interesting news, yes but if they have no intention of attacking the realm then they are no concern of mine or my bannerman."

"A raven may have been appropriate but I wanted to tell you of this in person. I have met the man they call king." Ben said calmly.

"You met this wildling? Is it not the policy of the black brothers to end wilding threats?" Eddard asked quickly.

"Yes I've met him, though wildling may not be the right word to describe him. As for ending wilding threats, you would be correct but we do not kill every wildling we meet even if most of my brothers have a general distaste for them."

Eddard looked at his brother perplexed, "If he isn't a wildling where is he from Ben?"

"Truthfully I don't know and according to him neither did he, though I'm not sure if I entirely believe that. He had a level of refinement in his speech and manner that I would expect from a noble house and yet he had a very different way of looking at things." Ben said half to himself.

"Something makes me think you aren't telling me everything."

"I'm getting to it brother, no need to worry." He paused a moment, "This is the reason Mormont and I thought it best I come speak with you in person. I would just like to say that I wasn't aware of this before I allowed him to leave me when I first met him." For a moment Ned was amazed at how much Ben looked like a shame faced child before his father, "This man his name is Harry Potter, strange name I know. This new group of wildlings they haven't only banded together. They are building a city, and from everything we have been told from our rangers' reports it is being built through his use of magic."

"Magic, really Ben?" Ned asked incredulously.

"Really Ned, I haven't seen this new city on any of my rangings but I have heard more than a few tales of it. This isn't like Hardhome in the past; they have permanent homes, high walls, and a road that leads to their quarry." Ben finished loudly.

Ned was silent for a moment, "This sounds like good news to me Ben. The North has always been harried by wildling raiders. If they have finally learned how to sustain themselves without pillaging our villages I see no reason to be concerned unless they decide to turn their attention south. Even then there is still the Wall between them and us, and whether this Harry has some command over magic or not I doubt he will be able to get through with any sort of ease."

"My thoughts were much the same brother but Mormont wanted you to be aware of the situation should anything come of it that requires your action." Benjen smiled, "My coming here is just a bonus, I finally get to meet my newest niece and nephew."

"Aye well they are a handful even so young, I'll be glad that their attention will be drawn to you for some time." Ned said with a small chuckle in his voice. While the Lord of Winterfell was far from the cheerful sort around family he allowed some of the coldness that people perceived in him to fall away.

The two brothers talked for a time of more mundane things. Benjen told Ned of the declining numbers at the Wall. Only three of the many castles were in service now: Castle Black, the Shadow Tower, and Eastwatch-by -the-Sea , and the once revered order was now filled with brigands, thieves, rapists and murderers. Seldom did the second son of a noble house choose the Night's Watch as the path for their life. And most men wouldn't when it means abandoning any other opportunity, it still amazes me that Benjen chose to take the black.

Ned told Benjen of his children's various exploits as well as Catelyn and the many people of Winterfell they had both known since childhood. They were just entering the courtyard of the great castle when Benjen asked after the last of his nephews, "And what of Jon brother?"

Ned's grey eyes seemed to darken if only slightly, they always did that when his mood shifted, "Jon is well, like Robb, he has started fighting in the yard with Ser Rodrik. The boy has a natural talent with the blade and if I'm honest he is the better swordsman."

"Does he still have the idea in his head that he wants to take the black?" Benjen asked carefully, he knew that Ned wasn't entirely comfortable with his baseborn son's desire to join the Night's Watch.

"He does though I have told him many times that there are other options out there for him. At nine he is as stubborn as Brandon ever was."

Benjen chuckled, "Yes brother because there isn't an ounce of stubbornness in you. Who knows, maybe the lad will find another path before long… one where his parentage means nothing and he can simply do as he wishes with his life without giving up so much."

Ned gave him a sideways glance, "We can only hope that the boy manages such a thing as he grows into a man." With that they entered the dining hall of Winterfell and were immediately hit with the happy cries of children as they saw their beloved father and seldom around uncle. The rest of the night was spent happily as the Stark family shared time together.

Harry Potter was blissfully unaware of just how frequently his presence and influence was being discussed to the south as he busied himself with the expansion of his people. In the five months since his arrival back from Braavos the new crops had been planted and grew in well. Along the Antler near to their southern wall a mill was built for the future processing of the first wheat harvest.

The fruits had taken a bit more maneuvering but he managed it in the end. He had to build a greenhouse, entirely out of magic, in order to provide them with an environment conducive to their growth. While he could do quite a bit to promote and control the growth of the crops through magic the fruits needed the greenhouse in order to thrive.

The change that would likely be most appreciated in the future was his production of distilleries, not as advanced as the most modern one's from his own time but still good enough to produce high quality vodka from their potatoes. Once some of their fruits came in, he intended to produce apple cider if possible as well.

The gates, which the blacksmiths finished while he was away, were installed into the walls though kept open as promised. They were six inch thick steel with runes engraved into their face. The most important of the runes made the doors light enough that their immense size and weight was manageable to actually be opened while still incredibly strong. Have to love magic, otherwise the doors would have needed to be wooden. The mine provided the blacksmiths with new iron regularly, much of which was being used to produce the shoes need for the oxen that were now steadily dragging the stone laden carts from quarry to city.

The new livestock was being tended by the same group who handled the aurochs with a few new additions.

The biggest structural change to First Forge was the protected and domed docks that were modeled after the Purple Harbor of Braavos. The ships were now no longer subject to the rigors of the storms that would sometimes come through on the Shivering Sea.

A road had also been created from the docks that branched through the many buildings all the way out to the exterior gates. Even at night they could be used as Harry installed lights, not electric lights, but Gubraithian Flames, the same sort of fires that Salazar used to light the Chamber of Secrets and Dumbledore once gifted the giants. The flames sat atop iron poles driven and fixed into the ground.

In his spare time Harry did two things; he read through every book he bought in the Free City, learning quite a few interesting things in the process and he studied the Valyrian steel dagger he acquired.

From the History of the Great Houses he found that like England in the medieval era or the purebloods of his own world, nearly every important family was connected in one way or another. The Targaryens took this to an entirely different level marrying brother and sister to each other for centuries. The other great houses seemed to avoid direct familial relationships but even first cousins were not off limits. If what he understood in the book was correct, even Benjen Stark's parents, Rickard and Lyarra, had been second cousins.

As for the great castles of Westeros it was clear that they were more massive any he had seen in his time, unsurprising really when you considered the enormity of the Wall. One thing that had become readily apparent was that any siege in Westeros was a long drawn out affair, unless of course you had dragons.

The Doom reminded Harry of the fall of Atlantis, just instead of the seas coming to consume the advanced civilization it was the fires. To Harry, the Freehold sounded like an incredibly interesting place even if he didn't remotely agree with their practice of slavery. In his own world it took dozens of trained wizards to control dragons half the size of the monsters described in both The Doom: the Rise and Fall of the Valyrian Freehold and Aegon the Conqueror and His Dragons. Supposedly, a single rider rode and controlled a single dragon, something he truly couldn't imagine. Between that and their implied mastery of the arcane he was tempted to take a journey to the broken land mass the books claimed was now cursed, as the seas boiled and the winds blew ash all around that area of the world.

Aegon sounded like a particularly impressive figure and Harry had no doubted there was ever a man with the same kind of ambition. Honestly, who thinks to himself, 'I have only 3,000 men and three dragons on one tiny island but I am going to conquer Seven Kingdoms anyway.'

Harry was disappointed that the book on the Night's Watch had been almost exactly what he expected. There was very little, if any tangible fact about the origins of the Night's Watch or its older history. The maester in the book claimed that the Night's Watch formed during the Long Night as an order meant to repel the Others when they came out of the Far North. It was the Last Hero with the help of the Children that managed to beat back the otherworldly enemy. Then Bran the Builder, a man said to be the first Lord of House Stark with the help of giants and magic built the Wall as a defense so that the realm might be protected from any other threat.

Unfortunately, these events supposedly happened 8,000 years ago so there was no way of knowing what was fact and what was mere hearsay and speculation on the part of the maester who authored the book.

As he expected the most interesting of the books was The Book of Lost Books by Maester Marwyn. The smallish book, at least in comparison to the others, contained excerpts from other books with notes on their origins. There were passages from books outlining the Valyrian view of magic, a few pages of a firsthand account of the founding of dragons, but the most impressive were the supposed excerpts from the book Signs and Portents. Daenys Targaryen, more widely known as Daenys the Dreamer, authored the book based on the various visions she had in her life, a trait that seemed common amongst the Targaryen bloodline if the history books were any indication.

The Targaryen woman was most famous for her prediction of the Doom of Valyria that convinced her father to retire to Dragonstone in fear of the coming catastrophe. It was because of her foresight that the Targaryen's became the last of the Dragon Lords. The three pages the Maester found of her writings included her prediction of the Doom and if Harry read them correctly even spoke of her family's eventual rise to power and initial failure in Dorne.

His reading had bled into Val's lessons on a regular basis and after six months of tutelage she could read everything on her own, though she did occasionally run into a word that she didn't recognize and asked for his help, she was even progressing in learning how to write properly. While he had many matters to attend to he had taken to teaching some of the children to read when he could spare the time. At some point he hoped to have another literate individual who could devote themselves full time toward the endeavor but Harry did what he could in the meantime.

The Valyrian steel dagger was an entirely different matter. There was one thing that became almost immediately apparent to him; without more than one sample he could only hope to imitate the metal instead of completely reproducing it. There were dozens of subtle enchantments on the blade that must have been done during the smithing process.

Harry could reproduce some of the effects and already did with runes but the magic the blades exuded was something he truly wanted to figure out. The key would be making sure that he didn't introduce too much magic during the process and cause the metal to become unstable.

The absolutely permanent sharpness he could only assume came from the dragon's fire that in itself was laced with magic. Harry could produce everlasting fires but they didn't exude magic the same way. And he wouldn't trust fiendfyre for such a process, it was volatile by nature and cursed fire on top of that. The blade could break down at the worst moment as a result. He didn't immediately try to test his findings. Instead he decided to further study the nature of the blade, hoping to find alternatives for the things he didn't know how to reproduce.

Of course the most important development in Harry's opinion was far more personal. Val was now seven months pregnant and heavy with child. She could no longer help the same way she could when she was more mobile but had taken to filling in for Harry when it came to teaching the children how to read. In truth, he wouldn't be surprised if she was carrying twins considering her size. He wanted to do a diagnostic spell to find out for sure but she refused the offer wanting to wait. There were various moments of fighting between the pair during her pregnancy, nothing particularly unpleasant but the most memorable of their small spats happened because of wildling tradition he had as of yet been unaware. It had been a month after he arrived home from Braavos that he brought up the issue of naming their future child.

They were lying in their bed after a bout of lovemaking, Val's hormones had kicked in rather abruptly and seeing as she was already a voracious woman in bed they spent quite a bit of time in a state of undress, not that Harry complained, "Is there a particular name you like for a boy or a girl?" Harry had asked her calmly, seeing absolutely nothing wrong with the question.

"We have more than enough time to worry about that love." Val replied easily.

Harry furrowed his brow, "Six months seems like a lot of time Val but it will be gone before we know it, we might as well discuss it now."

She returned his puzzled look, "We're not going to be naming our children until they are two years old, its tradition and one I plan on continuing."

Now obviously theirs would not be the first children born since Harry arrived and he had helped to ensure more than one baby made it through their infancy but he had never been so involved as to realize that the children weren't named upon their birth, "Val, I promise you that any of our children will live long past their infancy. I would sooner give up every ounce of magic in my body then let something happen to them or you."

"But you are not all powerful Harry, even you can't stop some things from happening and as such we will wait until they are two before we name them." She clearly thought that was the end of the conversation but Harry disagreed.

"I have no interest of calling our son or daughter baby for the first two years of their life. So can we please discuss this?"

Val yelled as she turned away from him, "There is nothing to discuss!"

Harry put his fingertips to the side of her cheek and pushed lightly until her pale blue eyes were staring straight into his emerald green, "There is plenty to discuss Val. I promise that if you can give me a real reason why you are so dead set on upholding this tradition then I will be happy to go along with it but please just tell me why."

Val stared at him for a long moment and Harry was surprised to see a bit of wetness enter her eyes. Finally she gave a sigh of resignation before speaking, "My father died when I was five, my mother was taken again when I was nine. The man, Elric, was nice enough and when I was ten my mother had another child, a baby boy. Elric didn't observe all of the traditions the way my mother did and named their baby boy upon his birth. Elwyn died three months later and it tore my mother up inside, she always told me that naming her child made it all the worse."

Harry had never seen Val cry before, even when he left for Braavos she chose other ways of showing how much she would miss him, but speaking of her mother's hardship caused a single fat tear to fall from her eye. Harry wiped it away with the pad of his thumb while he brought his other hand down to rest on Val's swelling stomach, "I certainly understand your concern better now love but don't you trust me to take care of our children."

She gave him a sad smile, "I do Harry, just like you trust me but seeing how that whole experience tore at my mother I don't know if I can do what you're asking."

Harry laid in silence for a moment his mind drifting, "Okay, if you really don't want to name our children until two years after their birth then that is what we will do." Val's peace of mind is more important to me then a silly name.

Val chuckled mirthlessly, "You must think me quite the fool, between this and being illiterate you must be wondering why you keep me in your bed."

Harry was none too pleased by her self-deprecation even if the mood swing was hormone induced, "You are no fool. You had a bad experience and as result, you're afraid of doing something that breaks tradition, I can't blame you for that. As for your being illiterate, it didn't bother me when you told me and it doesn't bother me now. Besides," he smiled at her, "it has only been a couple of months and you're taking to reading like a fish to water."

Val gave him a weak smile, "Thank you Harry."

He leaned in to kiss her cheek gently, "It's the truth Val. If you change your mind then we will name our child at birth, if not we wait two years before giving them a name." Harry paused a moment before giving her a cheeky smile, "To be fair though that doesn't mean we can't discuss the names we want to give our first child and that is all I was proposing."

Val slapped his chest lightly, "You couldn't mention that before."

Harry faked injury from her playful slap causing a brief giggle to escape her lips, "Val we would have needed to have this conversation eventually, better now than when the baby is actually born."

Val nodded before bring her head down to rest on Harry's bare chest, "So names then?" They spent the rest of that night discussing possible names and had decided on a few of their favorites for either a boy or girl.

It was two months after that conversation that Harry was properly shocked by one of the new members of First Forge. They didn't do anything of note to shock it was just the look of their face.

Harry had been further from the main part of the town talking to Dalla about the new livestock when a group of roughly thirty men and women came walking down the road, in their number was a pale woman with dark hair and grey eyes but it was the facial features that really stopped him.

The woman looked exactly like Tonks, at least when she wasn't modifying various parts of her body. She had the same lips, nose and overall facial structures as the Auror from his old world. The only noticeable difference was that this woman allowed herself to be a certain level of dirty the metamorphmagus could never manage. Of course the spear in her right hand was a bit of a difference as well.

The woman noticed his staring and decided to make comment. Her voice was gruffer and far less refined then his former friends, "Keep staring and I'll be gouging your eyes out."

Harry didn't react much, not even a blush came to his face, instead he just looked her in the eye, "I'm sorry, you look exactly like someone I used to know, a friend in fact."

"Well I ain't her pretty boy so I would just look away if I were you." She took the arm of the man beside her and kept walking. Dalla and Harry had just shared an amused smile before continuing on with their discussion.

It was a few days later when Harry was properly introduced to the spearwife. Val and Harry had just come from a discussion with Ulf and Tormund where they had decided to introduce military style longbows into the fighting force. It was as they were walking that they were approached by the now far cleaner woman.

"Oi wizard," Was the friendly greeting he received. Val and Harry both smirked at the address.

"Well I suppose you could call me that if you like," Harry began, "but most people simply call me Harry. I'm afraid I didn't get your name the other day."

"Osha," she said far more calmly than the threats he had received before.

"Well Osha, what can I do for you?"

"I was talkin to Del, while we was out on the hunt and all, and when she described you to me I realized my mistake." She gave Val a quick glance, "particularly when she told me you were already spoken for."

Val chuckled and responded to the other spearwife, "He told me about that, and no need to worry about it. From what he said it was quite the funny encounter."

Osha actually gave a sigh of relief, "Del was tellin me I was goin to be in big trouble for that one."

It was Harry's turn to laugh, "Del was just trying to freak you out Osha."

Val continued for him, "Yes trust me, our fearless leader, big bad wizard that he is, doesn't take offense to things like that. Like I said he found it funny." They shared a laugh after that before going their separate ways.

Harry only had a handful of encounters with Osha since then but each one had been far more pleasant than the first.

Presently, Harry was standing outside of the gates to the city with just one woman at his side. The woman's name was Briar and she was one of the more recent additions to the Forge, she had dark hair and grey eyes. Her eyes were too close together and she had a deep scar on her left cheek. Her nose was too large for her face and crooked. She was a short thing, much shorter than Harry, probably only about five feet tall. Despite all of that Harry had no doubt that few would dare approach her without consent if the shadowcat at her side was any indication.

She was a warg who tired of living alone and had heard rumor of Harry. She arrived two months ago and liked what she saw and decided to stay permanently. The hunters certainly appreciated her presence as wargs could scout ahead and find game where others could not.

Their goal today wasn't to hunt a dear or wild boar but instead to teach Harry the finer intricacies of warging. Harry didn't know exactly which animal would catch his fancy but he was hoping he managed to find a bird of some sort amongst the trees. He was happy when Briar told him she could sense the talent in him, meaning this wouldn't be a fruitless endeavor. Then again wargs might just be able to sense my inherent magic.

They made their way through the Haunted Forest slowly, but encountered few animals at first. The new city likely spooked a good chunk of the animals away from the very edges of the forest. They had gone roughly four miles into the forest and had been walking for around an hour and a half when Harry spotted something in the tree line that immediately made him stop. Sitting in a weirwood tree nearby was a beautiful, snow white owl. Harry was self-aware enough to realize that his next decision was driven by sentimentality as much as anything else.

Harry spoke softly to Briar, "I'd like to give it a try with that bird there." He gestured toward the tree.

She looked over and gave a shrug, "Very well, you must extend yourself toward the bird, touch your very mind with it and then when the animal inside tries to war with you for control either force it to submit or work with it until it soothes."

On the surface this sounded a great deal like passive legillimency, which gave Harry more than a small advantage, but it was fundamentally different in one way. With passive legillimency there was not enough of a connection with the target to ever establish the sort of control a warg had over their animal companions. In Harry's opinion this sounded like a far more complex version of the same practice.

So, Harry did as she asked and pushed his thoughts toward the peaceful avian creature not fifteen yards away. The sensation of entering the animal's mind was familiar if not entirely the same as entering a human's mind. Instead of the many thoughts that ran through most people's heads Harry was inundated with instincts and images.

At first the owl seemed content to leave his presence be, that is until he started digging. As he moved deeper into the owl's mind he started trying to gain control and the bird fought back with what Harry could only describe as the mental equivalent of a beak and claws. He made a decision in that moment, he didn't want to force the creature to submit he wanted it to be one with him; so, he stopped fighting and he was pleasantly surprised when he felt the avian relax. Instead of the blunt approach, Harry mentally reprimanded himself for the Snape-like decision, he started to relax into the bird's mind, going so far as to show the animal his own personal love of flight.

What felt like an hour but was in fact only two minutes Harry felt the change, he was no longer warring or reasoning with the animal's instincts but he was one with them. When he opened his eyes again, he could see himself standing in the distance with a clarity he never would have imagined even after the process that fixed his eyesight. His usually green eyes turned all white as he took control of the animal. He could hear things in the distance that he couldn't just a moment ago but most importantly he felt the urge to fly, far and high and so Harry spread his wings and took off from the branch leaving his true body behind.

The feeling was indescribable for the man who loved to fly. He had gone three years now without access to a broom and while he could recreate the necessary runes and magic, he hadn't found the time to actually do it. But this, this was far better. While he had always been graceful in the air having wings of your own and feeling the wind beneath them as you climb ever higher is a whole different level of freedom. He had considered learning how to become an animagus in the past but never gotten around to it. From what he knew it seemed like being a warg produced similar feelings.

That was when he remembered the most important warning about warging into a bird and realized that he could very easily lose himself in the sensations if he wasn't careful. So employing a bit of occlumency he took better control of himself and turned around and gently glided back down toward the ground. He flew further and faster than he realized as it took another five minutes before he found himself standing in the forest with a seemingly concerned Briar at his side. She relaxed when she saw the snowy owl flying in over Harry's shoulder.

With a flutter of wings the bird landed upon Harry's shoulder and with little effort he found his vision once more that of a human. The owl on his shoulder did not depart instead nuzzling his cheek with a soft hoot.

Briar wore a look of satisfaction, "Congratulations, you just managed your very first successful skinchanging. The bird will stay with you now." Harry doubted he would ever need to inhabit another animals mind but was glad for the lesson nonetheless.

Briar continued her face becoming more serious, "A warning though Harry, do not allow any animal you inhabit to die while you control their mind, the backlash from such a traumatic experience has been known to drive men mad."

Harry nodded resolutely and intended to heed that warning. Granted, occlumency would likely save me from the very worst of the backlash but my going mad would be infinitely worse than the average warg.

As they walked back to the camp Harry quietly contemplated something he had long been considering and as they neared the city gates came to a final decision. With a gentle tap to the shoulder he stopped Briar who gave him a confused look. With a quick flick of his left wrist instead of his right his holly wand shot into his hand, while the Elder Wand had become his primary magical weapon he refused to abandon the one that his saved his life more than once in his youth.

Flipping it around in his hand he presented it so the handle was pointed toward Briar and bid her grasp the thin piece of holly, she did so tentatively which made Harry snicker as he recalled his first experience around a wand, "Well give it a wave!" He said with far more exuberance then was perfectly necessary.

She hesitated only a moment before doing as he asked. As she finished the flick of her wrist he was disappointed as nothing happened: no light, no whooshing of air, and definitely no explosions. He didn't let his disappointment show though as he took one of his most treasured possessions back from the warg at his side, "Thank you for doing that for me, I have wanted to test that little theory of mine for quite some time now."

"Did you expect I would be able to do your kind of magic?" Fortunately she didn't sound disappointed just curious.

"No I didn't expect you would but I hoped. There is an inherent magic in you that much is obvious; otherwise you wouldn't be able to step into the mind of an animal with such ease but it would appear my kind of magic isn't for you." In truth, Harry wasn't entirely surprised. The magic the wargs practiced was too refined, too specific, to allow for their movement into his kind of magic. Had he been told tales of accidental magic happening around every warg in their youth he would have been more hopeful for the success of his little experiment.

It was a long walk from the walls to the city proper, and as they drew closer Briar left him to go about her own business while he made his way down the street he had built to make leaving and entering the city easier for all. He could have apparated back in but thought there was something to be said for walking. It gave him the opportunity to talk with the farmers and herders along the way. He was their leader and being present was part of maintaining the goodwill he developed since taking control from Tormund.

It took him a little over an hour to go from the gates to the Forge, when he arrived back in the city he went in search of Val. He was unsurprised to find her sitting with about fifteen children, Munda and Gilly included, doing what she could to teach them to read. He snuck up behind her before she had the opportunity to notice his presence. He laid a gentle kiss on the back of her neck as he reached his hands around her midsection and rubbed at it lovingly. As he moved his head around to kiss at her cheek he could feel the small smile that was tugging at the corner of her lips. He felt a gentle kick against his hand as he pulled it away.

The girls under her tutelage were giggling happily while the boys, as they were wont to do, pretended to gag at the show of affection. While Harry knew that Val wasn't the sort of woman to fall over herself for romance, he enjoyed showing her how much he cared through small gestures like this one. The girls stopped giggling though when they noticed the owl on his shoulder, all of the children asked if they could approach the beautiful creature and even Val reached a hand up to stroke at the animal's feathers. Harry suspected some of his own personality bled into the animal when they melded because he doubted any wild bird would respond so calmly to the many touches if it wasn't the case.

After a short time the children went back to working on their reading, some certainly struggled, but considering their lack of an appropriate teacher they were making good progress. Harry sat with them and helped where he could while he and Val began conversing.

Eyeing the owl on his shoulder for a moment she spoke, "So clearly your little mission this morning went well."

Harry smiled widely, "It did indeed, I was hoping to find a bird of some sort and I managed an owl."

"Is it a male or female?"

"Female," Harry answered quickly, "Just like Hedwig," he said fondly, Harry had of course told Val of his animal familiar as a teenager, "I just need to think of a name for the beautiful bird." Of course that comment elicited more than a few suggestions from the children ranging from the incredibly original Snowy to Balerion, from one of the boys who heard the name from the book about Aegon and his dragons. Harry was beginning to think that Hedwig II would be the best name when one of the young boys, Nairn, offered up a name that everybody seemed to like, Tyll.

After the surprisingly long digression into bird naming Val and Harry continued their conversation, "I would like to find more owls if possible, as I have every intention of training Tyll here how to be a messenger as well as my warg companion." Val just nodded as she continued to help the children.

For another hour they helped the children learn to read, they couldn't do more than fifteen to twenty at a time and there were quite obviously a great deal more children than that. They would do it in shifts and the children who read one day would do what they could to help others when Harry and Val weren't around. Harry replicated the books with simple Gemino spells but even the increase in actual books could only help so much when there was no one who could fully devote themselves to their education.

Once Harry and Val were back in their home he broached a subject he knew she wasn't particularly happy about, "I think I'm going to go to Hardhome tomorrow."

Val's head snapped to look at him so quickly he wouldn't be surprised if she had whiplash, "I really don't understand why you want to go there, particularly when there is plenty to be done around here." It was a weak argument and she knew it.

There was very little actual building left to be done around First Forge at the moment: there was now a surplus of housing between the mining area to the north and the main city even with the influx of new people. The crops and livestock were fine, the fisherman had become infinitely more skilled, as had the blacksmith and carpenters. The warriors and hunters went about their business as usual, though at Harry's direction Tormund continued teaching group continuity and tactics to newcomers, while working tirelessly with the longbow.

"We have had this discussion before Val, I want to rebuild the city there if for no other reason than the peninsula it sits on is easily defensible. If there is truly a curse there than I will do what I can to break it and we will repopulate the place."

"And who will lead there Harry? You can't be in two places at once. Dalla, keeps a watch over the farmers, Tormund is too important to the fighting men, Del is our best hunter and a good fighter but not the sort of person that could lead a city in your absence.

"Val, I'm not everywhere now and people do a good job of keeping themselves going. Besides, I think Ulf could do a good enough job of overseeing things while I'm not there."

Val sighed wearily, "Harry people respect you because you are a strong leader, it is that fact alone that saves you from much of the scrutiny most would receive for the changes you have made. That and no one can deny our lives are easier but going to Hardhome won't be well received. People believe it's cursed for a reason and they will not go there unless you force them and forcing them will only breed unrest."

Harry couldn't argue her point and knew her concerns were only for him and the wellbeing of the Norfolk, "I know you're right Val but they will thank me if ever we are forced to leave this place."

She sat in silent thought before giving a short shake of her head, "Fine, but only because I know you are thinking about the long term threats that Bloodraven warned about."

Harry leaned in to give her hug, "Thank you for agreeing with me on this," he paused a moment, "And don't worry I won't be gone long."

"You better not." They were interrupted by a knock on the door. When Harry opened it he was met by a grim faced Tormund.

"We have a situation." There was an anger and sadness in his voice that sent warnings off in Harry's head.

"What's happened?"

"Best you come and see for yourself," Harry turned to Val who gestured for him to leave without her before walking with Tormund down the street.

As they drew closer to the Hall, Harry could see a large gathering of people. Pushing through the crowd with ease the sight that met him was something that he had long since dreaded. In the street dead, was Ulf, his throat cut, if Harry were to guess the man he had come to trust as an advisor was caught completely off guard. Bound a few feet away was a small man with no hair and rotting, yellowed teeth. Whoever he was, it wasn't a man that Harry had encountered as of yet but if the blood on his hand was any indication he was about to.

Before doing anything else Harry walked over to Ulf's lifeless body and shut his eyes gently giving his friend a moment of silence. When Harry's gaze fell upon the apparent murderer, many flinched at the cold light that seemed to overtake his green irises.

"Who is he?" Harry didn't turn his gaze but Tormund knew he was addressing him.

"One of our newest arrivals, just last week as far as I am to understand it, he and Ulf got in an argument over some of the practices here at First Forge, namely your recent turn toward teaching the children how to read and write and your policy regarding conquered foes. Ulf told him that he wasn't required to stay here and that if he didn't like it he could leave." It sounded innocuous enough to Harry but clearly something had caused the situation to escalate.

Ferny, one of Craster's former wives, spoke up from among the crowd, "I was there Harry. This man, he went into some sort of a rage and after Ulf walked maybe ten paces away he drew his knife. Ulf didn't even see it coming as the blade was dragged across his throat."

Still Harry's gaze never left the man, he couldn't help but note the killer didn't have the stones to look him in the eye after his crime. Harry walked forward looming over the killer, "What is your name?" Harry's voice was devoid of emotion and it caused a brief chill to go up many a spine.

The man still refused to look at Harry as he mumbled out, "Gorbold."

"Gorbold, you murdered one of my friends in cold blood for an issue you took with my commands, my rules. As Ulf said, no one forced you to come to this place."

Finally the man turned to Harry but it was only to spit at his feet, "The Free Folk have no rules but those of the gods. Every man, woman and child here is no better than a kneeler." There was a general uproar among the Norfolk but Harry was surprised to see a few people that seemingly agreed with the sentiment. I suppose it is inevitable that not everyone will accept my decisions but they at least understand that I lead and they follow and unless they can bring me down that is the way of things.

"If that is your opinion murderer then you can leave," loud murmurs of surprise flowed through the crowd but Harry wasn't finished, "but you leave with nothing but your underthings to protect you from the cold. All of your belongings are taken from you for your crime, should you somehow manage to survive alone in the forest never again shall you be welcomed in this place or any place held by the Norfolk." With a flick of his wrist and a wave of his wand the man was divest of all but a thin undershirt and his smallclothes. It was sad to realize that a fighter like Ulf lost his life to such a weak, fleshy man.

"Walk from this place in shame." Harry then turned to the crowd, "Let it be known that Gorbold is never again welcome within any Norfolk's walls." People were slightly in awe of Harry's overall brutality but a cheer went up nonetheless as a man they had all come to respect was being avenged.

Gorbold was forced to walk the five miles from the center of the town all the way to the gates with jeerers ever on his heels. The man ran from a time to escape their ire but didn't have the stamina to keep it up. When finally he reached the gate Harry was waiting there for him and as he exited the two sets of great double door they closed with finality behind him. In an instant Harry apparated back to First Forge and went out in search of Tormund once again.

"I want you to inform every man who takes up guarding the walls to look out for that man, I don't want him anywhere near this place ever again." Tormund nodded his agreement. He was impressed with Harry's decision and was glad to have some retribution for Ulf's death, he had come to like the man working so frequently with him over the years.

Harry quickly made his way back toward home and told Val what had happened. She was furious when she heard the story and actually felt that Harry had let the man off lightly, "You should have gelded the fucker before letting him walk away." Harry actually cringed at the mental image. It didn't escape either of their notice that the man Harry had in mind to help restore Hardhome had just been taken from them by senseless violence.

Later that night there was a funeral pyre set up solely for Ulf, hundreds of the Norfolk gathered to watch it burn. Harry lit the blaze himself. A bevy of multicolored fires left his wand as they consumed the body until there was nothing more than ash.

The next morning Harry awoke bright and early, though still in a rather foul mood from the previous day's events. He wanted to get to Hardhome so he could make as much progress as possible. Before he left Val ensured he had his mirror on him in case she needed to contact him With a final goodbye Harry disappeared with a pop only to reappear two hundred miles away in the dilapidated remains of what was once the only town north of the Wall.

The first thing Harry noticed was the burn marks along the water worn wooden buildings. The town hadn't been large, only about twenty five medium sized buildings in total with another five larger ones. Looking around Harry could understand the Free Folk reluctance to come to this place, there was a definite eeriness in the air but as far as Harry could see there were no ghosts haunting the place but that was only on the surface.

It was moments like these that he was glad for his time spent learning more about magic. He walked to the center of the town cleared a space beneath him and sat down. It took longer than it had when he was practicing it on a regular basis but about five minutes later he felt a lightness that pervaded his mind and opening his eyes, he found himself looking as if through a veil. The spirits that lingered but lacked the strength to manifest as true ghosts became apparent to him. There were maybe two dozen of them around in varying states of distress. If he wanted to clear this place of its supposed curse he needed to convince them to leave for whatever came next.

As he stood he left his physical body behind and approached a man nearby who appeared to be stuck in a continual loop of his own death, burning in agony. Cautiously, Harry laid a hand on the man's shoulder that jumped him out of his stupor, fearfully he looked at Harry, "Who are you?"

"Someone who can help."

The man looked around warily, "Am I dead?"

"Yes but you're stuck, this can happen when people die in a particularly stressful manner. The place of their death can become haunted by their presence. You died nearly 600 years ago; I hope I can help you move on."

"They came up from the south," he began tentatively, "at first we thought they were just some of the Skagosi, it wouldn't have been the first time they came to Hardhome but then we saw them in the sky." Harry stayed silent but he was quite sure that he knew what this man was referring to.

"We didn't stand a chance, the winged beasts rained fire down on the town but only just enough to drive most everybody from their homes. When the ship landed a hundred silver haired warriors left the ship gleaming in beautiful steel and wielding sharp swords, even beyond the Wall we heard rumors of the Dragon Lords. A few of us," he gestured toward the other tormented souls, "tried to fight, to save the women and children, but all we managed was to die sooner."

The man stared off into the distance for a moment, "The last thing I remember before the flames consumed my body was my woman and son being chained and dragged toward the ship."

No one ever knew for sure what caused the downfall of Hardhome but now Harry knew, the dragons had come and if empires had fallen before their might, a loosely tied together group of Free Folk didn't stand a chance. Harry listened as the man continued to speak of the traumatic event until finally he had nothing left to say.

"Listen," Harry began, "I can't tell you what comes after this because I don't know, a teacher of mine always said it was the next great adventure. I like to think that you will see your son and wife again but what I can tell you is that there is no peace here in this place, where all you will ever do is relive the worst moment of your life. So for your own sake let go." He looked at Harry for a long moment his translucent eyes boring into Harry's and then with a slight softening of his features he faded into nothingness.

He repeated process again and again, listening as they talked through the experience before they faded from the ethereal world. The hardest for Harry was a little girl he found in one of the homes, she was curled up in the corner in fear. She had hidden at her parents command only to burn alive as she cried in fear.

Time had little meaning to Harry and when finally he finished removing the 'curse' from Hardhome and returned to the waking world the sun was high in the sky. There was a definite alleviation of the dread one felt standing amongst the remains of the town and as Harry looked around he decided it would be best if this place was nothing but a memory before any Norfolk settled it. So with a flick of his wrist fire leapt from his wand in waves, destroying what remained of the buildings after 600 years.

It was as Harry began working on the buildings he hoped would soon be occupied that he felt a vibration in his pocket, a moment later and he was looking at a perplexed Val, "Harry I think you might want to come back."

"Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine but something unexpected has come up could you please meet Dalla by the western gate?" Harry looked at her puzzled but decided not to question her on the issue and apparated back immediately.

He landed with a soft crack, surprisingly the gates were closed. As he looked around he found Dalla waving to him from atop the wall. He made his way up the steps to find they had visitors though they weren't Free Folk. There were ten horses arrayed outside his gates though only three of them had riders, the others were carrying various other things upon their backs.

Of the three riders two were dressed in all black, clearly brothers of the Night's Watch. The strange thing was they appeared to be escorting the third man whose attention was focused on the engravings upon the gate. This last man wore grey robes underneath his heavy furs and had a chain with dozens of links around his neck. Even from a distance, he could see the links were made of various different metals.

Despite that it was the robes that caught Harry's attention most. Grey robes, grey rat: perhaps this is what Bloodraven warned me of. One of the black brothers brought the man's attention back to the Wall, the middle-aged man smiled genially, "Excuse me my Lord, my name is Maester Gareth, I was dispatched from the Citadel in Oldtown to provide you with an advisor for your burgeoning city."

Harry stared at the man for a long moment, causing the man to fidget where he stood, "I am no lord Maester Gareth, and if that was your belief then I am afraid your journey was for not." Harry knew there would come a time when he would need to recognize his position and maybe even adopt some of the southern customs but to cater to a maester was not a good enough reason. "But tell me how did you learn of this place?"

"Are you not the leader of this place?" The maester asked ignoring Harry's question.

"I am but that doesn't make me a lord. Now I would suggest that you answer my question. "

"We received letters from both Maester Aemon of the Night's Watch and Maester Rolland of Karhold." That caught Harry's attention, either one of his memory charms didn't take the way he intended or there had been somebody else in the trees that saw the whole ordeal. He could only hope the person hadn't divulged his knowledge to anyone beyond the maester.

The maester continued unaware of Harry's thoughts," I would serve you despite your lack of nobility." He said a little too eagerly for Harry's taste, "I can still provide you with good counsel."

"I keep my own opinions as to who can provide me with good counsel maester, and I can assure you it would take more than being my councilor to survive in this place."

The man spluttered for a moment before regaining his bearings. Clearly he thought this would be far easier than it is. "I bring with me eight horses laden with books and flock of carrier ravens for you."

Now that sounded like something of actual interest and could be more than a little helpful, "The horses are both mares and stallions?"

"Four of each yes and the ravens can be used to communicate with many of the greater castles in the realm." Harry cared little for that as he had no intention of getting into contact with the southerners. Besides that is so incredibly limited, I'll just train owls to go to the specific person I want to receive my letters.

Thinking over the possibility of letting this threat enter into his place Harry decided it would be best to keep your enemies close, perhaps he could discover exactly what the maesters' motivations were if he kept this man at First Forge, "Very well maester, you may enter but know this; you will not serve as my advisor, I have a different job in mind for you." He paused a moment letting the man sweat it out, "A learned man such as yourself must have a great deal of skill in both reading and writing. Your full time duty will be teaching the children of First Forge how to read and write, do this and you might at some point gain my trust." It was extremely unlikely but Harry offered up that grain nonetheless.

It was a month later and things had progressed nicely. Harry had taken the time to build up what was once Hardhome though no one had actually moved there as of yet. There were enough homes there to house another 2,000 people, docks were in place and he had dug the trench for the wall along the narrowest stretch of the peninsula. It was still a fifty mile stretch of land but not nearly and would take some time to fully build the wall there.

Maester Gareth did as he was asked and even seemed to enjoy teaching the many children, though not all of the children enjoyed the southern man. Where Harry limited the number of children he taught on a regular basis the maester did no such thing, he would teach hundreds of the children on a daily basis something Harry appreciated, though he was irritated by the man on more than one occasion as he tried to needle information from the wizard. The learned man was never around for Harry's feats of magic, which was more by design than anything else.

His ravens did turn out to be unneeded as Harry, through Tyll, was able to locate more owls, all of whom had the short ritual necessary done to them to turn them into messenger owls. Building an owlery had been simple enough and the now obsolete ravens were kept there as had sent a message off to Benjen Stark explaining the warning from Bloodraven but the owl returned without a reply.

The maester took this as some sort of personal insult. It was the day after Harry finished the owlery that he was confronted about the issue.

Harry had just entered the new structure when the maester came running up, "Excuse me L... Harry," the maester still slipped on occasion something the Norfolk snickered at constantly, "these owls of yours really aren't necessary, my ravens can reach any location you desire."

Harry turned to look at the man with a smirk upon his lips, "Tell me maester can your ravens find any man, woman or child, North of the Wall, in the Seven Kingdoms or across the Narrow Sea as long as their title is written on the message and the sender has the person in mind?"

The man snorted derisively, "No animal can do such a thing, the Citadel would surely be aware if that were the case."

Harry gave a short laugh at the man's condescension. Obviously this man puts far too much stock in the things the Citadel does and doesn't know. "You would be entirely wrong Maester Gareth, my owls can do exactly as I said. To say the least your ravens are not needed."

The man spluttered for a moment, "I really must insist..."

He stopped when he saw the glare Harry threw his way, "You insist nothing maester. There are those amongst my people who merely tolerate your presence here because I allow it, do not give me reason to change my mind." Gareth visibly gulped.

"Now I appreciate your efforts here so far, though your unwillingness to accept our ways leaves something to be desired." Harry let the statement hang in the air for a moment, "Food for thought maester." Harry turned away from the man before offering him up a grain that should alleviate his real concern, "You may keep your ravens. They can even remain in this place with the few owls we currently have but no one here will have any use for them." The conversation ended there though Harry could tell the man was less than pleased.

Save that one spat thing continued as normal. The only real hindrance, if you could call it that, was Harry's concern for his wife. Blessedly she didn't have particularly bad morning sickness or strange cravings but the further along her pregnancy went the more Harry felt the need to be around her. It was so bad on a couple of occasions that Val actually had to tell him to leave her be and do something useful besides watching her.

They had just walked out the door Harry sending a strong locking charm as they left. Something he had always done but was more careful of with the presence of Maester Gareth. Tyll was the only owl not housed in the owlery, instead she sat on a perch just outside their home. Harry stroked her feathers briefly before they began making their way through the streets of First Forge with slowly. After about five minutes of walking, Val, waddling along, turned to look at him, "Really Harry there are more important things you could be doing then walking me to see my sister."

Harry chuckled, "You might be right, I could probably be working on the next wall or…"

But he was interrupted by the sound of water hitting the cold stone of the street beneath them and a slight grunt of pain from Val, "Harry my water's just broke."

Harry immediately went into action. They were fortunate enough to be in front of the Hall when it happened and Harry quickly escorted her inside. Without a second though he conjured a bed and turned to the nearest person who happened to be Osha, "Val is in labor please go get me Ferny."

Craster's former wife had already offered to help with the delivery, having done it dozens of times when her father-husband was still alive to torment her. Osha didn't even hesitate, running from the room at a sprint.

Harry attempted to keep Val calm, not that it was particularly hard considering her temperament. He only had to wait about twenty minutes before Ferny along with three other older women arrived with an unwelcome sight behind her. Ferny immediately went to Val's side and began asking questions about her contractions, things which Harry really didn't have an understanding. Meanwhile, Maester Gareth approached Harry, "I came to offer my help Harry, I have studied the necessary procedures for birthing a child at the Citadel."

Harry gave the man a baleful look, "Maester have you ever actually birthed any children," the man shook his head in the negative, "then I would suggest you leave this place while women with some actual experience handle the matter." The maester looked as if he was about to protest, but the look in Harry's eye seemed to make him think better of it.

This was one of the most intense experiences of Harry's life, and that is saying something for a man who had been in life threatening situations more than a dozen times before he was twenty. Harry stayed with Val the entire time, not leaving for either drink or food despite offers from both Del and Tormund to take his place. Instead he sat there holding her hand even when she squeezed so hard it made him lose feeling in his fingers.

After the first sixteen hours Ferny informed them of something they both long since expected, "You will be having twins," How she knew this for sure Harry didn't know, "the first stage of her labor is done now. It will only be a few more hours."

Those few hours were pure agony for Harry as he sat there uselessly in support. He wanted to do something to ease Val's pain but knew that any sort of magic could do more harm than good and possibly affect their children's ability to do magic.

Harry was happy to note there were no threats against his manhood or claims that he would never be allowed to touch her again. Instead Val bared the pain with scream after scream until finally, nineteen hours after she started her labor, a baby's wail could be heard throughout the Hall and into the road outside. Ferny bundled the pink little baby up in a warm cloth before handing it off to one of the other women who quickly snipped the umbilical cord at a gesture from Harry.

Harry didn't have to wait long before the first set of cries was picked up by another. This time Harry released Val's hand with a kiss before moving over to cut the second of the twin's umbilical cord. Val looked as though she had fought off a pack of direwolves by herself but still she had a tired smile even as Ferny cleaned up the mess that had been made. Harry was given a child in each arm by the other women. He expanded the bed Val rested upon before sitting down beside her and handing her one of their children.

The most discerning feature between the twins was the fact that one was a boy and the other a girl. Their son had a small amount of black hair upon his head that clearly came from his father, while their baby girl had blonde hair like her mother with a twinge of red, probably from Lily. Both children had rather unique eyes. On the outside of their irises was the unique emerald green of their father while the inner iris was the pale blue of their mother.

Harry and Val just stared down at their children adoringly for a long moment before she broke the silence, "Harry what were those names we decided on?"

"Trystan for a boy and Emer for a girl, but I thought we wouldn't be naming them for a couple more years."

Val shook her head tiredly, "No we name them now, I will not be ruled by my fear. The names are perfect." She grabbed a finger from each of their tiny little hands, "Trystan and Emer." Their daughter started fussing slightly and even in her worn out state Val brought her to her breast to feed.

In that moment, despite the stresses and pressure of leadership, Harry couldn't imagine ever being happier.

AN: If anybody has any better suggestions for his owl's name let me know, I just used part of the Welsh word for owl as the name.

Oh, if anybody wants me to give a timeline of events I can do that. There is a lot going on after all. Just let me know.

Not really anything else I want to say. As always, thanks for reading.

7. Chapter 7

AN: Thanks for all the reviews as always and happy to say this story has eclipsed 100k views so really thank you. As for everybody that left their review under guest and asked a specific question there are to many for me to respond to and be specific. As for those guests who left a review with a name,

ragnar-the-red: I obviously can't say much as most of those sort of problems will be further down the line but I definitely agree with your point

dorenzo: It's just hard to see any interaction between the Free Folk and the slave taking Dothraki going well. As for defending another city it really isn't in the Free Folk temperament to do such a thing unless absolutely necessary.

fant4stical: Sorry I didn't eve start writing this chapter until the 30th. Hope you'e okay with it being a few days later :)

anon: I will put more outside point of views in eventually but the focus will remain Harry. As for other magical practitioners, most are far away from Harry in Qarth and Asshai. I do have plans to involve the remaining Children (of which Leaf is one of at least six) and a introduce some of the native magicals.

weirwolf: The Haunted Forest has many weirwood so Harry wouldn't exactly have the need to plant more. I can understand you seeing it as another source of magic but it is a very different sort of magic that Harry can recognize but not necessarily connect to.

theosay: You really need to get an account my friend as I just can't answer your questions in full detail here. Short answer was I could see Harry as being a bit like Alfred the Great, which is ironic when you consider that the man repelled Viking attacks and the Free Folk are quite a bit like the Vikings. Alfred improved the military, the law, education and the overall quality of his people's lives. The big difference in my opinion would be that Harry, like all Free Folk, isn't fervently religious.

The Requester: I actually took my inspiration for this story from a challenge (something I made note of in the first chapter). I'm glad you like the story enough to ask though :)

AmeKai: Thank you for the suggestions and I will definitely consider using them :) A pensive isn't something I even thought about but I certainly will now. Harry will definitely work on alternatives to the potions he is familiar with, as for the Citadel I make mention of it in this chapter.

reader: As for Bloodraven's warning you'll have to find out what he was referring to. As for the way they handle governing themselves it will adapt over time, something which is apparent in this chapter. Would you agree that Greek fire is essentially the same thing as wildfire?

12358132134: I can think of more than one reason for Harry to go south of the Wall but it could certainly involve the Starks.

coldblue: 1) Not to Pyecelle but the Citadel 2)Possibly haven't decided for sure yet 3)Yes that is more than likely 4)They might show mild signs as babies but certainly by the time they are toddlers 5) Harry will make contact with the Thenns and Giants soon, no he won't have to learn the Old Tongue, there is a spell for that I mentioned in the first chapter

tilo: Glad you liked the chapter, Robert isn't as fat as he is at the start of the series, he is somewhere in between the powerful warrior he was in his teens and the extremely fat man he is by the start of the series. If I made it seem like he was that big then I apologize because that isn't how I was picturing him. As for the Small Council, Renly was appointed sometime after h was recognized as a man grown. He is roughly sixteen or seventeen so it is realistic to believe he would be on the council. There are five years till the start of canon not a decade.

Want to thank everyone who suggested owl names, I had a lot of people who seemed to like what I decided on just fine so decided not to change it.

Again thank you to my beta Tellimicus Sundance

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Game of Thrones and no profit is being made from this story.

The very next day Harry took the time to set up dozens of protections for his children and more discreetly did the same for Val. She wouldn't like me worrying over her like that but I have to do what is necessary to protect them. At his behest the carpenters had built his children cribs of alternating weirwood and ironwood. While still not the strongest area of study for him, Harry took the time to layer them with intent based wards and monitoring charms. Harry was not ashamed to admit that he also placed tracking charms on his children. He told Val, who surprised him by being entirely in agreement with his decision.

It was early in the night. Val was nursing Emer with Trystan in his crib as they talked about it, "They are our children, if this keeps them safer than I am perfectly content."

"You aren't upset with the idea that I will essentially always be keeping an eye on them?" There was hesitancy in his voice as he continued layering spells on the cribs.

Val rolled her eyes, "Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't try much the same with me." She paused a moment, "You didn't try the same thing on me when I was still pregnant, did you?"

Harry gave her a small smile, "I may have applied a monitoring charm after the incident with Ulf, and another after our favorite maester arrived but that was only because of the warning that Bloodraven gave me."

She sighed lightly, "I don't suppose I can blame you. I wasn't exactly in any condition to defend myself should someone have attempted to harm me."

"I was more concerned about poison. Gareth does not seem the type to walk up behind you with a dagger."

Val snorted, "I agree with that assessment." She stood as Emer finished feeding, "Though it begs the question, why haven't you merely dispatched the man already or at the very least read his mind as you told me you did with Craster?" She placed their baby daughter into her crib before looking at Harry expectantly.

"The man is useful, which is the only reason why I allowed him entrance into First Forge to begin with. I won't consider removing him until that use has run its course. As for reading his mind, I doubt there is much I can learn from him at the moment. If these maesters really knew what I was capable of they wouldn't have sent somebody in such an overt attempt to gather information."

Harry continued calmly, "It also helps that while most trust my decisions there isn't a single man or woman here that trusts the maester at this point and as such his every move is watched."

"Are you personally keeping an eye on him?"

"Always, I don't trust the man remotely. There is a reason I had him house his ravens with the owls, he will neither send nor receive a letter that I don't read first."

"You will eventually determine a way to see him gone from here though?"

"Most likely," Harry said stroking at the trimmed beard along his chin, "more than one of the teens under his tutelage have taken to reading and writing with enthusiasm. Morin in particular seems to have a knack for it." Morin was a fifteen year old girl who took to learning with the same sort of vigor as Hermione always had in his youth. Gareth had been reluctant at first to train the young girls to begin with, seeing as maesters trained only boys. According to Gareth girls were usually trained by their mothers and septas; however, Harry insisted and the man relented.

"Once I feel one of them is ready, and if they are willing, they will take over teaching. At which point Gareth will no longer serve any true purpose here, our healers have just as much knowledge of herbal remedies, and his advice about what should be done with regards to southerners is neither wanted nor needed."

Harry laughed suddenly, "Of course there is the possibility that Maester Gareth could actually learn to appreciate our way of life."

This caused Val to snort derisively, "Highly unlikely as far as I can tell, the man does everything he can to change our way of doing things whenever he can."

Harry smiled, "I didn't say it was likely but stranger things have happened, like say an entire group of Free Folk 'savages'," It was clear he didn't like using the word in reference to the people at First Forge, "banding together and forming a fully functioning city."

"Besides, so far north no one will begrudge the man if he decides to take a woman to bed." Harry teased.

Val leaned into kiss him, "Aye I suppose that is true," They both turned to look at their sleeping children, "Harry would it be possible to set up protections around First Forge the same way you have around the cribs."

Harry nodded, "I have considered it but many of the protections I could place are designed to repel non-magical people from ever even finding this place which just isn't an option with everybody outside of me being non-magical. I will however put in place a set of wards to protect from magical and physical attacks. As while I don't know the nature of the Others and their abilities, from the stories they certainly have their own kind of magic. As for physical attack let's just say it will make enemy archers far less of an issue."

"Certainly sounds like a good idea."

"I can't guarantee that it will actually be successful until they are tested against an enemy but it is worth the attempt." Harry tapped his chin idly, "I did have one other idea though."

Val turned away from the children to look at him, "And what would that be?"

"You remember the map I told you about? The one my father and his friends made when they were teenagers," Val nodded, "I could do the same thing here and at the very least it would help me keep track of the number of people we actually have at First Forge."

Val was silent for a long moment, "Other people may not be entirely comfortable with the idea if they find out. You must admit it is a breach of privacy." She wasn't upset but there was a clear warning in her voice.

Harry actually looked a little startled, "I've never considered it like that. I suppose it could be seen as a slight breach in privacy but it also helps monitor the people's coming and goings; more than once it has helped me in otherwise difficult situations."

"I'm not saying don't do it Harry. I'm just telling you that it might not be appreciated by some people should they find out."

Harry leaned in to her and kissed at her neck, "I understand, but I still think it is the best thing to do. I'll start working on it tomorrow."

And Harry did just that the next morning. Their sleep had been interrupted more than once in the night as their children fussed about something or other but Harry had suffered far worse when dealing with nightmares from Tom Riddle.

The process of protecting First Forge and the quarry was not particularly difficult. In area it wasn't that much bigger than the overall grounds of Hogwarts. While Harry was doing by himself what the teachers of the illustrious school had done together before the Battle of Hogwarts years ago, he wasn't viewed as the most powerful Dark Lord of a generation's equal for nothing.

He layered together protection spells while avoiding those that would make the place entirely invisible. Might consider implementing some of those protections once I no longer think there will be new additions to the city and even then it might not truly be viable. The most important in Harry's opinion were the detection spells that he layered underneath the protection spells which were tied to a large piece of parchment he had set up in their home.

The entire process took only a few hours, enchantments of that nature being far easier than the mass transfigurations necessary to actually build up the city. Harry tested them of course throwing dozens of his own curses at the barrier, also requesting a few of the hunters fire arrows to test the shielding against physical attack. As he expected the shields held strong though he had no way of knowing how they might fare against whatever sort of magic the Others possessed. He also had Tyll fly outside of the new warding before coming back in to ensure that the wards didn't interfere with the owl's ability to come and go. He knew that shouldn't be an issue but he thought it best to be safe.

When he returned home he had to stifle a laugh as both Dalla, who had come to visit her new niece and nephew, and Val were staring at the map of First Forge with wide eyes. The babies were sleeping peacefully in their cribs for the time being.

The enchanted piece of parchment took up the better part of a wall in their home. Like the Marauder's Map, names written in black ink sat next to thousands of little dots, some of which were so tightly packed together it was difficult to discern what exactly they said. The most important thing in Harry's opinion though was the number in the bottom right hand corner; it was a little addition of his own that provided him with the total population of the people shown on the map. The number read a slightly surprising 14,368.

Harry cleared his throat causing both women to look at him abruptly, "Impressive, isn't it?"

Dalla rolled her eyes before smiling at Val, "Does he ask you the same thing every time you lay together?"

Val snorted as Harry's jaw dropped, "He doesn't need to, trust me." Even after four years Harry was still caught off guard at times by the brazenness of the Free Folk. Granted he had experienced much the same at different times during his travels but being raised by the Dursleys, who had sticks so far up there as he was surprised they weren't constantly chewing wood, left him unused to such talk.

His lovely wife pulled him from his musings, "To actually answer your question though, yes it is quite impressive."

Harry smiled as he walked over and gave her a quick kiss, "Thank you," he nipped playfully at her ear, "and not just for that."

He pulled away before continuing, "I have no intention of spying on everyone's movements obviously but certain people," he pointed with his wand at a dot with the name Gareth next to it, "will garner more of my attention." The dot turned from black to a vivid red.

"Seems he is currently over in the owlery," Dalla commented.

Harry hummed his acknowledgement, "Wouldn't surprise me if he is sending his first report back to the Citadel he is so fond of telling me about. I should be getting that letter sometime soon."

Sure enough not fifteen minutes later one of the owls came in holding a raven in its talons. The black bird wasn't dead, but it was struggling mightily to free itself. Harry flicked his wrist causing the struggling avian to fall limp in the owl's grasp, "I'll heal it up before I send him on his way again." He said in response to questioning looks he received from the two women in the room while pulling the letter from the smaller black bird's leg.

"Let's see what the maester has to say to his superiors shall we?" With that he unfurled the letter and began reading.

Archmaester Norren,

I have reached the far northern city and found it to be far more than I expected. The rumors the Grand Maester conveyed from the Spider appear true. This First Forge has strong walls, formidable gates, many homes, ships, crops and livestock. There is a road that leads from the main city to a quarry that is smoother than any in the kingdoms.

While I was allowed to enter the city it was not in the capacity I expected. A man of my learning has been relegated to nothing more than a common childhood teacher, and not exclusively for the Lord's children but for every child here. He trusts untrained women to care for the sick and injured instead of me and takes none of my advice. I have done what is necessary, hoping that if I do what is required of me I might be accepted into his confidence.

Harry has trained owls to work in the same nature as our ravens though he claims they are better. I find it hard to believe that any animal could possibly find a specific individual thousands of miles away but that is his claim.

I haven't actually seen any of the supposed sorcery we heard was performed here but it is hard not to think such has been required to build this place so quickly. The owlery from which I send this letter seemed to spring up in a day with materials I saw neither moved nor prepared. And while there are many men and women who have varying skills ranging from sailor to carpenter and many professions in between, no one as far as I can tell is a stone mason and yet the building is there all the same.

The local populace is tight-lipped about their leader, at least when in my presence. They are as untrusting of me as anyone from the kingdoms is of the wildlings. I have asked more than one of them about his supposed abilities but I have been told nothing.

It might be important to note that Harry's wife, a woman named Val, has given birth to twins. He wouldn't even let me into the room to help with the process.

I do not know what else you would have me do at this time. I was told only to observe and I have yet to actually observe anything beyond a surprisingly well organized city that by all rights shouldn't be nearly as well progressed as it is now.

Awaiting you reply,

Maester Gareth

"Hmmm, interesting," Harry stated as rerolled the letter and tied back onto the raven's leg, "seems I have irritated him. IT is good to know that he is only here to observe as I thought at the moment."

Val raised a hand to her forehead massaging lightly, "Yes but there is someone pulling his strings, someone who could very well tell him to do harm to you, me, the children, or the people as a whole."

Dalla nodded in agreement, "It might be wise to simply remove him now and save yourself the trouble in future."

Harry sighed loudly, "Val and I discussed that just yesterday but I'm just not willing to do that when he is still very little threat and serves a purpose here."

"And should the next letter he receives include instructions to poison you or Val, kidnap Emer and Trystan, or even cause some sort of sickness?"

Harry's eyes hardened and the contained rage there almost caused Dalla to take a step back, "Should any of that be the case than I can assure you that he and I shall be having words. And I can guarantee that he will not enjoy the conversation. " Harry looked away from her, a scowl still on his face, "And when that is done I will go south and deal with the problem at its source."

Dalla gave him an appraising view for a long moment, "That is what I wanted to hear." Harry noticed that Val smiled at her sister.

"I have no doubt Val told you of my apprehension regarding magic. I'll admit I didn't even necessarily agree with her desire to be stolen by you," she gave him a wry smile, "or steal you as it turned out. That being said, I am glad that she managed to beat you one night over a year ago when no one else was around."

Harry chuckled, "Well it is good to know you have come to think so highly of me."

Val rubbed his cheek, "It's hard not to Harry." At that moment the children started fussing and their parents took to worrying over them as Dalla continued to mill about.

(Scene Break)

Over the next month Val proved to be an extremely good mother and Harry, despite the poor example that had been set for him as a child, took to fatherhood with the same level of care he did most other things in his life. When either or both of the pair had other matters to attend to, they were helped quite enthusiastically by Dalla, Gilly, Munda and surprisingly Tormund's youngest son Dwyn, who would accompany his little sister on more than one occasion.

When Harry was around to watch the children, Val took to fighting in the yard again, something she had missed more than a little bit as her pregnancy progressed.

Harry spent a good deal of his time preparing what was once Hardhome and after a month's time the area was ready for habitation by at least five hundred but most importantly it had docks for ships, a lighthouse complete with Gubraithion flames, and walls around the area. The wall meant to cut off the peninsula at its thinnest point had yet to be complete but the first fifty miles were built with the help of the rune carvers, who now numbered in the fifties. Hary had no doubt the new construct would be finished in another month or less.

The second trade ship was sent out in that month as well, bound again for Braavos. Learning from his prior experiences Harry made some modifications to promote both greater speed and less likelihood of damage. The most important was repelling charms along the outside hull to lower the resistance of the water against the ship. The speeds the ship could reach proved to drastically increase and Harry couldn't help but feel the fool for not thinking of the same thing earlier. The trip would likely take half the as long as the first.

Impervious charms were also placed on the main mast and outside of the ship. Unfortunately, because of the magically expanded hold Harry couldn't turn the interior impervious without risking magical instability; meaning, that should the ship take a truly nasty hit the exterior would be fine while the interior could suffer damage.

They were sent on their way with more than a dozen barrels of fish, barrels worth of weapons that had since been replaced. The most important addition was something that Harry did only because he knew they would need enough money to ensure they could afford the two dozen horses he desired and the hundred chickens he wanted for their eggs so the flour he planned on producing could actually be put to good use. He condensed and superheated multiple chunks of rock, magically breaking them down of impurities in the process. The result was hundreds of diamonds that would fetch a hefty sum from some jeweler in Braavos.

Around First Forge, Harry built three towers in the woods about ten miles away from the walls for the hunters to stay in should they not be able to reach home in the night. The leader of each hunting group was provided with a key to the impervious doors as way of preventing any sort of break in. Of course, they served another purpose as well for within each of these towers Harry placed a mirror that could be used to contact him, Val, or a mirror he had place in the Hall should the hunters encounter any sort of approaching threat headed toward First Forge or the quarry.

At the moment, Harry found himself sitting in the Hall reading one of the many books that Gareth had brought with him from the Citadel. I should really venture there if for no other reason than to pilfer some more of the knowledge they have acquired over the years. The tome Harry was currently reading discussed the Others, their possible origins and most importantly their supposed weaknesses. The book had no title nor any author listed on its front. It was considerably smaller than a great deal of the other books in the maester's possession but it proved to be the most interesting in Harry's opinion.

The aforementioned maester approached Harry as he was reading and chuckled. Harry's emerald eyes locked onto his dull brown, "What is so funny Gareth?" Harry had taken to addressing the man without use of his honorific lately as it seemed to keep him from calling Harry 'my Lord'.

If Harry was honest, Gareth seemed to be adapting slightly better in the past month even going so far as to actually stop preaching his values to anyone who would listen, well not listen but just let him natter on. Of course that might be because even the children laughed at him when he would talk about the Seven. Though who knows? Maybe we'll be able to make a him a member of the Norfolk yet. He's even tried his hand in the yard once or twice from what I've heard.

"I am sorry," He bowed his head in deference that wasn't necessary, "I did not mean to offend." Harry restrained a groan. Honestly I could much better tolerate his 'observing' if he would just learn to behave like a normal human being around me. He might actually be barely worthwhile company if he could manage that.

"You did not offend me Gareth, but the question remains. What did you find funny?"

Gareth chuckled again but responded quickly, "Your choice of book is quite humorous to me."

"And why would that be?"

"It is the only book in the collection I brought with that seems to be based entirely in fantasy."

Harry raised a curious eyebrow at that, "You believe the Others are pure fantasy?"

Gareth nodded self-assuredly, "Absolutely Harry, they are nothing more than northern superstition and a wives tale used to scare disobedient children." There was a great deal of amusement in his voice that Harry did not remotely share. The view of ice blue eyes burning with their own inner light flitted across his vision.

"Well maester why bring it at all then?"

"It is one of the oldest books held by the Citadel, and pertains to a subject thought wholly unimportant in the south." Harry eyed the condition of the newish looking book skeptically, something that Gareth quickly noticed, "Let me correct that, it is a copy of one of the oldest books known to the Citadel. The original is held in Castle Black of the Night's Watch."

Harry gave a slight nod of his head before continuing his reading. Maester Gareth stayed there doing some reading of his own from a much larger tome that he had likely read before. It was twenty minutes later that Harry read something that the maester might actually be equipped to better explain, "Gareth would you happen to know what dragonglass is?"

The maester looked up from his book and gave Harry a quick nod, "The technical term for dragonglass is obsidian.. The island of Dragonstone is rich with the material as is the land to the far east known as Asshai."

"And dragon steel?"

"The few maesters who have taken the time to read that book believe it is a reference to Valyrian steel, though that is hard to believe as the rise of the dragons took place thousands of years after the Others are said to have been defeated." Harry acknowledged Gareth's explanation before going silent once again.

If the book was to be believed this was an extremely important piece of information for the future, as dragon glass and dragon steel were the only weapons capable of harming the Others. I'll have to get my hands on some of the material at some point. Dragon steel might be harder to acquire in mass as while I can reproduce some of the qualities in Valyrian steel I can't recreate all of the conditions used in its crafting. Perhaps I can develop some way of melding the two.

Harry's peaceful reading was interrupted by a question from Gareth, "Why do you truly keep me from things?"

The question was incredibly straightforward for the usually passive aggressive man, "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

Gareth a bark of a laugh escaped the middle-aged man's throat that spoke volumes of what he thought of that claim, "You may not like me Harry but at least respect me enough to understand that I am no fool." Harry furrowed his brow, "I keep you from things for the same reason you aren't accepted by most of the people here. You are from the south and you accept nothing of who we are, instead trying to change us into something you find more suitable."

"I have done what I can to correct that habit recently." Gareth attempted to defend himself.

Harry narrowed his eyes, "I am aware and I am inclined to believe it is either in some vain attempt to find yourself in my good graces or merely because you understand that it is important to your continued presence here."

Gareth smirked causing the lines around his eyes to deepen, "My reasons are my own though I can admit I have seen the error in some of my previous assumptions."

"Oh and which of those previous assumptions would you be referring to?" Harry asked lightly, he was surprised by the maester's candidness even if he didn't necessarily belief his veracity.

"The most notable would be my initial reluctance to teach the girls and young ladies as you requested. I must admit that I have been proven wrong." That was an understatement if Harry had ever heard one, "I will not say that the young boys aren't intelligent but Gilly, Munda, and Morin are certainly some of my most promising pupils."

"It must be quite the experience for you, teaching so many children at once. I imagine that had you been assigned to a proper southern castle, you likely would have only had a child or two to teach at a time. Even at the Citadel you couldn't have had more than ten or twenty acolytes at a time to train."

Gareth nodded slowly, "That is true enough, initiates don't come in great number though certainly enough to keep every castle in the kingdom manned with one of our number."

"The influence your order wields is impressive to say the least." Harry commented knowing it would likely garner a response from the man sitting opposite him.

"I'm sorry I don't follow."

Harry gave the man a look that spoke volumes of his implied naivety, "Every important ear south of the Wall has a maester whispering advice. For every lord that doesn't listen to those whispers a dozen do. Tell me, is that not power?"

The maester looked at him eyebrows arched, "We do not do anything but advise."

"Hmmm, well I cannot speak to the validity of that claim as I have never been to the kingdoms but it seems a suspect thing to me."

"Is that why you keep me at arm's length in all things, so that I can't influence you the same way those of my order those in the south?"

Harry chuckled, "Amongst other things Gareth, amongst other things." They fell back into a far more comfortable silence after that until thirty minutes later Harry finished the book he was reading. He placed on a table in the Hall before making his way back toward his home.

Val was waiting for him there nursing Trystan at her breast while Emer slept peacefully, "I had an interesting conversation with Gareth. He seems to have had a slight epiphany since arriving here."

Val raised one eyebrow in question, "Surely you jest?"

Harry shook his head with a small smile on his face, "Not even slightly, we had a surprisingly open conversation while I read an extremely interesting book."

"And what was the good maester's epiphany?" There was more than a hint of sarcasm in Val's voice.

"Essentially… it was the realization that women have the same kind of penchant for learning as men." Harry said in a monotone. They looked at each other for a short moment before they both broke out laughing.

"He only just now realized this? Perhaps Del, or Osha, or I should meet him in the yard and show him that women can wield a weapon with the same skill as a man too."

"The man would be flat on his back in ten seconds against anyone of you love," Harry said before leaning in to place a quick kiss on Val's lips.

As they pulled back she had a contemplative look on her beautiful face, "Do you think you might be able to turn him to our way of thinking even after having heard Bloodraven's warning?" Val asked genuinely curious though quite skeptical.

Harry shrugged, "There are no guarantees with prophecy, and as such the way in which I might cause the grey rats to fail could vary greatly. Preferably, Gareth would end up stealing some woman and adopting our way while still providing his superiors in the south with reports."

"And failing that, at the rate some of his students are progressing, he could be removed with more than one person to replace him in the next few months." Harry nodded his agreement. Either Gareth changes or he dies. Compulsions are a possibility but if he really opposes us they are liable not to take. A mind can take simple suggestions but if it is against his very nature he is far more likely to notice.

That part of their conversation ended as Harry went about preparing them dinner while Val tended to the children.

It was two weeks later that the trade ships returned laden with even more than he expected. They had bought more crops that would be planted in short order but more importantly Dagon proved to be an extremely skilled tradesman. Harry was properly shocked when sixty horses made their way out of the hold and onto dry land. The hundred chickens along with twenty roosters weren't quite as shocking but no less welcome.

When Harry approached Dagon about it he merely chuckled, "The men I spoke to in Braavos were quite complementary of my silver-tongue, or at least that is what they called it. The woman I took to bed was more inclined to call it a golden tongue."

Harry's eyes narrowed, "Please tell me you didn't hire some whore or steal some woman on the streets."

Dagon noticed the slight edge in Harry's voice and quickly made to assuage his fears, "I did no such thing, I promise ye that." He continued with earnestness Harry wasn't expecting, "Some people, not many mind you, might not agree with some of the things you do but me… well let's just say that I have never loved anything so much in my life as I do sailing. I never would have had the opportunity it if not for you." Dagon sighed, "So when you tell me I'm not to pay some whore or steal any woman not of the Free Folk, I listen and I make sure everyone on the crew listened as well."

Harry was silent for a long moment, "Well a golden tongue sounds like quite the compliment then, though I think I appreciate the silver far more." They both laughed at that before walking from the docks.

Later that same day, Harry found himself sitting in the Hall at one of the circular tables. As per usual, Val was sitting at his right hand. To Val's right was Dalla, then Torwynd, Dagon, Yorik, Del, Osha, Ferny, Mella, a man named Qarl, Toregg and finally to Harry's left Tormund. Harry hadn't had much interaction with Qarl but the man was said to be among the best of the carpenters and been among the first shipwrights. Clearly the man has some talent when it comes to woodworking.

Looking at the assembled people Harry couldn't help the pleased smile that split his face. Here we have the most influential people in First Forge, from the healers to the warriors, and from the sailors to the hunters. I wonder if the southern kingdoms can boast such a council. It is almost as though they are the leaders of their guilds and this is a meeting of the minds.

Dalla was the one currently speaking, "We will need more land to raise crops and tend livestock if we keep up at this pace. We now have over a hundred aurochs, over a hundred new birds, thirty sheep, two dozen pigs, and not to mention nearly seventy horses. If it were the livestock alone we would have more than enough room but we are also planting new crops and should we continue at this pace I have no doubt that we will run out of room within these walls." She turned to Harry as she finished who looked entirely unconcerned.

Few in the room actually understood why, only Mella who had been among the rune carvers on the now completed wall along the peninsula and Val knew of his excursions to Starrold's Point. Harry took a deep breath, not entirely sure how this proposal would go over despite the fact he knew the area was no longer haunted, "What do you propose then?"

Dalla shrugged, "We either find somewhere else that crops can be sown and livestock tended or we stop expanding that part of the city and in turn stop allowing the population of First Forge to grow."

"And obviously we can't expand farther north because of the mine further west because of the forest, or further south because of the Antler and the threat posed by the crows. That leaves us with one option we go east." Even as Harry finished the murmurs of discontent started up.

"But where to the east?" Tormund began, "Surely you cannot mean Hardhome?"

"Hardhome is gone as is the curse that rested there." Harry looked to Yorik and Dagon, "You sailed by Storrold's Point just a day ago, did you notice anything different about the place?"

Dagon murmured a response while Yorik looked more contemplative, "It was dark when we sailed by Hardhome and we tried to keep our distance. I couldn't see much but there was something different about the area, like the dread so common there had been lifted."

Harry nodded appreciatively, "Thank you," he regarded the rest of the people gathered, "I have spent months now preparing that area for settlement. There are new homes, new docks, and new walls but most importantly there are hundreds of miles of open land, not limited by forest or river and perfect for expansion."

Ferny's elderly voice cut through the other murmurs, "How exactly was this curse lifted? It has been there hundreds of years with not but rumors as to its origins."

It was a fair question and one that Harry felt obligated to answer, "The dread there wasn't actually caused by a curse but by the presence of the lingering apparitions of those who died when Hardhome was destroyed. I used a little known magical technique to enter the ethereal world and speak with the lingering souls."

"So ghosts?" Asked Del, clearly not a hundred percent accustom to the word apparition.

"In a manner of speaking yes, they weren't actually strong enough to be visible but their distress could certainly be felt."

"What happened there?" asked Tormund gruffly. Harry would always appreciate that about the man, he was never one to beat around the bush.

"The Dragon Lords of Valyria came and took everyone they could captive, most of the souls that lingered there died trying to stop them… even if it was hopeless." Harry added the last mostly to himself.

"Can ya take us there?" Osha asked curiously, "So we migh' know for ourselve' whether or not wha' you say is true?"

This reaction was better than he had hoped for, "I will take all of you there soon so that you might see for yourselves the truth of what I have to say. At which point I would hope I can trust each of you to help convince the rest of the people here that the area is no longer cursed, you three in particular. " He gestured toward Yorik, Dagon and Dalla. Everyone nodded their agreement.

Harry smiled, "Excellent, any other business." The meeting went on in that vein for quite a while longer. Harry was informed of their surplus in fish, something that he still found impressive. Obviously he didn't want to over fish the area, but there seemed to be an endless supply in the Shivering Sea. Every day ships would go out fishing and when they returned they were laden with hundreds upon hundreds of fish of varying different species. Harry could only imagine that with a port on Starrold's Point they would be able to increase their surplus even more. We will need it as the Norfolk population continues growing. We did reach over 15,000 last week.

Tormund and Toregg both told those gathered about the successful training given to their many warriors, "The archers seem to love their longbows and more than one have fashioned themselves their own from the broken boughs of the nearby weirwoods. Strong stuff those are, they'll last generations."

"And the new tactics I asked you to implement?"

"They're getting that shield wall of yours down well enough, granted it doesn't come as easily to them as shooting an arrow does to the hunters who have taken up the longbow. I swear to the gods though some of the men have fashioned themselves spears longer than themselves just so they can compensate for the one between their legs." This caused a laugh to go among the people there.

Ferny was pleased with the new herbs that had been acquired and were now being grown. She and about thirty other women took to dealing with the smaller health issues that would arise. Their herbal remedies proved to be nearly as good as some of the potions he used.

Mella and the now fifty different rune carvers, still applied the runes to near everything that was built whether Harry had any intention of powering them or not. They had become a decoration of sorts that would likely someday become synonymous with the Norfolk. She was also amongst the women who worked with the wool that was being gathered from the sheep. She could not tell him what exactly but apparently some of the younger girls had taken to working on something in secret.

Osha and Del both informed Harry that hunting was business as usual. There was little surprise in that, they did not need to hunt any more than they did before the building of First Forge as the deer that once needed to last weeks could now be supplemented by the many fish in their storehouse.

Qarl had little to say but was happy when Harry informed him that they would continue making new ships. The man clearly enjoyed his new craft.

Torwynd was happy to hear that he would be making two more sets of gates for the walls around the new port and the wall that blocked the peninsula. They were already planning on making the many horseshoes necessary for the new equines brought to First Forge.

There was one more issue, again raised by Dalla, "The maester is bound to notice something amiss when it comes to our food production. From what I know of southern farming they reap their crops once a year. Thanks to your knowledge of Herbology, as you call it, we manage it three and sometimes four times a year. Gareth might be an annoyance but he isn't stupid.

Harry gave a brief raise of his shoulders, "I'm sure the man has already noticed more than one oddity but he doesn't know the specifics of how they take place. That is the best we can hope for on the matter as long as he is here."

Tormund snorted, "At least the grey clad fucker has become less of an annoyance of late."

"Aye," Harry chuckled, "I think we can all agree with that." The meeting broke up after that each returning to their duties. Val and Harry walked back to their home at a sedate pace, trusting that Gilly and Munda would be able to handle the twins a little longer.

They were surprised to find Gareth outside of their home. He wasn't trying to force his way in or doing anything untoward. He just looked as though he was waiting for them.

"Ah Harry," He smiled at their approach, "there was some news while you were busy in the Hall, I thought it best not to bother you so waited for your return."

"And what news is there?" Harry asked evenly.

"One of the guards from the wall came to inform you that there is a visitor at the western gate, a members of the Night's Watch to be specific."

Harry was slightly perplexed by this. There is a mirror at the gate they could have used to contact me directly. Oh well maybe they just forgot at the time, it is new to them after all. "Thank you Gareth, I will head to the wall immediately." The maester nodded before leaving them. Harry walked up to their door and opened it for Val, they both stepped through to find Gilly and Munda trying to calm the twins.

"They are probably hungry," Val said knowingly. She gave harry a quick peck on the lips, "See you soon." Harry smiled before turning on the spot and disappearing with a barely audible pop.

The gates were closed again, something that only happened when there was a possible threat. Harry acknowledged the guards who looked down at him from the walls before with a flick of his wrist he opened both the inner and outer gates. Waiting for him on the other side was a face he hadn't seen since his very first day in Westeros.

"Benjen Stark, to what do I owe the pleasure." Harry's voice was genial, though there was a clear demand in it. He subtly cast a Muffliato around them to ensure the conversation was private

"I'm here to speak to you about the letter you sent me."

Harry chuckled, "You could simply have sent a return letter with the owl."

"I did not think you would want the marvelous animal detained for long and since I felt the need to wait for my brother's response before contacting you again, I thought it best to send her back." Benjen meant what he said about the owl. He never thought to meet a bird who could find one man out of thousands.

Harry gave a small wave his hand, "If ever this happens again, keep the owl until you have need to reply. I have more than one and very few people to communicate with. It is certainly safer than a single crow coming to First Forge all alone." Harry prodded the younger man.

The black brother nodded, though there was a smirk upon his usually straight face, "I will remember that in future Harry Potter, but I wouldn't worry about my traveling the Haunted Forest alone. There are few wildlings who know it as well as me."

Harry's eyes narrowed minutely, "Tell that to the wargs who walk between the trees with the ears of a wolf or fly above it with the eyes of a hawk."

Benjen really couldn't argue Harry's point so decided to get to the real reason he had come, "The warning you gave me, do you understand what it implies?"

"Warnings can have a hundred meanings," Harry began cryptically, "as such it could imply any number of things." Benjen made to speak but Harry silenced him with a raised hand, "That being said, I know which implication likely concerns you. The Baratheons will be the death of the Starks or more precisely your brother, and your nephew will fight the Lannisters."

"I see you have learned about the southern houses." Benjen said with an appraising eye.

"I have." Harry replied simply, "so what is your lord brother's opinion on the warning?"

"Ned is skeptical, particularly because you did not provide us with the source of this warning. He cannot imagine how the Baratheons could cause his death, considering Robert is his closest friend and my brother has as little to do with Tywin Lannister as he can manage." Harry had a feeling that Benjen agreed with his brother's assessment.

"I can tell you that the warning came from an old greenseer, something rare even in the North as far as I am to understand it."

"Unheard of in this age," Benjen hesitated a moment, "I will inform Ned of your source and see what he has to say. If nothing else he may be more cautious and that is never a bad thing."

Harry chuckled, "If that is all you had to ask I think this was a wasted journey Benjen. It was good to see you again but I am afraid my people would not appreciate if I were to offer up our hospitality."

"That isn't all," Benjen shook his shoulder to remove some the snow that had gathered on his black cloak, "I have something for you as well, a warning for a warning you might say." Harry looked at him expectantly, awaiting further elaboration.

"There have been reports from some of the black brothers who range to the west of here, they say that the Weeper has come east from the Frozen Shore and is now making camp along the Milkwater. There is rumor that he along with Harma and Rattleshirt plan to join together to see you removed. It is believed these are all the schemes of Mance Rayder, you might remember the name."

Harry did in fact remember the name, "Together they number what 18,000?"

"Twenty but that is if you include the women and children who can't fight."

"And the Thenns have no intention of joining this supposed alliance?" Harry had no doubt they could beat back the likely 14,000 or 15,000 fighters the three leaders could muster but the task would be infinitely more difficult if they had the Thenns to contend with.

Fortunately Benjen actually scoffed at the very idea, "No, the Thenns would not join with that lot unless there were something far more dire nipping at their heels." He rubbed his chin for a moment, "In fact, I would be inclined to say the Thenns would be far more amenable to the idea of joining you than they would any of the other wildlings." Harry knew that Val thought much the same thing. The Thenns had far more in common with the people of First Forge than they did with the likes of the Weeper.

"We will keep an eye on the situation."

"That would be wise, while I doubt anything shall come of it anytime soon it is better to be prepared than not."

Harry certainly agreed with that statement, "So tell me Benjen, does the Lord Commander know that you came to speak with me?"

Benjen didn't try to lie, it wasn't in his nature, "He knows nothing of this visit. While as of now he holdd no ill will toward this place, especially after hearing how you saved one of our most experienced brothers from near certain death; he would not be what one would call happy about my coming here, particularly as I am his First Ranger."

"Congratulations First Ranger," Harry still remembered the brief argument Benjen and Qhorin had that first night, "but why come at all then?"

Benjen looked to the north along the wall and then to the south before returning his attention to Harry, "Because what you're doing here is a good thing and even the Lord Commander can't argue that. And in my own way, I am partially responsible for what is happening here." Harry arched an eyebrow at that.

"Not in the actual construction of it," Benjen said with a brief laugh, "but had I told you nothing of the Free Folk and their plight, had I not given you the option of parting from us, you would have returned with us to Castle Black and you'd be working some trade in the south." Harry had the good sense not to laugh at Benjen when he implied they actually could have kept him from leaving had that been his desire. Still he has a point, had they told me nothing of the Free Folk I likely would have gone with them south.

"I suppose that is true. My people would be positively livid to find out they owe some part of their good fortune to a crow." Harry quipped. They shared a good laugh before he extended his hand, "It was good to see you again Benjen."

"Likewise," With that the First Ranger turned to the horse he had tied off nearby, mounted up and rode away.

Harry apperated back into his home to find Val alone and waiting for him, "So what did the crow want?"

"It was Benjen Stark and he wanted to discuss the letter I sent." And so he went about telling his wife about the conversation he just had.

When he was finished Val was had a quick response ready, "You should tell Tormund about what's happening in the west."

"I planned on doing just that tomorrow."

"Good," then a mischievous glint came into her eye, "now come to bed, the babies are asleep and should be for some time. I want you now." Harry was not going to argue with her. The babies were blessedly quiet for the next hour.

The next morning Harry found Tormund speaking with his son and informed him of the situation. Tormund smiled, "We'll crush the little fuckers and make them wish they never dared do move against us."

Harry nodded, "That we will, but I truly have no idea when this threat might come. They haven't joined forces yet and something tells me it won't be a quick process, should give you plenty of time to prepare."

At that moment Osha approached them, "Oi Harry, there's a problem headed toward the quarry."

"What sort of problem?" Harry asked quickly.

"A group of cannibals approachin' from the north, we just got a message from the guard tower you up there."

"Did the hunter tell you how many there were?"

"He said there was somethin' like a hundred of them headin' through the forest."

Harry nodded turning his attention to Tormund, "Gather 200 fighters, looks like we have to go and teach some bastards a lesson about attacking our people."

"Aye it would appear so, I'll have 'em ready in but a moment."

"I will be back shortly," Harry responded curtly before disappearing only to reappear inside his home. He donned his armor quickly and strapped a sword to his hip.

Just five minutes later Harry arrived back in the yard to find that Tormund had already arranged the fighters, including fifty archers, he wanted along for the fight. All of them looked ready for a fight. Not presently knowing where Gareth was and not wanting to disappear out of thin air so close to where the man usually was Harry had them march a mile toward the northern gate before creating a portkey that put them just outside of the quarry.

The miners appeared none the wiser to the situation, simply going about their business as usual. Harry approached one of them, a large man with the big arms necessary for such hard labor and told him to gather everyone and take them back inside the walls. Seeing the fighters arrayed behind Harry he did just that.

So Tormund and Harry waited side by side, their soldiers behind them, for the cannibals to arrive. Harry figured he'd give them the opportunity to turn back. While he wanted to give his fighters an opportunity to employ some of their new tactics even if it wasn't in a large scale fight, he wouldn't risk lives unnecessarily. Though, we should be able to handle a hundred cannibals without any injury, particularly with the archers here.

Harry never even had a chance to offer the option of retreat. The cannibals exited the forest only to stop dead in their tracks. The man who was apparently the leader stepped forward and eyed the gathered Norfolk seeming searching for someone. His beady almost black eyes locked on Harry. The man pointed one of his large and gnarled fingers in his direction, "I challenge you." The voice was accented heavily and Harry wouldn't be surprised if the man knew very little of the common tongue.

The statement caught everyone by surprise. How does the man even know to address me instead of say Tormund? It doesn't really matter though I am going to have to fight him. Decision made, Harry went to step forward only to feel Tormund grasp his arm before he could. He looked to the older man, "You don' have to do this you know."

Harry actually laughed at him while casting a glance over at the two hundred people following them. It's funny to imagine that is how many people this all started with four years ago. "You're wrong Tormund, how long after I refuse before the entirety of First Forge hears of it?"

"A day Harry, but most would think no differently, something that couldn't have been said before you. Men respect the strong yes but they follow you for other reasons." Harry was surprised and pleased to hear this but knew that wasn't true for everyone.

He shook his head, "You might be right Tormund, but if I do this none of those men and women back there will be at risk." The red haired man at his side relented and relinquished his hold on his arm.

With a flick of his wrist the Elder wand fell into Harry's hand but not to attack, instead casting a translation charm figuring the man would only be capable of speaking the old Tongue outside of that one phrase.

The two men met about a hundred yards from the quarry. This cannibal leader was about Harry's height with dark hair and dark eyes. He had a disgusting scar along his right cheek and rotting teeth that shown clearly visible in his malicious smile. He was larger than Harry appearing to be all big muscles where Harry was wiry strength. He hefted a massive club in his hand made of weirwood and topped with a black stone.

Harry drew his sword as he came closer. The man in front of him spoke and despite the fact he could understand it Harry could still tell that it was in fact the Old Tongue, something he would no doubt hear with increasing frequency as more people joined the Norfolk. More Free Folk speak the old tongue than not from what I hear. "One of my men found yours in the wood just near our camp half dead about six weeks ago."

Harry wasn't expecting the ugly man to explain himself before he died but would humor him nonetheless, "Which one of my men would that be?" Harry's voice came out in the same foreign tongue.

"Grimbold was his name or at least that is what he told us before he died. We killed him slow, took him piece by piece until he told us everything he could about where he came from." Apparently the cannibal leader expected Harry to react but he got nothing but apathy. I didn't expect the man to last that long, thought he'd die within a night or two. Next time I'll do something to ensure the perpetrator can't be giving others information.

Harry just grinned maliciously, "Thank you for finishing off that piece of shit, there was a reason he was cast out after all. Now I've had enough of your yammering." With that Harry brought his sword up into a guard as the muscled man in front of him swung his club in a great arch. He dodged the blow and when the club made contact with the ground it sprayed up an immense amount of dirt, rock and snow. It shot up into the air and hit Harry directly in the face.

As Harry cleared his vision he was only just quick enough to avoid the shaft of the man's weapon from hitting him in the face. He ducked quickly and rolled coming up at the cannibal's side. He thrust the sword forward making a shallow cut just below the cannibal's hip. He didn't cry out, in fact he barely even reacted instead bringing his meaty hand across and giving Harry a hard smack to the head.

Harry tumbled backward momentarily before righting himself. The cannibal advanced on him jabbing out with the club right at Harry's head. He deflected the blow pushing it down in a smooth movement that left his opponent off balance. His sharp blade bit into leather, human leather, used to shield the cannibal's shoulders. The cut sank deep into the skin and Harry wouldn't be surprised if it had come very near the bone.

When they pulled away from each other the cannibal was smiling. He spit in Harry's direction before speaking, "Is that the best you have you little shit, from what your former follower said I expected more." Harry wasn't one for banter so he just kept right up the attack. The cannibal continued his taunting between grunts at each blocked or dodged blow of Harry's blade, "Grimbold told me all about your lovely pregnant woman, I wonder if she's had her little whelp yet?" Harry's intensity increased, his blows raining down with more ferocity. His opponent continued on the defensive and certainly appeared to be at a disadvantage but Harry knew this trick, anger your superior opponent to the point where they make a mistake.

"She has I'm sure." The man's voice was disgustingly lascivious as he continued, "I am going to take your pretty woman after I crush your head on the ground. I'm going to fuck her bloody and then I am going to take your child put it in a pot and it eat it whole while I force her to watch." Harry's rage boiled over and his emerald eyes began burning like torches in their sockets.

Harry made another swing intentionally leaving an opening, the man took the bait only for Harry to counter by jumping aside and bringing his sword down hard. The cut connected severing the cannibal's left hand at the wrist and forcing him to drop his great club. A spray of blood shot out and splashed Harry across the cheek.

This injury caused him to scream out and the smile that crossed Harry's face at the noise would have caused shivers to go up any man's spine. Harry whipped flicked his wrist and once again his wand was in his hand. He doesn't get off with just the stroke of a sword. With a deft movement the man's gushing wound burned him terribly as it cauterized instantly, more screams were pulled from his throat.

When his screams ceased, Harry spoke loud enough so that both the cannibals who were watching in shocked horror and the Norfolk who had never seen their leader this angry could hear, "You're going to regret threatening my family. It would have given you a quick death if you had just kept your fucking mouth shut," there was a malevolent gleam in his eye that could only possibly come out when someone he loved dearly was threatened, "now you're going to scream a hundred times over, until your voice is hoarse, before you die."

There was real fear in the man's eyes now and he shivered visibly as Harry stepped away and pointed his wand. Harry hadn't used the curse that left his lips in a very long time, "Crucio." The cannibal leader's screams rent the air instantly after the red spell struck his chest.

Harry watched apathetically as the man writhed around on the ground in unimaginable pain. Harry pushed more and more magic into the spell until a full two minutes later he released it. He wasn't done though. Let this be lesson that no one ever threatens my family.

A pale blue light left his wand, Harry didn't even utter a word as it shot out from the tip. The Cruciatus Curse attacked the nerves and the muscles. The less common spell that now left Harry's wand was called the Blood Burner. Every vein in the man's body seemed to pop out as he writhed in pain again. His eyes were wide as the irises looked as though they would bleed after turning a vivid red. After just a minute Harry lifted this curse, the man started pleading for the end but they only fell on deaf ears.

Harry proceeded to shatter every bone in the man's body, and as promised by the time he was done the cannibal leader could no longer even scream from the pain, instead only pitiful whimpers escaped from his throat.

There were other spells he could have used but Harry decided he had done enough. Well one more bit of pain before the end wouldn't do any harm, "Fiendfyre" The cursed fire leapt from his wand in the shape of a vicious bird, and turned the despicable being to ash in a moment but only after pulling one more pained noise from his broken body and mind. With little effort Harry reeled back in the cursed fire before it roared out of control. He stared at the scorched earth for a long moment before turning to see that the other cannibals were still standing there in horrified silence. When Harry's still burning emerald eyes locked on them they ran in the opposite direction as fast as they could.

Harry let them run instead turning to his people. He noticed that the miners were watching from the walls as well but at the moment he couldn't bring himself to care, "We're leaving." He gestured to the same portkey they had used to travel there and once everybody had grasped the large hoop they found themselves in the yard again. Tormund was staring not in fear, or terror, or even surprise, he just stared.

Harry gave him a hard look though there was no real anger behind it, "What?"

Tormund shook his head slowly, "I always knew there was more to what you can do than just creating. You destroyed that man, and I don't blame you for it but it was an experience."

Harry seemed to deflate, "It's not something I enjoy doing but sometimes a point needs to be made."

Tormund nodded slowly before looking around at the other fighters who had gone with them, "They won't keep quiet about this Harry. Everybody is going to know including that maester."

Harry scowled, "I'm aware, but it's better he learn what I am capable of this way where it might actually make him think twice about crossing me. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to find Val and my children." He apparated away without waiting for a response.

Val was sitting in their home playing with Trystan and Emer but when she saw Harry she immediately stood to check on him, "Don't worry the blood isn't mine. Did no one tell you where I've been?"

She shook her head, as she went about washing the dried blood from his face, "No though I could see you were just outside of the quarry on the map, what happened?"

Harry went to pick up both of his children from the furs on the floor before he began telling her exactly what had happened and what he did. Val listened silently and slightly shocked. She knew he was capable of such things, he had told her as much when he explained some of what was used in the war in his own world. When he finished he seemed to be awaiting her reaction. She didn't say anything, instead just leaning into him as they cuddled their two children between them.

For the next week, Harry couldn't help but feel more than one person looked at him apprehensively though no one actually made comment about it. He ignored it having learned to do so quite well at Hogwarts. At least this time there is actually a reason people are looking at me that way. It was fortunate that most were still treating him as the always had, Tormund continued to tell his ludicrous stories, Gilly and Munda would still talk to him enthusiastically and Osha was still brash as ever.

Harry took the time to take Val and all of the others to the rebuilt Hardhome, a place he still needed to think of a new name for, they were impressed to say the least.

Dalla had been the most vocal in her belief that it should be settled sooner rather than later when she saw the vast expanse of land that, with Harry's help, would quickly become suitable for increased farming. There was one thing that Harry wanted to discuss as they walked on the streets along the still empty houses.

"That area over there," it was a large flat stretch of earth with little just north of the rest of the settlement, "I think it is time to build a proper castle." The statement caught everyone off guard even Val.

Osha snorted loudly, "So you have somewhere to lord from?"

Harry gave a small smile, "No, quite the opposite. I want to build a castle here so that should there be any threat, the Norfolk have somewhere defensible to retreat." Osha and Del seemed skeptical, while Val seemed contemplative and Dalla seemed entirely disinterested. "It is also worth noting that a proper castle would deter any hostiles from attacking this new town the same way the Dragon Lords did 600 years ago."

That statement seemed to sway Tormund and Toregg, "If it will keep the people safe then have at it. But if you start throwing fancy parties and forcing people to wear frilly clothes I'll smack the fuckin' shit out you." The elder of the two told him with a strong pat on the back.

Harry gave a fully bellied laugh at that, "I think that's fair my friend. So I trust you will spread the word that this place isn't what it once was?" Everybody nodded there agreement, "Good then we can return." Harry made a portkey that deposited them just outside of the northern gate to First Forge. Instead of apparating the Harry walked with the others back toward the shore. As he and Val walked through the door they were met with the sound of angry squawking as Tyll held a raven tightly in her grip. Gilly was glaring at the bird as she did what she could to keep Trystan and Emer calm. The silencing charms that kept noise out external noise away from their cribs certainly helped in that regard

Harry quickly silenced the bird while Val went over to Gilly. Harry pulled the note from the raven's leg and quickly read.

Val was looking at him expectantly, "Well what news from awaits Gareth from the Citadel?"

"Not news commands, it seems they weren't happy with what he managed to learn." Harry paused to reroll the letter, "Let's just say he and I will be having words after he reads this message."

AN: Hope everybody likes the chapter, let me know what you think.

Now here is that timeline, it honestly took me longer than expected.

Timeline of events (AC "After the Conquest")

289 AC- Harry arrives fifty miles from the Wall near the Milkwater. He is found by Qhorin Halfhand and meets Benjen Stark.

-Two days after his arrival Harry is introduced to Craster. He pilfers the man's mind for information on the Free Folk.

- The next day Harry leaves the the group of Night's Watch members to challenge Tormund Giantsbane. He encounters a weirwood tree for the first time and senses multiple presences. Harry wins challenge and takes control of the clan.

-Harry builds a forge, taking on apprentice blacksmiths. He provides his new people with high quality steel. The material is conjured. As a result Harry trains multiple people in rune carving to keep it from breaking down.

-A month after gaining leadership Harry attacks a clan led by Arvyn, a man who insulted Tormund. Those of the enemy number who survive the fight are brought into Harry's clan, a new practice,

- Two weeks later Harry returns to Craster's Keep, kills him and brings his daughter-wives to join the clan. He takes every scrap of food from the larder preserving more than one crop for future use.

- They spend another month north of Craster's Keep before making a journey east to the coast, after noticing an increase of Night's Watch presence. He takes with him the forge he built in the camp.

- The journey includes various fights that see their numbers increased to over 1,000, including Ulf and Del who will become influential among his people.

-After six weeks they reach the coast. They take up permanent residence near a series of hot springs. The transported forge is placed as a focal point giving the settlement its name, First Forge.

-Ships are built for the purpose of fishing in the Shivering Sea. Fish become the most abundant food source for First Forge.

- Harry searches out a rumored group of aurochs. His first meeting with Val. She takes him to the aurochs. When departing, Harry invites Val should she wish to come to First Forge.

-Things progress with little hostility. Crops are sown, fisherman gain experience and permanent houses are installed over the next nine months.

290 AC- Population of First Forge has increased to over 2,000

-The Hall, First Forge's largest building is completed.

-A month after Harry's year anniversary in Westeros , Val along with 800 other Free Folk arrive at First Forge

-Val provides Harry with an education on the various Free Folk leaders, including Harma, Rattleshirt, the Weeper, Alfyn Crowkiller, Varamyr, and Styr the Magnar of Thenn. She becomes one of the most important members of First Forge, having a great deal of versatility.

-First encounter with a crow since starting First Forge occurs. Harry heals Ser Jaremy Rykker after he is attacked by a direwolf.

-Progress continues. Crops grow with the help of Harry's magic at a greater rate than they would otherwise. The blacksmiths have progressed to the point where they are producing better quality weapons. With the help of Tormund, unit cohesion is implemented amongst the fighters of First Forge.

291 AC- Population has grown to over 4,000 all are housed in permanent buildings.

- Harry is 'stolen' by Val after she tires of his procrastination with regards to their mutual attraction.

-Six months into the year attacks begin against First Forge's hunters by other Free Folk in the area. Reports indicate the attacks are perpetrated by men loyal to Alfyn Crowkiller. Harry orders that one of these attackers be captured for questioning.

-Three months later a man is taken captive. He tells Harry the Crowkiller's motives and his intent to see First Forge destroyed, Harry murdered and their goods stolen.

- Over the next three months, plans are made to attack Alfyn despite being outnumbered by 1,500 fighters. Additions made to their naval forces to shuttle 1,000 men led by Tormund north in order to flank the enemy. 500 fighters are held in reserve to defend the settlement.

- The fight against Alfyn Crowkiller occurs just two weeks before the end of the year. The fighters of First Forge while outnumbered prove to be the more cohesive and skilled and defeat Crowkiller's forces with minimal losses. Harry kills Alfyn after Tormund's son Toregg is injured. The surviving members of Alfyn's forces are offered the opportunity to join First Forge. After seeing Harry's efforts in healing Toregg, all agree.

-That night Harry is forced to discipline Erik, a young man who attempted to steal from the beaten people. While ensuring that everything else was progressing peacefully he feels a weirwood tree seemingly looking at him. Upon touching the tree he receives a vision and a request to visit a great weirwood tree further to the north.

-Upon return to First Forge he is informed of a discovery by two of the young girls, Gilly and Munda. They believed they found an iron vein.

-That night Harry apparates to the great weirwood. He meets Leaf one of the last of the Children of the Forest and Brynden Rivers, known as Bloodraven, a greenseer. He is given a warning and a recommendation. As a result, Harry makes plans to venture to the east and trade in Braavos.

-The next day Harry begins the process of building walls around the city.

291 AC- The population of First Forge has reached over 10,000.

-A month after starting, the walls are finished complete with various runes to ensure stability.

-Harry with the aid of Munda and Gilly, locates the iron vein and begins the process of mining the ore. He sets up a small group of homes and walls them off for the future minors.

-A road is created from First Forge to the mine for transportation of the ore.

-Dalla, Val's sister, suggests the usage of aurochs as cart pullers to transport the ore from mine to forge.

-Harry makes preparations for the journey to Braavos, magically modifying a ship to allow for greater hold space.

-On the day of his departure Harry provides Val with a mirror that will allow for their continued communication while he is away.

-A storm forces them to make landfall ten day's into their journey. They hunt the area instead of eating their own goods.

-Lord Rickard Karstark approaches them about their illegal poaching on their land. Things nearly come to violence and Harry is forced to modify the memories of all of the Karstark men. One is able to resist enough to inform the maester of the supposed events sometime later.

-The voyage begins again the next day. They reach Braavos after thirty-five days sailing.

-New livestock and crops are acquired. Harry barter's his way into possession of a Valyrian steel dagger and buys various books on the history of Westeros. He pays a visit to the House of Black and White and meets the First Sword of Braavos, Syrio Forel.

-The return journey takes place with no issue. Harry begins teaching Val how to read through the mirrors. She informs him of her pregnancy. The return takes twenty-four days, the entire trip just under two months.

-It is at this time that King Robert Baratheon first hears news of First Forge and Harry from Varys. Grand Maester Pyecelle suggests sending a maester and the king agrees. Eddard Stark is visited by his brother and told much the same news though he is unconcerned considering their apparent goals.

-At First Forge, the new crops are planted. Greenhouses are built for fruits and distilleries installed for the production of vodka.

-Five months after arriving back Harry learns the art of warging from a woman named Briar. He connects with a snowy owl that he names Tyll.

- Val has learned to read and when Harry is unable has taken to teaching children the skill.

-Ulf is murdered by a new arrival to First Forge named Grimbold. Harry strips the murderer of all belongings and has him exiled.

-The next day Harry ventures to Hardhome and learns of the Valyrian involvement in its downfall. By confronting the lingering spirits there he is able to remove the supposed curse that caused hesitancy from the Free Folk. He begins the work necessary to make the area habitable that same day, Harry is called back to First Forge where there is a new arrival, Maester Gareth. The man is admitted and given the duty of teaching all of the children of First Forge. He provides dozens of new books as well as the city's first horses.

-Through Tyll, Harry is able to locate more owls on which he performs a ritual turning them into messenger owls. He builds an owlery which greatly irritates Gareth. Harry uses one of the owls to inform Benjen of the warning he received from Bloodraven. He receives no reply.

-A month later Val goes into labor, after a near twenty hour labor she gives birth to twins. They are named Tyrstan and Emer.

-Harry sets up protections for his newborn children and at Val's urging sets up warding around First Forge. He creates a Marauder's Map of First Forge, which also provides the exact population of the city.

-Gareth sends his first letter back to the Citadel. Harry uses Tyll to intercept and read the message.

292 AC- Population of First Fore exceeds 15,000

-Harry continues building up the area around what was once Hardhome, including docks, walls, and roads.

-Second trade ship is sent to Braavos captained by Yorik and Dagon, and its design improved to allow for faster travel.

-Harry reads a book brought by Gareth discussing the Others. It speaks of their weaknesses, including dragonglass or obsidian. He considers finding a way to gather some of the material.

-Harry builds forward guard towers ten miles from the walls of First Forge to be used for advanced warning.

-Trade ship returns with horses, chickens, and even more crops. There is a meeting that same day led by Harry and includes all of the most influential people in the city. Harry compares it to a meeting of guild leaders. Dalla, who is the most knowledgeable on farming, claims they need more space to continue advancing. Harry recommends Storrold's Point, there is some discontent but those present agree to visit and see for themselves whether or not the place is no longer cursed.

-Harry is visited by Benjen Stark to discuss the letter he sent without the Lord Commander's knowledge. Benjen informed Eddard of the warning and asked for more detail on who Harry heard the warning from. Before leaving, Benjen tells Harry of possible threats posed by movement of the powerful wildling leaders to the east .

-The next day there is a warning from one of the hunters of cannibals approaching the mine. Harry and Tormund take 200 fighters to defend against the roughly 100 cannibals. The leader of the cannibals attacked after learning of Harry and First Forge from a nearly dead Grimbold. The man challenges Harry to a fight single combat. Harry accepts and over the course of the fight the opposing leader describes in detail the terrible things he intends to do to Val and his children. After beating the man with his blade, Harry inflects immense pain on him through magic.

-Harry takes those he promised to the new town at Storrold's Point. It is agreed that the town shall be used. Harry desires to build a castle there as a last defense should the worst happen.

8. Chapter 8

AN:As always thank you for all of the reviews. I know some people aren't necessarily fond of this but I am going to continue responding to guest reviews here. I do try and keep it brief.

I Myself Her: Haha nice South Park reference, though Harry and Tormund are friends...

80's Poet: Glad you love the story, but I'm not going to stop writing something I very much enjoy just because of the popularity of this. Particularly, when I am nearing the end of 'No One, No More'.

8ingo: I have. Technically he has already met the Starks if you consider Benjen but the first that actually seeks Harry out will be from the south.

idea 4 u: Interesting idea, I'll certainly consider it :)

randomanon: Harry is hoping to give the Free Folk a better way of life, one that doesn't see them living from month to month and nearly dying out in the winters. He does have concerns when it comes to possible threats.

Tywin Lannister: I haven't played the Telltale games so probably not and there might be invasion attempts.

reader: Most of the Free Folk in First Forge's immediate area have joined the city. So I would say it is roughly another thousand not in the actual city. Thank you as always for the recommendations.

l.l: Bard seems like a reasonable person to picture as Harry, though probably more like Lee Evans looks in real life. Legertha and Porunn definitely make sense, theosay mentioned Legertha in a previous review. It's amazing that you have read this that many times, if you want to mention any of your other comparisons feel free.

gr: I don't know if there is anything I would compare it to. I mean I know the image I have of First Forge in my head and it doesn't really match anything I can think of.

theosay: I'm guessing you're referring to the mountain clans of the Vale and I would say it is doubtful they join First Forge at any point. As much because they believe the Vale is rightfully theirs as anything else. That being said, there will likely be some people from the Kingdoms who join First Forge. As for your other review, the Lady of Winter having some sort of plans for Harry is something I will certainly put some thought into. Though I must say I don't see the White Walker leader as the Night's King but possibly his child; otherwise, why don't they simply turn all of their thrall into White Walkers. Eh I could be wrong though.

Annibelle: I think its great that this is among some of the first fanfic you've read. I can certainly understand your skepticism and hope I continue to surprise you in the future. Harry might become slightly more hardened but certainly not corrupt.

the-anon: As of now, I have no plans for Harry to be with anybody but Val. I believe I mentioned in the second chapter that the Free Folk men only steal daughters, not wives. I can't see why the women would try to steal a man who is spoken for, particularly when it is something most women do anyway.

Durin's Bum: Most of the southerners haven't even heard of Harry yet and those who have think little of it. That will change in time.

ragnar-the-red: To the Norfolk as a whole, he will only pass on those subjects that don't require an affinity for magic, such as runes which is already long in the works. As for raising magical creatures, I haven't yet considered it. There are so many other things he has to worry about at the moment but it is something I will definitely consider.

coldblue: 1) Soon but not quite yet 2)You'll have to wait and see 3)Yes, he has other things to worry about this chapter though 4)I'll let you see 5)No probably not

yug doneria: Maybe? You'll have to wait and find out.

Thank you as always to my beta Tellemicus Sundance.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Game of Thrones and no profit is being made from this story.

Gareth just returned from Harry's owlery, a response from the Citadel having finally arrived. He was sitting at a table in the small home the Norfolk provided him upon his arrival at First Forge. Like all of the buildings in the city, it was a comfortable home if not the most extravagant he had ever stayed in.

At the moment, the maester was entirely preoccupied by the piece of parchment in his hand. He stared at it absently the last words of the letter still ringing incessantly in the back of his mind. He would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't conflicted about its contents.

He assumed that the response would be similar to his original commands; continue watching until definitive proof regarding Harry's magical nature could be found. Apparently I was mistaken. Then again from what I heard of his altercation with the cannibals at the mine I have absolute proof. It was certainly the first time that any of the Norfolk were readily willing to speak to me on the matter. The maester didn't even realize that he had now started referring to them as Norfolk in his head, instead of the wildlings he once believed them to be.

He was surprised to learn that he had unintentionally brought about the circumstances that allowed him to learn of Harry's abilities. When with the Night's Watch traveling north toward First Forge they had encountered a nearly naked man wandering along the coast. The black brothers had no desire to help the man but Gareth at least gave him a set of clothes. Gorbold accepted though had obvious contempt for both Gareth and his traveling companions. The man left them and traveled north on his own through the wood. Apparently he had an unfortunate run in with a group of cannibals sometime later.

Gareth stood and began pacing along the smooth stone floor. It was a nervous habit, one he had developed as a young man at the Citadel. Worried creases lined his face as he contemplated the possible repercussions of the Archmaesers command. Harry doesn't trust me enough to allow me close to him or his children to carry out the order. And even if I did somehow manage it, I would be the first suspect unless I managed to pass it off as some form of sickness.

A terrifying thought crossed his mind causing him to stop mid-step. The thought sent a powerful shudder up his spine that shook him almost violently. Should I fail what sort of pain would be heaped upon me? If what Harry did to a man who merely threatened his family is any indication, it would be unimaginably painful and by the time he is done no one will ever hear from me again.

He shook his head hard, trying to clear them of the morbid thoughts, before he started pacing again. Do I even want to do this? Is my loyalty to the order so strong that I would be willing to go through with this command? Is it even remotely the right thing to do?

The maester warred with himself internally debating the pros and cons, weighing his loyalty to the Citadel against the respect he was quickly developing for the Norfolk, and most importantly questioning whether or not he could look himself in the mirror should he decide to go through with it. A loud bang on the door pulled him from his nervous pacing and caused him to jump in surprise. It was an unusual occurrence that someone actually sought the maester out in his home. The rare exceptions were those few children and teens who had a true thirst for learning. That Marin in particular comes by more than any of the others. Yet none of the children could have hit his door with such force.

He opened the door to find himself looking up into the piercing emerald gaze of First Forge's leader. Honestly, Harry was the last person Gareth expected to see and the very last person he wanted to see. An alarming thought crossed the maesters mind and he started to feel nervous heat spread out across his body, itching just underneath the surface. What if he somehow knows?

Gareth cleared his throat and spoke trying to keep the underlying fear from his voice, "Harry, how might I help you?"

"There was something I would like to discuss." It wasn't a request and Gareth had the good sense to simply step aside and allow him entry.

There was a tense silence as Harry looked around the maester's living quarters. He had clearly made it his own since arriving. There were rolls of parchment covering nearly every inch of his table, the personal collection of books he had brought were stacked neatly on a chest and just next to them was a small box containing various vials of liquid.

The seconds seemed to stretch on endlessly as Gareth waited with nervous anticipation for Harry to start their discussion. Finally, he sat down at the table and gestured for Gareth to join him, "Tell me Gareth, how are you enjoying your stay of late?"

The question seemed innocuous so he answered readily, "I have come to enjoy myself most often. The cold is still something that I struggle with at times, I spent my entire life in the south after all, but there is more than one way to warm myself."

"Where exactly are you from? I haven't thought to ask until now." Gareth fidgeted nervously, unable to shake the fear that this conversation would not remain genial for long.

Still he answered the question, "I am the third son, of a second son, of a lesser house in the Reach. I was always a studious youth and at the age of ten my father decided I would forge a chain at the Citadel."

Harry nodded slowly a slight quirk to his eyebrow, "Do you miss the Citadel?"

Gareth could sense the danger in the question, "It was my home for over thirty years. I would be lying if I said I didn't miss it." In fact, Gareth enjoyed the Citadel so greatly that in the past he had refused positions at southern castles to remain there. He only agreed to travel north after being told of the assignments extreme importance and being assured that he would be able to return sooner rather than later. Of course they also wanted me here because of my in depth knowledge of poisons though I didn't know it at the time.

"So I must assume that you have been in contact with your fellow maesters." It wasn't a question so the nervous maester decided to stay silent, instead just giving an abrupt nod of his head to confirm Harry's thoughts.

The calm kindness Harry had shown to that point melted away in a rush, and where once there had been a calm inquisitive look now sat narrowed eyes with a dangerous glint, "So tell me Gareth what were the nature of your correspondences?"

Gareth's voice cracked as he started to answer, "They… they were simple letters informing my fellow maesters of the wonders I have encountered here since arriving and our misconceptions regarding the wildlings." This wasn't a complete lie but it was far from the whole truth of the situation.

"Truly," Harry began softly, the skepticism evident in his voice, "let us stop lying to one another Gareth." He leaned forward and Gareth instinctively moved back, "You weren't sent here to be my advisor, the maester order may have been around since before the Conquest, crossing the various Kingdom's lines of the time but never have they come north of the Wall."

"There has never been a city north of the Wall to which a maester could pledge until now." Gareth interrupted quickly, trying to defend himself.

Harry waived him off with a snort, "You haven't pledged yourself to First Forge though." Gareth looked away, knowing full well that was the truth.

Harry continued unconcerned with Gareth's reaction, "But I digress, you weren't sent here to be my advisor. You were sent here to learn what you could about my ability to perform magic and report back to your superiors at the Citadel."

Gareth paled instantly. Of course he would know. "I assure y…"

The maester didn't get to finish the statement as Harry brought his hand down hard onto the surface of the table in front of them, "Don't lie to me Gareth, you won't like the results. " And then for the first time Gareth watched as Harry flicked his wrist and removed from its holster, his wand. "I imagine you heard of the things I am willing to do with this tool when I am appropriately angered. I would suggest you keep that in mind."

Gareth stared at the long slim piece of wood, finding it hard to believe that such a simple, delicate looking thing could possibly do the sort of damage rumor claimed. Still the edge in Harry's voice told him quite clearly he was being serious, so with a shuddering breath Gareth responded, "You are correct."

"And what did you tell them?" Of course Harry knew full well what information had been passed but he wanted to see how honest an answer he would receive.

He still didn't meet Harry's stare as he responded, "Honestly, nothing of any true value. I told them of the shocking speed at which you are able to produce buildings, your unwillingness to accept my counsel, my duties as a teacher and the birth of your children. It has only been since my first letter that I learned more about your capabilities from the other Norfolk." Gareth had no idea what sort of magic Harry could employ in a situation like this, whether or not he could detect a lie. So, self-preservation kicked in and he chose the most likely path toward him surviving this encounter whole and healthy.

Harry seemed pleased if his sitting back in his chair was any indication, "And what was their reply to your information Gareth?"

This question was far more dangerous and Gareth knew it. For all I know, he is already well aware what has been asked of me. And regardless, should my answer displease him, he could very well determine my worth has reached its end and kill me. He gulped rather loudly, a bead of sweat forming on his brow thanks to Harry's intense stare, "They told me that my observations were enough evidence to indicate you are a skilled practitioner of magic far beyond any that has been seen since Old Valyria, as only they had the ability to create with such ease." He paused looking Harry in the eye for the first time since he had drawn his wand, "They instructed me in no uncertain terms to kill you and…"

He couldn't continue so Harry finished for him, "… and my infant children, lest they show the same affinity for magic as their father." Gareth eyed him warily. He repeated word for word what was said in the letter.

Harry laughed humorlessly at the look, "If you thought I was any less suspicious of you than the other Norfolk than you are about as intelligent as the aurochs tended to in our fields." A knowing smirk crossed the younger man's handsome face, "I was the least trustful of you. I read both the letter you sent to the Citadel and its response." The chuckle that escaped him then was far more genuine, "I told you that my owls were far superior to your ravens."

Gareth just stared blankly ahead for a long moment, taking everything in, before speaking "So where does this leave us?"

Harry tapped his fingers idly on the table, contemplating the question silently, "Be glad you told me the truth regarding what was in those letters otherwise this conversation would already be over." The steel in his voice left no doubt in Gareth's mind that he wouldn't have liked the end result had he made that mistake. "As it stands you have two options."

"The first is simple, here in front of me, you renounce your allegiance to your order and actually take the oath of loyalty to our city, give me every poison you have that might be used to harm me or my family and continue your duties as a teacher. You will also continue to report to the Citadel detailing your inability to harm me and my family. Should they decide to take another road to see me removed, you will remain here as a member of this community."

Gareth was genuinely surprised by the kindness Harry was showing him, "Why would you risk such a thing?"

Harry smirked, "I am risking nothing. I think I have sufficiently proven I can monitor you. Trust me when I say the small amount I have done to this point is only scratching the surface. If I so pleased, you wouldn't be able to take a shit without me knowing about it."

Something told Gareth that he wasn't bluffing, "And my second option?"

"You refuse my offer and remain loyal to the Citadel. Other than that it is essentially the same, save one crucial element." Harry's eyes glowed with restrained power for before he continued evenly, "For all intents and purposes I shall remove your free will, something I am reluctant to do but will considering it is my family in danger. You will live only as long as you are useful and when your order decides they are tired of your failures… you will die." It was said so clinically, with such absolute confidence, that Gareth had no doubt that Harry would follow through.

"That… isn't a much of an option." Gareth spoke softly. Harry didn't respond instead waiting for Gareth to reach a decision. They stared at each other for a long few minutes and while Gareth didn't know it, the direct eye contact allowed Harry to send a passive legillimency probe.

His mind was a flash of thoughts each following the other in a constant stream. The Citadel has been my home for years and the order my family, can I really just denounce them. I could try to lie and continue as instructed but something tells me he would know and the extents of his forgiveness only go so far. Besides, is that really the best course of action? I am many things but a murderer isn't among them, particularly a murderer of infants. Maesters forge their chain in the name of knowledge and for the hope that they might someday help others, not kill them. And where could I help more than here? Even I have to admit that my initial misgivings about teaching so many were unfounded and I have come to enjoy it. Suddenly it all just stopped as he came to a decision.

Gareth stood from his chair and walked over to the chest upon which sat his store of various vials. Some were healing medicines but of his impressive stores most were of the more dangerous persuasion. The Strangler, the Tears of Lys, and Sweetsleep: they were some of the vilest poisons in the world and all of them were there. He quickly removed the medicinal vials and brought the rest over to Harry placing them upon the table, "I have made my decision."

Harry eyed the box carefully, "I take it these are all of your poisons." He received a nod in response. He grabbed his wand and Gareth was witness to his brand of magic for the first time. Without an uttered word, a blue light leapt from the wand and disintegrated the entire box and all of its contents in an instant. Gareth stared wide eyed for a long moment before turning to look at Harry, "We must seem like nothing to you."

He shook his head, "I fought a war against people who thought themselves greater simply because they possessed magic and thought it made them superior but that simply isn't true, men are men and women are women regardless of that simple quirk of nature."

Gareth contemplated his words for a long moment, "I would like to hear about that war."

Harry chuckled, "Perhaps someday I will tell you of it. As of now, only Val has heard the story."

The maester decided then to change the subject, "I would like to give my oath of loyalty on the steps of the Hall, with as many as possible there to witness the act."

"Very well, I will allow it. That very well may go a long way to convince some of your change of allegiance."

"My thoughts exactly." Gareth hesitated a moment, "Harry a word of advice if I may?"

Harry furrowed his brow, "What is it?"

"You should venture to the Citadel. Archmaester Norren is the man in charge of overseeing my progress here. I don't know the specifics of your abilities but perhaps you could influence him somehow so you need not worry about threats from him in the future. Also, it might be advisable to acquire more books. I can teach the same material for only so long."

"I agree." Harry responded quickly, "In truth, I already had plans to visit your Citadel." This surprised Gareth but he didn't comment, "Now, what do you know about the construction of castles?" This piqued the older man's interest and they spent a good deal of time talking specifics of what Harry desired.

The next day Maester Gareth did exactly as promised and pledged his service to First Forge, in front of hundreds of men and women, until his death. Harry was pleased that he wouldn't need to subjugate and eventually kill the man, though he wasn't foolish enough to allow for a possible change of mind. A simple compulsion charm would ensure that the man kept his head on straight.

Val had only fully come to agree with his decision when he divulged that piece of information. She did admit that she was pleased Harry didn't need to fully remove the man's free will though; it just wasn't something congenial to the Free Folk mindset after all.

Many of the Norfolk took it as good news and for the first time the man was included in conversation among the people while others still seemed wary. To any who asked, Harry vouched for the validity of Gareth's claim though few deigned to.

There was one other good thing that came out of the threat on Harry and his children. It forced him realize he needed to write down the vast amount of knowledge he had on the subject of magic. Or maybe I could just construct a pensive and put together a series of memories outlining relevant information. Either way he had every intention of making sure that it could only be accessed by those of his blood. If I do notes I will put them in one of the languages I learned during my travels, if I create a pensive I will ensure it is locked through blood.

Later that same day Harry went out to the forest and found one of the many weirwood trees. He could feel the presence as always but gave it no attention as he had another goal in mind. He was scanning the ground trying to find a piece of wood long enough so that he might fashion it into a suitable broom. When I travel to Oldtown it will be as quickly as possible. Harry had yet to have that discussion with Val already knowing she would be less than pleased with him leaving.

After nearly a half an hour of searching he found a pale white branch of the necessary size and shape for him to actually turn it into a broom. More than one odd look was thrown his way as he carried it through the streets toward his house. When Tormund saw him the man laughed heartily before throwing a ribald jab his way, "Gods Harry, you trying to compensate for something carrying such a big chunk of wood around with you."

"Of course," Harry deadpanned as he placed the branch on the ground, "because all men carry around tree branches to make up for having a small cock. It's about as common as men who make up outlandish stories about fucking bears because no woman would have him." They stared at each other for a long moment before they both almost fell over clutching at their stomachs. Tormund thumped Harry on the back.

"Right well, maybe compensating isn't the right word. Maybe you're just trying to find something to compare it to?" They both looked down at the branch, which was a good five feet in length and chuckled once again.

"I don't think even giants are that big Tormund. Then again I suppose you would know, wouldn't you Giantsbane?"

Tormund thumped him on the shoulder one more time, actually knocking Harry slightly off balance in the process, "Aye you are right, that is a little big even for a giant."

"Well I have things to do with that branch and they are more important than lewd jokes. So, I will see you later."

"Ah Harry, what could possibly be better than lewd jokes?"

Harry quirked an eyebrow, "Lewd acts of course." He said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. This sent Tormund into a final bout of laughter before they parted.

When Harry opened the door it was to the sound of happy gurgles and Val's melodious laugh. He stopped in the doorway and just watched the scene for a long moment. His wife was standing over Trystan and Emer's cribs making silly faces causing them to smile with their few incoming teeth up at their mother. They grasped upward with tiny fist trying to reach her golden locks as the tips tickled at their faces.

Harry couldn't help the warmth that spread throughout his being at the sight. This was his family, his family. Val was all he ever could have asked for in a wife, she was fierce and independent, kind and loving, intelligent and practical and she told him what was what whenever he needed to hear it. It doesn't hurt that she is drop dead gorgeous on top of it. I imagine she is fairer than near every high lady south of the Wall. He counted his blessings every day that she tired of his procrastination and finally just 'stole' him.

Then there were their children. Two perfect little bundles that made his heart lighter every time he heard them make a happy noise. He could forget that thousands relied on him in the moments when he just held them and looked into their innocent eyes, he could forget that he had killed hundreds of people and fought wars. Instead he was overwhelmed with the desire to ensure their childhood was safe and happy, that they could learn and grow without something terrible taking it from them. They will never have to experience a loveless life as I did in my childhood. He didn't even notice the wetness enter his eyes or the few stray tears that found their way down his face.

It was then that Val noticed him in the doorway, still holding the branch. She moved to his side immediately, clearly alarmed, "Harry is everything okay." She reached up to wipe the warm tears from his cheek.

Harry smiled widely, his happiness evident in his eyes. He reached up to grasp her hand, "Everything is fine love." She gave him a small smile in return before looking to the branch in his hand.

"What exactly is that for?"

He glanced down, "Oh well, I plan to fashion myself a broom." He placed the large branch on the floor and stepped over to the cribs and laid quick kisses on each of his children's heads. They smiled happily upon seeing their father.

Val was now looking at him more intently though, "Why do you want to 'fashion yourself a broom'?" She was well aware of his love for the magical form of transportation because of his stories but wasn't sure what he planned that required one.

Harry hesitated just a moment before turning to gaze at her calmly. He knew she wouldn't be pleased about this, "It will allow me to travel south far faster than any ship could."

"And are you planning on going south sometime soon?" Val asked testily, her arms now crossed beneath her bosom.

He ran his hand through his raven locks, an obvious sign that he was nervous, before replying, "Yes, I plan to travel to Oldtown within the week."

Val's nostrils flared, "And when did you intend to inform me of this? Why would you go just after a serious threat to our children and you was averted? Why would you go when Mance Rayder is supposedly fortifying a group to attack us?" She didn't scream, knowing it might disturb the babies since they weren't currently silenced to outside noise. But her words had a bite to them nonetheless.

Harry knew that her concerns were valid but he also knew that going to the Citadel could prove a lucrative trip. So instead of backing down from the blonde's ire he just returned her heated words with calm ones of his own, "I planned to tell you today, and in my defense it wasn't something I decided officially until yesterday. As for the threat on my person and the children, we have discussed this. Gareth will do them no harm, the very idea of harming infants offended him. Even if I hadn't interfered he never would have hurt them." He took a breath, "Mance has far from banded together the rival clans and should he manage the feat, it will be sometime before he would risk attacking us here."

Val made to speak but stopped before actually saying anything. She repeated that same process twice more before finally deflating, "I don't want you to go."

Harry stepped over to her and gave her a tight squeeze and a kiss to the temple, "I don't want to go anymore then you want me to, which is why I plan to do everything I can to ensure the journey is short as possible."

"How long?" She asked as she buried her head more tightly into his chest.

"Four days, so long as I don't get sidetracked, a week at the most." Harry said with a hint of mischief in his voice. He knew what kind of reaction that bit of information would garner.

She pulled away from his chest clearly stunned. "You are going to as far south as south goes in Westeros in just four days? Our new ships take a month to do that kind of journey."

"Our ships don't fly Val." He responded cheekily.

"And why haven't you thought of introducing this before?" She sounded a bit put out that he would hide something of this nature.

"Brooms require a certain level of magic from the person riding it; otherwise, they are nothing more than streamlined pieces of wood with fancy twigs on the end."

"Ah, so I would never be able to ride one." He could hear the note of disappointment in her voice. She brightened significantly when she noticed the smile on Harry's face.

"Of course you could ride one," He gave her side a firm squeeze, "provided you don't mind being pressed up against me."

She gave him a sultry smile, "I think I can manage." They leaned into kiss just as Emer started crying from her crib. They gave each other brief smiles before Val walked over to check on their daughter.

Meanwhile, Harry levitated the large piece of wood near the door up and over toward the center of the room. He held in the air for a long moment before with three quick flicks of his wrist, the large branch shaved down instantly becoming a slender, smooth shaft of some four feet with a bow near the center. The twigs for the back end he simply conjured. They were a black to contrast with the white of the wood.

Creating the form of the broom was the easy part. It took Harry another hour to layer the various runes and enchantments necessary to give the broom its speed and comfort. When all was said and done the broom was over four and half feet long including the twigs, littered with various enchantments that put it on par with the Nimbus he had in his youth if not the Firebolt. He was good with the enchantments necessary but not an expert like those who made them for a living. Though, he did manage to get sitting on the broomstick just as comfortable as plopping down on a fluffy pillow.

When all was said and done he was pleased with the result. He surreptitiously shrunk the remaining chunks of wood, as there was enough for another broom, or two, in the future. Something tells me Trystan and Emer will enjoy the experience when they're old enough. He placed it against the wall before joining his family.

Harry spent the three days before traveling to Oldtown doing what he could to ensure everything went smoothly during his, hopefully, brief departure. The first of the farmers and livestock were moved from First Forge to Storrold's Point where he spent the better part of the first day with Gorne, Della's choice to oversee the area's farming, preparing the land for crops. Enclosures for livestock had already been placed so at least he didn't need to worry about that.

Fifty farmers in total, along with 120 sailors with four boats, and 200 fighters led by Toregg would take up residence in Newport, the official new name of what was once Hardhome. He had put together portkeys for Tormund to go to Newport's aid and Toregg should they need to retreat. He didn't expect there to be trouble but thought it better to be safe. While he was aware that the walls could hold back most attacks from the land and the bluffs nearby would do a great deal to help them defend against any attack from the sea, he didn't want to leave anything to chance. Who knows what the Skagosi might do if they notice Newport.

The castle, or fortress, as Harry had taken to calling in order to avoid any unfortunate misunderstandings would begin construction once Gareth finished its design. It was truly fortunate that the man had a pewter link for the study of building and stone masonry on his chain. Harry gave explicit instruction that there was to be no raised dais in the main chamber of the structure. Gods know that wouldn't go over particularly well.

The second day was far more enjoyable. Those who would spend the majority of their time living in Newport spent the day at First Forge having a proper celebration to see them off. Casks of vodka were pulled out and they imbibed from dusk through the night. Now obviously in a culture like that of the Norfolk things became rowdy quickly.

There were fisticuffs in the fighting yard, a spectacle which caused a great deal of laughter and cheering. More than one man left the yard that day bloodied and broken but no one suffered any permanent damage. Everyone got a good laugh when Gareth entered the fighting yard and took on one of the younger lads. It was clear they were both properly pissed and they landed maybe a hit or two each before they each threw haymakers that hit nothing but air and fell on their asses side by side. They stared at the ground for a long moment before they both fell into a fit of giggles that sounded quite odd, particularly coming from the usually pompous maester.

Harry and Val, spent the night with the rest of the Norfolk, though drinking substantially less than some of their fellows. Their children were left in the care of Gilly, who gladly offered her services, not having any interest in being around the drinking. She still remembered the way her father could get when the crows brought him wine.

Harry made sure things didn't get too far out of hand, though he didn't feel the need to mend wounds or egos for that matter. He figured that it would be good for each of the Norfolk to experience the repercussions of a night of revelry.

More than one scuffle broke out over one man groping another man's woman, he ended those quickly. He had no doubt more than one available woman was stolen that night but that was custom, a custom slowly becoming less common as people lived in a large community together for longer periods of time.

Many who woke the next morning were subject to terrible hangovers and an inability to remember what it was they had done the previous night. Still a good time was had by all even if some were a bit sore because of it.

That same morning, after everyone had worked off their hangovers, another trade ship was sent out. They were to travel to Braavos for the third time but this time Harry wanted them to enquire about a very specific material, dragonglass. They took with them twenty casks of the vodka that still remained and gems Harry had fashioned through magic. He obviously didn't know exactly what price the vodka would garner but he imagined it would be quite a bit considering its uniqueness. They were also tasked with buying yet more horses and livestock should they be able. He wanted to be able to start training cavalry sometime within the next few years and needed enough horses to do just that.

Coming to the day of his departure Harry woke early, earlier than even his infant children, which was saying something. He disentangled himself from Val's nude form, doing what he could to ensure he didn't disturb her sleep.

He went to the hot springs briefly to bathe. When he returned he donned dear skin trousers and a deep red undershirt and woolen overshirt, softened through magic to avoid itchiness. He decided not to don his customary armor as it was far more conspicuous. Granted I will be invisible for most of the journey but better safe than sorry.

After dressing, he grabbed his new broom from where it rested along a wall. In a pouch on his hip he carried a shrunken trunk with an expansion charm for transporting the many books he planned to pilfer from the Citadel. He also carried a few potions and most importantly his mirror.

Now of course he wasn't foolish enough to leave without saying goodbye to Val. He walked over to their bed and gazed down at her sleeping form. She was curled up on her side breathing lightly, the furs covering all save her bare arms. He reached out a hand and lightly cupped her cheek, rubbing it as he leaned down to lay gentle kisses upon her face. Her grey-blue eyes slowly opened and a small smile broke across her face. She deepened the last kiss as she stretched her body languidly, the furs slipping down lower on her body exposing her bare breast. As they pulled away from one another her eyes roamed his body before she sighed, "I take it you are ready to leave."

He gave her a sad smile, "Yes love but I will be back soon, I promise."

"I'll hold you to that green eyes," She gave him a slight smirk. They kissed one more time before Harry went over to Trystan and Emer, he gave each of them soft kisses so as not to disturb their rest before straightening and heading for the door, "I have my mirror." Val nodded and gave him one last hug before with a quick turn Harry was over a hundred miles away… and bouncing off the Wall rather painfully.

He had attempted to apparate to the far side of the Wall, along the coast near Karhold. Instead he learned a valuable lesson. Apparently the Wall is much like Bloodraven's tree, resistant to means of magical transportation. So he could apparate around it going from Skagos back to the coast or just fly over.

For Harry it was a simple decision, he much preferred flying over apparating and after bouncing off the Wall he wasn't in any mood to do it again. So he mounted his broom and with a quick disillusionment charm he shot up straight into the air, climbing quickly; mere seconds later he reached the top, stopping briefly to look around at the world in all its glory. This was one of his favorite things about flying, the ability to look on from above.

The white tundra that was the north had a distinctive beauty to it. The Haunted Forest stretched on for miles into the distance and the very peaks of the mountains to the west could be seen. Pulling his gaze away he turned south and with a burst of speed shot off toward Oldtown in the south.

Fortunately among the books he had acquired, namely the one about Aegon's Conquest, there was a map of the Seven Kingdoms. As such, he knew exactly how to reach Oldtown. The longstanding city and seat of House Hightower was 2500 miles from the Wall. His broom could go just over 130 miles per hour. He would easily reach it the next day even taking rest in a southern city for the night.

The journey south was enlightening. He passed Winterfell about three hours into the journey. The seat of House Stark was impressive even by his standards, and that was saying something considering he had spent a good portion of his life going to school in a castle. The walls of Winterfell stretched around its towers for miles around. They were high, as high as those around First Forge and even thicker. The Wolfswood stretched on for miles behind it, thick and green. Someday I might actually have to visit there.

He had little time to marvel at it though as he continued southwest. After twelve hours of travel, he exited the vast expanse of the North and entered the more fertile lands of the south, he passed Riverrun. A castle of less size than Winterfell but still quite the sight, he knew this to be the seat of House Tully. It was as he entered the Riverlands that he removed the warm woolen shirt, the heat making it uncomfortable.

It was fifteen hours in that he finally decided he would land in the next town he found. And what a sight greeted him as he approached the next town, the Wall was impressive in size and a true marvel of Westerosi engineering. But the sheer size of Casterly Rock dwarfed it at over 2,000 feet, in the base of the Rock he could see great sea-carved caverns and hundreds of mineshafts penetrating the lower parts where he read many veins of red and yellow gold gleamed untouched in the stone. It seemed appropriate that one of the Great Houses made their home in such a place.

To the near south there was the sprawling city of Lannisport in which he was sure to find an inn to sleep for the night. He landed in a dark alley, shrunk his broom, pocketed it and then removed the disillusionment from his person. He walked the streets of the city slowly, taking in the many different shops and taverns. The city was smaller than Braavos in size and less grand but it was still impressive. It had cobblestone main streets though its side streets were not. When he passed the harbor, there were hundreds of ships docked there and even nearing midnight there were still people trying to peddle their wares to the incoming sailors. Nearly every local he passed had the yellow hair supposedly common to the Westerlands and particularly House Lannister. Then again from what I read in Gareth's books many of the families here are just off shoot branches of the Lannisters.

After around an hour of walking, and passing more than one brothel where some strumpet offered to wet his whistle, he found himself in front of a higher quality inn. It was called the Lion's Pride, and Harry had a feeling it would be more expensive than some of the others he passed but at least he wouldn't be subjected to brigands and whores the entire night.

The innkeeper was a kindly looking man of maybe fifty with green eyes and yellow hair. Harry learned his surname was Lannett. He was right as it cost him five stags for a room in the inn, if he were to guess the location usually catered to the lesser nobility of the west. Still, Harry was willing to pay the price for a comfortable bed and the tasty roast duck that came with the pay.

When he rose early again the next morning, the city was already busy with merchants setting up their shops and stalls. As he walked around slowly before making his departure he noticed a great deal of the people's attention was focused on a retinue of people upon horseback. There were four men dressed in red armor arrayed around two other men who must have been of considerable importance as those who they passed bowed their heads in deference.

Of the two men one was an older, likely nearing his mid-fifties. He had yellow hair graying noticeably in areas. His face was clean shaven and his green eyes were hard and calculating. There was a shrewd intelligence in those eyes that Harry couldn't help but notice. Like his guards he wore red armor though substantially more ornate and including a beautifully rendered lion on the shoulder. Across his shoulder he had a deep red sash and on his hip a sword inlaid with gold and rubies.

The other was a handsome young man for all intents and purposes though few would think to notice it. Instead they were liable to focus on his stature as he was a dwarf, strapped into his saddle with a contraption likely specifically designed to allow him to ride. Unlike all the others in their group, he did not wear armor, instead dressed in fine red silk. He had yellow hair like the man beside him though it was a few shades darker. His eyes were a mixture of green and dark blue almost black. He was talking to the older man calmly.

Harry drew closer until he could actually hear the conversation. The man of lesser stature could clearly be heard, "As you can see father, I have done well with the task you gave me. Never have the pipes of Casterly Rock or Lannisport run so cleanly or so well."

Harry had to strain his ears to hear the response. There was a hint of disdain in the father's far softer reply, "You make a fine plumber Tyrion, though I must admit I am surprised you managed to find the time between your drinking and whoring." These were the Lannisters, the ruling House of the Westerlands. He had read of Tywin Lannister and his Machiavellian approach to the world; namely, his utter destruction of the Reynes and Tarbecks.

"Ah but father, when one has been at it for as long as I have they learn to manage easily enough." Harry let a low chuckle escape his lips; though clearly Lord Tywin did not see the humor in it as a fierce scowl crossed his face.

"Yes well we will need to find something else suitable to your talents as you have clearly done all you can where cistern and pipes are concerned."

Tyrion bowed his head, "As you wish father." He paused a moment before a hint of cheek entered his voice, "Tell me father have you managed to convince Lord Drumm to give you his sword Red Rain?"

Tywin's anger deepened and he turned narrowed eyes on his youngest son, "You know full well Lord Drumm denied my offer. All of the lesser houses refuse my offers, guarding their sword miserly, preferring Valyrian steel over gold."

Tyrion smirked, "Ah, but you would do much the same if your near obsessive desire to own such a blade is any indication. If only King Tommen II hadn't lost Brightroar traveling to the Doom!" The dwarf finished with an odd amount of cheer and Tywin didn't deign to respond to the jibe as they continued down the road.

Harry watched them go with interested eyes. So Lord Tywin wants a Valyrian steel sword? That information could be of some use in the future. He turned away from the crowd then and made his way into a back alley entirely absent of any people. Just moments later, he was making his way south at speed again.

Four hours later, the Hightower came into view, jutting 700 feet into the air above all other buildings in the oldest city of Westeros. The port was filled with ships from the Free Cities, Lannisport, Gulltown and every other major city of Westeros. Like in Lannisport, he landed deftly in a back alley packing his things away but this time he remained invisible as he had every intention of making his way straight to the Citadel.

He weaved his way through the crowd, unconcerned about actually bumping into anyone at the moment as the close quarters made it just as likely to be him as someone else. The various buildings that made up the Citadel weren't difficult to find and as he drew nearer to the home of the maesters the crowds seemed to thin, and instead of the average small folk he could see men wearing the chain links and the grey robes synonymous with the order.

The Citadel itself was made up of dozens of domed buildings each connected by stone bridges to allow acolytes and novices easy travel from place to place. According to Gareth, Archmaester Norren would be in the open roofed astronomy building where in both astronomy and astrology were taught. He had his own offices there.

Harry slipped into the compound easily enough, passing unseen by those around him. Many were sitting on benches in the comfortable weather reading or writing. There was a small group of people outside of a building known as the Scribe's Hearth where acolytes were hired out to write letters for various people in the city.

It didn't take Harry long to find the astronomy building, when he entered the open roofed top floor he found it entirely empty. As it should be you can't learn much about astronomy in the middle of the day. There were three doors that led to smaller rooms. Harry made his way toward the one on the right, as instructed by Gareth. He opened the door slowly, silencing its hinges to keep from drawing attention. As he entered he was fortunate enough to find that the Archmaester was facing away from the door looking over various books he had on private shelves.

The man was older, sixty at least, the top of his head was bald and the hair along the edges cut short and turning white. He turned around just as Harry shut the door behind him. Norren, had a wide nose and his dull brown eyes were set wide on his head. There was loose skin around his cleanly shaven chin.

The man hummed to himself idly as he perused the book in front of him while Harry maneuvered his way around so that he was behind the man before pointing his wand and casting a silent legillimency. Unlike with Craster, Harry was now looking for very specific information. So he forced his will upon the string of thoughts that assaulted him upon entering the older man's mind. Immediately, he was taken to the image of twenty-one men wearing masks of various metals and holding rods of the same, sitting in a dimly lit room. This was the first time the maesters discussed Harry and their plans regarding him. As the conversation came to a close they reached a decision.

Norren in his electrum mask spoke up, "There is no room in this world for sorcery my fellow maesters. We shall send Maester Gareth to this new city north of the Wall. Obviously, we won't give him too much information, and in time we will command him to rid the world of this possible menace." All save one of the other Archmaesters nodded their head in agreement. The dissenter had a mask and rod of distinctive Valyrian steel.

"Very well Norren, the Grand Maester has left it to you to oversee this endeavor."

The scene shifted after that, Norren was now sitting alone in his quarters reading over the missive from Gareth. Harry could hear his vile thoughts, his desire to see him and his dead. But there was something more important to note, Norren didn't tell any other of the message he merely sent his reply, instructing Gareth to murder the three possible threats. This was good news for Harry. Influencing him and him alone should be enough to ensure that the other maesters pay me less mind.

Exiting the man's mind Harry stared at him as the maester began looking around in a frightened state of shock. A spell later and the man's memory of Harry's mental assault was removed. Then he cast one a compulsion influencing Norren to only provide his fellow maesters with good news regarding the situation in First Forge. While Harry would never meet his end, he would tell them that Gareth was handling it through other means and doing everything possible to kill him and his children.

His work done, Harry cast a mild sleeping spell on the man before exiting the room. He made his way silently through the halls of the Citadel until he found the library. The room was filled from wall to wall and every shelf in between, with volumes both large and small; thousands upon thousands of volumes on subjects ranging from history to botany, war and smithing, astronomy and economics. Maesters and novices alike milled about reading for both pleasure and necessity. He knew he couldn't possibly raid the place at this time of day but was glad to know the location so he could return in the night.

He walked the many buildings hearing snippets of conversation. One of which drew his attention immediately. A young acolyte and younger novice were speaking in hushed tones together, "Have you heard? They say that Lord Stannis' daughter has contracted greyscale."

"I have," replied the novice excitedly, "they say that he is hiring every learned man or healer he can find to try and find a cure."

"I imagine he would pay a king's ransom to any man who might manage to save her," said the acolyte with a conniving smile.

"Of course, it is his beloved daughter after all." There was a hint of humor in the young novice's voice.

A louder voice interrupted their conversation. A maester stepped up to them his chain clinking against his chest, "And whatever you are thinking you can forget, full maesters have tried and failed to heal greyscale. An opportunistic acolyte and a bumbling novice will fare no better." The pair hung their heads realizing the truth of it as the maester told them to move along.

From there, Harry continued along until he crossed a bridge leading to the oldest building of the Citadel, the Ravenry. He climbed its stairs until at the top he found a lone man standing over a desk and pouring over scrolls of varying age. He had a thick neck and strong jaw. He was short and squat with enormous hands, a thick chest and a hard beer-belly. His nose looked as though it had been broken more than once and his teeth, barely visible to Harry, appeared as though they were stained red.

Unlike all the others he had encountered in his wanderings, this maester's head snapped up the second the door shut behind him, "Who is there?"

Harry froze and considered obliviating this occurrence from the man's mind before beating a hasty retreat. But that is when he noticed a Valyrian steel rod and mask lying on the table. So this is the man who didn't want the maesters to undertake the task of harming me.

He felt in his gut he could at least trust this man not to attack him on sight so with a wave of his wand he became visible once again. The pair stared at each other for a long moment before the maester spoke, "So are you here to kill me? Have my fellow maesters finally tired of my differing opinions and decided to see me thrown to the bottom of the Whispering Sound never to be heard from again?"

"I have no desire to kill you," Harry began, "In fact, I don't even know your name."

The rotund man gave a toothy red grin, "Well then please come and sit down, so few come and visit me considering my inclination toward studying the pointless subjects of magic and the occult. My name is Marwyn by the way, most call me Marwyn the Mage, scornfully I might add. And yours is?"

So this is Archmaester Marwyn? Not exactly what I expected. "I've read your book."

"Have you?" He asked surprised, "Not many have but you ignored my question." He gestured to a chair so that Harry could sit.

"I suppose I did," Harry said taking the offered seat, "My name is Harry Potter, and I thank you for not agreeing with your fellow Archmaesters who wished to see me dead."

The man's eyes opened in obvious surprise, "I did not expect to meet you… ever. I feel I must ask, if you are here does that mean that Gareth is dead somewhere in the frozen North?"

Harry shook his head, "No, Maester Gareth reached a personal decision that saw his allegiance shift from this place to his new home."

Marwyn snorted out a laugh, "Smart man, if it weren't for the fact that the maesters have the things I wish to study I would long ago have left the order. They are old fools who want to see the world walk down a path only they find acceptable. There is no room in that world for the wonderment of magic." The disdain in his voice was evident and caused Harry to smile.

"I told Gareth much the same, though he didn't believe me. But when one order has their voice in so many important ears there must be ulterior motives." They shared a commiserating look, one that told them both they knew what was what as it pertained to the maesters.

Marwyn poured both of them a cup of wine, passing one to Harry, "So why have you come then Harry Potter?"

"To ensure that the last threat I face from your order is Gareth, Archmaester Norren will be telling you only wonderful news regarding your endeavors in First Forge." Harry tipped his glass toward the man across from as he took a quick swig of the fruity Arbor gold.

"Can your magic influence the mind so?" The man sounded excited, extremely excited. And why not he has spent his life dedicated to learning of the deeper mysteries. Why wouldn't he want to know more about me?

"To put it simply yes, it can do that and so much more."

"Hence the reason you were able to build a city from nothing, in a land of perceived savages, in just three years." They smirked at one another, "But something tells me you are here for more, what is it?"

"The same thing your order covets, information. I will be raiding your library this night, though none will know it. I wonder if you might be able to provide me with books of a more… mystic nature." He gestured toward the many scrolls and books in Marwyn's private quarters. Harry could obviously take them if he so desired but this man was certainly different from his peers and deserved the choice.

Marwyn rubbed his chin once as he leaned back precariously in his chair, "Will I retain a copy of the tomes and scrolls?" Harry nodded in response, "And the information you take from this place it will be shared with any who wish to learn?" Again he received an affirmative response.

The older man clapped his hands and then spread them out to gesture at the plethora of books and scrolls lining his walls, "All that is here is at your disposal. If any other books at the Citadel exist pertaining to magic and its nature then I have yet to find them." Then a malicious smile broke across his face, "I am glad to hear all who wish to learn will have the opportunity, such a thought would have the earliest maesters spinning in their graves."

They shared a laugh as Harry stood and began the process of copying the many tomes and scrolls in Marwyn's room. There were hundred there alone. The maester spent his time asking Harry questions, never anything overly intrusive, about the nature of his magic. Harry answered them honestly as he could, understanding it was just curiosity that drove the man's inquisition.

It took him three hours in total to pull every book and scroll, copy it, and place it into the magically expanded trunk. The process took far longer because of the disorganized state of Marwyn's many texts and scrolls. The library will be far easier to manage.

As he finished he noticed a green, twisted piece of glass, nearly as tall as him standing alone in the corner. The material looked like obsidian, and as he drew nearer to the thing that seemed to alter the light around. A fire suddenly lit up upon its top. Marwyn rushed over eyes never leaving the burning glass. Harry took a step back to allow him access to the candle and it suddenly went out.

Marwyn turned to him with a slight glare, "What did you do?"

Not offended in the slightest, Harry responded, "Nothing I just noticed that," he gestured at the dragonglass candle, "and drew near it. It set aflame and seems to have gone out now that I have moved away."

The maester touched the obsidian candle lightly, careful not to cut himself on its jagged edge, "Please step closer again." He requested softly, wonder in his voice at seeing something he had long desired to behold.

Harry did so and just as before it set aflame, "Every acolyte since the Doom has tried to light one of the glass candles and all have failed, you merely draw close to it and the deed is done." He gave Harry a wry smile, "I don't suppose you would be willing to stand there for the rest of your life?"

"I would be standing here a long time, long after you depart this world." Harry answered blithely drawing a chuckle form the maester, "So no, I would not be willing to stand here the rest of my life. I have a beautiful woman whose bed I would miss far too much." He looked at the candle critically, "Dragonglass correct?"

"Yes, it is a relic of Valyria. It is said you could see across continents when the candles were lit, enter dreams, and communicate half a world away." Marwyn answered, speaking as much to himself as he did Harry.

"I have need of dragonglass. Gareth tells me there is an abundance of the substance on Dragonstone."

"He is correct, but Stannis Baratheon is not an easy man to bargain with."

Harry contemplated this for a moment, "But should someone heal his dying daughter, he would be willing to offer them any boon they requested? Even a supply of dragonglass?"

Marwyn gave a quick raise of his eyebrows causing the skin around his eyes to stretch, "That seems reasonable yes; sounds to me as though you are planning something."

A happy smile broke across Harry's face, "I suppose I am yes."

They continued talking late into the night until finally, around ten, Marwyn informed him the library should be closed and locked for the night. He would have until dawn to finish the process. As Harry apperated away, he left a stunned Marwyn behind. The Archmaester hesitated only a moment longer before leaving his quarters to send a letter.

Harry spent every minute of the eight hours' time he had to pillage the Citadel's library to full effect. There were some sections he outright ignored, particularly those on the healing arts. Gareth had proven quite soundly that the Norfolk healers knew as much or more about medicinal practices though there were some books on anatomy he thought would be of use.

Also, he took special care to make sure any book on the properties of plants and their names were added to the trunk. Harry had every intention of remaking certain potions and he would need to know what was viable as replacement for certain ingredients. By the time he was done, nearly every book and scroll was copied, stored in his trunk, and returned to its appropriate place. He left just as the key was being turned in the door, leaving the maesters, save Marwyn, none the wiser to his appearance there.

He returned to the streets of Oldtown, once more invisible, and went on the hunt for an inn. It wasn't hard to find, the nearest one being the Quill and Tankard. It wasn't nearly as clean as the Lion's Pride but it would do for a quick bit of sleep before heading toward Dragonstone in the east. He did have the displeasure of refusing the advances of the various tavern wenches who apparently serviced the customers if the moans he heard as he made his way toward his room were any indication.

Harry thumped down into his bed before throwing a locking charm at the door and a silencing spell around the room. He quickly pulled out his mirror. A quick utterance of Val's name later and she came into view. He didn't even have a chance to speak before the first question left her, "Are you done?"

Harry gave shook his head good naturedly, the corners of his lips upturning ever so slightly, "Yes Val, I have officially finished my first ever raid on a southern city."

She snorted as she rolled her eyes, "Probably the first Free Folk raid in history where no one was injured and nobody knows that anything was taken."

Harry shrugged, "Hey we work with the tools we're given." They both laughed a brief moment before Val regained herself.

"So you will be headed back later today then?" He could hear the eagerness in her voice despite the fact that it had been only two days since he left.

"Not yet," her face dropped something he didn't like seeing, "I have determined a way to acquire dragonglass."

Val looked curious though not happy, "How?"

"The daughter of Stannis Baratheon, Lord of Dragonstone, has contracted a disease known as greyscale."

Val nodded, "The grey death, even should she survive, it will leave her tainted her entire life."

Harry didn't know enough of the disease to argue, "As you say, but saving her would put her father in my debt."

Val understood his meaning immediately, "So you will heal her through a mixture of your potions and spells. If you succeed you will then request a supply of dragonglass."

"Correct, and hopefully gain the man's trust enough that he might be willing to provide me with more of the substance in future, for a fair trade of course."

Val harrumphed rather loudly, "Very well, so you will be gone another day? Two?"

"I hope it will be two at the most. If I'm lucky I won't be delayed at all."

"Good, now get some rest. You look exhausted." Harry just smiled at his wife, appreciative of her concern.

"I planned on doing just that, love you Val."

"And I you." She said with a smile of her own before the connection cut off. His head hit the pillow and his fatigue quickly caught up with him.

He awoke six hours later, just past noon, and quickly made his way down the stairs and out of the inn. He wasted little time, finding a secluded spot and starting his travels northeast. The journey from Oldtown to Dragonstone would take him clear across the Seven Kingdoms.

He pushed the broom hard, having every intention of reaching Dragonstone by nightfall. A little over two hours into the journey he flew past Highgarden, the seat of House Tyrell. Like all of the great castles he had seen, it was large. It sat upon a hill and was surrounded by three layers of tiered walls made of white stone, ringing around the center in equal distance. The castle proper sat on the very top of the hill overlooking the rest of the city.

Along the Mander River near the city, there were both trade boats and pleasure boats. The lands around the city were fertile and green producing a large portion of the realm's food stuffs. Harry couldn't help but think it was likely quite a pleasant place to live.

Four hours after that he reached and passed the capital city of the Seven Kingdoms. While Harry could honestly admit the city was impressive with its high walls, the ornate Sept of Baelor, and the powerful Red Keep sat atop Aegon's Hill, he looked upon the capital and found it wanting. The stench alone could be smelled from over a mile away and the shanty houses in which the poor lived left much to be desired. If Harry were to pick a city, he would much sooner visit Lannisport or Highgarden before King's Landing.

Around three hours later, just as the sun met the horizon, Harry reached Dragonstone. The ancestral home of House Targaryen was impressive even if the island upon which it resided was dreary. Dragonglass surrounded the old castle, most of it black but some green, red or purple but all of it shining in the late day sun. The castle was made of black stone that looked like one continuous piece. Its towers were carved into the appearance of dragons and a thousand gargoyles sat along the three tiered walls.

There were but a few people walking the steps that led to the old castle. Harry landed away from the makeshift road, made himself visible again, and changed his visage with a quick glamor charm. Instead of black hair he had light brown, his eyes were a light grey instead of emerald green and his skin weathered where it usually wasn't. Best to take another appearance for now.

He entered the small retinue of fellow would-be healers and made his way quickly up the steps to the gates of Dragonstone. Outside there stood a man in his fifties, directing many away from the door, "Lord Stannis has no intention of accepting every forest healer and woods witch in to attend his daughter, he has hired the very best we need no more."

Harry scoffed and just kept right on walking after casting a notice me not on his person. The man didn't even spare him a glance as he stepped past a dozen guards on his way into the castle. He walked the corridors of the castle, it wasn't particularly hard to find the Lord's daughter. He merely needed to follow the screams.

When he arrived at the room it was to find the Lord of Dragonstone berating a healer, "The best in all of Westeros they call you." He scoffed loudly, "There are nursemaids who could have done better. Leave us now lest I take out your tongue for the lies you claimed." The man rushed from the room brushing Harry on the way just as he took down the notice me not.

Stannis' hard blue eyes locked on Harry, "And who are you, another of the useless healers my advisors send me?"

"Perhaps," Harry said cryptically, "or perhaps I am the man who can see your daughter healthy and whole again."

The man's features didn't change, instead the scowl stayed firmly affixed to his face, "We shall see. What is your name?"

"People call me Peverell, simply Peverell." The lie came to Harry's lips easily and without hesitation. He was after all distantly a Peverell.

"Well get in there and see if you might succeed where others have failed." He pushed the door open abruptly, the cries of his daughter growing infinitely louder as a result. Harry wasn't sure how to feel about Stannis Baratheon, he didn't seem overly concerned about his daughter's well-being yet he was willing to hire any number of healers to ensure she survived. Perhaps he is just a stern man by nature.

As Harry entered first, with Stannis just behind, he noticed there was no one else was in the room save the four year old little girl writhing in pain upon the bed, shrieks of anguish escaping her tiny form in regular intervals and sweat pouring from her body. The flesh on the left side of her face was petrified and grey. Hence the name of the illness. Hoping to provide her with some relief if nothing else, Harry cast a calming charm on her that turned her screams of pain into tiny whimpers. He didn't even notice when Stannis closed the door.

The diagnostic charm that followed told him just how dire the child's situation was, the disease was like poison in her veins. The skin would continue to petrify until eventually it drove her to madness or outright killed her. Harry knew that Essence of Dittany would likely slow the process but not stop it permanently. He had a tiny vial in his possession that would hopefully solve the problem.

From his pockets he summoned a tiny phial filled with glimmering phoenix tears. He was wont to use them for anything, truly he would only even consider it if there were no other option. This was one of those situations. He forced her mouth open as he pulled the stopper. He allowed just three drops of the miraculous tears to fall before pulling it back.

Her convulsions didn't stop immediately, but slowly over the next hour Harry watched as she relaxed slowly but surely. He cast a diagnostic charm once again to find that the disease had been completely and totally flushed from her system; however, it did not heal her now disfigured face.

Harry turned to Lord Stannis, standing still as the stone gargoyles upon his castle's walls during the process, "Please leave the room, the next bit of the process will be unpleasant."

Stannis hesitated a long moment before nodding stiffly. Apparently he realized it was unwise to argue with the man who had given his daughter her first bit of relief in nearly two weeks. When the Lord of Dragonstone left the room Harry pulled his wand out fully. He silenced little Shireen Baratheon, he knew she would scream out though he wished he could avoid it.

He pointed his wand at the patch of disfigured skin and a concentrated stream of fire left the tip, searing and melting the skin where it touched but also purifying it. Shireen's eyes opened wide, tears streaming down from them as her mouth trembled in silent screams.

It lasted maybe ten seconds in total but when he was done instead of grey skin, there was now blackened skin and throbbing blisters but unlike her petrified skin, these could be healed. Harry pulled another phial from his pocket, this one simple Essence of Dittany. As the liquid made contact it worked instantly, healing the charred and blistered skin. An immediate look of relief crossed the young girl's previously pained face and with a final wave of his wand the little girl fell into a deep sleep.

Harry straightened and went to the door to find Stannis waiting outside impatiently, "You will find that your daughter has been fully healed of her affliction."

Stannis actually pushed his way into the room and rushed over to his daughter's side running a hand over her once again smooth skin, "How did you manage this?"

"To some the healing arts come naturally, I did what was necessary that is all that you must know." Harry replied.

"My Lord," Stannis commented, "I am a noble you should address me as such." He stood then and looked at Harry fully, "Though I suppose a lack of decorum can be forgiven for someone who just saved my daughter's life." He walked past Harry not even sparing him a glance as he made a final comment, "Find Maester Cressen, you may sleep here tonight and tomorrow we can discuss your reward." Harry bowed his head slightly and did just that.

The next morning he was awoken by the same Maester and escorted to the Chamber of the Painted Table, where Aegon had once planned his Conquest of the Seven Kingdoms. Seated at the table alone was Stannis Baratheon who gestured for him to take a seat at his right, "You may leave us maester." The old man nodded his head in recognition before exiting the way he came.

Stannis Baratheon was not the sort of man to beat around the bush, "I promised that whoever healed my daughter could ask anything that was within my power to give. You do not seem the sort of man who wants land or titles so what would you ask of me Peverell?"

"First let us clear something up." Harry pulled his wand from his sleeve and with a quick Finite took on his proper appearance again.

Stannis did not look pleased as he ground his teeth audibly, "Tell me why you chose to wear another's face and why I shouldn't throw you in the dungeons for the ruse." It wasn't a question it was a command.

"Because had I worn my face and given my name, I couldn't guarantee how you would react. Should you have reacted poorly, your daughter would be dead at worst and alive but permanently disfigured at best." Harry explained calmly, knowing full well there was no threat the southern Lord could levy that would actually mean anything to him. "You see my name is Harry Potter, and something tells me you know who I am."

Stannis eyes widened minutely, a surprising show of emotion from the stoic man, "When I was in King's Landing, before my daughter took ill, the Master of Whispers informed us of your town and your… supposed gifts." Harry couldn't help but note that the man was no longer quite so keen to demand he call him by his title.

"Well your daughter has been the beneficiary of my supposed gifts which is why we are really here. I believe you have given me the right to ask you for anything within your power to give?" Harry responded, returning to the topic at hand.

Stannis nodded almost reluctantly, "What would you have of me?"

"Two things," Harry stated with an almost annoying amount of cheer. He was really just trying to poke fun at the sullen man.

"You will be given only one." Stannis stated plainly.

"Well to be fair I am only asking one thing of you," Harry explained tapping the table in front of him right on King's Landing as he spoke, "the second is just a future consideration." Stannis made a gesture with his hand to get on with it.

"The first is simple and something you can easily provide… dragonglass. As much dragonglass as you can muster by the end of the day." A crease formed along Stannis' forehead as his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Of all the things you could ask of me, you ask for something that I have readily available and no need for?"

Harry shrugged, "Me and my people have no need of your gold. As you said I am not the sort of man who wants titles, and your lands mean nothing to me. While dragonglass might mean little to you, I can do a great deal with it."

Stannis was silent for a long moment, "I will send out twenty of my men to collect as much of the material as they can immediately after this conversation." Harry smiled agreeably while Stannis just continued to scowl.

"And your second request?"

"Again quite simple; in future, you will be open to trade with my people should we come south. I will not expect any future dragonglass for free and I am well aware that your island does not produce a single crop… First Forge has no such problem." Stannis stood, and Harry had the sense to show that bit of deference at least.

They stood there in relative silence as Harry awaited Stannis' decision. A long moment later Stannis extended his hand, "We have an agreement Harry Potter." As they clasped hands the slightly older man allowed genuine emotion entered his voice for the first time, "Thank you… for saving my daughter's life." The faintest of smiles crossed his face, one that Harry returned genuinely.

"You're welcome Lord Stannis." As Stannis made to leave the room first, Harry quickly drew his wand and cast a simple compulsion on him. Don't need him telling his elder brother about this little event nor anyone else my true identity.

Harry spent almost the entirety of the day in the room provided him reading a few of the tomes he had taken from the Citadel. He did leave for a brief time, once more in the guise of Peverell, to visit his patient.

Shireen was exhausted, as was to be expected, but she smiled at him when he entered even if she didn't know who he was, "Hello there?"

"Hello, my Lady." He said kindly, "I am glad to see you are doing well. I was ever so worried about you after I finished the healing process."

As he finished speaking she launched herself at his lower legs, hugging them with surprising strength, "Thank you, I did not realize you were the man father told me of; everyone says I would have died had it not been for you." Harry rested a hand on her head gently when a sharp click of a tongue drew his attention to the door.

"Shireen," the woman he assumed was her mother snapped, "behave yourself properly and get back on your bed."

"Yes mother." The little girl responded sheepishly as she turned around.

Harry turned to the woman who seemed just as dour as her husband. How in the hell did those two people produce such a happy child. He gave the Lady of Dragonstone a small bow, "Truly, it was nothing. She was merely showing her appreciation for the effort I put in to seeing her well."

The woman sniffed as she brushed past him, "Yes, well you have checked on you patient. You may leave now." Harry didn't respond instead just exiting the room with thoughts of how irritating the woman was running through his mind.

Harry returned to his room after that and slept until dusk at which time he went in search of Stannis. When he found him he was speaking with one of his household guards. He noticed Harry's approach and turned to him, "My men have gathered as much dragonglass as they could manage. It has been stockpiled in barrels in our storage rooms. I will leave you to the task of determining how to move them."

That was the end of their interaction, which suited Harry fine. He had every intention returning to First Forge after his four hours of sleep. He made his way down into the storage room only to find that the guards had done far more than he expected. Ten barrels filled to the brim with dragonglass lined the walls. Harry quickly shrunk them and pocketed them before leaving Dragonstone without further interaction. Quite the productive trip if I do say so myself.

Before leaving he made a brief mirror call to Val, telling her he would be home sometime in the night. She was happy to hear that the delay would be mere hours instead of the days it could have been. He decided to fly until he reached the North before doing the disorienting series of apparitions necessary to see him back near the Wall. As he traveled through the mountains of the Vale he could see the fortress known as the Eyrie. A supposedly impregnable castle with only one path to reach its gate, it stood alone amongst the snowy peaks and Harry had to admit that for a common army it would likely be a near impossible task.

Two hours later he found himself nearing White Harbor. He landed before turning on the spot and landing hundreds of miles to the north, he repeated the process three more times properly disoriented by the end before he was looking up at the 700 foot expanse of the Wall. He waited a few minutes, regaining his bearings before hopping back on his broom to travel up the sheer face of ice.

When on the other side he landed a final time before apparting the last hundred or so miles with a nearly inaudible crack, the next instant he found himself standing in his home. Val was sitting in a chair still very much awake awaiting his arrival. Even if it had only been four days, he was extremely happy to be home.

AN: I know I had Shireen contract greyscale at an older age then she does in canon but I think I am allowed something like that in a world that is already AU. Plus after last weeks episode, I felt like doing something nice for her.

Thank you for reading everybody!

9. Chapter 9

AN: As always really appreciate the response to this story. To the guests...

Pope IV: I am open to suggestions, yes. I can certainly consider adding that into the story at some point.

King Hiss: The giants are closest with the Thenns who won't be joining Mance. You'll have to wait and see how it plays out.

horndiggity: I think their temperament speaks for itself in the story. They are still very much the Free Folk just with the opportunities necessary to see them become more civilized. The Norfolk certainly don't see him as a god, but their definitely people who see him as a threat; even if they aren't amongst the Norfolk.

MaGnus: Leaf felt stronger in Harry's presence much the same way that the glass candle reacted to his presence. The only reason she and the other Children don't join him outright is because they maintain the cave where Bloodraven lives. Part of that is also that magic has been on the decline since dragon's died out.

theosay: I was not going to go with the idea that Harry has an immunity to poisons thanks to the events in his second year.

hiss: The warning from Bloodraven said nothing about the snakes being hostile, but you'll have to wait and see how that turns out.

Tryxxx: They will receive guests but not necessarily from the Free Cities.

qwerty123: Not yet no, and know there are some people awaiting that even but it won't happen until they have interactions with the Thenns who are far more insular.

Jon Snow III: Short answer, no. Something like that is highly, highly unlikely.

I am: It will probably be a few more till I reach canon but there will be less focus on the growth of the city.

reader: A compulsion requires a person actually be willing to follow through with the act, Stannis isn't exactly fond of RobertPlus, its not as though Robert goes to small council meetings unless forced so while don't have a definitive answer, it could last for some time. Yeah Harry's desire for cavalry isn't for fighting other Free Folk but for the possibility of having to fight in the south. I probably should have made that more specific. Certain people will take notice, Melisandre could very easily be among them, how they will view him will remain a mystery.

avid reader: 1) The horses he acquired in Essos are meant to help if they fight in the south. He was thinking ahead thanks to Bloodraven's warning. 2) Stannis entered behind Harry as he opened the door for him. So when Harry entered the room no one else was present but you are right I could have written that better. I will take a look at it. 3) It is something I have considered but haven't decided on for sure.

coldblue: 1)Harry was sure to show his face only to Stannis, so Varys will have suspicions but no actual proof and yes, he'll try 2)Probably yes 3)Sometime in the future 4) Their are actually sixty children remaining, though only seven other named ones. I'm not sure when he'll meet them but it will happen 5) Not Sure

I: Harry met Dany when he traveled to Braavos in chapter five.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Game of Thrones and no profit is being made from this story.

Jeor Mormont, 997th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, and otherwise known as the Old Bear, sat behind his desk staring at the reports provided to him by the many rangers spread across the manned towers of the Wall. The past few years had seen a common theme in each of these reports. The wildlings are banding together whether it's behind Mance Rayder or this Harry, it is clear that things are changing. Granted Mance had yet to actually gain control of the three major groups in the west but all reports said he was well on his way to doing just that. The only groups not consistently mentioned in the reports were the Thenns and the people who paid homage to Varamyr Sixskins. The Thenns aren't much of a surprise; they tend to keep to themselves after all.

Jeor sighed, not truly knowing how he should handle this situation. Sometimes I truly wish that Benjen hadn't allowed a man who appeared out of nowhere to leave his company. Then again towns to the south haven't suffered half as many raids in the past few years and Crowkiller died by his hand, something more than one of my men celebrated. Not to mention the instance where the magic practitioner saved one of his most experienced rangers from an otherwise fatal attack. He almost wished the man had taken up residence in the west if for no other reason than it would likely have ended the raids on Bear Island. While the Mormont family was accustomed to such attacks, he still worried about his sister and nieces.

For years now, the more hateful of the black brothers wanted a ranging sent north to destroy the potential threat posed by Benjen's acquaintance but Jeor refused, instead focusing on the hostile groups led by the Weeper, Rattleshirt, and Harma in the west; now attacking the magician really wasn't even an option. They outnumber us more than ten to one, have as good or better weapons than we do, and live behind strong walls. The Old Bear hoped that his inaction early on wouldn't prove to be the entire Watch's downfall.

Though, if one were to listen to Benjen Stark, things were looking far better than they did before the man arrived. Maester Aemon seemed inclined to agree and that as much as anything did a great deal to assuage Jeor's doubts. The simple fact was the Watch suffered fewer casualties because the people from First Forge entirely ignored them if they could manage it. It was obvious to the Old Bear that his First Ranger managed to convince his older brother of that same fact. Lord Eddard Stark seemed entirely unconcerned by the current movements of the wildlings. In fact, the Lord of Winterfell seemed pleased with the news between what Benjen had to say from his trip home months ago along with the subsequent letters he received from the Warden of the North. The only apparent response from the south was the sending of a maester to the new city, something he only found out about months after the fact from Cotter Pyke at Eastwatch.

The changes caused by Harry Potter were reaching such a point that Jeor was beginning to think it might be best to merely go and speak with the man who had made his job, and the job of all black brothers, slightly easier while unintentionally sowing dissent within their ranks. It was that dissent that kept him from doing such a thing. He knew that even should every man under his command be entirely happy with his decisions to this point they would not take kindly to him seeking the most likely candidate in almost a century to take up the title of King-Beyond-the-Wall. More than one of the men already calls him just that after all. The Lord Commander was pulled from his musings as his door opened revealing one of the most fervent haters of the wildlings.

Ser Alliser was humorless, bitter, and all around mean-spirited but effective in his position and certainly one of the most experienced fighter's amongst the brothers. The man's life plans never included the Wall but after choosing to support the Targaryens during Robert's Rebellion, Tywin Lannister left him no other choice but death. More than once Jeor wondered if the man had been quite so surly before being relegated to service at the Wall. He had a deep seated hatred of the wildlings, seeing them as the very worst sort of people and as such had been one of the most vocal in his view that the people at First Forge should be attacked. It didn't really need saying that he and Benjen Stark were not on the friendliest of terms.

"Lord Commander, Yoren returned from the south. He brought with him twenty new recruits." Alliser explained with a slight scowl.

"Good, we will assign the current trainees within the week. You will begin with the new group of recruits immediately." The surly knight's scowl deepened at this declaration. The man hates every recruit that comes through here and every recruit hates him, you think he would be past this by now. "If that is all Ser Alliser, you may return to your duties."

The man stood there grinding his teeth as he contemplated what to say. Jeor had a feeling that he knew where this was going, the same place it always did when the knight paid him a visit, "Lord Commander, I must once again express both my opinion, and that of many of my brothers, that something must be done about the apparent unification of the wildlings."

Jeor's lips were a thin, angry frown beneath his grey beard just before he replied, "Ser Alliser you have made your opinion known on multiple occasions. The wildlings have been far less hostile of late, rarely if ever venturing south. They seem far more focused on one another." He paused and leaned forward behind his desk, "I would think you happy about the situation. It appears that they may be preparing to go to war with one another, wildlings killing wildlings in mass numbers seems like the sort of thing you would appreciate. But seeing as you train our newest recruits and do not actually range, I do not see your opinion as particularly pertinent on the matter."

For the briefest of moments Alliser's face took on a nasty snarl but he managed to control himself before any sort of outburst. The man did not appreciate being reminded he was no longer ranged beyond the Wall, "Whichever group survives the possible hostilities will likely turn their attention to the south." Jeor found the insinuation laughable. The wildlings from First Forge showed no intention of going south in the past and there is no reason that would change just because they ended a possible threat.

He decided to humor the southern knight though, "Should such a thing happen we shall inform Lord Stark." Alliser snorted though Jeor ignored him. Southerners never have the proper understanding of northerners; even those who come to serve on the Wall.

"I know the man well enough. He will call his banners and aid the Watch in putting down that sort of aggression. The only thing attacking either of the growing wildling groups now would do is enflame their anger and lead to the death of more than one of our black brothers. We are not so numerous that we could suffer such a thing." In truth, Jeor had no fear of the groups supposedly influenced by Mance but the people of First Forge could likely do a good deal of damage if properly angered. He had no interest in angering a man who was able to build a city in a mere three years. Ser Alliser nodded stiffly before leaving the room in a rush.

The Lord Commander shook his head slowly caring little for the man's opinion as he went about more important business, namely deciding where the newest members of the Watch would be assigned as the new recruits took their place learning from Thorne.

Tormund Giantsbane walked through the streets of First Forge with an odd sense of contentedness. He could honestly say he never expected being beaten in a single combat could have such… positive results. He could easily admit that he was skeptical of Harry initially but chose to trust him. Then again when presented with somebody who could quite literally make most anything that sprang to mind appear out of thin air, pissing said person off was not on the top of his things to do.

His decision was proven for the best the very next day. To this day, he couldn't thank Harry enough for teaching Torwynd how to work the forge. He had never seen the boy happier then the day he came back from working in the heat that first day. Munda was much the same. His little girl, with the other rune carvers, provided the entirety of their then small clan an invaluable service and she did with a smile on her face. Now, she more than anyone had taken to learning the intricacies of the runes Harry taught her as well as those of the First Men. His daughter adored Harry, and Val for that matter, and found a lifelong friend in the form of Gilly. That certainly wouldn't have happened if it weren't for the wizard's interference.

His other two children benefitted immensely as well, but in different ways. When Harry arrived, Torregg had already long since proven he was a skilled hunter and fighter; however, he never would have had the opportunity to lead the way he did when First Forge was built. He was proud to say his son thrived in a role of authority. His successes over at Newport have certainly been proof enough of that. Then there was Dwyn, his youngest son had spent a good chunk of his time with his mother over the years but had recently taken to working with the carpenters. He just needed more time to find a place to fit. Tilda wasn't entirely happy about her son's decision but she knew he enjoyed the practice. She decided to start working in the fields with Dalla as a result of the change.

There were moments when Tormund questioned his decision to trust Harry; particularly the first time Harry enacted his policies regarding a conquered people. Allowing them not only to survive but join them as well was an entirely foreign concept to him at the time; however, Harry's practice was quickly proven to be the best way of approaching things. Del might never have become a part of this place if not for that practice, Ulf either.

Tormund didn't like thinking about the younger man's death. Ulf became one of his closer friends over the course of building up First Forge. Tormund was of the opinion that Harry had let the Gorbold, the fucking murderer, off far too easily. He had seen what Harry did to the cannibal who threatened Val and the twins, and he couldn't help but feel the whole thing would have been avoided if he had done much the same to the bastard Gorbold to begin with. I doubt Harry will ever make the same mistake again.

Despite everything he could admit two simple facts. Harry's presence ensured a better life for those who followed him and even should he disappear tomorrow, the Norfolk would survive. The knowledge he passed on, particularly that of Herbology that allowed their crops to grow at an accelerated rate, would ensure their continued prosperity for years to come. Though I certainly hope the man is around to see every second of it myself. Even if some of our traditions are changing. It was easy to notice that the youths amongst them were beginning to drift away from the practice of stealing a spouse. Harry seemed pleased by this and considering the way many of the younger people seemed pleased with their relationships he could understand why.

As he walked into his home he found his wife waiting for him a meal ready and waiting. He smiled at her, a slight crack of white escaping his bushy red beard.

His wife certainly wasn't a bear despite his constant boasts. Though to be fair I did sleep with a 'bear' more than once in my time raiding in the south. Tilda was actually quite a lovely woman, and not the sort most would expect to be with a man like Tormund.

He stole her when he was twenty and she was eight and ten. Unlike say Val or Del, she was certainly not a spearwife. This was not to say she couldn't defend herself when the need arose, he knew for a fact she could dig her nails in deep when properly enraged and could shoot a bow with the best. Tilda though preferred cooking and more recently sowing and was surprisingly soft spoken.

She was rather tall, something common amongst women from beyond the Wall, had dark, almost black hair and dark grey eyes that could appear almost black in their intimate moments. Her body had taken the toll of four children well, in his opinion anyway, the only remaining sign of the ordeal begin an extra bit of fat on her lower stomach that he paid little mind. Tormund simply believed it added to her already substantial curves, curves that he always felt were in just the right places.

They sat down to eat before speaking at all, not waiting for their children as it could be quite some time before they arrived home. Being from an area that spoke the Old Tongue and Common Tongue, Tilda actually had a heavier northern accent, "So tell me Tormund, how go things today?"

"I must admit the wizard never ceases to amaze. That fortress o' his is already more than half fucking built." Harry had employed the help of dozens of others for this endeavor to allow him time to focus on other matters as well, namely his children and something particularly important at the forge he told no one about. "I might not like Gareth much but between the two o' them they know what they're doing. They have their new stonemason's done with the outer walls already and well on their way on the interior. It's only been six months and from what Harry says they are more than halfway done with the thing."

"I'm sure he is happy about the progress… and how is Toregg?" As any mother would, she asked after her oldest son any time Tormund traveled to Newport, even if Toregg returned at least twice a week to see both of his parents and speak with his father regarding the warriors.

Tormund snorted, "He is fine Tilda, just as he was two days ago. The men and women under his command love him. The lad is a good leader, takes after his father in that regard." He finished with a loud laugh.

Tilda smirked, "Really I would think his more personable traits come from his mother. His father tends to boast far too much for anyone to take him seriously."

Tormund gave a full bellied laugh. The man had far too good a sense of humor to take offense from such a statement, "I suppose you have a point, but how do you explain all the people who willingly listen to my commands and training?"

She shrugged, as a grin broke out across her face, "Pity I imagine."

Tormund harrumphed indignantly, "Well then, I suppose we should just have Harry call Toregg back to worry over the thousands of fighters and I'll just work the field with you."

Tilda's eyes widened in shock and mock-fear, "I take it back, they follow you out of respect…the utmost respect, a respect that no other man could possibly inspire." They stared at each other for a long moment before they broke down laughing.

"Good to know just how much you want me around Tilda, then again I imagine I would be rubbish working the fields. Dalla would probably have me out within the first hour." It was true, Tormund's hand were made to hold a weapon.

Tilda nodded still trying to bring her laughing under control, "Exactly, I just don't want you embarrassing me if we can avoid it."

"Of course, that is exactly the way I took it." He replied with a grin, "Do you know what Torwynd is working on? I haven't talked to him recently."

"Oh yes, he told me just the other day," She began enthusiastically, "he and the others are working on a set of doors and a gate for the fortress. He was quite happy about the whole thing, apparently they will be larger than those he had to make for the wall along the point."

"And where is Munda?" He asked just before swallowing down a large chunk of fish.

Tilda hummed, "Where else do you think? Off somewhere with Gilly getting into some sort of trouble, though I believe they had some plans to study more of the runes they work with. Apparently she wants to add more to the Hall, something about allowing the ceiling to reflect the sky."

"So not watching the twins tonight then?"

"No definitely not, both Harry and Val are already home I believe." There was a brief lull in the conversation as they each finished up their meal before Tilda spoke up again, "Did you hear about the new group that joined us today Tormund?"

He shook his head, "I was at Newport nearly all day. I haven't heard anything, so what happened?"

"A group approached from the northwest this morning, did everything they could to ensure they weren't viewed as hostile. Many of them even laid down their arms when they passed the mine." She shook herself briefly, "Anyway, they approached the gates, and obviously Harry wasn't around so Val went out to greet them. They are a group from farther north about 1,500 in total led by a woman named Karsi. She had heard of First Forge from the group of terrified cannibals Harry let flee." Tormund was surprised that story would bring people to First Forge. Though I suppose that explains why they dropped their weapons before arriving.

Tilda noticed the look on his face, "Apparently her clan had issues with that particular group of cannibals in the past so she was quite happy to hear of their leader's demise and subsequent disbanding." She idly twisted a strand of hair between her fingers, a longstanding habit of hers, "Karsi and all of her people have joined First Forge, I discussed why she would do such a thing with Val; we both decided it was likely motivated by her two young daughters. She seems the type willing to do anything to ensure that her children are kept safe even if it means giving up her leadership."

Tormund shrugged not all that interested by the news. Hundreds of people join us every month, though I must admit over a thousand at one time is quite a bit more than usual. "As long as her people adapt quickly and understand Harry is in charge it matters little, though it is good to know that we have that many more fighters should there be an attack from the west in the near future."

Tilda chuckled leaned in and ran a hand along Tormund's cheek, "Listen to my man. I never would have taken you for one to actually worry about strategy."

He surged forward and captured her lips, his beard tickling at her face. When he pulled back he barked out a laugh, "You are a cheeky wench, gods know I need to worry about those sorts of things. Harry puts far too much faith in me not to." Their children filtered in one by one as they talked a while longer. Only when all three were home and in bed did the two parents take to their bed.

Val couldn't resist the urge any longer. A loud shriek of both joy and fear escaped her lips as they plummeted downward at an insane speed. She wouldn't be surprised if they could hear her the hundred or so miles away in First Forge. It was a dark, clear night and thousands of stars shone up in the sky. In her opinion, it was the perfect evening to fly through the air.

Harry was kind enough to start with nothing more than simple, lazy weaves high up in the air. While quite a beautiful sight and an interesting experience Val couldn't feel any of the supposed exhilaration that came with flying. Of course, with her personality she had no problem voicing this opinion to Harry rather derisively. And I shouldn't be surprised that with his personality he decided to do something like this… the lovable fucking prat. As they neared the ground at breakneck speeds her eyes were wide open fixated on the approaching ground. Then with a hard yank at the front of the broom they were flying horizontally through the air again, the toes of their feet just barely skimming the powdery snow atop the ground.

Val took a series of deep breaths before humming to herself as she pushed back into Harry's chest slightly, "Okay now I can understand what you meant when you described it as exhilarating." She couldn't see it but a wide smile broke out across his face at her declaration and a moment later she felt the gentle press of his lips upon her temple. As they continued along, lazily weaving through the air, Val was pleased they finally had the opportunity to do this.

They had both been busy since his return from the south. He had worked tirelessly cataloguing the many books, studying what he could, while at the same time building up the fortress and working the forge. She honestly wondered how he found time for it all and still managed to spend plenty of time with their children. Of course, it helps that much of the reading is done with Trystan and Emer sitting on his lap.

Now though, much of that was finished. After nine months, the fortress was nearly complete. She along with Dalla, Tilda, and Karsi had gone to see it just the other day. Val enjoyed the former chieftainess' company, as did her sister. In the few months Karsi had been around, she had been proven pragmatic and intelligent woman, helping Tormund on a regular basis with training their fighters; something he found particularly helpful with Toregg in Newport.

The fortress was an impressive sight to say the least, standing stalwart along the coast. Its walls were thirty five feet high and twenty feet wide with fifty foot battlements along each expanse of wall. The walls along the shore were set up in such a way that they overlooked and protected the docks below. Should enemy ships enter the bay, bowmen could be stationed along the walls and fire on them. The gates and doors were large structures of solid steel impossible to move without the help of magic, their surfaces adorned with dozens of runes each meant to strengthen and protect. It was an imposing sight, one that Harry hoped would serve as a symbol of their strength. Val couldn't help but feel it did just that.

However in her opinion, it was the interior that truly impressed. The courtyard was large and contained stone barracks, a fighting yard, and other assorted buildings that could serve as homes should they be faced with a protracted siege. The main building was interconnected to the smaller ones in the yard by stone bridges. Inside there were hundreds of rooms, an impossible number of rooms in fact. According to Harry this was the most difficult thing to manage as magically expanding space in that way required great care, lest it all come crumbling down. But after months of working with his rune carvers and layering enchantments it was finished. The Main Hall contained more than a dozen tables meant for feasting and celebrating. As requested, Gareth had been sure not to include a raised dais.

In an entirely separate building a library was constructed along with dozens of rooms for study. Val really didn't understand just how much Harry had taken from the Maesters until she saw their thousands of tomes lining the room from wall to wall. She knew for a fact that Gareth and many of his students were looking forward to working in the new building in the future. The entire structure was incredibly impressive, any who looked on it could tell that much. Gareth and Harry designed a fortress that could rival any built in the south and once the last of the buildings were finished, its many facilities would go into use.

They flew around lazily for another hour, slowly making their way back to First Forge. When they landed she gave her husband a strong hug, "Thank you, I am glad we were able to do that." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before heading into their home.

Sometimes Val wondered how she ended up this way. Entirely Harry's influence obviously. While there were those among the Free Folk who genuinely loved their spouses, Harry showed his affection openly and romantically most often. She… loved that about him and had become a bit of a romantic herself as a result. And it's not as though I can't still put most men and women on their ass in a fight.

As she opened the door the happy giggling of the twins could be heard, though it was almost drowned out by Gilly's indignant shouting. Standing there in the center of the room Gilly's hair was cycling between colors, ranging from bright green to a sickly looking yellow. The ten year old looked nonplussed about the whole situation but Trystan and Emer seemed positively ecstatic. Val looked to Harry, who couldn't control his laughter despite Gilly's situation.

He pulled his wand and with a quick flick Gilly's hair reverted to its natural brown. Val walked over to her children in their cribs and they both smiled widely and softly gurgled at the sight of their mother which brought an exceptionally wide smile to her face. At ten months old both of the children had taken their first steps, something both Harry and Val were present for. Recently though Tyrstan and Emer had shown signs of sharing their father's abilities, something that he warned her was highly likely during her pregnancy.

Harry was speaking with Gilly, "So how did you end up with multicolor hair?"

The young girl huffed, "I was just playing with them when I made to take away one of those stuffed toys you made them." She was referring to a doe and deer Harry had conjured up for the children. "Trystan didn't like that and decided to show his displeasure." Gilly couldn't help the giggle that escaped her, as now that it had been fixed she could easily see the humor.

Harry smiled, "They will do things like that when they want something," he turned a smile to Val, "I believe you found out first hand that they can levitate things they want if you just leave them sitting around."

It was true, a week prior Val walked into their home to find the stuffed deer floating erratically through the air toward a grasping Emer. Harry was in the room but he didn't notice it, and seeing such a thing from her children was shocking for her to say the least. I knew they would do things like that, but even knowing what Harry is capable of, it was odd seeing my children, a part of me, using magic.

"Yes well, I don't think they would want to change their mum's hair. They like me too much." She winked at Harry as all three chuckled. Gilly left shortly after. Harry prepared them a meal as Val fed the children.

"Sooo," Val began Emer at her breast, "how goes your work at the forge?" She knew he was working with the obsidian he acquired from Stannis Baratheon but he was quite reluctant to speak about his progress, even with her. She voiced her displeasure with that decision more than once but he refused to budge. When I first met him, I never would have imagined he could be just as stubborn as me.

He surprised her though, "Very well actually," she leaned forward happy he was ready to talk about his little experiment, "the books I acquired from Marwyn gave more detail regarding the process of crafting Valyrian steel, and while there are still gaps, it made one thing perfectly clear…. Without dragons it is impossible to fully reproduce the material." Val expected him to sound disappointed by this discovery but instead he was smiling.

"Though something got me thinking," she smiled knowing he was about to go into lecture mode, "the story of the Last Hero claims he used a dragonsteel sword to fight the Others which I initially thought meant Valyrian steel but that doesn't quite work. The Long Night happened 8,000 years ago, according to the maesters anyway, and Valyria didn't rise until 5,000 years ago."

"Right, so why exactly is that important?"

"The sword used by the Last Hero couldn't have been Valyrian steel if one believes the established timeline, and while based on its properties I imagine such blades would be equally effective, I doubt they are dragonsteel." He hesitated a moment, leaning back in his chair, "I think dragonsteel was some sort of alloy of both obsidian and steel." Harry finished.

She understood what he was doing now, "So your project at the forge has been trying to recreate this alloy while adding magic to bring it closer to the nature of Valyrian steel?" she wasn't particularly familiar with the word alloy but understood from context what it meant, "And you have succeeded?"

Harry sighed, "I have had some success and I am certainly getting closer but I haven't found the appropriate balance quite yet. The blades I've produced to this point have been slightly brittle and liable to break."

"Well we certainly can't have that; I have no interest in a spear head that breaks on contact so you better figure it out soon." She gave him a stern expression that had little effect thanks to tug at the corner of her lips.

He chuckled, "Well with the fortress nearly finished I don't think that will be any problem. I still have enough obsidian for my experiments and when it is done we will hopefully be able to produce a proper weapon against the Others." Val couldn't help but glance over at their children lying peacefully in their cribs. Good because nothing is going to endanger their safety if we have anything to say about it.

The clang of hammer on steel rang out throughout the forge as every muscle of Harry's back and arm shuddered on impact. He lifted the red tinted blade up with a pair of tongs and quenched it in the nearby tank. Like the rest of First Forge as the number of people, and therefore smiths, increased the size of the actual forge grew. It was essentially a complex now at the center of the city designed in such a way that the fifteen different blacksmiths and their 'apprentices' could work harmoniously.

Finally after nearly a year of testing on and off, reading through every tome he could find on the subject, coming up empty more often than not, and dozens of failures resulting in only having two of the original ten barrels he acquired from Stannis, he managed to find the balance of magic, steel and obsidian to produce a sharp and sturdy blade, with the same other characteristics of Valyrian steel. It was after collaborating with both Torwynd and Falyn that he was able to reach the achievement and both of the younger blacksmiths looked forward to making the steel in the future.

He couldn't really blame them as the result of his experimentation was a truly beautiful piece of metal. The metal took on the same tint as the obsidian used to craft it, he imagined it would be the same if he used the black or green variety of the material.

He could find only two problems with this whole thing. He couldn't be present to forge tens of thousands of blades for all of their fighters. Fortunately the magic wasn't necessary to produce the alloy, only to give it the extra characteristics of durability and sharpness. Well that wasn't entirely true, the heat of a magically created fire was necessary to form the alloy but that only required him to light the forge each morning. Runes, while not permanent would serve as a way of negating this pitfall. The other problem was simply the availability of dragonglass, he hoped that Stannis would honor his agreement to at the very least consider trading with them but there was no guarantee.

"Torwynd," Harry called across the forge. The young man was by his side almost immediately looking down with near reverence at this new metal. They didn't understand its significance, not yet, but someday they would; for now it was simply a unique, high quality metal more suitable for weapons than armor.

"These are my finished notes," he gestured to a piece of parchment sitting on a worktable nearby, "You and the others can begin producing blades immediately. All save this one needs to be taken to the rune carvers."

Towynd nodded, "Would you like this to be your blade, I'm sure Falyn would happily make you a new pommel." The various blacksmiths while usually providing a uniform set of weapons for the people of First Forge would sometimes take the time to make specialty pieces, on request, when time allowed. But for Harry, they would gladly drop everything to make a fine piece of craftsmanship.

"If she has time than I would be perfectly happy to take this as my blade." Harry responded as he laid the blade down before pulling the heavy apron over his head, leaving his upper body bare.

"I imagine it shall incorporate an owl in some way." Torwynd responded with a slight smirk.

The owl had recently become the 'sigil' of the Norfolk. Some of the children, including Gilly and Nairn, with Ferny and surprisingly Gareth's help made a banner. It was a snow white owl, eerily similar in appearance to Tyll, with wings spread in flight, on a sea of red the same color as the leaves of a weirwood tree. Underneath were the words 'We Do Not Kneel.' The children told him quite candidly that the final product was their eleventh attempt and that they had acquired the materials necessary for the colorings by nagging Yorik constantly before one of the trading voyages to Braavos. That standard now hung proudly atop the Hall, and on the walls of the Last Refuge, a name of the fortress proposed by Dalla. Surprisingly, the new symbol was widely accepted by the people, or at least if there were differing opinions no one had made it known to Harry.

"That should be fine I think," Harry said with a smile before pulling a shirt over his head and walking out of the forge. Looking around it was hard to believe everything in the east of this far northern tundra had only been built in just over five years. First Forge was a well-oiled machine by this point, producing food, weapons, and other miscellaneous goods, the biggest hit of which was the vodka and recently produced apple cider. They were so popular that a tavern was set up in both First Forge and Newport, few ever got properly pissed but they were well frequented and everyone enjoyed a good time when they went. We just need a few musicians and then it would be perfect.

The only other major addition within the city walls was that of bathhouses, which Harry had absolutely no hand in building, merely suggesting. The stonemasons who worked on the Last Refuge wanted a new project to work on, they found it in the form of the stretch of hot springs used for bathing. They were still making it larger but the first of the bathhouses was finished two weeks prior and many appreciated the new area.

On the other hand, Newport was the new bastion of knowledge in the Far North. Gareth took up residence inside of the library and he along with Marin, his best student, continued teaching children on a daily basis, who would usually be portkeyed there early in the morning. He had the feeling that the burgeoning town would soon become frequented by outsiders seeking both trade and knowledge.

Not everything was idyllic though, they had their first spot of trouble from outsiders. Harry knew of course that news of First Forge and its abundance of resources would spread to unfriendly ears before too long and someone finally took notice. Besides the maesters of course.

Pirate ships had become a frequent sight along the Shivering Sea, far further north than they usually ventured. According to Yorik, more than once they had been tailed for many miles by these ships only to lose them thanks to their superior speed.

The first attack actually came at Newport on a day when they were working diligently on the fortress. The pirates never drew close enough to the town to actually attack as Harry burned the ship in the sea. As a result of these possible threats, Harry took the time to build a set of walls in the water around both First Forge and Newport, gate included, to defend against attack from the sea and create a proper harbor.

The shipwrights took it one step further, building a new brand of ship substantially larger but still in the style of their trading vessels. Harry suspected the men and women who crafted their boats simply desired a new challenge but their endeavor proved effective. As more of the large vessels took to the sea as the months past, the number of pirate ships reduced substantially. Obviously word spread of the increased naval power, seaward walls and the wizard who could set alight any ship that dared attack.

On another note, Mance Rayder appeared to be drawing closer to making a move, though much of that information was gathered second hand. When he voiced that particular concern, Osha volunteered to spy, to the best of her abilities and provide him with any information that might better prepare First Forge for an attack. She had been doing just that for just over a month.

Despite the possible threat presented by Mance he was forced to leave the Far North once since his journey to Oldtown, and it had been the result of an oversight on his part. It happened two months prior, he remembered it quite vividly. It did happen in quite a rush, as he received a mirror call from Dagon from Braavos.

"Harry," he began tentatively, "I just had a rather interesting conversation with Syrio Forel, the First Sword of Braavos, I'm sure you remember him. He informed me that the Sealord has been perturbed that you have yet to visit the city again and requests your presence as soon as possible."

Harry sighed loudly. I suppose I could be there and back by the end of the day. I certainly don't want to draw the ire of the leader of our only real trading partner. "Very well Dagon, I'll be there shortly." He went in search of Val and found her with Dalla and the twins. He informed her of the situation and was quickly on his way.

He did a quick series of disorienting apparitions to Skagos, then near Karhold, and then onto the Fingers of the Vale before pulling out his broom and making his way to the Free City. Three hours later and just past midday, he found himself flying over the Titan, invisible to the human eye. He found the Norfolk ship easily enough where he landed and stored his broom.

He walked past the Sealord's palace the last time he ventured to Braavos, so he had an easy enough time finding his way. He was surprised to find Dagon waiting outside talking with Syrio. The pair of men were apparently awaiting his arrival. The bald Braavosi spoke as he approached, "Harry Potter it is good to see you again, even if it is almost two years later." There was no sign of reprimand in his voice just stating a fact.

"I admit the Sealord's invitation slipped my mind. The demands at our home took precedent." Harry responded as he shook the man's hand, giving a quick nod of greeting to Dagon.

"And Farrago fully understands your position, which is why he thought to remind your merchant friend here. I would question how you managed to reach Braavos so quickly but Dagon made it quite clear it was better not to ask." They shared a chuckle before he continued, "Well, let us go then."

The gates of the palace were opened for them by a pair of guards. The interior of the palace was something to behold. A lush garden filled with exotic animals made up the expanse of space leading to the palace doors. The doorway was large, made of oak, and engraved using silver with depictions of the Titan.

Inside the palace, the walls were covered by mosaics depicting various historical events. From the discovery of dragons in Valyria and the escape of slaves that would go on to found Braavos, to the Doom and Aegon's Landing, each was beautifully rendered.

They walked briskly through the building, climbing up two sets of spiral staircases until they reached the Sealord's quarters. Harry had to admit he expected the room to be extravagant considering the overall feel of the building, he was entirely mistaken. Sealord Farrago Antaryon's personal rooms could best be described as sparse containing a single desk, a simple four-poster bed and a copper tub for bathing. There two bookshelves flanking the desk and an open window in between that looked out onto the city beyond.

Farrago sat behind his desk sifting through dozens of pieces of parchment atop the surface. He was an older man, likely in his late sixties, with deeply tanned skin and dark eyes. His most notable features were a scar that ran from his right eyebrow toward his ear and a full bushy mustache. He looked up from his work and immediately dropped his quill to survey Harry with a noticeable sense of curiosity. After a long moment he stood and stepped around his desk.

"You are Harry Potter, leader of the Norfolk, and supposed magical practitioner." It wasn't a question.

"That would be correct, and you are the Sealord of Braavos and requested my presence. Perhaps it would be best to get to the matter at hand?" Harry wasn't impolite but just curious why the man wanted to see him.

Farrago clapped his hands, "A man who gets straight to business… that is something I can always appreciate. So many of the people I must deal with feel the need to trade pleasantries, Illyrio Mopatis most of all. You are a refreshing change." His eyes narrowed as he continued, "I will admit while curious about your abilities they have nothing to do with why I have asked you here."

"So why then? If not to wonder at my abilities, what reason do you have to call upon a man half a world away?"

"This city has long been powerful in regards to commerce and we would like to remain just that. It is my belief and likewise the belief of the Iron Bank that an agreement with you and your people would allow for our continued and increased prosperity." Harry had heard of the Iron Bank but never felt the need to interact with them. We Norfolk only use what gold is necessary to procure other goods. We have no need for ruthless bankers.

"What do you propose?" Harry asked evenly. Farrago seemed unaware that the Norfolk had only ever traded with the Braavosi and had every intention of keeping it that way to maximize the profit that could be made in this negotiation.

"It is quite simple, currently your merchants dock in the Ragman's Harbor, take on the fees that a foreigner takes on, and goes through customs as such." The last wasn't entirely true but that was a result of magic nothing more, "Should you agree to my terms any merchant ship from First Forge shall be given the right to dock in the Purple Harbor, where you shall incur no fees regardless of how long you dock. This right will imply citizenship and as such you will find yourself even more successful in your trade ventures."

Harry's eyes widened minutely at the offer. It was generous, surprisingly so but he couldn't understand what good came of this to the Sealord, "What would you like in return?"

"Not much, just an agreement that Braavos will be the Norfolk's foremost trading partner in future," he chuckled briefly, "and do not think we are unaware that as of now Braavos is your only trading partner, it is simply my desire to ensure that things stay that way."

"So… you grant my merchants what is essentially Braavosi citizenship in return for exclusivity in regards to our trading." The Sealord nodded, "Very well, but I must inform you I hope to trade with Dragonstone for their stores of dragonglass."

Farrago waved his hand airily, "I do not expect you to avoid all other trade and considering we do not have stores of dragonglass here in Braavos, I cannot begrudge you seeking it out elsewhere."

Harry spared a brief glance at Dagon, the man did have more experience in Braavos after all. The sailor turned merchant had a slight smile upon his face and gave the smallest of nod in his leader's direction. It was enough to inform Harry of his opinion.

Harry smiled, "I imagine you have drawn up some sort of document to bind this agreement." Syrio produced a sheet of parchment which Harry quickly read through, finding everything to be as cut and dry as it appeared. He was pleased to learn this didn't require the Norfolk to become involved with the Iron Bank in any form. He took up an offered quill and signed his name underneath the Sealord's. The sheet of parchment was promptly taken from his hands and stamped with hot wax, with the insignia of the leader of Braavos.

Farrago returned his attention to Harry a moment later, "Thank you for coming Harry Potter, I would normally be more hospitable but I have other matters to attend to. Feel free to travel the palace, Syrio will escort you."

"I appreciate the offer but I shall return home as soon as possible," Harry turned to Dagon who had remained silent throughout the conversation, "I shall see you there sometime soon I am sure."

Rather unexpectedly Syrio sighed, "I had hoped to test your mettle with a blade in hand wizard."

"Another time Syrio, perhaps you might visit First Forge for a time and then we can have that fight."

"I might just do that." The First Sword said with a gleam in his eye.

Harry was abruptly pulled from his memory when he felt the mirror in his pocket vibrate as he was nearing his home. He pulled it out to reveal Karsi on the other end, "What is it?"

"There is a ship sailing into the harbor." The dark haired woman stated quickly.

Harry apperated immediately and found himself atop the seawalls staring out toward the Shivering Sea with Karsi just next to him, "Do they appear hostile?" Karsi jumped at the sound of his voice as he had still been staring down at his mirror.

"Fucker, you could have warned me you were coming. I'm still not exactly accustomed to your unique ways of travel." She continued grumbling a moment longer before Harry silenced her with a stare. She coughed quietly before continuing, "To answer your question, no they do not appear hostile. It is only a single ship and they are approaching slowly."

Harry nodded but remained silent as he analyzed the approaching ship. It was rather average in size and in the common style of Westeros, with orange sails adorned with a red sun pierced by a yellow spear on the right and a red viper on the left. He recognized the southern sigil. What business does someone from as far south as Dorne have coming here? And a Martell at that?

As Karsi said they didn't seem to have any hostile intent so Harry yelled out, "Open the gates!" The ship kept up its slow pace before docking in their bay. Harry walked down to greet their southern visitors. Three people departed the ship, one man and two women. All of them were dark haired, olive skinned and fair to look upon. The man and older woman appeared around thirty-five years of age, while it was clear the younger woman, probably twenty, was at the very least related to the man, as they shared identically colored blue eyes.

None of them appeared ready for the weather of the north beyond their heavy fur cloaks. The clothes they wore underneath were clearly light leathers and silk in the case of the older woman. The man walked with an air of confidence, a serpentine kind of grace, which conveyed a certain level of danger. The woman Harry assumed was his daughter carried herself with a similar confidence and he could only assume that she knew how to use the various daggers he could see on her person.

Harry awaited them on the dock and as they drew nearer the man spoke. His voice was accented with something comparable to Spanish in Harry's opinion, "Greetings, I wonder if we might impose upon your hospitality in this far northern city? We number only fifteen and can assure you we will be no trouble." His tone was pleasant and didn't contain the superiority he expected from nobility.

"You are very far from your home, perhaps you might provide us with a name before requesting our hospitality." Harry wasn't asking, he wanted to know who this man was and what possessed him to venture to their lands.

"Ah where are my manners, my name is Prince Oberyn Martell. My lovely companion," He kissed the hand of the woman by his side, "Is my paramour Ellaria Sand. And this beautiful young woman," he turned to the younger woman looking about the city with inquisitive eyes, "is my daughter Nymeria." Both women smiled in Harry's direction though he kept his attention on Oberyn. The man clearly expected some sort of reaction to the bastard name but Harry gave him none. In the eyes of the south, all children of the Free Folk are born bastards. They are people nothing more nothing less, the circumstance of their birth doesn't change that.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Oberyn Martell, Prince of Dorne." Oberyn gave a roguish smile similar to the sort Harry could muster up and that his godfather had once been famous for, "But I am afraid I must ask another question of you. Why have you come here?"

"Curiosity of course," He replied as though it was the most obvious thing the world, "I have spent much of my life traveling, seeing all the world has to offer. So few of us see any more of the world than the corner we are born in, I don't want to suffer that sort of boredom."

He gave Harry another smile, though he now had a knowing gleam in his eye, "So when I heard from my old friend Archmaester Marwyn that a city sprang up beyond the Wall from nothing in years, led by a man with far more understanding and control of the mystical than he could ever manage, how could I resist? I don't imagine you could do such a thing Harry Potter. Of course the taste of your vodka I had when last in Pentos did a great deal to convince me to come here as well."

The only show of surprise on Harry's part was a slight tensing of his neck, "Marwyn is an interesting man, one who I found to be of high character." He contemplated the situation for a long moment as the three people in front of him stared almost unblinkingly, "You have our hospitality, both here and in First Forge so long as you abide by our customs."

Oberyn clapped his hands, "Gladly, Marwyn informed me of some of the… differences between your society and those I am used to. I must admit I am disappointed to learn that I will find no brothel to frequent here but perhaps I can find myself a woman to steal." At his side, Ellaria looked completely at peace and almost happy with the idea.

"Nymeria seemed particularly pleased with the opportunity, being a woman who prefers fighting is quite frowned upon in the south; we were told there are no such prejudices here."

Harry chuckled, "Well that much is certainly true, my own wife can handle a spear better than most men."

Oberyn smiled wolfishly, "An impressive woman then, my daughter Obara uses the same, as do I." He made a gesture to the twelve men who crewed his small ship, "I have not come empty handed, ten barrels of Dornish Red and Arbor Gold." The wine would be highly appreciated by more than one man and woman.

They fell into easy conversation as Harry escorted them to a home where they could stay but he couldn't help but harken back to the words Bloodraven once told him. I should have realized Marwyn was likely the wise rat but even had it crossed my mind I doubt I would have done anything differently. The man was genuinely trustworthy and more than once I glimpsed just that in his mind. I suppose we will just have to wait and see what will come of these snakes in the snow.

The snakes proved to be far from what Harry expected of nobility. Oberyn certainly had a certain amount of entitlement to him and a level of cockiness comparable only to Tormund, but all three of the southerners worked for their keep among the Norfolk.

The twelve sailors who brought Oberyn did what came naturally to them. They sailed, helping where they could on the fishing vessels or the larger ships meant to deter pirates. On a regular basis, Ellaria could be found working the looms with Ferny. Oberyn enjoyed hunting and fighting, so most of his days were spent doing just that around First Forge. Nymeria found her way to the fighting ring more often than even her father and Val took a liking to the slightly younger girl in a hurry. The two women, strikingly dissimilar in appearance, had similar temperaments.

Unlike with Gareth, he decided against hiding his magical ability from them. Thanks to Marwyn they already knew enough where doing so would be useless. It helped that the Prince already knew Gareth as well, thanks to the time he spent forging multiple links at the Citadel. It was there that he made his first acquaintance with Marwyn.

Despite Harry's willingness to be open with his abilities, he was no fool. He was aware that the Dornish were notorious for their use of poisons. According to Yorik, who had heard many tales while in Braavos, the Red Viper was the most notorious of the lot. As such, Harry ensured that either he or Val were present any time one of the Dornish was near their children. He trusted them to a certain extent but that only meant so much as far as family was concerned. He knew it was likely paranoia but he didn't particularly care.

Of course on more than one occasion Harry had the pleasure of the Dornish Prince's company when having a glass of apple cider after a long day. It was in one of those conversations they found themselves about three weeks after the Dornish arrived.

Oberyn was a man who could hold his liquor and after his third cup of wine and second cup of cider he was still more than fine. However, the conversation had reached a tetchier subject, "I loved my sister, more than any other in my family. I will never forgive the people responsible for her murder, and the murder of my niece and nephew."

"And who do you hold responsible for her death?" Harry didn't want to drudge up bad memories but he was genuinely curious.

"I blame many for her death: Rhaegar Targaryen, Tywin Lannister, Gregor Clegane, Amory Lorch, even Robert Baratheon," Harry was glad to hear the Starks excluded from the list, "Rhaegar left my sister for another woman, and regardless of Lyanna Stark's part in the whole thing, it was he who made that decision."

His voice took on far more heat as he continued, "But for all of Rhaegar's faults, he didn't kill her… no that atrocity belonged to Tywin Lannister and his mad dogs. He wanted vengeance against my family because Aerys decided against his daughter for Rhaegar."

The Prince's voice shook slightly, "The Mountain raped her with her child's blood still on his hands, before cleaving her in two with his greatsword; all while Amory Lorch stabbed my niece Rhaenys half a hundred times." He laughed bitterly, "And they say the man who now sits the Iron Throne looked down upon their lifeless bodies, the bodies of innocent children and the mother that loved them, and smiled." There was unadulterated hatred lacing the Prince's voice, and Harry had little doubt he had every intention of ensuring everyone responsible for his sister's terrible fate would suffer.

Harry could understand the man's unrelenting anger and desire for vengeance. He fought Voldemort as much to avenge his parents as much as anything else and yet he never truly knew them. He imagined it was heart wrenching to know which men were responsible for the death of a beloved sister, someone who was there for you most of your life, yet being powerless to avenge her properly. The desire for vengeance must pervade every cell of his body.

Harry decided not to voice his thoughts and couldn't help but voice his curiosity, "And you don't blame the Starks for their part?"

Oberyn stared off into the distance as he toyed with his cup absentmindedly, "I have no love for Lyanna Stark, whatever her role, but I cannot begrudge Eddard Stark his actions. He wanted to avenge his father and brother in the same way that I hope to someday avenge my sister. They say he raged at his oldest friend and the new made king when Tywin Lannister presented the bodies, and that… more than anything elevated my opinion of the man."

"A fair bit of reasoning," Harry concluded slowly, "I admit that from what I know of the war that would likely be my conclusion as well." Harry grabbed a jug from the table and filled both their cups once again, "A toast then, to good fortune in your future endeavors and future justices." Oberyn smiled again, pulled from his mood and clanked cups with Harry.

"I have been most places in this world Harry Potter. I must admit that yours is amongst the most unique. Someday, news will reach the ears of every man and woman of this world, I wonder if you will be prepared for what comes, whether good or bad?"

"I'm willing to do anything to ensure the safety and prosperity of my people." Harry's voice was hard as steel.

"You are no king, yet you look upon these people and this land the way that any good king should. Worse men have sat upon thrones Harry." The last was said as much to himself as to Harry. The Prince shook himself, "I hear you have a possible threat west of here. Should something come of it while we are still here you can count on my aid."

Harry clinked their cups one more time, "Your help shall be gladly welcomed… my friend." They drank heartily throughout the night, Oberyn even participated in a bout of fisticuffs, with the other men and women within the tavern. When Harry returned home it was to the laughter of five women: Nymeria, Ellaria, Val, Dalla, and Karsi all sat together Trystan and Emer being held by Val and Ellaria respectively and giggling happily as they were lavished with attention as the women talked. Karsi's daughters, one five and the other three, sat on the ground the older girl trying to read to her little sister; though she struggled through, only having been learning to read since her arrival six months prior.

"… awful leaving them, my youngest is no older than your twins but Doran and Tyene promised to take good care of them. It certainly isn't the first time one of Oberyn's children has fostered with his brother." Ellaria finished as he stepped into the room.

Val clutched to Emer in her arms possessively, "I don't know if I could do such a thing, for however long a time. Harry hated it enough when he was gone for just five days, I can't imagine being away for months at a time."

Ellaria sighed, "I do not enjoy it by any stretch, but Oberyn has always been like a leaf in the wind and a ship is no place for a baby girl. I would not risk her well-being and I would not be parted from my lover. So, I do the best I can for both of them." It was at that moment that Val noticed Harry's presence in the room as their daughter became fussy in her attempts to reach him. So fussy in fact that Harry felt a gentle tug in his daughter's direction.

The other women continued their discussion after greeting Harry in turn. Nymeria looked to Dalla, "I find it hard no one in this city has 'stolen' you. You are as fair as your sister and most women in the south can't match your beauty."

Dalla smirked, "I haven't been stolen because much like Val, I would quickly geld any man I didn't want in my bed."

Karsi laughed loudly, her thicker accent more prevalent as she struggled to control herself, "It was much the same for me before meeting Joran, all the more because I was leader of our clan." Harry ignored the rest of the conversation as he went about taking his children and putting them to sleep for the night. By the time he finished only Val remained awaiting him in their bed with a smile.

"I have to admit the southerners are not what I expected. They are tougher by far and having fought Nymeria in the yard on multiple occasions, I must admit they are far fiercer fighters as well." Harry was about to respond but he was interrupted by vibrations on the table nearby.

When Harry answered Osha's grimy face appeared on the other end, "Harry, Mance 'as started movin'. 'e finally manage' to convince the others to cooperate." So they're finally coming then. He looked over to Val, her eyes were narrow slits and he could see the steely determination in her eyes. It was a look that helped him fall in love with her. They will come to regret this decision.

AN: Hope you liked this chapter and thank you for reading as usual. For those of you who guessed the Snake referred to the Martells, or more specifically Oberyn, good on you because you were absolutely right.

Just so everyone knows, I will probably finish with my other fic with the next chapter. I will be putting up a poll Thursday asking which story you would like me to start working on next. I have various ideas of my own but if somebody has something they would like me to attempt feel free to let me know before then and if I think I can manage it, I will put on the poll.

Thanks for reading everyone.

10. Chapter 10

AN: Thank you for the reviews everyone, I always appreciate them.

scroty: Harry's hardest challenges are still ahead of him. That is really all I can say for right now without giving too much away.

heman: Sylvi likely won't be included only for the simple reason that I have never played the Telltale games.

Drifter: Runes are usually made to take up ambient magic, and the ones Harry made are supposed to as well but magic has been waning in the world of ice and fire since the downfall of the dragons. They still last quite a long time but because of this they don't have the usual permanence. The sword of Gryffindor was last used by Neville at the battle, since then it has become a relic of Hogwarts once again. The Skagosi like to keep to themselves and Harry has had no pressing need to trade with them. He will make contact soon.

Broin: It might have been, it will be a while before something, if anything comes of that encounter.

Warchief: He will meet at least one group soon. They can survive yes, though they won't be much use for fighting in that environment but Harry was thinking ahead to the warning he received. As of right now, I have no plans for the slaves of Essos, but that could very easily change.

PLEASE ME: I will at the very least consider it :)

PLEASE ANSWER: There is a strong possibility of that, yes.

Griffinclaw: They travel to Newport via portkey and back via ship. I have plans for Harry to find a more permanent solution.

pheofire: They may forge dragonsteel armor but crafting the weapons will the top priority. My opinion on portals is that they could be dangerous for the simple fact that they would be a permanent entrance or someone else to come into First Forge from Newport or the other way around. I considered having Harry implement one for travel between First Forge and the Quarry but decided against it because it is a complex piece of magic and the distance doesn't seem worth it, particularly when the mine is supposed to be transporting iron in bulk. That being said, Harry will at the very least try to implement portals for travel between Newport and First Forge.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Game of Thrones and no profit is being made from this story.

They were updated regularly through Osha over the next month as Mance and his army drew closer. There were three pieces of information that Harry found particularly interesting. All of the women and children of the gathered clans were traveling with the fighters. Harma, Rattleshirt, and the Weeper all maintained control of individual factions within the whole while a large portion gravitated toward Mance. Finally, their number was greater than originally estimated. Including the women and children, Mance's people numbered around 29,000 as he convinced nearly every person along the Milkwater south of Thenn to join up.

In truth despite being outnumbered by nearly 6,000 fighters, Harry wasn't concerned about their prospects in the upcoming battle. They had the superior position, warriors, and equipment. On top of which, the Free Folk had no experience attacking a fortified city on the scale of First Forge. They are far more accustomed to the small, lightly defended villages and hamlets south of the Wall.

Harry just finished donning the last of his armor, the steel greaves glinting in the low light of the early morning sun coming through the window of their home. He stopped momentarily as he grasped his new sword. His former smithing apprentices had truly outdone themselves. The blade itself was obviously his creation with a single fuller incised into the blade to reduce weight. The blade still had a red hue and was adorned with runes just above where it met the cross-guard and along the left of the fuller on each side. The hilt was a simple beauty. The cross-guard, which had a black tint to it, was four inches wide across with the image of an owl inlaid in gold at the center. Harry wasn't sure where they got the gold but didn't feel the need to question it. The hilt was a single hand, wrapped in black leather. The pommel, was made in the same image as the owl upon the cross-guard; an owl with its wings out-stretched though not so much to make it a nuisance.

The door opened, pulling Harry from his examination of the sword in his hand. He looked up to see Val approaching from the doorway. She had a spear in her hand, a dagger on her hip, and a bow on her back. At his insistence, she had taken to wearing more than just her preferred all white furs, adding a pair of greaves and vambraces though that was all she would allow. He stopped a moment just looking at her. Harry could honestly say that despite the situation, he still loved seeing her like that. He shook himself from his brief ogling, which she noticed if the slight smirk upon her lips was any indication, before sheathing the blade and speaking, "Is everything prepared?"

"Yes Harry," She started, "the last of the people from the mine returned not an hour ago and, along with the rest of the noncombatants, have been moved to Newport." Harry initially wanted to send Val along with them but thought better of it before even broaching the subject. She is a fighter, and she wouldn't be the Val I love if she didn't fight to protect these people right along with me.

"Good," Harry responded, "The twins are with your sister then?"

"Yes, she will protect them to her last." She paused a brief moment, "Though, I must admit I don't see it coming to that."

Harry leaned in and hugged her to his chest, "Me neither Val. We will end this and hopefully in the process get that much closer to ending any and all infighting among the Free Folk."

"This will never be a place for the likes of the Weeper, Harma, or even Rattleshirt." Val explained calmly, "Should they survive this fight, they will only try that much harder to find a way to destroy this place."

"I noticed you didn't mention Mance in that number." Harry commented idly.

Val chuckled, "That is because I don't know the former crow half as well as I know the bastards he's banded together, but" she continued hesitantly, "I imagine the man would be able to live here easily enough. He did manage to spend much of his life under the command of old men. Not to mention he didn't have permission," The word dripped with disdain, "to fuck for that time. So we would certainly be a step up."

"So I'm guessing you think he would be much more willing to live here, where all that is asked of the people is that you don't kill your fellows." Harry cut Val off before she could comment on just how stupid it was to take a vow of celibacy. Though I can't help but agree with her, I enjoy her far too much to ever consider something like that. Considering, that according to Benjen, the Wall is manned mostly by criminals sentenced there as an alternative to death, I'm guessing I'm not alone in that feeling.

"That is my thinking. Though by the time this is done he could very well be dead and there will be no way of finding out how well he would fit in here." Harry nodded before gripping her hand and apparating them in an instant. When they landed, Val collected herself briefly, glared at him, and then punched his shoulder… hard.

"You bastard, you know I'm not a fan of that particular form of travel especially without warning," She said angrily. Harry just smirked at her causing her to smile despite her anger. She leaned in to give him a quick kiss before walking up the steps to the walls above where she would stand with the other archers near the gate, as much as he might not like it. There were 500 archers along the long expanse of wall around First Forge, but there were more centered around the areas near the gates. Each archer had a quiver of arrows nearby.

The other fighters stood behind the walls, milling about with nervous anticipation for the upcoming battle though Harry genuinely thought they wouldn't have to do much in the upcoming battle. Between the archers and some of the little surprises I left around the walls, they will be hard pressed to even reach us.

As Harry walked along the wall, more than one of the men and women greeted him. The men and women who had been in fights before did so casually, even happily in some cases. The younger fighters, the ones who were little more than teenagers who had seen nothing of blood but that of an animal's taken on the hunt, were clearly nervous only offering him small smiles at best—and most gave him pained grimaces.

As he walked amongst the thousands by the western gate all clad in steel and furs, sharpening their blade out of habit, Harry found Oberyn wearing lightly armored greaves, vambraces, and a gorget along with supple leather and the odd piece of silk. It was all red and orange—the colors of his family sigil. He held in his hand an eight foot spear made of ash with a steel spearhead and spike. Perhaps we'll fashion him a new spear before he leaves us.

The Dornishman noticed Harry's approach and smiled, "The day is finally upon us. Do we know when the enemy shall arrive?"

"Last I heard from Osha they were nearing our watchtower in the forest to the west of here. They should be here in an hour, hour and a half at most." Harry responded easily as he stopped to talk to the man.

"Ah, so they will either be dead or have surrendered in three." Oberyn quipped easily. Harry was accustomed to Oberyn's cocksure attitude. He was quite similar to Tormund in that regard. Still the man was good, none of the Norfolk could deny that. He beat everyone he faced in the fighting yard but left none of the men and women with any permanent injuries.

"Let us hope it is that simple." While Harry had every faith the Norfolk would make short work of their oncoming enemy, he knew that things could go sideways easily enough. Battle is never a pretty thing.

"Oh, it will be." Oberyn responded confidently, "You have every advantage, the only concern should be ensuring you sustain as few casualties as you possibly can."

"Even if we didn't have every advantage, I would be planning to minimize casualty to the best of my ability."

"Truly," Oberyn raised one dark eyebrow, "Then I have a question for you." Harry looked at him curiously waiting for the man to continue, "Why have you not simply infiltrated the enemy army and with some of your magics sowed discord in their ranks? I have seen you move from place to place in an instant, and your people say you can move unseen if you wish. They likely wouldn't even be approaching at this moment had you taken advantage of these abilities."

Harry had to admit it was a fair question and he had considered doing just that, "It crossed my mind, more than once in fact." He paused a moment to gather his thoughts as Oberyn waited patiently, "The simple fact is that the current leaders of the opposing clans are established. They have thousands who fear and follow them. If I killed any one of them, I could very easily be opening the door for some unknown to take up that same cause."

Oberyn shrugged, "True, but you could continue to remove the threat."

"Correct, but that would simply sow more distrust for me and mine among the other Free Folk." Harry sighed, "I don't want to fight much less kill the army that comes against us. I'll admit there are some among them who would never be able to function in our society… their desire for blood and violence is far too great to manage such a thing, not to mention the cannibals.

"But that doesn't change the fact that many of them would be able to thrive here. Should I kill their leaders, it would lead to infighting that would see just as many if not more dead and certainly wouldn't lead to any of their number joining First Forge."

Oberyn seemed to understand, "So by doing things this way, where you feel assured of a victory, you will hopefully limit the number of overall casualties while allowing you to offer peace to the any who surrender."

Harry nodded resolutely, "I don't like it, and it's a hard choice." Harry looked to where he could still see Val along the wall talking to Nymeria, "I don't like that this situation puts my wife in danger. I don't like that it puts any of the Norfolk in danger. But I trust my people to win this fight without major loss, and hopefully it will lead to better things for everyone."

The Prince of Dorne crossed his arms and scrutinized him through narrowed eyes, "There is something that you know, something else that influences your decision."

"What makes you say that?" Harry asked evenly, though he was surprised that the man managed to reach that conclusion.

"Your concern," Oberyn stated as though it was obvious, "there is no reason for you to feel concern for the people not under your command… yet it is there nonetheless. The only reason you haven't ended this before it even started is because you want those who survive to join you."

"Very astute observation," Harry commented, "perhaps when this is over I might tell you my deeper motivations. You have certainly proven yourself a friend." Oberyn seemed satisfied by that response and Harry took his leave, making his way among the other fighters once more.

Tormund commanded the forces near the northern gate and Toregg the southern gate. There were fewer men there as Osha's reports made it quite clear they were coming directly from the west but Harry didn't want to be caught off guard.

Harry, Tyll on his shoulder, stood along the walls with his archers over the next hour waiting with his wand in hand for the enemy to appear. He could, if it so pleased him, unleash a torrent of fire that would certainly slow his enemies but he was unwilling to risk setting the Haunted Forest ablaze when they were more than prepared for the enemy.

As they were waiting, Harry noticed an eagle overhead circling. Ah, so they have at least one warg among their number. He immediately entered Tyll and set aloft, the wind rushing beneath his wings. Moments later he was upon the eagle who obviously didn't see him coming. Harry snapped at the eagle, biting into its wings with his sharp beak, and brought his talons to bear, digging into the feathers along its side.

The eagle squawked in pain and anger before trying to dig its own sharp talons into the soft flesh along Harry's stomach. Harry beat his wings hard, pushing away from the lunging bird with blood dripping from his beak and staining his snow white feathers. Harry quickly gained altitude before diving in for another attack, rushing bodily into the eagle, tearing into its flesh, and forcing it to retreat.

Harry removed his consciousness from Tyll a moment later, and the bird glided back down to rest on his shoulder and gave him an affectionate nudge of her head. With a mental nudge, he sent Tyll away back toward the owlery before he turned to Val beside him, "They are nearly here."

Val looked stonily out toward the forest, "Let them come."

Sure enough, not twenty minutes later the shadows of a few thousand could be seen at the edge of the forest. One man stepped up from underneath the shade. He was a thick, blonde haired man—that much Harry could tell even over the short distance. He carried a large curved scythe. The weapon was synonymous with only one of the enemy leaders. So this is the Weeper then. Still Harry couldn't help but notice one other important fact. There are too few. Harry extended his sense outward and found that a large contingent of the oncoming army, at least 20,000, was waiting further back within the forest.

Harry felt a vibration in his pocket from the mirror there. He quickly answered to see Tormund's face, "They appear to be broken up into factions as Osha said," He turned the mirror to show a man standing at the edge of the forest wearing armor made of bone, "As you can see Rattleshirt is here further north with what would appear to be maybe 2,000."

"You should be able to deal with them easily enough then." Harry commented before the mirror vibrated yet again. "Let me know when the situation there has been dealt with." Tormund nodded before one red-head was replaced with another and Toregg came into view.

Harry cut him off before he could speak, "Let me guess you can see a group just near the Antler and the forest led by Harma Dogshead?"

Toregg's eyes widened briefly in surprise before nodding his head, "That would be correct yes. It would appear she leads some two or three thousand."

Harry didn't respond for a long moment, "I imagine you shall be able to manage perfectly fine then." Toregg responded in the affirmative, "Should things finish here before I hear from you I will come to help you with your situation."

"Understood," Toregg then smirked, "though, I think we will be long finished before you have the opportunity to arrive."

Harry actually chuckled, causing a few people to look at him odd "I'd make a wager with you but I fear you would be embarrassed."

Toregg's confidence faltered if only slightly, "Probably best if we didn't."

Val leaned over and snatched the mirror from Harry's hand, "You're absolutely right. Now there are more important things for both of you to be worrying about." She cut the connection before handing the mirror back to Harry. She then gestured to the now approaching forces from the forest.

Harry had to give them some credit. Clearly they had taken advice from Mance as they had fashioned themselves ladders for scaling the wall and a makeshift ram to batter at their gates. Despite that, they were no true fighting force, evidenced as they approached in uneven lines. Many wielded weapons of bone and there were archers interspersed among them.

It was when they were within a hundred feet of the walls that the trap Harry had lain for them took effect. Those along the front stopped suddenly, seemingly stuck as their feet sunk into the snow and ice. Yet as they tried to wrench themselves free, they only sunk deeper. He wasn't quite as talented as Fred and George when it came to this sort of thing, but he managed to take inspiration from the portable swamps and incorporated the muck of the swamps into the city's defense. Those behind the front line stopped, looking at the area ahead warily.

The Weeper's surprisingly high pitched voice rang out across the commotion as his forces were stopped cold, "Keep moving you fuckers! Step on the man in front of you if that is what it takes. And you fucking archers better start firing." That is exactly what they did, stone, bronze, iron, and in rare cases steel tipped arrows left the bows of the some hundred archers serving under the Weeper but then something happened none of them expected. They dissolved on contact with some sort of invisible barrier causing a distinct feel of uneasiness to pass through the enemy ranks. Still the rest of the ranks did as they were commanded and pushed forward, walking over the tops of their mostly sunken fellows to get around the spell Harry placed there.

Harry looked around the walls to the archers there and finally spoke up, "Fire at will!" All at the same time, more than a hundred bows were drawn. The tension as the strings were pulled backward was audible to Harry's ear. Val beside him did the same, and then seemingly as one, despite a lack of command, they loosed their arrows.

The volley of steel death bit through the bone, leather, and bronze armor of their enemies, sinking deep into the flesh and in many cases killing the man or woman unlucky enough to feel the sting. Screams of agony rang out, carrying easily in the morning air. Blood stained the snow where the men and women fell. Those who remained clustered together as they used their wooden shields to protect from the next volley. Harry could see that the Weeper was enraged and it seemed that his anger was all that continued to drive them on. They are tenacious I will give them that much, but they must know at this point they are merely rushing headlong toward their death.

For the next half hour Harry stared on as they drew ever closer still carrying the ladders. Must be the hardest hundred feet any of them have ever had to cross. The 3,000 that exited the forest had lost at least a sixth of their number due to his trap and the archers. Still more fell to the rain of arrows that cut through the air. It was as they were maybe twenty-five feet from the walls that Harry raised the wand hand and unleashed an inferno. He wasn't foolish enough to use Fiendfyre, as covering such a wide swath with the cursed fire would make it quite easy to lose control.

Hot fires crashed into the lines under the Weepers command. The smell of burning flesh saturated the air a moment later. He held the spell for five minutes, bathing hundreds of the enemy in its heat. Their screams of death and pain far more intense than those lucky enough to have an arrow pierce their heart.

Finally another ten minutes after he started unleashing his inferno, the some 1,500 remaining people under the Weepers command reached the walls and raised their ladders though many died as they slipped down the trench in front of the wall, only to be trampled by their fellows or skewered by the pikes placed there.

It was as the first man reached the top of one of the ladder that Harry reacted to their ascent. When fighting the Crowkiller, Harry was limited by the possibility of friendly fire. Now, all of his people were either by his side or behind their walls.

Harry brought his wand up and wove a quick but intricate pattern. There was a wrenching sound and the battle seemed to stop momentarily before suddenly the walls lurched, spiked protrusions stabbing through the men on their ladders in the blink of an eye across a five hundred foot expanse of the walls. It was enough to destroy all fifty of the enemy's ladders. More than one of the spikes drove through the heart of a man or woman. They were the lucky ones, many more were pierced through painful yet non-vital parts of the body. Not that it matters, they will be dead before long as well. More than one man would have to live the short time they had left to them with their manhood pierced. That particular piece of transfiguration was particularly taxing, but Harry paid it little mind.

Once again he raised his wand. This time the very ground shook violently as Harry forced a new wall, far shorter than those of the city and nowhere near as sturdy, to raise up out of the ground. The Weeper and his forces were now trapped with the hammer bearing down on the anvil.

As expected though, the enemy refused to give in. They tried once again to climb the ladders, some not being nearly as broken as others. They avoided the spikes as best as they could. Some even made good progress though the archers stopped them from reaching the top.

Val turned to Harry, "We are beginning to run out of arrows." Harry looked down the walls to the many quivers there and noticed that many of them were empty or nearing empty. He looked to the battlefield and noticed that the Weeper was directing the survivors of his forces to destroy the gates with their makeshift battering ram. As though something like that could ever break our gates.

They couldn't have numbered more than 900 now, but they were 900 men and women fighting in absolute desperation. Harry turned to Val, "I think it is time we finish this." She nodded and he grabbed her hand, Val in turn grabbed Nymeria beside her and the three apparated down to join the soldiers waiting patiently there.

Oberyn noticed them first, "So we are finally going to get to see some of the fighting then." Harry merely nodded and turned to Karsi nearby.

"I will open the walls a hundred feet each direction from the gate, you will lead a group through to the south while I do the same to the north. To keep the enemy unaware of this change I will lay down a thick mist. They are currently attacking the gates," this caused a snicker from Karsi, "we will meet in the middle."

"Understood Harry," She responded promptly before moving off toward the south, bellowing orders as she went. Oberyn, Nymeria, and Val all followed Harry as he made his way north. When he stopped he drew his sword in his other hand as he began moving his wand. There were over 5,000 Norfolk waiting for Harry to form a hole in the walls that would allow them to exit and crush what remained of the Weeper's forces.

The mist was an easy piece of magic to manage, and in moments the area outside of the walls was covered in it. Cries of witchcraft could be heard from the other side which only made Harry chuckle. Of all the things I have done today that draws a cry of witchcraft. It only took him a moment before a hole in the wall formed, allowing for ten abreast to travel to the other side. They moved as a single unit, shields raised and weapons in hand. Harry silently directed them forward. Once nearly a thousand were outside the walls on his side, Harry started moving toward the gates.

They killed the stragglers still trying to scale the walls until they reached the bulk of what remained of the Weeper's forces. From the sound of weapon meeting weapon, it became apparent that Karsi hadn't been quite as patient, but it gave Harry's group a distinct advantage as the Weeper's men were focused on the enemy to the south. The mist only helped in that regard.

Silently, Harry and his fighters came up behind the enemy. He brought his new sword down in a strong slash. The man in front of him was one of the few with proper bronze armor and it was likely the only reason the man had survived this long. The 'dragonsteel' blade cut through the bronze as easily as a knife through warm butter. It sank deep through the man's pauldron, shoulder blade, and down to his lungs. The man didn't even have time to scream before he died. Harry wrenched it free with surprising ease and a splatter of blood.

His strike served as signal for the others. They pressed forward and surrounded what remained of the Weeper's men, cutting them down like wheat before the scythe.

Speaking of scythes, Harry noticed Val not far away fighting the Weeper himself. She dipped and dove around his long arcing attacks, thrusting outward with the blade of her spear.

Still, as should have been expected from any of the leaders of the Free Folk, the man knew how to fight. He dodged and avoided her attacks even as Harry's forces pressed in around him. The Weeper slashed at Val and caught her in the arm, drawing a pained scream from her lips and an angry snarl from somewhere deep within Harry even as he cut the throat of another woman.

But Val didn't drop her spear. In fact, it only seemed to make her angry. Before Harry even had the opportunity to apparate over and ensure her safety and the Weeper's death, Val managed to end the man herself. The Weeper went to make another strike at her. This one would have cut at her chest, but Val stepped in closer, brought her free arm up, and with a quick movement managed to snap the shaft of his scythe. She reached to her hip a moment later and drove her dagger through the man's eye.

The Weeper's one remaining eye stared at Val in shock as his mouth opened in a silent scream of pain. He gave one last dying heave before falling over with Val's dagger still embedded in his eye.

The Lady Nym was nearby, a veritable storm of daggers as she moved gracefully around the battlefield. She seemed to find the weakest point in her enemy's armor with an innate sense born of much practice. Harry noticed as two fell before her blades in a mere manner of seconds.

Oberyn was closer to Harry. He couldn't help but appreciate the man's fluidity with the spear. Harry imagined this wasn't the best situation for Oberyn's style of fighting but he made due and more than one of the Weeper's men died before his spear.

Through all of his musings Harry never stopped moving, both his wand and sword cutting through the air in a flurry of motion. A cutting curse left his wand severing the head of the man in front of him while he stabbed with his blade at the man to his right. The man tried to block the sword with his shield but it couldn't stop the sharpness of Harry's dragonsteel. The reddish blade sank all the way through the shield and kept going until it reached the stomach of the man behind it. Harry shattered the shield, and freed his blade, with a quick Reducto before moving onto another.

The battle continued, though it only last another ten minutes before they had the last of the Weeper's men pinned with their backs against the walls. They refused to yield so they died with their swords in hand.

When it was finally over, Harry surveyed the battlefield. There were a few who managed to reach the top, but they were dealt with by those who remained behind the walls.

As Harry surveyed the blood and bodies, one thing became abundantly clear. This battle was an absolute massacre. The men and women he had burned with his fires were still smoldering; those who had the unfortunate fate of sinking into his trap had long since suffocated; and the moans of those who would likely die in short order were all that broke up the sound of boots crunching on snow. Of the near 3,000 the Weeper commanded, not a single one would survive.

Karsi tapped Harry on the shoulder drawing his attention, "I lost seven when we destroyed their remainder."

Harry nodded, "I lost five." He turned to the Walls where the dead still hung from spikes. He weaved his wand and it receded back quickly into a smooth surface. The bodies fell to the ground piling along the face of the wall.

"Collect the dead, they will be burned." He looked out to the forest, "but be careful, there are still thousands waiting in there, and I would not have them catch you unawares."

Karsi nodded, "That might have been their ploy all along, it did draw us out after all."

Harry shook his head slowly, "No… no I don't think so, there is more to it than that. I don't think their leaders would have led these groups if that were the case."

Karsi furrowed her brow, "I suppose you're right." She turned to do as Harry requested, "But we'll find out for sure soon enough."

Harry found Oberyn talking with Val and addressed the pair quickly, "I shall be going to check on the others, would you like to come with me?"

They both nodded and Oberyn spoke, "Just let me retrieve Nym, she will want to come as well."

Harry looked to Val and brought his hands up to check on the wound on her arm. It was a deep gash, still seeping blood and cut horizontally across her triceps. She winced slightly though showed no other sign of discomfort as Harry brought his wand up to heal the flesh. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, "You needn't come with."

Val scowled, "Harry, you know me far better than that. I am coming. It was a minor injury that you have already healed." Her eyes softened, "I appreciate the concern though."

He sighed, "Right, I knew that would be your response, but I figured that I would try anyway."

She smiled, "Not surprising," Her eyes turned to him with concern, "How are you doing though? Some of what you just did with your magic," she looked to the smoldering bodies, "it must have been exhausting."

Harry shrugged, "The adrenaline of battle allows me to ignore my fatigue." Val didn't seem particularly pleased with that response but accepted it. Nymeria and Oberyn appeared at that moment.

"Right," Harry said, "let's go." They quickly clasped onto Harry as he turned and arrived at the southern gate to the sounds of battle. Without Harry there to help, Harma and her people managed to get more than one of the ladders into place though they were still clearly losing the battle.

Harry released his hold on the other three before apparating again outside of the walls. There were only maybe 700 of the attackers remaining and a good many of them were already within the walls. Harry decided he would take care of those who remained without. He brought his wand up and used a spell he had learned while in Norway. A stream of lightening arched out from his wand and made contact with one of the raiders near the wall. Harry held the spell, willing it to keep streaming from his wand and the electricity began to arc.

The spell was exhausting and usually required the cooperation of multiple magicals to perform at this level, but Harry just kept on pushing. Screams were ripped from the hundred or so throats of the men and women still outside of the walls as they were fried by Harry's spells. When Harry finally lifted the spell, he was breathing hard. What remained of his first victim was nothing more than a smoking husk covered in boils and blisters.

Harry took a moment to collect himself, surveying the walls and ladder to ensure there were was no one left before apparating back into the battle on the other side. It was nearly over now. Harry could see Toregg upon the wall fighting a squat, round woman with a dog's pelt across her shoulders. It was quite obvious to him that this was Harma. Harry joined the throng of fighters as Torreg finished of his opponent.

The red haired man was a flurry of movement, dodging around Harma's axe and dagger. She was a fast fighter despite her appearance but she underestimated the younger man. Toregg leapt forward, dodging another of Harma's blows in the process. She was off balance and very near the edge of the wall. He kicked at her legs and caught her in the right leg. She fell backward off the wall and made the fifteen foot tumble toward the solid ground, smacking her head as she went. Toregg jumped down and landed gracefully next to the now weaponless and dazed Harma. He forced her to a kneeling position before raising his blade and driving it down into the base of her neck and through her spine.

Harry cut the neck of another of Harma's men, blood spurting outward and landing on both him and the ground. The last of the men and women under Harma were finished off, and just like the Weeper's, they refused to surrender to the last fighter. When everything was done, Toregg approached limping slightly from a wound he had sustained along his thigh.

The younger man looked at Harry despondently, "Well looks like I would have lost that bet."

Harry chuckled as he went about helping those he could from their side with their injuries, "As if there was any doubt of that," He turned to Toregg as he healed the broken nose of one woman with a quick Episkey, "But you managed everything well enough despite my absence."

Toregg looked around, "Very true, but how went things at the main gate?"

Val stepped in then, allowing Harry to continue with his work uninterrupted, "The battle there was extremely successful. We managed to sustain less than twenty fatalities while destroying the entirety of the Weeper's 3,000 followers."

Harry smirked, "And Val had the honor of killing the teary eyed fuck personally."

Toregg laughed full-bellied as he looked to Val, "Well, the man probably underestimated you something that anyone should know better than to do."

Val shrugged, "He did get in a good cut to my arm, but I managed to drive my dagger through his eye as repayment."

"Not surprising in the least," responded Toregg before turning to Harry again, "Any news from by father?"

Harry shook his head as he reattached a man's left index finger, "No, but Rattlshirt attacked there." He straightened suddenly and turned to give the red-headed man his full attention, "We will go there now."

Toregg nodded and addressed one of his subordinates, "Gather all the bodies for burning, including those outside the walls."

Harry turned to Val, Oberyn, and Nymeria, who declined the offer to journey with them this time figuring that the battle would be all but over at this point. So Harry, with only Toregg, apparated to the northern gate of First Forge were it turned out the other three were right—the battle was essentially done. The only bit of action going on was Tormund bashing repeatedly on the skull of a man clad in armor made of interlinked bones. Rattleshirt was the only one of his force remaining and if the splattering brain matter was any indication, he was no longer among the living either.

Toregg quickly approached his father as Tormund threw down the club he had apparently ripped from the former Lord of Bones' hands, "Never liked that little fucker." He commented as he turned and gave his son a brief clap on the shoulder, "I take it everything went well at the southern gate then?"

Toregg smiled, "We lost some good men and women, but Harma and hers were utterly destroyed."

Tormund turned to Harry with a wry smile, "I suppose I don't even need to ask about what happened with you."

Harry shrugged, "You could but we both already know the answer. I meant to ask, did the traps work for you two as well?"

Both nodded as Tormund responded, "They worked perfectly as did your wards, and both certainly made the fight easier."

"Well that was the point." Harry responded nonchalantly as he started healing those he could.

An hour later, Harry was standing back at the western gate with Val and Oberyn. The casualties for their side had been counted and of their 16,219 fighters, only 589 had perished—almost all of them at the northern and southern gate—and 276 more had been injured. Harry did what he could to heal those injuries, but a few would require long term treatment. On the other hand, their enemy had been completely annihilated; at least those who came against them had. Of the people who marched through the Haunted Forest, 8,322 of them perished, and all of them were burned.

Oberyn turned to Harry with a smirk on his face, "I stand corrected, I thought you would have finished everything in just three hours… instead it took nearly four." They shared a chuckle before returning there attention to the expanse of wood in front of them where Harry could still feel the over 20,000 other Free Folk led by Mance Rayder.

It was just afternoon, and a light snow was falling when three figures made their way out of the forest alone and waving something that Harry truly wasn't expecting… it was a white flag. Harry looked to Tormund and Val, "I suppose we ought to see what they want to discuss." The other two nodded, and the three made their way down from the walls, out the gate, and toward the three people standing in the open space outside the Haunted Forest.

The man in the middle, who Harry could only assume was Mance Rayder, was neither handsome nor ugly, just quite plain and in his mid to late thirties. He was slightly shorter than Harry but long-legged and lean. His chest and shoulders were broad. His face was sharp and his brown eyes shrewd. His brown hair was beginning to grey. His helm was in his hands. It was made of bronze with raven's wings on either side. His cloak was the one that had been described to Harry by Val years ago, black with stripes of red throughout.

At his side was a lithe girl, wearing white furs similar to Val's though with some browns and black interspersed. She was no more than fifteen or sixteen. Her hair was flame red, she had a clear complexion, blue- grey eyes and a slightly long face. She had a bow in her hands with an arrow knocked, though it was undrawn. The girl was quite comely as far as Harry could tell but seemed the type that would geld anyone who stepped too close to her without permission.

The young man holding the white flag was probably somewhere between twenty and twenty-five. He had short hair almost as dark as Harry's. His eyes were nearly as dark as his hair and he had the beginning of beard forming on his chin. He was slightly taller than Harry and thicker around.

The six people stared at each other for a long moment. Val pulled her own bow out to match the younger girl across from them though Harry raised a placating hand before returning his attention to those across from them, "You wished to speak?"

Mance Rayder's voice was neither gruff nor light and just as unremarkable as his overall appearance, "I did." He paused scrutinizing Harry, "I have heard a great deal about you over the past few years. The Witch-King-Beyond-the-Wall, that is what a few of my former brothers called you when I spied on them in an encampment. The likes of Crowkiller, Harma, the Weeper, and the Lord of Bones despised you for what you have made here. The truth of it was they merely wanted to ransack your city and take what they could to make themselves stronger. The Thenns… well the Thenns are an entirely different story. They have heard of you," This was news to Harry, "and they seem to respect you if nothing else."

"All very interesting Mance," spoke up Tormund, "but as far as we are to understand it, you are the one who brought together these clans to conquer our home."

Mance smiled faintly and turned to the young man at his side, "Jarl, who did you follow before I banded together the clans?"

"The Weeper," he responded promptly.

"And what sort of man was he?"

Jarl seemed to weigh his words more cautiously now, "He was a right bastard, but good at what he did. But even as good as he was at raiding and pillaging, there was never really enough and then when he heard of this place he wanted to take everything and leave it nothing but a smoking ruin, like Hardhome hundreds of years ago."

Mance nodded, obviously having heard this same story many times in the past. He turned to the young girl at his side, "And you Ygritte?"

"The Lord of Bones, and before you even ask, the man was a right cunt. He'd let any of those who fought with him die if he thought it might get his wee cock inside of Harma." None of the three Norfolk could help the slight chuckle at that. Well this one certainly speaks her mind. Not that Harry expected anything different from a free woman.

Val spoke from his side, "So what is the point of these stories?"

Mance's eyes never left Harry but he answered Val's question all the same, "Quite simple really, each of those who came against you today hated you. All of them would have come after you at some point and many more would have died than necessary. Most," he gestured to his two companions, "did not share their leader's beliefs. Instead, like me, they saw the opportunity you presented." Harry understood now why they only fought a fraction of the men and women he was expecting that day. He gathered those who wanted peace with First Forge, join it even, and allowed the dissenters to attack under the belief they would have reinforcements. Shrewd, vicious even, but effective. Harry couldn't help the small seed of respect that was born in his psyche for Mance Rayder.

The man in question continued unaware of Harry's revelation, "I honestly wish that none of them had to die." Harry could hear a small bit of contempt in his voice but whether it was directed at himself or Harry, he didn't know. "But if it was a choice between the worst of the Free Folk, those who live for blood and nothing more, and those who simply want to live safely and free I will choose the latter every time."

"Especially when the former would see the others dead if it fit their ends," Harry finished for him.

Mance nodded grimly, "Exactly," he looked to the city behind them, "but just as importantly, you offer the best chance against what is coming."

Harry's eyes widened minutely. He must know about the Others somehow, either that or he believes there is some other threat coming. "So to be clear here, you sent over 8,000 people to their deaths in the hopes that it would save another 20,000."

If Mance felt any sort of remorse he didn't show it, "That is exactly what was done, and none of the other leaders even had an inkling of what I planned. Each of them believed that I had every intention of helping their assault once you and your men were drawn out from your city walls. They trusted me because I offered them advice."

"I figured as much," commented Harry, "I imagine it was your idea to use the ladders and makeshift battering ram."

"You would be correct."

Harry contemplated the situation for a long moment, looking to Val briefly but she offered no opinion on the matter just staring at the three across from them. "Tell me," Harry finally broke the eerie silence that had fallen over those gathered, "do those who follow you truly desire to join us here?"

Ygritte spoke before Mance had the opportunity, "The Free Folk have always chosen who they wish to follow. You won't find a single person who would betray Mance and he believes in you… so we do as well. Though if you try and force any of us to become kneelers, I'll shove an arrow up your arse."

Val chuckled and Harry turned to glare at her half-heartedly. Obviously Harry would never do anything like that, he respected the Free Folk for who they were and he would never force them to kneel. He wasn't sure how comfortable he was with the loyalty of so many being centered on one man. But with this unification more than two- fifths of the Free Folk will be a part of the Norfolk.

Harry did the only thing he could to try and ease his concerns. He locked eyes with Mance and entered his mind with as much subtly as he could manage. He couldn't delve too deeply into the man's mind lest he reveal himself, but he could feel one pervading emotion fear; fear for the people who had come to trust him, fear that Harry would reject his offer, and there at the very back of his mind, fear of the ice blue eyes that shone in the dark.

He pulled back slowly, and now Harry scrutinized Mance in a new light. This man is very much like me, a kindred spirit almost. He simply is doing the best he can to protect the Free Folk, and I can't deny them knowing that simple fact.

Harry cleared his throat briefly, "We don't have the accommodations here at First Forge to take in so many," there was a brief look of concern on Mance's face but he stopped himself as Harry continued, "but the Last Refuge at Newport has more than enough rooms to accommodate you. The Norfolk children go there on a daily basis. Gareth, a southerner, and Marin, one of our own and his best pupil, teach them how to read and write." This didn't seem to bother Mance in the slightest though there was a brief look of disgust that crossed Jarl's face.

"I assume none are forced to attend." Mance commented.

"Of course not, many of them simply enjoy it and have a thirst for the knowledge they can acquire there. Many of the others will help tend the fields and livestock, work the smithy, help the carpenters and shipwrights, or learn how to fight."

Harry continued on, "Everyone finds a function in some part of the society. As is the Free Folk custom there is no currency, so bartering is done in many cases. The smiths often will negotiate with the carpenters for certain pieces, but more often it is the leaders of each working group that reports the needs of said group and they are provided for promptly." Harry had yet to broach the subject of recognizing each working group as a guild and assigning leaders but it wasn't really necessary considering how things were progressing that way naturally, "Over the years, we have managed to procure a surplus of food so we are not wanting in that regard."

Clearly not being fully aware of just what First Forge really was, Mance nodded a little gob-smacked, "We have plenty of good fighters in our number, skilled hunters as well. I'm sure some of the older women would be happy to help in the healing arts. As for the other trades people available, I can't say for sure, but I am confident more than a few will take them up."

"Which is exactly what I have come to expect thanks to experience… though, this will be a far greater integration of people than any point in the past."

"We have an agreement then?" Mance asked calmly.

Harry nodded firmly once, "We have an agreement."

The Norfolk who retreated to Newport for the duration of the battle returned and two hours after noon, the citizens of the city watched as the new arrivals entered the city.

There was a tenseness as the arrivals entered the city, neither group really having any reason to trust the other at this point. But despite that , there was a noticeable sense of wonderment for Mance and his people as they made their way through the city. They marveled at the bathhouses, the forge, the white stoned houses, and most of all, the Hall.

Harry stood just outside the Hall, alongside Mance, Val, and Oberyn, among others, watching as the many men and women made their way toward the docks and into the many ships there. I need to come up with a more permanent and immediate way of getting people to Newport that doesn't require either portkeys or ships. Perhaps some sort of portal… shouldn't be too hard to manage.

"Is that a castle?" Harry realized the question was directed at him and turned to see the same young red-head from the initial meeting with Mance looking at him expectantly. Harry glanced behind himself toward the Hall and smiled slightly.

Both Harry and Mance alongside him found the question endearing. Harry responded without a hint of derision or ridicule, "No, I'm afraid that isn't a castle," She seemed surprised, "but when you reach Newport you will be staying in a fortress. That will give you a much better idea of what southern castles are like." This answer seemed to satisfy the young woman as she turned to keep walking toward the boats.

"She's quick that one," Mance commented, "and deadlier with a bow in her hands than anyone I've ever met. Put one of those longbows of yours in them, and you'll have yourself the single best bowmen of anyone in your city."

"Suppose that explains why you brought her along to our little peace talks." Harry said with a smile.

Mance chuckled, "Aye, it does at that." The former crow leaned in closer to Harry and whispered, "There is something of some importance I would like to discuss with you."

Harry was quite sure he knew what Mance was referring, "Very well, you will join Val and I at our home tonight for dinner." Mance straightened back up and watched as his people filed through the city slowly. The entire process took about an hour and then an hour for boats to reach Newport. If Mance's former followers were impressed by the buildings of First Forge, they were properly awestruck by the Last Refuge.

Toregg did a great deal to help Harry sort out where people would be staying, and by sundown, every single one of their new arrivals had a place to sleep. Gareth approached Harry while he was milling about the fortress, helping where he could. "So," the middle aged man began, "I see your battle was successful."

"It turned out far better than I could have even hoped." Harry replied candidly, "Mance has a sharp mind. I never expected he sought to join us based on Osha's reports."

Gareth furrowed his brow, "I think I will write about this battle. In fact, I think I will begin writing down all of your exploits to this point. Something tells me someday people will want to know about what you have done here and how you did it."

Harry grimaced slightly. Even now, he was not particularly fond of having praise heaped upon him but he could understand where Gareth was coming from, "The truth only Gareth, no embellishments. I am only a man doing what he can to better others."

"That is true enough, but you are so much more than that. Perhaps you are too close to the situation to see it." The maester gave Harry a small smile before walking away.

"I find it hard to believe, but I actually fully agree with that man," commented Toregg as he approached Harry. The younger man shook his head, "Most of our newest members are gathered in the Great Hall. I imagine there are some things you would like to say to them."

Harry started walking toward the Great Hall. When he arrived, it was to the soft murmurs of hundreds even a thousand. With a loud bang from his wand he drew everyone's attention, "I imagine that Mance already told you a great deal about how we function." There were many heads bobbing up and down in the crowd, "Very good, that saves me a great deal of time." He looked around the Great Hall, "This can serve as your home and the home of many more but I imagine most of you would like to be able to have your own space. Starting tomorrow, construction of new homes will begin. We have a good many stonemasons, and between them and myself, we can build quite quickly. However, any who wish to help in that endeavor would be welcomed with open arms." More than one seemed interested in that.

"An important bit of information," Harry stated firmly, "You may settle disputes however you see fit… within reason. Most tend to settle there issues with a fight in the yard, non-lethal of course, and after they hit one of the taverns and share a drink. Things of a more extreme nature are brought to the attention of the most senior members of our society. They will usually settle the issue from there. If they feel the need, they will bring the issue to my attention."

"So we aren't truly free anymore then," commented one of the older men present.

Harry shook his head slowly, "You are still very much free, but murder and theft aren't tolerated among our people." Truthfully, things of that nature came up once a year at most, the Norfolk were civil among themselves but brutal to those who threatened them. "It is no different than your previous life, you don't steal from your own and you don't harm you own." There were mumblings of understanding. It wasn't that far off from their previous way of life. Probably the main reason so many have already adapted to life here.

Harry stopped all conversation when he continued, "I plan to work on a means to allow instantaneous travel between here and First Forge, so that those who wish to take up trades centered there might do so more easily." Without the need for a portkey. He already had a plan in fact—rune archways connected to one another. They wouldn't work for more than a couple hundred miles of distance but that is enough to get from First Forge to here. In all honesty, I really should have thought of something sooner, portkeys one way and then boats back really isn't the best way of doing things.

With that he turned to leave. The people in the Great Hall quickly dispersed to tell their fellows what Harry had to say. He quickly apparated back to his home, and as he landed, he was assaulted by the accidental dissonance from an improperly plucked string of what he could only assume was a lute or mandolin. Harry turned to the source of the noise.

Sitting in the room was Mance Rayder, staring at him in shock, "That is definitely going to take some getting used to." The man placed his instrument to the side and looked to Harry.

"I assume everything went well over at Newport?" There was a distinct note of concern in his voice.

"Everything went splendidly," Harry replied as he went to greet both Val and his two children, who if their happy giggles were any indication, had been enjoying Mance's playing, "thank you for remaining here."

Mance waved him off, "I was their leader, they may trust me but that position must be filled by you now." He looked away momentarily, "The truth is, I only took up the role I did out of necessity. You seem much more suited to it then I do."

Harry chuckled, "I don't know if I would say that but I make do."

Val snickered behind him, "You're far too modest sometimes. The things you have done have never been done in all of the Free Folk's history." Harry turned to her and they shared a small smile but Mance brought them back to the conversation at hand.

"She is right but I wonder if it will all be in vain." Mance's eyes had hardened and there was a graveness to his voice. "I fear everything you have made here will be consumed by the ice and cold."

"What makes you say that?" Harry prompted.

"The things I have seen that wait in the cold places of the world." There was a distinct fear in him now, "Tell me Harry, what do you know of the Others, or the White Walkers if you prefer?"

"Fearsome monsters said to be something like men. They were supposedly powerful necromancers and capable of manipulating the weather of the world. They attempted to conquer all of Westeros some 8,000 years ago but were beaten back by the combined strength of the First Men and the Children. They haven't been seen or heard from since then. Maesters claim they are nothing more than myth." Harry rattled off the accepted history of the White Walkers.

"The maesters are wrong," Mance took a shuddering breath, "When I left the Shadow Tower, I was forced to travel north from the Frozen Shore and up into the Land of Always Winter… It is a terrible place, cold so very cold. The air there bites into the skin deeper than any steel. I thought nothing could live there and I was quite sure I was going to die."

"I was there for two weeks, barely even within boundaries of the uncharted land. I was starving when I encountered it. It was clad in armor reflective like ice, its skin pale as freshly fallen snow, and its eyes a burning blue that shone through the snow and darkness." Mance gave an involuntary shiver. "I ran from it with everything I had. It… must not have followed otherwise I have no doubt I would have long been dead." He shook his head, "Two days later I managed to find a passage through the Frostfangs that eventually met with the Skirling Pass."

"So you saw one of the Other? Why did you tell no one?" Val interjected.

"I refused to go to the clans empty handed. I couldn't give them only fear and no way of saving themselves." Mance defended.

"So you tried to find a way to escape this threat. Is that why you traveled to Hardhome, all those years ago?"

Mance's eyes widened in slight surprise, but he nodded hesitantly, "Yes, I thought I might be able to find the legendary Horn of Joramun. It can supposedly break the Wall and give us the opportunity to flee south."

"And give the Others the ability to invade the entirety of Westeros unimpeded." Harry commented. He might not have any vested interest in the Seven Kingdoms, but he was never fond of putting innocent people in danger.

Mance certainly didn't seem to care, "I sincerely doubt the Wall will be half the obstacle you hope and should I have found it we would have had years to travel south."

"But you didn't and stopped your search." Val commented.

"True enough, and by that point this place was already well on its way." He looked to Harry, "You offered an opportunity, one that would never have come about otherwise."

"And what opportunity is that?" Harry asked earnestly.

"The opportunity to fight them, here in our lands, on our own terms. If they come, and I have no doubt they will, fleeing South only will add a few more years to our lives. The Free Folk only want to live and many would rather die with a sword in their hand then with a blade in the back."

"For your information, you didn't need to convince me of anything," Mance looked perplexed, "much of what I have done here has been in preparation for when the White Walkers come."

"You know they are coming and yet you have done nothing?" Mance asked angrily. "With your magic, you should have been able to stop this long before anything came of it!"

Harry glared at Mance, "I do not appreciate your rebuke, and I think you overestimate me in that regard. I am powerful, that much is absolutely true, but I knew nothing of my enemy. Should I have gone off immediately after learning of the threat, I very easily could have died in the Land of Always Winter and left my people and all the Free Folk no more prepared for the oncoming threat. It is only recently that I managed to acquire materials that history claims can harm them." Harry drew his sword suddenly, "this is dragonsteel and already our blacksmiths work to craft more of the material." His voice took on a hard edge, "Do not speak as though you are fully aware of everything I have done since arriving here."

Mance had the decency to look at least mildly ashamed for jumping to unfair conclusions, "You are right, of course. I should simply be pleased you have long been aware of the situation and done what you could to prepare."

Harry nodded taking in a deep breath to calm himself, sheathing his sword before he continued speaking "And I will continue to prepare. There are only two major groups of Free Folk remaining, and many of those who don't pay homage to them flock to us."

"Varamyr will not join you of his own accord, the man is self-righteous. But the Thenns…I will admit I tried to convince them to join my false crusade to come against you. They were reluctant to say the least, and as they have the ear of the giants, I had no better luck with the. I think you will find them quite amenable to some sort of agreement, particularly if you stress they will be first group in the way of the White Walkers. They seem to respect you."

"Things to consider certainly," Harry commented. Mance stood and grabbed his lute from beside his chair.

"I shall leave you for the night. I imagine you are both quite exhausted from your efforts in the battle earlier." They gave him a faint smile as he made his way to the door.

Harry and Val looked to each other. They were both still wearing their blood stained armor and looked completely exhausted. "Long day," Harry commented before grabbing Val's hand and pulling her toward the bed. The children were sleeping, and they had time for a quick reprieve. He divested himself of his clothing as they made their way to the bed and Val did the same, "I think we deserve a bit of sleep." The pair fell to the bed, and Val rested her head against Harry's now exposed chest.

They drifted off to sleep quite quickly, but Harry's thoughts were rife with the strange turn of events and what the future held now the Free Folk were so close to being fully unified.

AN:There you go, hope you enjoyed the chapter. I allowed Harry the opportunity to unleash a bit more magic. Mance is described as cunning so I decided to go with him having deeper plans then simply attacking the Norfolk, he is certainly smarter than walking straight to his death.

The poll regarding what story I start working on next is still up and will be until Thursday. If you haven't voted and you want to, please take a look.

11. Chapter 11

AN: Hey everyone, as always thanks for the reviews. I just wanted to say I have more than one request to provide both a map of First Forge and Newport as well as how I view there new armor and weapons. I have no talent when it comes to drawing and anything I might provide wouldn't do justice to what I have in my mind or give the sort of detail people want on the cities. So I do apologize on that front.

For those who critiqued the battle, I understand your issues with it and in the future I might take the time to rewrite it but as of right now I'm not going to go back. As for the guest reviews...

newbie:You're going to have to wait and see how things go between the Watch and the Norfolk.

Help: I would say both things are possible, and even likely in the case of Melisandre.

Lannister'ed: I will give the best answer I can. Val I would compare to Kathryn Winnick who plays Lagertha from Vikings. As for Harry, if you are looking for a specific person I would say Luke Evans is closest to how I picture him in my head when writing.

coldblue: 1) I'll let you find out 2) No skip yet, I did cover over a year in the past two chapters 3) Kind of like Vanishing Cabinets 4) Other way around 5) Possibly

Jeor Mormont stared at the report in front of him in absolute astonishment. Of all of the outcomes I never would have expected this. The report came directly from his First Ranger. Benjen took a special interest in the now finished hostilities between the two largest groups of wildlings and the end result. He managed to watch the proceedings of the battle from within the Forest, undetected by the wildlings within and had provided the Lord Commander with great detail of the proceedings. The people along the coast have doubled in size and the most violent among the wildling leaders have been slaughtered in the process. Jeor felt this should be cause for celebration. The only predominant group of wildlings remaining along the southern portion of the Milkwater were those under Varamyr Sixskins, and the only group west of the Frostfangs were the cannibals along the Frozen Shore who often kept to eating and killing among themselves.

Unfortunately for Jeor, he knew the brothers of the Night's Watch would be far from unanimous in their opinion regarding this new development. Led by Ser Alliser, there was already a contingent of some fifty men pushing for action to be taken against First Forge. With Mance joining them and doubling their strength, the fervor would only grow. Before departing to scout the battle, Benjen came to blows with the man more than once as he contested the proposed action as reckless. And he is right. Between our three remaining castles we number little more than 500. We would be decimated if we went against them.

Ser Alliser was perfectly aware of their lack of men and had recommended that they send word to the capital… or at the very least the Northern Lords that they might provide aid to the Watch against 'the ever growing threat'. The surly man seemed incapable of believing this group would remain north of the Wall much longer and that given the time they would come in force against the South. This new unification would only serve to strengthen the man's resolve.

The Old Bear stood and made his way out of his quarters and in search of Maester Aemon. The old man provided the best of council to the Lord Commander, just as he had Qorgyle before him and more than half a dozen others before him. When finally he came upon the old man, he was feeding scraps of meat to the many ravens in their cages.

Before Jeor could speak Maester Aemon's soft voice cut through the cawing, "Lord Commander, what might I do for you?" Despite being blind, Aemon possessed an uncanny ability to recognize when someone was near. Though how he deduced I sought him out is baffling.

As though Mormont spoke aloud, Aemon answered the unasked question, "You are troubled my Lord, and have been for quite some time now. You have sought me out more in the past month than in the first five years of your command here."

"True enough," responded Jeor gruffly, "the matter of the wildlings is troubling, and you are the best man to offer advice."

"Over sixty years I have served as maester of the Night's Watch but as I have told you in the past when you have sought out my council of late, I have no experience from which to guide you in this." The topic of the wildling movements had been the only matter of conversation between the pair recently but the maester had yet to hear the most recent news.

"Maester Aemon, the battle between the two wildling groups happened three days ago. Benjen just returned from his ranging and gave me a full report," Jeor paused as Maester Aemon turned to look at him with unseeing eyes, "The Weeper, Harma, and Rattleshirt are dead."

"Good news," Aemon stated plainly, "they represented the worst of the wildlings. Though I notice you failed to mention our former brother."

"Mance Rayder convinced the majority of those who followed the other three to join with him instead. He allowed the groups to attack the walls of First Forge where they were slaughtered. He then ran up a white flag calling for a talk with Harry." Jeor shook his head, "They reached some sort of agreement and mere hours later the entirety of Mance's remaining group walked through the city's open gates."

If this information surprised the old man, he didn't show it. Instead he just 'looked' calmly at the much younger man, "So they have joined together then, hmmm? It was among the many possible outcomes to the battle." Aemon's unseeing eyes still managed to bore into Jeor as he continued, "What do you plan to do about this turn of events Lord Commander?"

Jeor brought his hand down to the pommel of his family's ancestral sword and grasped at the bear's head almost subconsciously, "That is why I have sought you out before any other Maester Aemon. My First Ranger will counsel patience, as these Norfolk have done nothing to harm us. Ser Alliser will urge me to attack and call as much support as I can for the endeavor. You have been supportive of Benjen's position in the past, but what say you now?"

"What has changed save their number Lord Commander?" Aemon reasoned, "Does their number change their behavior? I would certainly think not as it hasn't in the past." He threw another piece of meat to the ravens, "My lord, there is no doubt you are in a difficult situation. You don't wish to be forced to react should there be unexpected aggression but you also have no desire to attack without provocation." Jeor had the urge to sigh, he was well aware of his precarious position.

"Thank you for summing things up so nicely maester but you failed to give me your opinion on the matter."

Aemon smiled lightly, "I have seen the best and worst of men Lord Commander, and I am not simply referring to the wildlings." Jeor could understand the sentiment. Many of the worst people he'd met in his time were the nobles who considered themselves above their people. " I cannot say for certain that the Norfolk, as they call themselves, will remain in the north forever but I can say they don't seem among the worst sort of men and if what Benjen tells me is true, their leader seems to me among the best."

"So what is your counsel then?" Jeor pressed. He was a man who rarely doubted himself but this was an entirely new situation to him, going so far as contradicting everything he learned as a child regarding those beyond the Wall.

"You must inform Lord Stark of the new situation if nothing else. He is not the sort of man quick to action but he will want to know of this new development as it effects his people most of all." Aemon finally gave his opinion of the situation, "As for the Norfolk, you cannot attack them outright. Whoever you send would be slaughtered and you would only bring their wroth down upon the rest of the Watch."

Jeor nodded to himself, his resolve bolstered by Aemon's similar thoughts on the matter, "There was one other thing though maester, Benjen saw one man outside the walls fighting that seemingly didn't belong. He appeared Dornish in both his choice in armor and look."

Aemon's brow furrowed, "There was no word of Dornish ships from Eastwatch."

"My thoughts exactly," Jeor responded simply. There was an unspoken concern between the pair at the strange bit of news."

As Jeor walked over to a desk in the room and grabbed a piece of parchment Aemon spoke once again, this time in warning, "I would remind you Lord Commander to be wary of those around you. While Ser Alliser does not hold sway over the opinion of most of our brothers, he will likely do whatever he views as necessary in the situation."

The Old Bear started writing a letter to Lord Stark and without looking up responded Aemon, "I know the sort of man Thorne is maester. Hopefully a letter to Lord Stark will be enough to placate him and those who share his opinions for the time being." The old maester nodded slightly before making his way, alone, out of the room. Aemon had a steward to attend him but the Targaryen knew the castle better than any other and could get around unassisted with relative ease.

When he finished his letter, Jeor stood and approached the many ravens. He knew the one trained to travel to Winterfell quite well and quickly attached the piece of parchment to its leg before sending it on its way. He left at a brisk pace uninterrupted until he reached the courtyard where he could hear quite the commotion.

Ser Alliser and Benjen were in the middle of it, many of the men watching the pair with rapt attention. It would have been too much to ask that the news remain quiet for just one day. Jeor's stride quickened to stop what would likely come to blows at any moment.

Ser Alliser's voice rang out over the courtyard as Jeor approached, "I never took you for a wildling lover Stark, but then they do say you Starks are descended from Bael the Bard a couple hundred years back. Maybe some of that blood is showing itself." It was an old legend, one that claimed a man who would one day become King-Beyond-the-Wall, Bael, impregnated the daughter of one Lord Brandon Stark after being called a coward. Bael's bastard son went on to become Lord Stark, as the line had neared extinction. The current line was descended from the same man.

Benjen didn't rise to the verbal attack though his flared nostrils were enough to show his displeasure with the former southern knight, "I love no wildling Thorne, but I know a threat when I see it and the people at First Forge are no threat to us."

"And why is that Stark? Simply because you've met the man who leads them you think you know their intentions? Or maybe that is just it? You know the leader far bet…"

"Enough of this!" Mormont roared as he came to stand just a few feet away from the quarreling pair. He gave them a hard look that had them both silent, though neither looked particularly contrite. The Old Bear continued more calmly, "For those who don't know," His voice carried over the slight murmurs in the gathered black brothers, "the Free Folk at the settlement known as First Forge have doubled in strength after a battle yesterday between the Norfolk and a group led by Mance Rayder." Many seemed surprised, clearly unaware of what caused the argument between the First Ranger and Ser Alliser, instead merely watching for the entertainment.

"And what do you intend to do about the situation Lord Commander?" Alliser asked expectantly. So he wants to push the issue here in front of everyone in the hopes that he might be able to gather more support.

"I sent a letter to Lord Stark informing him of the situation. I shall also inform our brothers at the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch of these new developments." The knight's scowl deepened, "There is little else to be done given the situation. Should we wish to take action we will need support from the south considering the Norfolk appear to have no intention of attacking us here."

Benjen spoke up then, "Not to mention they have many a ship they could use to simply bypass the Wall at this point. They have no need to come against us in force here, it would be foolish." Many heads could be seen nodding in agreement with the sentiment. This seemed to take the wind from Thorne's sails though he recovered quickly.

"All the more reason we should deal with them now before they have any ideas about going south." Soft murmurs could be heard, some in agreement.

"Something that would be hopeless with the Watch alone," Jeor countered. "Should we wish to take them where they live, we would need outside help or there will be no more black brothers to guard the Wall."

"Yet you have only informed Lord Stark of the situation when the southern lords should know as well." Alliser pressed.

Benjen scoffed, "Southerner's care little for what happens this far north. Tell them of the situation and you will be met with nothing but weak platitudes that the Watch can handle whatever might come." Alliser couldn't really argue the Benjen's point, he was well aware that southern lords cared only for the Wall as a way of ridding themselves of unwanted criminals. It was an absolute novelty any southerner, noble or otherwise, ventured to the Wall willingly.

"The King should be informed at the very least," Alliser insisted, "They could very easily become a threat to his realm when you consider the ships our First Ranger made quite clear can be used to come south."

Jeor paused a moment, "This situation is not so dire that I feel it necessary to send a message to King's Landing. I shall allow Lord Stark to inform his old friend should he feel it necessary." Alliser ground his teeth unhappily. He knew that Benjen had long since convinced his brother there was nothing to be feared from the wildlings in their new city.

Instead of arguing though the middle-aged knight gave a stiff nod, "Very well Lord Commander, it shall be as you say." Jeor watched him go with ten of the black brothers following in his wake. He looked to Benjen who merely shrugged and left in the other direction. Jeor sighed and turned to head to his quarters as he originally intended.

That night another raven left Castle Black, its destination farther south than the first.

Eddard Stark sat in his rooms in the warmth of Winterfell, reading over the missive Maester Luwin just delivered to him from Jeor Mormont. He knew the Old Bear well, having fought with him during the Rebellion before he left Bear Island to his son. Jorah proved to be less of a man than his father, selling poachers to Tyroshi slavers and fleeing to the Free Cities when Ned came to dispense justice.

Ned shook himself and read the piece of parchment in front of him one more time. What to do now? He found the entire situation north of the Wall intriguing at the very least. Many northerners, particularly the Mormonts, Umbers, and Karstarks bemoaned wildling raiders in the past; something which had all but stopped as of late. If Mormont was to be believed that was because a near majority of the wildlings, particularly those further in the south, joined up with these Norfolk.

The Warden of the North considered his options. Many would expect him to root out the potential threat, but Eddard was a reasonable man and wouldn't attack a people for simply existing. Particularly when they are well-armed and outnumber the potential men I can raise. Not to mention I would have to march into lands they know far better than any of my bannerman. Granted the northern bannerman would be more of a threat to the city than untrained, inexperienced wildlings but Ned really couldn't account for the potential of the 'Witch-King' in battle. So, he really wasn't inclined to call his banners and march north of the Wall.

So that left him with two other options. He could sit and do nothing, allowing the Night's Watch to handle the situation to the best of their abilities. Something that seems an impossible task considering the size of these Norfolk and how far the Watch has declined in recent years. The other option, and the one that Eddard was leaning toward taking, was venturing north of the Wall. He wanted to meet this man and see for himself the extent of the growth that had taken place there. Ben seems to trust him and that more than anything is a reassurance that he means well if nothing else. Ned's jaw tightened minutely. Then again he wouldn't be the first man with good intentions to do something terrible.

Ned turned away from the parchment fully as he heard a noise by the doorway. Standing there was his lovely wife, Catelyn. She was middle height with long auburn hair and deep blue eyes. She wore a simple grey dress and furs around her shoulders. Their match hadn't been one born of love but of necessity. She was meant for his brother but over the years they came to love each other.

She strode gracefully into the room, "Who is the message from Ned?"

He pulled it from the table and handed it over to her as she leaned against his desk, "Read it for yourself Cat." Her eyes quickly scanned the admittedly short message before turning on him a question clearly on her mind.

"What do you intend to do about this?" She asked quickly. She wasn't that concerned about the actual decision but she was worried her husband might once again be going off to battle and away from their family. It had been six years since the Greyjoy Rebellion and she had no desire to see him leave again.

"I don't intend to raise the banners if that is what you are asking," She took a noticeable sigh of relief and Ned gave her a small smile, "But I think I ought to visit the Wall, see how things are going at the remaining castles and perhaps even visit this city-beyond-the-Wall." Cat just looked at him surprised for a few moments before finally commenting.

"I can understand visiting the Wall, Ned, but do you really think it wise to visit a city of wildlings?" She was clearly unhappy with the idea.

"According to Benjen, they are no longer the uncivilized nightmares that time and time again Old Nan uses to scare the children. Instead they keep to themselves and while not welcoming of outsiders, they will at the very least speak with them." He gestured to the letter in her hands, "You read just as I did that there was a foreigner amongst their number during the fight, a Dornishman if what Ben saw was correct." Honestly, Ned thought his brother putting himself so close to danger for the sake of information was reckless but he obviously survived and there was little he could do about it now.

Cat shook her head and placed the letter back on the table, "I read Ned but I don't think the possibility that they accepted a Dornishman among them is enough to warrant you visiting their city."

"I have no intention of going alone," Ned began hoping to soften his wife to the idea, "Rodrik shall come as well with at least a portion of the household guard." Here Ned paused momentarily, "And I think it would be good for Robb to see the Wall, I suppose Theon will want to come too." Cat made to protest but Ned raised his hand, "I will not have him come with me to First Forge when I go but it would be for the best."

Cat looked down to the slight bump on her belly, "And what of our newest child? Shall you be away from home when they are born as well?" There was a sharp edge to her voice. Of their four children, Ned was only in Winterfell for two of them, Arya and Bran. With Robb and Sansa, he was in the south fighting Robert's wars.

Ned grasped her hands and pulled her closer, "It takes two weeks to reach the Wall at a slow pace and I will spend maybe a month there. I will be back in plenty of time to see our next child born." Cat huffed lightly but nodded her head in agreement. He pulled her slightly closer and gave her one of the tiny smiles that rarely graced his usually solemn face. When they pulled back his expression turned serious once again, "Jon shall come as well."

Catelyn's eyes snapped to his at once and he could see the slight flare of anger in them. He knew quite well that she didn't like the boy but Jon was Ned's blood and he would never treat him as anything less. Ned cut her off before she had the opportunity to speak, "Benjen tells me he wishes to join the Night's Watch someday," this seemed to brighten Catelyn's mood, "taking him to the Wall seems an appropriate thing." She stared a long moment at him before waving her hand airily.

"All the better, he won't be able to cause trouble here if he is with you at the Wall." Ned resisted the urge to point out that Jon was the only one less likely than Sansa to cause trouble as he was well aware the repercussions would be harsher because of his station. The only time the boy ever gets into any sort of trouble is when little Arya drags him there willingly or not.

Instead of voicing his opinion he merely nodded at his wife, "It is decided then, we shall leave in two days." Cat stood after giving him a brief kiss on the lips.

"I shall go and check on the girls, they should be in their lessons but with Arya it is best to be sure." That was certainly the truth, the little girl was a stark contrast to her older sister.

Ned followed her to the door where they separated, Ned heading for the practice yard where he was sure to find Jon, Robb and Theon. A short walk later and he found the three of them. The heir of the Iron Islands, Theon Greyjoy was a lean, handsome youth of six and ten. He had a bow in his hand, quite the common sight, and was littering the many targets with arrows.

At one and ten, Robb had grown significantly of late now less than a head shorter than their older ward. He had a strong build for his age but his increased height caused him some balance issues while fighting. His auburn hair stuck to his head from sweat as he stood within the yard wearing protective gear and holding a blunted practice blade. His blue eyes were focused on Jon across from him.

Finally, there was Jon who was of an age with Ned's trueborn son. He looked a Stark more than anyone else in the family. He stood only an inch shorter than Robb. He was lean and quick, something that showed in his developing swordplay. His dark brown hair fell to just above his shoulders and the beginnings of a beard that all young men tried to grow was beginning on his face. His eyes were so dark they bordered on black, and held the same level of concentration as the boy across from him.

Ned's youngest son, Bran, sat nearby staring in fascination as the two older boys started hacking at one another with Rodrik's guidance. The Lord of Winterfell merely stood and watched for a long moment as the boys practiced.

As he observed something became apparent to Ned, Robb was good and certainly had some talent for the art but Jon outfought him. His movements were cleaner, his strikes more precise and as things continued it was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened.

The steady sound of blunted blades smacking into one another rang out through the yard for another minute before the dull thud of someone being thrown hard onto their back broke it. Jon stood over Robb with his blade at the auburn haired youth's neck. Ned noticed that Jon didn't smile, the boy rarely did after all; always bearing the burden of his bastard name. Instead, Jon just looked down with a slight glint of happiness in his dark eyes and offered his hand to the heir of Winterfell. Robb took it quickly and stood with a huff.

Robb's slightly deepening voice carried over the expanse of the yard as Ned quickly approached the boys, "Every time today you have bested me." The frustration was obvious in not only his voice but his demeanor as well.

Jon merely shrugged, "You gave me an opening on your left side, you need to keep it protected." He was merely trying to offer his own observations on the situation and help his brother.

Theon's arrogant voice cut through the air, "The bastard thinks he knows best with the sword now." Jon scowled at the older boy but didn't rise to the jibe.

Rodrik cut them off before anything else could be said, "Jon is right Greyjoy," He turned to Robb, "You need to be aware of your whole body when fighting otherwise your opponent will take advantage."

"Quite right Ser Rodrik," Ned spoke as he drew closer, ruffling Bran's hair as he passed him. Everyone turned to him with murmured 'my Lord's' and 'father's'. He gave them all a warm look before looking focusing on Jon, "You did well but when you saw your advantage you left yourself open to a counterattack. Should Robb have recovered before you finished the fight, you would have been the one on your back." Jon nodded curtly, clearly taking Ned's words to heart.

Ned turned from Jon to look at all three boys, "Each of you shall pack for a trip to the Wall two days from now." Their eyes widened in surprise and Jon's lit up with a small glint of joy. I doubt he will be quite so enthusiastic once he sees what it is really like. "We shall remain there for a month at most."

"Shall we be visiting this new city Uncle Benjen told us about?" Robb asked with a hint of excitement.

Ned shook his head slowly, "You won't, though I might. I would like to meet the man Benjen seems to hold in high esteem." Even Theon looked slightly displeased with the news though it was probably because the young man lamented the lost opportunity of putting his seed in some wildling woman.

Rodrik looked to the boys, "Enough practice in the yards for today boys, Maester Luwin will want to give you your lessons." Jon and Robb groaned while Theon rolled his eyes. Jon and Robb quickly removed the practice padding and placed the blunted blades on the stand while Theon hung up his bow. Ned turned and headed toward the Maester's turret where he could write a letter to the Lord Commander.

Walking through one of the Red Keep's many secret passages Varys, the Spider and most revered spymaster in the realm, mulled over some of the recent information his little birds provided him along with the letter received from the Night's Watch. The eunuch was an intelligent man. If he wasn't he would have died years ago after being thrown to the streets penniless after his manhood was cut off for the sake of blood magic. The event had given the man a deep seeded hatred for all things magical. And now there is an entire city being built around magic just like Old Valyria. But a different sort of magic from what I hear, unlike the fire and blood atop which the greatest civilization was built.

None of his informants lived within First Forge or Newport but he was able to gather quite a bit of information from those in Braavos about the Norfolk. Varys' most pressing concern regarding this Harry Potter was how he would affect the game. He has tens of thousands of fierce fighters at his command if Ser Alliser is to be believed, at least as many as the North and Dornish. Illyrio ought to know of this new turn of events as well if he doesn't already. No doubt their influence in Braavos is affecting his trade.

Varys pushed open a wall on his right and stepped out very near the small council chambers. Now to find out how the King will react to this new information.

He was the last of the council to enter, save the King, who needed to be dragged here yet again at Jon Arryn's insistence. Stannis had only recently arrived back in the capital. After his daughter's miraculous recovery from greyscale, he stayed at Dragonstone for nearly a year. Varys' little birds told him that the lord was having a much easier time finding other houses willing to discuss a betrothal after the event. The events surrounding Shireen Baratheon's recovery seemed mysterious to the Spider, as while skilled healers could stop the spread of the disease, the victim would usually show signs and his information indicated she was entirely healed.

The eunuch respected Stannis. He was certainly a just man, and did his duty at all times. But there is nothing half so terrifying in this world as a truly just man. The man sitting beside Stannis was a stark contrast. Littlefinger understands the game better than most and few could have risen so high so quickly.

At that moment the door burst open revealing the ever more corpulent form of Robert Baratheon. Behind him stood Ser Barristan in his white enameled armor with Robert's squire next to him holding a jug of wine. Robert took a heavy breath, "Right then, let's begin." He quickly found his way to the head of the table and sat.

Jon Arryn's calm, strong voice started things off as per usual, "We have news from beyond the Wall."

"Has that not been settled," Robert turned fierce blue eyes on Grandmaester Pyecelle, "Did you not say your order would handle this situation? Why am I hearing of this yet again?"

Pyecelle coughed to clear his throat before speaking in his gravelly voice, "I have received multiple letters from Archmaester Norren assuring me that Maester Gareth is making progress toward seeing the situation resolved." Though even Pycelle doubted the truth of that claim after the man had been in the Far North for so long.

"Your assurances ring hollow." Varys spoke plainly, "According to Ser Alliser Thorne, their number has recently doubled and they have built a second city. My own little birds tell me that their trips to Braavos become ever more frequent and the Sealord himself has had talks with their leader."

This caught Jon's attention, "Has he made any sort of agreement with the Iron Bank?" The Hand had good reason to be concerned considering the realms ever growing debts to both the Bank and Tywin Lannister.

"No," Varys answered with conviction, "his discussions took place with the Sealord alone. The Iron Bank had nothing to do with it." Jon breathed a slight sigh of relief. If the Iron Bank was supporting this new city and they had developed some sort of alliance, they could quickly pose a huge threat should the crown's debts be called in.

Robert ran a hand through his thick beard, "Any news on this matter from Ned?"

Jon shook his head once, "Just as before there has been no news, or even a passing comment, from the North regarding this new city. Ned seems content to merely let things progress as they have unless they take any form of aggressive action."

The Hand turned toward Varys, "Do we know the sort of goods they produce?"

"From what I know of their dealings in Braavos, they produce a large amount of grains, vegetables, fish and recently even fruits. They have created a form of alcoholic beverage called vodka which has become increasingly popular with the Braavosi and started to draw interest from others. As the name of their city indicates, they also appear to be quite the skilled weapons crafters, and possibly most importantly they have sold a considerable number of diamonds in the Free City."

"We could offer a hand of friendship," Jon began, "They are clearly well provisioned and the realm might benefit from an association with them."

"They should be part of the realm," Robert said suddenly, "why should we offer a hand of friendship to them when we might simply bring them into the fold by other means?"

"And what other means do you propose Robert?" Asked Stannis gruffly, "Surely you aren't proposing, again, that we should go to war with these people?"

"And why not?" Robert leant further forward.

"Wars cost money," Jon snapped irritably, "money which the crown doesn't have; we are already millions of dragons in debt as it is, we ought not make it worse with an unneeded war."

"Would not the reward outweigh the risk," Robert reasoned, "this city produces diamonds and likely has great stores gold as well if they have been trading as much as Varys claims. All of it is wealth that could be taxed if they were made a part of the realm."

"It is folly Robert," Stannis retorted vehemently, obviously ambivalent about the proposal; though none knew it was because of Stannis' personal encounter with the wizard. "You would be hard pressed to convince any of the noble families to follow you so far north. The Dornish remain outside the fold because of what transpired during your Rebellion and the Iron Islands remain under control only because their heir sits in Winterfell as a captive."

Robert waved his hand dismissively, "So they won't join me. That still leaves the Crownlands, Stormlands, Riverlands, Westerlands, Vale, North and Reach. Even should they only send half their men we would have more than twice their supposed strength." Robert chuckled happily, "Three months of marching and a war half as long as the Greyjoy Rebellion and we would have a new city providing both wealth and goods for the realm." Varys looked at the King skeptically. He very much doubted Robert's real purposes were anything more than a desire for battle and bloodshed, something the realm certainly didn't need. But the realm doesn't need some magical practitioner having influence either.

"That still doesn't explain how you intend to convince those lords who would actually follow you to go north," Renly interjected for the first time.

"They shall go because I am King and command them to do such," Robert responded belligerently, "I need no other reason."

"That is where you are wrong Robert." Jon's voice brought him up short, "Men followed you during your Rebellion because they believed in your cause. They followed you during the Greyjoy Rebellion because they were nothing more than raiders out for their own gain. But this… you wish to go to war against a people that have done nothing to harm the realm just because you want to bring them under your control." Just as Varys, Jon was clearly skeptical of his former ward's motivations.

Robert glared at Jon unhappily, "As you say Jon, but should there be even a hint of hostility from these Norfolk, I will call the banners!" The Lord Hand stared at the King a long moment before nodding stiffly. Varys doubted the King would actually need any sort of provocation to call the banners should things continue as they were.

Robert then turned his attention to Pyecelle, "I want a letter sent to Winterfell asking Lord Stark what he plans to do about the situation. I don't understand why Ned would do absolutely nothing." The Grandmaester nodded but stayed still, "Now!" Robert yelled. The maester beat a hasty retreat from the room as his old legs could manage.

Robert stood from his chair, the others around him following suit, "I shall let this matter rest for the time being," the tall man said imperiously, "but I am far from satisfied."

With that he left the room with his Kingsguard and squire at his heels, the room emptied shortly after until only Varys and Littlefinger remained. The bald man looked to the Master of Coin, "Tell me Lord Baelish, what is your opinion on this matter?"

The shrewd man shrugged a small smirk gracing his features, "It presents an opportunity, and it might save the realm from some of Robert's excesses should he go to war."

Varys frowned, "Trading the King's proclivity for wine and women for war will only hurt the realm."

Littlefinger turned to walk away but spared one last parting comment, "Possibly, but as I said it shall provide opportunity." Varys watched him go, knowing full well the man was likely the most dangerous person in the entire realm.

Oberyn scrutinized Harry with his blue eyes before suddenly bursting out laughing, "Truly Harry, I thought you had more respect for me than that. You cannot truly expect me to believe the Others have awoken somewhere in the Land of Always Winter for the first time in eight millennia." Harry's green eyes just continued to bore into the Prince of Dorne until he finally realized that this wasn't a joke and the smile upon his lips died. He's serious, deadly serious so far as I can tell.

Harry gestured to the former black brother at his side who was there because of his personal experience with the subject they were discussing, "Mance found himself stranded within the Land of Always Winter for a time and encountered one of the White Walkers himself Oberyn." He paused and leaned back slightly in his chair, "Of all people I would expect you to understand that the strangest of things can happen. You, who have seen more of the world in the past five years than most do in their entire lives, ought to realize that impossible things aren't always quite so impossible."

"Yes," Oberyn said slowly, "but this is far beyond anything I have encountered in my time traveling. Demons long thought dead do not often return to the world. It is comparable to the Doom receding and Old Valyria becoming the power of the east again, dragons and all."

"And yet it has happened," commented Mance, "and I doubt they are idle in the cold and dark places of the world."

Oberyn sat in quiet contemplation, "What do you expect of me in this? Dorne is thousands of miles away, our fighting men unaccustomed to such environments."

"And should the Others come to Dorne," Harry started, "what will you do then? When all the world has been buried in the ice and snow? Where will you turn when all your possible allies stand as an army of dead at your gates? If they are lucky your daughters will freeze to death and be burned before they can become the undead thrall."

"Surely you don't fear them?" Oberyn asked bewildered, "I have seen the things you are capable of and I can imagine no force that could counter it."

"Of course I fear them," Harry responded candidly, "I am only one man and can only be so many places at once. I have had only six years to prepare for a group of powerful necromancers capable of manipulating the very weather of the world around them." Harry gestured to his sword resting against the wall, "I have gone to great lengths to reproduce the metal that could harm them. And despite the fact I am impressed with my people and hope deeply they can weather any storm, I would be foolish not to seek out further assistance if it is available to me."

"But you are a man who believes in fair trade Harry." He leaned forward to look Harry square in the eye, "Can the Dornish expect the Norfolk to come to their aid when we fight our enemies." This is why the Prince of Dorne had come, to discern the nature of this new people, how they might affect things in the South, whether or not they could be of use. And instead I have come to enjoy their company and respect their leader. Where before I hoped to exploit a naïve people, now I honestly hope for strong ties between our people.

"I would remind you that according to history, the White Walkers are the enemies of all living things," Harry frowned slightly, "but I understand your meaning. You wish for an alliance." The Red Viper nodded his dark- haired head once. "I can promise only myself. The men and women of this place follow me but I cannot promise them to some southern conflict that has yet to happen."

Oberyn gave a small smile, "You alone is worth hundreds, my friend. Perhaps should you come to Dorne and attempt to heal my brother of his ailment, you alone would be enough to convince him to form an alliance." You are the King-Beyond-the-Wall, Harry Potter, in deed if not in name. Should you come south, thousands would follow in your wake for the love they bare you.

Harry smiled widely, "It would not be the first southern noble I healed of some illness," Oberyn raised a single black eyebrow in question.

"I'm sure even being away from the Seven Kingdoms you heard that Stannis Baratheon's daughter contracted greyscale?" Oberyn nodded, though not a fan of the Baratheon's thanks to Robert he had no ill will toward the young girl, "And you heard it was healed then?"

Oberyn's eyes widen in comprehension, "It was you then." Harry bowed his head in acknowledgement, "Yet neither Stannis nor any of his household told of your involvement in her amazing recovery. It seems quite strange, wouldn't you agree?"

Harry shrugged, "I would but stranger things have certainly happened." Oberyn understood quite clearly that the wizard in front of him had somehow ensured the Lord of Dragonstone wouldn't reveal his involvement. I wonder if he will do much the same to me?

"And do all who meet you suffer this strange occurrence?" Oberyn pressed congenially, though he truly didn't want anyone altering his thoughts or memories.

Harry shook his head, "I would think you already know the answer to that question quite well. You wouldn't be here if it weren't for our mutual friend." This caused Oberyn to breathe a mental sigh of relief. He must not have trusted Stannis to keep silent, or he simply didn't want someone so close to Robert providing the Usurper with information.

"I would think you want to write up something formal?" Oberyn returned them back to the original subject.

"Yes, should you decide to accept my offer, I will have Maester Gareth write something up."

"It shall not be solely my decision," Oberyn paused, "I shall be leaving here with Ellaria and Nymeria within the next week. From here I shall sail for Dorne and Sunspear to see my brother. The journey will take a month at the least. I would ask that you meet me there so that you might discuss this in more detail with Doran."

"Very well," Harry said almost immediately, "I shall provide you with one of my mirrors so that you might tell me when you are to arrive." He stood from the table at which they sat, "Now, I have other things I must attend to," Harry smiled wryly, "I am sure you can find some way to entertain yourself as usual Prince Oberyn." They shared a laugh as Harry exited his home where the meeting took place with Mance just behind him.

(POV SHIFT)

"He isn't what most Free Folk imagine when they think of southerners," Spoke up Rayder as they made their way through the streets of First Forge.

"No he's not. That is much of the reason he and his family have been welcomed here since their arrival." Harry chuckled, "The man is boisterous and slightly conceited but also intelligent and fierce. He earned our respect when he accepted our way of life without complaint. There are Free Folk who haven't been as understanding and people here who haven't abided my word as well."

Harry turned to look Mance full on, "Do you know where I can find the leader of the Thenns?" Over the two weeks since the Battle of First Forge, Harry scouted much of the Far North east of the Frostfangs through Tyll's eyes. He had found their widely spread villages but didn't know where he might find their leader.

"Styr the Magnar resides in their largest village. You plan to meet with him as I recommended?" Mance questioned carefully.

"I do, though I am considering sending an emissary to speak with him first so that we might meet at a place where I'm not at a disadvantage." Mance snorted at that, clearly not believing Harry could actually be at a disadvantage given his abilities. "Even I can be caught unawares Mance. You claim they are willing to speak with me, but caution is still a necessity." Mance's motivations went a long way to help earn Harry's trust, but there was still certain wariness between them; just as there was a certain wariness between the new and old Norfolk.

There had been some tension and even a brawl which quite fortunately only ended with a few broken bones since the unification. Harry addressed the issue quickly and that same night there were more fights than usual in the yards. Fisticuffs were the rule, more than a little of the tension was broken and any wounded pride was healed over drinks after the fights. Things were far from perfect as of yet but they were certainly getting better.

The new Norfolk if not yet fully at ease, had taken up jobs in the cities. Many were working as stone masons to help house their fellows. Many more were now working the farms and the mine, while just a few chose to work the forge. They now had more people to man their many ships. As promised by Mance, Ygritte had proven to be the single most skilled archer he had ever met and of the new arrivals many were archers. The simple fact was things were progressing the best that he could hope.

Mance's voice pulled him from his thoughts, "I would be willing to seek out the Magnar for you."

Harry brought his attention back to the matter at hand after a moment. The man is cunning beyond anyone else I have met among the Free folk, I don't know if it would be wise to send him alone to begin discussions. "You would go alone?"

"It wouldn't be the first time I approached them," Mance shrugged, "This time I won't be trying to convince them to come against a man they respect but to simply speak with him."

"Obviously you speak the Old Tongue then?" Mance nodded. Harry didn't respond for a good minute before giving his reply, "I don't want you going alone," Harry resisted the urge to wince at how that came out, "I know there are some among the other new arrivals who speak the Old Tongue but I believe Dalla would be well suited to the task." He knew Val's sister could speak the Old Tongue and was also one of the most pragmatic of the Norfolk. The only person I would trust more to have such discussions is Val but she would be reluctant to go.

Mance accepted the company easily, "When would you like us to depart?"

"Tomorrow," Harry replied, "so long as Dalla agrees to go. I will provide you with transportation to Thenn. But seeing as I don't know where exactly you will find the Magnar, I may leave you many miles from your destination."

"I shall be sure to pack necessary provisions then." With that Mance walked away from Harry. Hopefully we will soon have an agreement with the Thenns, which will leave only Varamyr to deal with.

Harry sought out Val and Dalla. They were in the greenhouses with ten others, picking strawberries; well, Dalla was picking strawberries while Val bounced Trystan and Emer on her knees nearby. He caught only the tail end of their conversation.

"I swear you spend more time in the fields and greenhouses than anyone else in all of First Forge… by far." Val half stated, half reprimanded.

"That is because everyone who works the fields looks to me for what to do and how to handle things." Dalla countered.

"Something I am truly appreciative of," Harry interjected, causing both women to look to him. Val gave him a wide smile as he stepped over to her and gave her a kiss. He then tickled each of his children earning happy giggle from each and murmured "da's" that made him smile. Their first words had been 'mum', or something close to it, which Val took great pleasure in rubbing in. They quickly followed by learning 'da'

At more than a year old both the twins had started talking, and walking; something that if left unattended could be trouble considering their magic. More than once they had been found in an entirely different part of the room than they had been left. Both Val and Harry were particularly happy about the charms on them in those instances.

"Have you been good for your mother today?" Harry asked the giggling pair.

Val and Dalla both laughed before Dalla answered his question, "They have been fantastic," he could sense a 'but' coming, "but they did levitate and hurl a strawberry at the back of Eryk's head at one point because he was making faces at them." Harry tried to keep a straight face but he just couldn't help the laugh that burst from his lips.

Val shook her head, "It was quite funny." She looked at Harry more seriously, "How did your conversation with Oberyn go?"

"Very well, I shall travel to Dorne to meet with Doran Martell once Oberyn returns there and tells him of the situation."

"But I doubt you came here simply to tell me how things went." She looked him in the eye, "What is it you need?"

Harry feigned injury, "Can I not simply seek out my beautiful wife and my adorable children?" he gave her a cheeky smile which earned him a light slap on the arm.

"You can and have many a time, but you are busy, very busy of late and I imagine you are here for a reason… so out with it." She all but demanded.

Harry sighed, "Pushy woman," That earned him yet another slap, this one slightly harder, "Alright, I am fact here to discuss something… with Dalla."

This drew the other blond woman's attention immediately, "What did you wish to discuss?"

"I have decided to send an emissary to the Magnar of Thenn and Mance volunteered," She looked at him quizzically, "I have no problem sending him but I would prefer he didn't go alone. I know you, I trust you, and you can speak the Old Tongue."

"You want me to accompany the former crow to meet with the Thenns?" She asked curtly. Much like Val, she was never the sort to beat around the bush.

"That is exactly what I am asking, yes." He made sure to emphasize this wasn't expected of her, "If you refuse, I shall simply need to find someone else suitable to the task."

Dalla turned away and picked about a dozen more strawberries before answering, "I shall go, but only because you are asking." Harry smiled happily at her.

"Brilliant, I don't know how far you will be from the Magnar when I create your portkey. Mance is already preparing provisions for the journey. You shall leave tomorrow."

Dalla nodded, "I will inform the others that I shall be away for a time. They should manage well enough without me for a few days." She stopped, "What do you wish us to tell the Magnar?"

"I wish to meet with him and discuss certain things."

"Here?"

"No, if I'm not willing to go to Thenn then I can't expect him to come here."

"Do you know where you wish to meet him then, or when?" Dalla pressed.

Harry didn't have an immediate answer but Val certainly did, "Meet at the Fist, it is neutral territory and as far west of here as it is south of Thenn. Allow Styr to decide the time as a gesture of good will."

"That seems as good a place as any," Dalla commented and Harry just smiled.

"I completely agree. I will of course give you a mirror to inform me of his answer or so you can contact us should you run into any trouble." She nodded. He moved to give her a brief hug, "Thank you, I do appreciate this." Harry disengaged and went to give Val another kiss before her voice stopped him.

"Ah, I meant to tell you. While you were with Oberyn, Marin came looking for you. She seemed so anxious. She even took a boat from Newport at dawn to come find you." Harry was working on the portal between the two cities. He had already built the archways but a hundred different runes to need to be carved into the surface to ensure they would be stable for travel. They needed to be perfect and the first set of arches was scrapped when there was the tiniest of mistakes.

"I will find her then." He was hoping she would have some news regarding the task he had left her. I have very few potions remaining and need to find substitute ingredients sooner rather than later.

He found her reading in the Hall. Marin was a lithe girl, with light brown hair and grey eyes. She was short, much shorter than most of the Free Folk women. She was one of the Norfolk most thankful for Harry's presence. She was not the sort who enjoyed hunting, or fighting. But thanks to him, she found a passion in books that never would have been possible before.

As he approached she looked up from the book up in her hand and immediately stood. She reached down to a stack of parchment on the table and held it in front of her, "Harry I went through the list you gave me." She thrust the parchment toward him, "I managed to put together my own list of possible herbs and other ingredients that meet the descriptions you provided. I was able to come up with something for nearly everything you described with only one or two exceptions." She kneaded her lip between her teeth, a nervous habit of hers, "There are also some herbs and animal parts that have other properties that you don't have listed, so that might cause you some issue."

Harry leafed through the papers and was genuinely astonished by the detail Marin had provided. He smiled widely at the girl, "This is fantastic." She looked relieved and blushed slightly at the compliment, "I need to ask you just one more favor," she nodded quickly, "please take this list to Yorik and tell him to acquire as many of the things on this list as he possibly can when next he goes to trade." She took it from him and with a quick goodbye, did as he asked.

As Harry exited the Hall after her a few minutes later, Torwynd approached him, "Harry, we have nearly depleted the store of obsidian."

Harry sighed. Just another thing that needs to be dealt with. He rubbed his temples as he responded, "Find Dagon, inform him of the situation, and tell him I want him to journey to Dragonstone as soon as possible. It appears it is time for our first honest bit of trading with the Seven Kingdoms." Torwynd made to leave but Harry stopped him, "Be sure to tell him he ought to take some of the vodka, I imagine they would be most interested in that." Torwynd nodded. Hopefully if Stannis isn't there he informed his castellan and wife of our possible arrival.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully as Harry did everything he could around the two cities. When finally he arrived back at his home after dark, Val was waiting for him with a meal already cooked. Venison, from a deer she hunted herself after leaving the twins with Gilly, cooked with a bit of thyme with roasted potatoes and vegetables. Harry barely even spoke as he dug into the meal before him. He hadn't taken the time to eat since morning and savored every bite. Val just shook her head with a small smile upon her face.

When he finished he smiled at her widely, "Delicious, thank you."

"Glad you enjoyed it green eyes. You are a far better cook than I am but I figured you might be a bit too tired to do it tonight." He leaned in to give her a kiss.

"It is very much appreciated," He leaned back and rubbed his eyes, "but I am afraid the day isn't quite over yet?"

Val furrowed her brow in confusion, "What else could you possibly have to do?"

"I have a late night journey I wish to take," When she just continued to look at him expectantly he relented, "I am going to visit Bloodraven again."

Val pulled her head back slightly in shock, "Why?"

"Much has happened since I visited the greenseer, I think it is time I did so again." Val nodded albeit reluctantly. He hugged her tightly, "I won't be long, no need to worry." He turned on the spot and found himself looking once more at the largest weirwood he had ever seen.

He walked quickly to the base of the tree and made his way into Bloodraven's cave. As he walked closer to the heart of the place he felt the eyes of the Children on him, and once or twice he caught a glimpse of them. He heard a sort of singing emanating from the walls, likely from the Children themselves. It is quite beautiful. Harry had to wonder about the Children, they had their own sort of magic yet they seemed to do nothing with it.

A short time later, Harry found Bloodraven just where he had left him what felt like a lifetime ago. So much has happened since last I was here. Brynden River's one red eye locked on Harry as he drew closer, his raspy voice cutting through the song still going on around them, "Traveler, I wondered when I might see you again."

"I've been quite busy." Harry responded softly.

"So I have seen," Bloodraven replied, "You handled the rat in a way I never suspected."

"Yet you warned me of him?" Harry questioned.

"I did because he would always come, but that doesn't mean I knew how you would handle his arrival or even if you would survive the encounter." He paused, "I expected it to end in bloodshed; whether it would be your life or his, I did not know."

"I met the wise rat as well," Harry said lightly.

"You did and the snakes came just as I expected… but nothing is clear anymore." Bloodraven admitted slowly.

"What do you mean?" Harry questioned.

"When I told you of the wise rat and the snakes, it was with the understanding you would avoid any harm." He scrutinized Harry, "But you and others have done things I never witnessed through the trees, taken turns I never could have expected."

"What has been done by others?" He pressed.

"Telling you would do nothing in this case, the simple fact is you are preparing for the real enemy to the very best of your ability… I should allow you to handle everything else in your own way, in your own time." Harry didn't understand the seer's reluctance when before he willingly provided his warnings.

"And your claim about the stag being the death of the wolf and all that followed, do you still foresee that event?" Harry asked with a hint of anger in his voice.

Bloodraven didn't speak for a long time his one good eye turning away from Harry, "You are like a rock crashing into a pond. The ripples you have caused might have long reaching affects but if you must know; the future I saw is still one of the many that might occur. Though… there is another road that might be taken; one where my warning would still apply but to a very different set of events" His red eye snapped back to Harry's green, "But as I said, the important thing is you are preparing for the Others."

Harry realized he wasn't going to get an answer any better than that, "And what do you foresee regarding the Others?"

"Blood and death, on both sides; when I turn my eye to the Cold Ones far away and what they might bring that much is always the same, but that is always the case when one looks to war." Harry didn't need to be told war would include blood and death. He'd lived through enough fighting in his life to know that simple truth.

"You will give me nothing more than that." He stated with a calm he only barely retained. Given his reluctance to this point Harry couldn't imagine the greenseer would explain further.

"You might succeed and you might die, but either way you will fight. What else do you need to know?" It seemed quite simple when presented in that manner.

Harry shook his head but didn't press any further on the issue, "I have a more practical question for you," Bloodraven waited for him to continue, "Why do the Children remain here?"

"This is their place, their magic protects from the cold and death." Bloodraven looked around where the song still reverberated from the walls, "But most of all they protect me, as they will protect the one who comes after me."

"The one who comes after you?" Harry asked curiously.

"There will be another who sits where I sit, sees what I see."

"Do you know who this person is?"

"I do, I watched his birth and I shall watch him grow. Someday, he will come to me here and that is all you need know. But you were asking about the Children?"

"Should they wish it, they may venture to First Forge. I would welcome the opportunity to speak with them in more depth and even work with them."

The small form of Leaf came into view near Bloodraven, "You are unique Traveler, you accept us and respect us… not all men would feel the same. It takes only one to see what few of us remain gone from this world. Even if we wish to see it safe from the Others, we would not risk venturing into the world of men even with your guarantee we would be safe." Her tone told Harry it would be foolish to argue with her, "But should you wish to speak with us, you know where to find us."

Harry nodded and before she could disappear back into the darkness he spoke, "That singing, what was it?"

Leaf turned to look at him, "That is the True Tongue, in which we sing the songs of the earth. No man can speak it," she noticed the flicker of challenge in his eye, "not even you Harry Potter."

Harry sighed, "It was beautiful," she smiled with her slightly sharpened teeth, "and I will likely take you up on your offer." Leaf nodded and walked away leaving the greenseer and the wizard alone.

"I will admit, I hoped for more from you but I suppose knowing too much about the future would only drive me barmy." Bloodraven didn't react to his colloquialism. "I shall take my leave Lord Brynden, until we meet again."

"So long traveler," was his simple farewell. Harry exited the tree and apperated home. Weary from the long day, he laid down beside an already asleep Val. A small niggling of disappointment still sat at the back of his mind. Better this way, prophecy has never gotten me anything but trouble in the past.

AN: For those who voted on the poll and don't know, the HP/ASoIaF won and has been started. You can find it on my profile if you're interested.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thanks for reading.

12. Chapter 12

AN: Thank you, as always for reading and reviewing. I do try and respond to people and if I missed your question I apologize. As for the guest reviews...

Q-TIME: I don't know if you can expect anything in the near future with the two stories I'm working on now but it might happen at some point.

Guest: I can't provide a drawing I don't have. The wargs magic is there inherent ability to enter animals, they may learn other magics but things of a les specific nature. There is a possibility Jon will move to First Forge. And there tactics are something like the Vikings.

hi'ah: While I agree there hasn't been any treachery, I would point out that the Free Folk were fiercely loyal to Mance in canon and are the same way for Harry now. That is not to say there won't be any moments of that nature in the future though.

09-zero-nine: I can't say for sure how long the story is going to be in chapters.

theosay: I'm not sure Harry would be able to heal someone strangled to death but I understand your point.

coldblue: 1&2) You'll have to wait and find out 3) weapons seem likely but armor would require a great deal of resources and time 4) No 5) Harry will have his first encounter with one of the Others some time soon.

Harry stood within the forge putting the finishing touches to Oberyn's gift. The spear was seven feet in length. The blade gleamed a dark grey nearing black because of the obsidian used in its production. The very last of our obsidian. The shaft was made from a long bough of weirwood, stained along the shaft in various places with the red sap of the tree. Realizing it was the shaft that served as the true weakness for any spear, Harry took the time to write a series of runes along the shaft. To the untrained eye they simply looked like a beautiful string of decorations along the weapon but they would keep the weirwood from breaking unless put under incredible duress. Finished admiring his handiwork, he left the forge and made his way toward the docks where he knew he would find the Dornishman preparing to leave First Forge.

When he arrived he found Val standing with Nymeria and Ellaria as they said farewell to both her and the twins. Oberyn stood nearby speaking with Karsi with his roguish smile across his face. The pair talked with more regularity following the battle at First Forge. While she trusted Harry's judgement in the matter, Karsi was among those reluctant to accept the southerners openly. That changed quite abruptly when they were willing to shed blood for the defense of the city. Harry approached with the spear in one hand and wrapped the other around Val's waist, "Well I see you beat me here."

She chuckled, "We were beginning to wonder where you were."

"Just finishing something," He held the spear for her inspection. With Trystan in Ellaria's hands and Emer in Nymeria's, Val decided to take the spear from his grasp and with a quick movement she stepped back and began spinning the weapon quickly between her hands testing its balance. Harry just watched in rapt attention as her golden hair whipped around her and an intense look of focus overtook her features. Her little display drew most people's attention at the dock, and as she finished with a twirl it was to applause. He knew she was extremely talented with the spear but he had never seen her do anything like that before.

She smiled beatifically and extended her hand for him to retake the spear, "Seems perfect to me." She steeped closer to him and kissed him on the cheek before shifting over so she was speaking directly in his ear, "I shall expect one of my own sometime soon." Harry nodded dumbly, which caused her to snicker.

"Where did you learn that little display, love?" He spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear as she pulled away.

"That would be me," Oberyn said with a hint of pride in his voice, "we were in the yard about a week after our arrival here, during the day when you were busy working at Newport." He ran a hand through his goatee, "Val could kill most men with the spear in her hand, but she lacked certain finesse. I taught her... let's see what would the best way to describe it be… showmanship." He smiled widely.

"Yes," Val said firmly, "I appreciated those brief lessons but hopefully you will heed my advice in future."

"Oh, I shall try dear Val." He replied with an over-the-top bow.

They shared a chuckle before Ellaria asked pointedly, "What advice did Val give you?"

"It was quite simple," Val said with a shrug, "there is a time and a place for showmanship, I feel Oberyn doesn't always recognize that line. I recommended that should he be in a situation of life or death, perhaps it would be best to abandon showmanship."

A tear escaped Ellaria's eye as her shoulders shook with laughter, "I fear your advice shall fall on deaf ears; though I must admit, I agree with you wholeheartedly."

"Well," Harry offered the spear to Oberyn, "perhaps this shall remind you." The smile faltered if only slightly on the Dornish Prince's face as he took the spear in hand. "It is my gift to you, a reminder of your time here and at the very least your family's friendship with the Norfolk." Oberyn didn't speak for a long moment and his usually cocksure attitude was all but absent.

"Made this with your own hand didn't you?" Oberyn asked lightly.

"I did, hopefully it will serve you well in the future." Harry returned kindly.

"Of that I have no doubt." With that he extended his hand to Harry. They grasped forearms and embraced as the friends they'd become. There was a call from the Dornish ship behind them signaling they were ready to depart.

Val now held the twins, having already bid her final farewells to their guests. Harry smiled and gave Nymeria a quick hug which she returned before moving to Ellaria. As they embraced lightly she leaned in a little closer, "Someday, you and Val must visit Dorne together. Not for talks with Doran, or any other such business but simply to enjoy the country. I'm sure the twins would enjoy meeting our youngest, Dorea and Loreza.

"I imagine Val might enjoy the experience. She's never been beyond the Wall, going as far south as Dorne would be quite the interesting journey for her and the twins."

"All the more reason to join us then." She finished with a light titter.

"We shall consider it at some point, but there is far too much to do here to consider an extended journey to your home anytime in the near future." She nodded her understanding, fully aware that there were more pressing matters demanding his attention in First Forge and Newport.

"And before I forget," he reached into a pocket and removed a mirror, "remember to contact me once you have reached Sunspear. I should be there within a day of receiving your call."

Despite their experience with the wizard, this statement caused all three Dornishman to shake their heads in no small amount of wonderment, "To move so far so quickly seems an impossible thing, even having seen some of the things you are capable of."

"Yet possible all the same," Harry said with a small smirk.

"We shall see you soon then." With that the trio turned and boarded their magically modified ship. It wasn't quite up to the standard of one of the Norfolk vessels but better than most. They might be our friends but they are not yet our allies and some things must be ours alone… at least for now.

Many of the Norfolk stood at the edge of the dock to see the southerners off, Harry stood with Trystan on his right hip and his left arm around Val's waist while she leaned into him with Emer upon her left hip. They didn't wave at their departing guests, it didn't feel appropriate, but they did standby and watch the departing vessel till it was little more than a speck in the distance on the rolling sea.

When finally they turned away from the vast expanse of blue sea, they headed toward their home. Val spoke up as they drew closer, "Any word from my sister today?" She tried to hide it but he could hear the faint hint of nervousness in her voice. Val clearly wasn't entirely comfortable with Dalla being alone save a former crow when there was no guarantee they would be safe in Thenn. Dalla and Mance left four days prior and they informed him later that day he dropped them some fifty miles from the Magnar.

"I haven't heard from her today, no," Harry gently caressed her back hoping it would sooth her, "but I did hear from her just yesterday and she told me they would likely reach Styr today. I imagine she will contact me sometime later today or tomorrow at the latest."

"She better, otherwise I might have to go there myself." She said with a small scowl that he knew meant she was serious.

"I doubt it will come to that Val," They reached the door to their home and stepped inside, "the Thenns pride themselves on being the last of the First Men and being, in their opinion at least, superior to other Free Folk. As such, I doubt they will attack two people sent there only to have a conversation."

"You better be right green eyes." She poked him in the chest for good measure before smiling at him, "Now what is this I hear about the gateway in Newport exploding in your face." She couldn't help the slight chuckle that entered her voice. She placed Emer down in her crib before taking Trystan from him and doing the same. She then sat down on their bed before looking at him expectantly.

"Ah," he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, "you heard about that did you?" She nodded still with a wide smile across her face, "Well, in my defense it wasn't entirely my fault."

"Of course it wasn't but how do you explain nothing happening when you worked on the one here in First Forge?" She asked cheekily.

Harry sighed, "I imagine Gilly and Munda let you know that didn't they?" She nodded with a slight chuckle, "I should have told them to keep that to themselves." He said more to himself than to Val, which only caused her to snicker, even as she tried to contain it.

"Anyway," he brought her attention back to him, "The gateway here is now finished but the one in Newport needs to be rebuilt. When I was charging the runes I powered one of the more volatile chains to quickly and overloaded it." He shrugged nonchalantly, "It may have caused the entire archway to shatter and explode. A relatively minor explosion luckily and one I shielded against should anything go wrong."

"But from what I hear it did leave you covered in soot and looking quite the sight." She couldn't control herself any longer and started laughing openly at him. He tried his best to look offended but couldn't help but start laughing along with her. He had been covered head to toe in black soot and the hem of his sleeves caught fire briefly thanks to the explosion. One could have mistaken me for Seamus with that kind of explosion.

"Yes, it was quite funny; though I felt terrible about incidentally destroying the rune carvers' work." He really did. They worked tirelessly to get the gateways ready and thanks to a moment of carelessness on his part, he destroyed one of them. They already started working on the next one, though a few of them were slightly unhappy with Harry for destroying their work.

"As you should have," She said between gasps of air as she brought her laughter under control. Harry leaned into kiss the smirk off her face which she returned happily.

When they broke apart she ran a hand through his hair, "I imagine this last one will only take them a couple of days at the most, it is there third try after all."

"Somehow I doubt that gives them much comfort," he responded with a slight smile, though it fell from his face quickly when he realized the serious expression on Val's face, "What is it?"

She continued to run her fingers lightly through his dark hair, "You've been so busy lately, always up before I am in the mornings and off doing something," He made to speak but she shushed him before he had the chance, "I'm not upset with you Harry, far from it. I know that everything you do is important but you still find time for me and the twins." The both glanced over at their sleeping children in their cribs.

"But," she returned his attention to her, "since you haven't been in our bed early in the mornings, you haven't seen me hunched over trying not to wretch as soon as I wake. Nor have you been there to see me go to Ferny every morning to acquire a concoction of herbs to ensure that the same sickness doesn't affect me during the day." She used her free hand to grasp his and ran it over her stomach lightly.

"You're pregnant again," she nodded quickly a bit of wetness entering her eyes. He felt warmth in his stomach spread out through his body. A wide toothy smile grew across his face before he leaned in to kiss her lovingly. She returned the gesture happily and the kiss quickly turned passionate as he leaned her back so that she was lying with her back on the bed. He freed her of her clothing and she did the same for him. They made love slowly, reveling in each other. When finished they lay naked, strewn across the top of their bed. Val drew lazy circles across his strong chest.

"So I take it that you are happy about this news?" There was a sense of joy in her voice.

"Of course I'm happy Val, but you certainly aren't going to Thenn anytime soon." This caused her to snort as he continued, "Why would you think any differently?" He asked looking down into her blue-grey eyes.

"I never thought you wouldn't be happy," she responded honestly, "But, I know how much you worried over me when I was pregnant with the twins… despite my protests." She dug her nails in lightly to make her point making him groan, "and with how busy you are as of now, I didn't feel like adding to your worries."

"You being pregnant causes a good sort of worry Val," He ran his hand through her blonde locks, "the sort that I welcome."

She leaned her head into his touch, "I know and I couldn't bring myself to keep it from you any longer." She looked at him pleadingly, "I hope you understand I didn't in anyway mean to hurt you by not telling you. I just thought it was for the best at the time." He answered by leaning down to kiss her again, bringing a bright smile to her face.

They fell asleep only to be awoken a few hours later to the sound of their children fussing in their crib, cries of mum and dad cutting across the room to their waking ears. The pair both rubbed the sleep from their eyes before standing and redressing. Val quickly moved to the children and realizing they'd been asleep longer than she thought quickly took to feeding them.

Harry watched on with a smile until she shooed him away with a smile. He nodded and took to making their own meal, a bit of venison, potato and carrot, all thrown together, stewed and seasoned with some thyme and rosemary. As he finished making their evening meal he heard vibrations from the table nearby where his mirror rested. Val looked at him excitedly as he went to retrieve it.

Dalla's blue eyes looked to him from the other end, "Harry, we have news for you." He gestured for her to continue, "We spoke with the Magnar. He seemed quite displeased initially, almost insulted that you didn't come yourself." This didn't entirely surprise Harry, the man was seen to be more god than man, so a slight ego wasn't particularly surprising even if he was a member of the Free Folk.

"You said initially though, so I assume you were able to change his opinion?"

"You would be correct. When we informed him we were sent to establish a meeting place where you two might discuss things on equal ground, he calmed rather quickly." She paused a moment before continuing, "He shall meet you at the Fist of the First Men as you proposed, three weeks from now. He shall bring three of his men and expects you to do the same; though, he demands that no weapons be brought to the top of the Fist." Harry was slightly taken aback by the Magnar's level of caution but couldn't begrudge him as such.

She continued unaware of Harry's thoughts, "While I spoke with Styr, Mance visited the leader of the giants, Mag the Mighty, they call him. Their village is near to Styr's village. Mag shall be one of Styr's three when he arrives at the Fist."

Harry nodded pleased with the news. He looked over to Val who clearly wanted to know when her sister would be back, "The Magnar is providing you with a place to sleep for the night?"

"Of course, he allowed us to eat in his halls. The laws of hospitality are old Harry, he would never risk the wrath of the gods by throwing us out into the cold." She half lectured him.

Harry chuckled, "I understand Dalla." Val walked over and rested her head beside Harry's so Dalla could see her.

"Will you be returning tomorrow?" Val asked quickly, tired of waiting for Harry to reach the subject she wanted to know.

Dalla chuckled at her sister's behavior, "Yes, we have already told Styr we would inform Harry of his conditions. He doesn't know of the mirrors so he thinks we will need to return to First Forge conventionally. Once we've left his village we will use the return portkey and be back early tomorrow morning." She wouldn't tell the Magnar about the mirrors or her method of travel. Styr didn't need to be privy to such information until he was at the very least in an alliance with First Forge.

Val smiled widely, "Excellent," she smiled, "see you soon then." Harry bid her farewell also before cutting the connection.

Val glanced over at Harry, "Who will you take with to the meeting with the Thenns?"

"Tormund, Karsi, and either Toregg or Mance," she frowned lightly, "I would bring you, love but this isn't the sort of situation where it is perfectly necessary." He paused, "I figure I should bring Mance for no other reason than he has had the most interaction with the Thenns."

She sighed, "Fair enough, let's hope that things work out for the best once the meeting finally comes."

Harry nodded stiffly, "Yes, from what I've heard of them, it could be difficult to convince the Thenns to leave their homes but should they stay they will be vulnerable even if I were to provide them with some sort of magical protection."

"Styr will want to retain command of his own people even should he agree to leave and form an alliance. His control of them is absolute from what I hear."

"I am aware that even should they come east they will want to retain their autonomy." He paused briefly, "But hopefully Styr will realize that should he wish to survive what's coming he must at the very least move his people from Thenn."

"As I said hopefully things work out for the best," Val reiterated softly, clearly doubtful that such an outcome was likely.

(Scene Break)

They'd spent an extra three days at Last Hearth; Greatjon Umber insisted he feast his liege lord and that they take to the Wolfswood for a hunt. His father agreed to the Greatjon's near demands if reluctantly. They'd spent a night in Molestown the night before where Theon paid one of the women in the tavern for a night of pleasure. I sincerely doubt he asked father for permission to partake, not that he ever cared for it in the past.

Now, seventeen days after their departure from Winterfell, they were within sight of Castle Black. The Wall came into view long before the castle and Jon had been properly in awe of the sight. It stretched across the land, a stalwart defender, as far as the eye could see to the east and west. The boy of one and ten couldn't help but feel it seemed an appropriately impressive structure for the renowned Night's Watch.

They rode their horses up to the gates of Castle Black. Compared to the Wall, Castle Black wasn't nearly as impressive. Their horses cantered into the yard to the sight of dozens of black brothers looking down from the Walls while Lord Commander Mormont stood with Maester Aemon, and Jon's Uncle Benjen. Jon looked around the yard and couldn't help but feel disappointed. The stories of the Night's Watch implied that they were renowned for their honor and bravery.

Looking at the grim, lined faces of the many old men standing atop the walls he couldn't help but think those tales had long since become outdated. Of course, Jon knew that many of the brothers were former criminals, caught stealing or raping or committing some other crime but people in the North often spoke of the honor in joining the Night's Watch. This looks more like a place men come to die than anything.

Jon looked to the many towers of Castle Black. The one closest to the Wall, known as the Lance, stood the tallest. It was roughly a third the height of the Wall, thin, and crumbling. Nearby stood a crumbling battlement, some of its stone having fallen into the yard; the battlement was known as Hardin's Tower. The other two towers of the castle stood tall and proud. These were the Commander's Keep and the King's Tower. The King's Tower was where the Stark company would be staying during their time at Castle Black.

Robb looked around curiously, while Theon looked entirely disinterested by the slightly broken down castle around them. Castle Black is nothing compared to Winterfell that much is certain.

Eddard dismounted from his horse, the others behind him following suit, and stepped up to greet the three men who stood awaiting him in the yard. "Lord Commander Mormont," Eddard spoke as he stepped forward, "it has been too long."

"I agree Lord Stark, it is good to see you." Jon noticed one of the black brother's behind Mormont looked slightly disgruntled but didn't really think much of it considering nearly everyone save Benjen looked rather sullen. His father nodded to Mormont before turning to the maester.

"Maester Aemon, it is good to see you in good health." Eddard rested a hand on the much older man's shoulder as a show of respect.

"I would say the same Lord Stark but I'm afraid I can't," Jon's attention was drawn briefly to his brother who seemed to find this comment funny as he tried to hold back a laugh. Their father spared him a glance before returning his attention to the maester.

"Well I assure you of it nonetheless," He then turned his attention to Benjen and gave his brother a hug.

Benjen's voice barely carried to the three boys where they were beginning to unload some of the things from their horses, "It is good you have come Ned."

Ned pulled away to look at Benjen, "I thought recent events warranted a visit." He looked around the yard and to the walls, "I must admit though that I didn't realize the state of the castle."

Benjen sighed, "Things haven't deteriorated so greatly that the builders thought it necessary to inform you of the situation. They make do with what is available and most of the towers and the walls are still strong." He looked around behind Eddard and looked to the boys and smiled slightly, "Let the boys start moving your things into the King's Tower while we talk inside." Ned nodded and relayed that command to Rodrik and Jory.

All fifty men in the Stark company would be housed in the King's Tower. Jon noted the thick layers of dust atop the shelves and tables in the rooms. It's probably been years since anyone of note actually decided to visit this castle if these rooms are any indication. But at least the beds are in good condition.

Jon didn't notice Theon as he walked up behind him, "Must be quite disappointing, looking at the broken towers and surly, unhappy old men. This is your best possible future, bastard."

Jon'ss nostrils flared in anger. He detested being called a bastard, and only Theon ever rubbed it in his face with such frequency. Even Sansa isn't nearly as bad as Greyjoy. He forced himself to hold his tongue, to keep from rising to the jibe thrown his way by the heir to Pyke and the Iron Islands.

The older boy just kept on though, "Better you spend your life here in this cold place, that way you can't beget anymore worthless bastards on the world."

"Worthless," Jon responded quietly, "hmm, I would think any Greyjoy trueborn or otherwise is half as worthwhile as any Stark, trueborn or otherwise. After all, look what King Robert and my father did to Lord Balon Greyjoy when he started the single shortest rebellion in the history of the Kingdoms. A man like that couldn't have produced anything worthwhile?" He smirked at Theon, "In fact any child of his must be absolutely worthless." Jon knew he struck a chord in Theon as the rage that crossed his handsome features was obvious the second the words left his mouth.

Truthfully, Jon was quite proud of his response. He tired of the constant ridicule at Theon's hands. I imagine he hates me because even being a bastard, I am more of a Stark than he can ever hope to be. While young, Jon understood the importance of being observant. Being a bastard he was quiet and solemn and noticed things others his age never would. He saw that same longing in Theon's eyes that he felt in himself every day. That, more than anything, made him hold his tongue most days but not this time.

He felt it coming more than saw it and stepped back to avoid Theon's fist. Instead of smacking firmly into the side of Jon's head, Theon hit at nothing and stumbled forward as a result. Before things could escalate, Robb entered the room and stared at the scene before him. Theon straightened back up and glared at Jon. It appeared as though he might strike again but Robb's voice stopped him, "Ser Rodrik wants us in the yard." Jon looked at Theon once more before they both turned away and made their way out of the King's Tower.

(POV SHIFT)

"Is the issue really that derisive?" Ned asked astonished. While unsurprised that some of the black brothers would be unhappy about the gathering of Free Folk beyond the Wall, he thought it more likely they would be glad to see the wildlings were far less likely to attack them and raid south of the Wall.

"Yes," Ben said tersely, "Sir Alliser is the voice of those who feel it would be best to implore not only you, but the southern lords to call your banners and deal with the situation in a permanent manner." He stared his brother in the eye, "He will likely try to convince you of much the same given the chance."

Ned shook his head, "I will not let the opinion of others sway me in this matter," he gave both Ben and Jeor a look, "I will see this First Forge for myself and meet the man who supposedly built it from nothing."

Jeor seemed to think for a long moment, "I would go with you Eddard. Everything I know of the city comes from reports and everything I know of the man comes from Benjen and the brief interactions he had with Ser Jaremy Rykker." He leaned forward, "I am making important decisions armed only with the observations of others. I tire of the situation and would like to meet the man for myself and develop my own opinions."

"My reasons for going are much the same." Ned admitted easily.

"Do you plan on bringing the boys?" Benjen inquired with a raised eyebrow.

Ned shook his head, "Cat would kill me should I bring Robb along, and I have a feeling Theon would be dead within an hour of arriving there given his nature. And should I bring Jon, Robb would likely try to come along as well."

Ben nodded slowly, "I understand your reasons Ned, truly I do but I think it would be best to bring Jon with you."

"Why only Jon?" Ned questioned.

"Simple," Ben started with a shrug of his shoulders, "Jon might someday take the black, and he ought to know what that means. He saw a taste of it here, today and I guarantee he found it underwhelming at best." He had knowing look about him, "To the eyes of a boy his age, this place is nothing compared to Winterfell or even Last Hearth."

Ned scrutinized his brother through narrowed eyes, "There is more to it than simply wishing for Jon to see what he'd be facing should he join the Night's Watch, I think we both know that brother." Jeor just sat and watched the byplay, his eyes following the speaker.

Benjen hadn't faced his brother's analyzing eyes like this in years but he wasn't the little boy he'd been when last it happened, "You might be right Ned, perhaps I want him to see that there are other places he might go, other things he might do than give up his life to the Watch. He wants it now because it seems like an honorable choice, it seems like the only option for someone of his birth but seeing First Forge he might realize differently."

He looked his brother square in the eye, "According to the traditions of the Kingdoms, every wildling is a bastard or near enough to it. I know Harry, maybe not particularly well, but I know him all the same. He won't care that Jon's last name is Snow instead of Stark."

Ned sat in silent contemplation, looking off into nothing. Perhaps it would be for the best. He might be great in the Watch, do great things and I would be proud of him were that his course, but he shouldn't make that decision thinking it is the only possible course. There is so much more he might do.

"If I take one, I take them all," Ned started, having come to a decision, "Theon and Robb will begrudge Jon the opportunity should he go and they don't and gods know there is enough animosity between Theon and Jon as it is."

"So you will bring all three then?" Benjen asked him pointedly.

"Yes," a slight smile entered his voice, "but should something happen, anything at all, I am going to tell Cat it was you responsible for it."

Benjen laughed loudly, "I doubt she would care if it were Jon, she would only care about Theon in as far as it would relate to Balon," He shivered slightly, "But should something happen to Robb, I imagine I would be safer should the gods themselves be after my head."

"Of that I completely agree with you." Ned said seriously causing the smile on Benjen's face to fall immediately.

"You wouldn't really tell her would you?" He asked with a hint of nervousness.

"Of course I would." Ned responded as he stood. "Now I believe it is nearly time for the evening meal."

Jeor looked out to the waning sun, "Aye, I believe you are correct my Lord." They left the Commander's Tower and made their way into the yard where the black brothers as well as Jon, Robb and Theon were all practicing their sword play

The Old Bear spoke up, "It seems Ser Alliser has been relieved of his duties for the day." He gestured to where Ser Rodrik directed not only the boys but the men of the Night's Watch as well. "I imagine they already like him far better than they ever have Alliser." Benjen only snickered as a form of affirmative reply as they continued to walk toward the Shieldhall.

They stepped in and the smell of roasting meat reached their noses almost immediately. In the middle of the room cooking over the spit was a boar brought by Ned and his company, which Jory Cassel killed while in the Wolfswood. The beast alone would easily serve the nearly 200 men who would be eating in the hall that night.

The Shieldhall quickly filled over the next half hour. Ned took a seat at the high table with First Builder Othell Yarwyck, Lord Steward Bowen Marsh, his brother, Jeor, and Maester Aemon. The three boys sat nearby eating with the other men and listening to the tales of a stooped, grey-bearded man named Ulmer who was once a member of the Kingswood Brotherhood. Ned noticed that Jon and Theon appeared more battered and bruised than Robb following their time with Ser Rodrik in the yard.

Everyone in the Hall was in a rather grand mood, something uncommon along the Wall. As they supped on sweet wine from the Arbor of a far better quality than what most the men had ever tasted before, japes were thrown about the hall and bawdy tales were told. What few men in the order had the talent, stepped forward and sang a song. As the night came to its end, many of the men had long since stumbled drunkenly from the Shieldhall to find their beds.

As Ned walked with the three boys back to the King's Tower, he spoke clearly so there were no misunderstandings about what was to happen the next day, "You will be coming with when we leave for First Forge." All three heads snapped to look at him so quickly he was surprised their heads weren't spinning, "You will follow my every command to the letter lest you wish to never leave your rooms at Winterfell again." They each nodded their heads soberly and spoke their ascent, though the threat did nothing to dim the gleam of excitement in each boy's eyes.

Here Ned smiled slightly, "And should my lady wife never learn of your visit there all the better for the four of us."

Robb paled slightly at the thought of what his mother might do to both himself and his father should she learn of such a thing. Theon saw no point in bringing up what he planned to do while at First Forge to the Lady of Winterfell. Jon simply didn't believe Catelyn would have any concern regarding his going to the city, considering she always cared little for his well-being.

"You shall wake with the dawn tomorrow. Together, we will take the winch elevator to the top of the Wall, I would not deprive you of the experience. We shall eat and then depart for First Forge, be ready." It was then that they reached the wooden and iron doorway into the King's Tower and made for their beds.

(Scene Break)

It was early in the afternoon as Harry examined the rune carvers' handiwork with a smile. At least this time it didn't explode in my face thanks to carelessness. They were finished now; the portals that connected First Forge to Newport were now ready for use. Well they should be at the very least, still have to test it by going through. The gateway stood just next to the Hall in First Forge, while its counterpart stood within the gates of the Last Refuge at Newport.

Harry stared at the translucent, rippling, blueish liquid that sat confined within the eight foot double archway. It couldn't be a single archway given the number of people who would have need of it; so, the archway on the right was designed to take people from First Forge while the one on the left received people from Newport.

He touched his hand to it tentatively before pulling back and taking a deep breath. He stepped into the archway in three quick steps. The sensation was different, as a rush of air seemed to push at him from every side; though, it wasn't nearly as uncomfortable as apparition or portkey. It only took five seconds before he walked out to an entirely different sight than the one he left. He was looking out at the yard of the Last Refuge as Toregg worked with people in the yard who'd once been members of Mance's group. Jarl seemed to be his most attentive pupil and among the best young fighters that joined them if Harry's quick observations were any indication. He did just manage to bring three other men to the ground in roughly fifteen seconds.

It was then that people seemed to take notice of their leader standing among them, seemingly having used the portals, which had taken nearly a month to make, for the first time. Dozens approached but Toregg pushed through the crowd and yelled the question that was on everyone's mind, "So you've finished them then?!"

Harry smiled widely, "Yes, no more portkeys or hour long boat rides." This brought a cheer to the crowd. It speaks to just how much people hate portkeys considering maybe a fifth of the people here have experienced the sensation but they all know how awful it can be.

A few people clamored to test the new means of travel but Harry stopped them with a raised hand, "Everyone must know how these operate before anyone goes blundering in otherwise I have no doubt there will be unnecessary injuries." With that he quickly explained the nature of the dual gateway and conjured a set of instructions that were affixed to its side. Once everyone present seemed clear on its operation, he returned to First Forge but only after blocking the entrance to the gateway. Everyone needs to know before anyone uses them. I will inform the other guild leader. That should suffice to spread the word through the city. But it will be the children who use it most to get to and from lessons at the fortress' library, so they will need to be clearest on the rules.

Harry was so caught up in hi musings he didn't notice Gilly and Munda standing in front of him until the last second and nearly bowled over the pair. They were looking at him expectantly, while glancing back at the clearly operational gateway behind him. Munda seemed unable to contain herself any longer and blurted out, "So is it working?"

He chuckled, "Yes it is, you and the other rune carvers should be proud. Nothing about making those gates was easy but you managed to craft the runes perfectly."

They both smiled proudly before Gilly spoke, "So we can use them then?"

Harry shook his head slowly, "Not until everyone understands how they work," they furrowed their brows, "I know you two understand because you helped create them but not everyone will." He paused and realized something, "Though you and the other rune carvers could help me spread the word more easily than anyone else." The two girls immediately understood his meaning and with a quick glance at each other were on their way. They were clearly eager to test their own work and were willing to do what was necessary to ensure they could.

"By the end of the day everyone will know how to safely use them Harry," Munda called over her shoulder before Gilly finished for them, "We promise." He just shook his head looking at their disappearing backs. Something tells me I just found the quickest possible way of disseminating that information.

Harry felt a vibration from his pocket. He pulled out his mirror not knowing who to expect on the other end. As he answered the call, it was the dark and wild hair of Osha, with her grey eyes that showed through the glass. She seemed slightly out of breath as she spoke in a rush, "Harry you'll be havin' some unvite' guests in the next hour or so."

He looked at her confused, "What do you mean?"

"Del and I were huntin' south of the Antler, found a couple of deer there but somethin' spooked 'em." She shook her head, "Followed the noise but kept to the trees in case whatever caused it was a threat. We found a group of some twenty men travelin' through the forest on horse; just two crows among 'em. I recognized Benjen Stark and the man ridin' beside him looke' to be his kin." She paused, "The pair of us made our way straight for the watchtower near the Antler to inform you of these goin's on."

Harry nodded his head absently, "Thank you for informing me of the situation Osha, I will deal with it accordingly." She didn't respond as she cut off the connection, realizing that Harry was in his own little world of thought. Twenty men isn't nearly enough for any sort of attack so they are likely coming to speak with me, particularly if Benjen is among them. I should obscure what I can that shows any overt magic for the time being.

Over the next forty-five minutes, Harry took the time to hide the gateway to Newport behind a ward and put out the Gubraithian flames along the road. It was as he shut down the flames out near the fields where Dalla worked that Val came upon him looking concerned, "Harry, what is going on?"

"Osha informed me we shall be receiving some uninvited guests soon." He turned away from his work to look at her, "I don't know what these people might know of my abilities or of First Forge's innovations, I'd rather not let them see more than necessary should they prove less than friendly. With Oberyn, he already knew much of what we did here because of his acquaintance with Marwyn, I very much doubt that is the case now."

She nodded before smiling, "Well before they arrive, I must tell you I heard that the gateway between here and Newport is now working. Gilly and Munda were quite explicit in explaining exactly how it worked and that everybody best use it properly 'unless they wish to lose a limb somewhere halfway across the world.' It was quite intimidating and I imagine everyone will be too afraid to disobey them." Harry couldn't help but burst out laughing followed closely by Val.

Harry extended his arm to her with a small bow, "Walk with me to the gates." She hooked her arm in his with a small smile and they made their way together toward the western gate. It wasn't a long walk from where she'd found him to the gates and a mere twenty minutes later they reached the massive steel doors. Karsi stepped down from the walls, having taken up a command of the city guard, as it were, of late.

"Harry, we didn't expect you." She spoke from halfway up the staircase.

"Nor should you have," He responded pleasantly, "I received news that brought me to the gates." He took quick steps over to the wall and quickly ascended the staircase until he was looking out over the expanse of forest. He peered through narrowed eyes outward but couldn't see anything of note. "Hmm, based on what Osha told me I'm surprised they aren't here already."

"Who isn't here?" Karsi asked from where she now stood beside both him and Val.

"Unexpected guests," Answered Val for him.

Harry pointed suddenly having spotted something in the trees after extending his senses for a moment, "There they are now." He clapped his hands with a slight smirk on his face, "Let's find out who has come to visit First Forge, shall we?"

Just a few minutes later twenty people, all upon horseback, emerged from the forest. Most were men, bearded and staring at the walls with restrained amazement and clearly analyzing them. There were three younger boys; two couldn't be any older than their early teens while the third looked to be older by a few years. The two younger boys stared in open wonderment at the long expanse of walls stretching in a curve to the north and south, and the great steel doors that barred entrance into First Forge.

They approached slowly. Of the three men that rode in the front, Harry recognized only one of them, Benjen Stark. The First Ranger rode to the left of a man who shared a similar appearance to him. The man in the middle wore a heave fur coat clasped upon his shoulder with matching, silver direwolves. Harry's best guess was this was Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell. To his right rode another crow. Oldest of the three, he was grey-bearded and bigger than the other two men.

Harry stood directly over the gates, leaning on the wall with his elbows crossed in front of him. Val stood to his side and the archers along the wall had arrows trained on the men approaching. When they were some ten feet from the gate they stopped and the man in the middle rode further forward after a few whispered words with Benjen. He spoke directly to Harry, "My name is Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North."

Harry looked down upon him without a trace of smile upon his face, "Hello Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North, why have you come to First Forge?"

"I wish to speak with you Harry Potter." He said simply, clearly unfazed by the slight bit of tension in the air. And why should he be? He has fought through two wars and gods know I have no intention of harming him. It would only bring unwanted attention to me and mine.

"There is much you have done to help the North, unintentionally I am sure." He continued, "I thought it best that I meet the man responsible for my bannerman no longer sending a raven a month regarding raids on the small folk of their lands."

Harry nodded slightly, "And who is your companion Lord Stark? I know your brother well enough, but I'm afraid I don't know the man to your right."

The older man spoke for himself, "I am Lord Commander Jeor Mormont and I have come for much the same reason as Lord Stark. I have lost far fewer brothers of late because of your presence here. I thought it time that I meet you face to face." Harry looked to Val but she merely stared down at the men before the gates intently.

Harry could simply turn them back, refuse them entrance into the city. But why refuse an opportunity when presented? They seem to mean no harm. I willingly heard what Oberyn had to say, I should do the same now.

He turned to Karsi behind him, "Open the gates." She stared at him a long moment before nodding and gesturing for the men to open the great steel doors.

He returned his attention to the Lord before his gates, "You may enter our city, but be aware that the people here will not suffer any slights easily. This is not the North, nor any of the other Kingdoms. I recommend you keep that in mind."

Eddard looked behind him and gave those in his company a significant look before returning his gaze to Harry, "We shall."

They cantered their horses two abreast through the gates before dismounting. Harry walked down from the walls, "I am afraid I have no horse at the moment, so you may walk with my wife and me to the city. It will take quite some time from here." Harry noticed the oldest of the boys looking at Val appraisingly and with a hint of something lecherous behind his eyes. The wizard locked his piercing green eyes with the young man and caused him to look away immediately.

"None shall complain about walking to the city I think," Eddard responded genially.

"It will give us time to talk," Jeor added gruffly.

They started walking along the solid stone road at a brisk pace. For the first fifteen minutes many of the men simply took in the fields of grain, corn and other crops in shock. It was Eddard who finally commented on the matter, "How do you grow anything here given the climate?"

Harry looked around before focusing on the Lord of Winterfell, "We are an industrious people Lord Stark, the right person with the right abilities might find an answer to any problem." He answered cryptically, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't you produce fruits, vegetable and flowers in the glass gardens at Winterfell?"

Eddard nodded slowly, "Aye, we do but that is thanks to the warmth of the hot spring beneath the castle. And they are not nearly as expansive as your fields."

"Yet you have them nonetheless," Harry replied evenly, "because someone had the skill and knowledge to make it possible. I am much the same."

"Your secrets are your own," Ned began, "I merely wished to express how impressed I was with the achievement."

Val chuckled at that, "You are probably the first northerner to be impressed by anything the Free Folk have accomplished."

"Excuse me my lady," interjected Benjen, "but you would be entirely wrong in that assumption. More than once I have expressed my astonishment at what has been achieved here in such a short time back at the Wall. And I am not the only one."

"I am no southern lady crow," Val said clearly though not unkindly, "But I must say your appreciation is surprising," She said almost to herself, "though I suppose there are bound to be some good men among the crows, but then I'm sure there are just as many who would rather see every one of the Free Folk, including us Norfolk, dead." Val's statement caused an uncomfortable silence and a noticeable tension in the two black brothers. Something tells me Val hit the metaphorical nail on its head.

Harry turned to look at Benjen who shook his head minutely. Ned cleared his throat, "Yes well, as I said I am quite impressed with your farming operations."

"Thank you Lord Stark," Harry said graciously, "Now how is it that my actions have helped the North?"

"Ah, that is quite simple," Ned started, "as I said I receive far fewer ravens regarding raids from north of the Wall. This oddity has happened over the course of the last five years, in fact it coincides almost exactly with when Benjen informed me of First Forge."

He rubbed his closely trimmed beard, "Even south of the Wall, men and women have heard of Alfyn Crowkiller, the Weeper, Rattleshirt, and Harma. The names might have no meaning to the people of the Riverlands or the Reach, but they are names that many northerner villagers have come to fear."

"Aye, even those among the Watch who might hate you for simply being a wildling were happy to hear you killed the Crowkiller. The man was responsible for the death of more black brothers than any save the Weeper." He gave Harry an appraising look, "Though I hear you are responsible for his death as well?"

Harry shook his head a small smirk on his face, "No it was the lovely woman at my side responsible for the Weeper's death."

Harry heard a slight snort from behind him, he believed from the direction of the handsome youth who'd felt the need to eye Val earlier. Val obviously heard it and she gave a rather vicious grin. One none of the men present were accustomed to seeing grace the features of such a beautiful woman, "He was rather good, but at the end of the battle it was his body burning on the pyre."

"Well then," Ned bowed his head slightly in her direction, "I must thank you as well."

"And me as well," Jeor added, "I may no longer fight with the bear sigil on my chest but I am still a Mormont of Bear Island, and the Weeper spent more time attacking my family's lands than any other of the wildlings." He actually chuckled then, "I daresay you would quite like my sister Maege, she is quite comfortable with weapon in hand as well though she isn't half so fair."

"How many women fight in your forces?" Came a tiny voice from behind them. Harry turned to look and found the auburn haired boy looking at him expectantly.

"Apologies, this is my eldest son and heir, Robb." Ned introduced Harry to the speaker before indicating the other boys in turn, "His half-brother Jon Snow, and my ward, Theon Greyjoy." Harry surveyed the boys silently. Robb must have far more of his mother in him than his father where Jon looks as much a northerner as anyone I've ever met. That bastard name doesn't quite suit his dark looks. His attention turned to the older boy who'd already drawn his ire once. This one is a hostage but called a ward because it sounds kinder. He seems a bit too cocksure for my liking with nothing having been done in his life to back it up.

Harry shifted his emerald gaze to the heir of Winterfell, "I've never counted Robb Stark, but as many women as wish to take up a blade fight in our forces." Robb nodded his head once before looking away.

Theon mumbled something which Harry only barely heard, "Women ought to remain in their solars sowing dresses and whelping children." Fortunately for him Val didn't hear his comment. That one wouldn't fit in very well here, but who knows, maybe he'll see the light before the day is out.

"We hear tell that Mance Rayder is now here." Benjen said idly, drawing Harry back into the conversation.

"He is," Harry replied stonily, wanting to nip any issue this might cause in the bud, "and here he shall remain, head intact."

"He deserted the Night's Watch, the penalty for such an action is death." Jeor stated with a bit of an edge to his voice.

"South of the Wall, yes you are correct Lord Commander but we aren't south of the Wall. Here, he has broken no laws."

"But he has broken an oath," Ned commented calmly. He wasn't judging, not really anyway, but Harry could hear a note of displeasure in Eddard's voice.

"He was raised by the Watch from the time he was a child Lord Stark," Harry explained unsure if Eddard knew the full tale, "He had little choice in the matter, and when presented with the alternative; when he learned that wildlings weren't the villains some of the Night's Watch purport them to be, he chose a different path."

Ned looked to Benjen who nodded at his brother, "I hadn't heard that story, it is an interesting one." He paused, "This is your place, your home and none of my men shall do anything to disturb the peace here."

They walked another hour talking of more mundane things, from the basic workings of First Forge to Ned's family. Arya sounds like she would fit in rather well with the women of First Forge even at only six years old.

They passed the greenhouses and the distillery nearer to the city. Harry was surprised to hear a comment from Jeor regarding their export of Vodka. Apparently that news has spread slightly further than I realized. They were impressed yet again by the number of cattle and other animals tended to within their walls. Of course that isn't even including what is currently being tended over in Newport.

Harry couldn't help but feel Ned was a stark contrast to their last noble visitor. Where Oberyn was boisterous and cocky, Ned spoke softly his words humble and measured. Where Oberyn differed greatly from what he expected because of his general attitude about everything including First Forge, Harry couldn't help but be surprised by Ned as well. He has far better reason than most to dislike the Free Folk given it is only northerners that are affected by their past actions. Yet despite that he seemed willing to simply take in the city and form opinions from what was happening in the moment.

They reached the outskirts of the actual city and it was at that point that they first saw the standard of the Norfolk, "You take the owl for your sigil?" asked Jeor.

"Not my sigil," Harry replied with a slight gleam in his eye, "The sigil of the Norfolk, it does not represent House Potter, as you might call it in the south, but every member of this city."

"And the words?" Questioned the Old Bear, "I cannot quite make them out from this distant."

Val smirked at his side, "We do not kneel." Everyone looked to her so she explained, "We have no kings here, no lords except for those we choose. And even then we never kneel. It seemed appropriate." No one commented on her declaration and Harry had to resist the urge to laugh.

As they started passing more of the building and drew nearer to the Hall, Jon spoke up from behind, "The buildings…" he started only to stop when Harry turned to look at him.

"Go on," Harry said kindly, "what about the buildings?" Eddard gestured for him to continue as well and he did so quietly.

"The buildings of Winterfell are made of hundreds of stones, plastered together with mortar. But these," he gestured to the homes they passed, "they appear to be cut from a single piece of stone, or like they were…" he struggled for the right word momentarily, "fused together."

"Quite right," Harry said quietly with a small smile that was mirrored on Ned's face. Many of the men were now paying closer attention to the buildings and the artistry long since engraved into their walls by the rune carvers, as they drew nearer to the center of First Forge.

As they reached the very center of the city Harry gestured to the complex of furnaces that had once been far simpler, "This is where our city gains its name. The first forge to ever produce steel in the Far North." The Northmen looked on, as even with the waning sun, the smith's worked at their craft. "You came to see our city, you may as well see all of it." Here Val left them and went to tend the twins, and begin putting a meal together for their guests. We don't want to be viewed as discourteous swine after all.

They walked through the streets, to the docks where dozens of ships were at bay, unloading their hauls of fish. No one, not even Benjen, was aware they had so many vessels at their disposal. In the port there were shipwrights hard at work, endeavoring to make even more of the seafaring vessels.

They briefly visited the bathhouses, where men and women alike walked around in naught but their small clothes, at best in many cases. Both Jon and Robb looked away uncomfortably, their faces a vivid red. Harry had them leave quickly to spare the young boys any more embarrassment but did inform those present, "The hot springs are responsible for keeping the city substantially warmer than the surrounding area much the same way as Winterfell."

They came back around and stopped where the many older women and men plied their trades as healers and many of the younger girls worked wool to make both the standards that adorned the buildings and the newer clothing of the Norfolk; though many still wore their traditional furs. He pointed out the tavern where the strumming of Mance on his lute could be heard, though none realized it was him.

They finished by passing by the yard. It was here that they were provided to a bit of entertainment courtesy of the only Ironborn among them.

Harry was talking with Ned about some of the weapons he noticed around the yard, "Yes, we have dozens of blacksmiths constantly improving, and constantly producing new weapons for the men." The Warden of the North had yet to see any of the dragonsteel blades still uncommon among their number.

Suddenly he heard a slight argument from behind them, "Well bastard, you might have some talent with a blade but I'll always be better with a bow in hand." Harry couldn't fathom what reason the older boy had to make personal attacks on the younger, as they clearly weren't meant in jest, "Probably the best in all the North for that matter." Ned apparently hadn't heard the argument as he couldn't imagine the man letting such a thing slide if that were the case.

"Would you like to prove that boast kneeler?" Rang out a distinctly feminine voice from nearby which Harry clearly recognized. He turned with a smirk on his face to find Ygritte standing nearby, her weight resting lightly on her bow. She had a scowl marring her pretty face and a dangerous glint in her blue eyes.

Theon didn't realize that the voice's owner had been speaking to him so Ygritte picked up a rock from the ground and tossed it at his head lightly. She hit him squarely in the temple and caused him to turn on her fuming, "How dare you, I am the heir to the Iron Islands." Ned groaned and made to speak but Harry stopped him with a raised hand as he chuckled. I didn't take him for being so bad as to be comparable to Malfoy.

"I don't give a fuck, if you're the heir to every southern kingdom there is kneeler," Ygritte replied calmly, "you claim to be the best bow in the North, well I claim you're wrong."

"We're not in the North though now are we?" Theon examined the younger girl with a hint of lust in his eyes.

Ygritte smirked at the cocky Ironborn, "No kneeler, we're in the True North, and I guarantee you're barely half the bowman I am." Theon climbed down from his horse and when his back was turned Harry noticed Ygritte wink at Jon, causing the younger boy to blush but with a slight smile upon his face.

When Theon returned his attention to her the smirk had returned to his face, "We'll shoot from fifty feet away on the first and then fifty feet more until one of us misses the center of that target over there," she gestured to a wooden target painted with black rings and a bullseye in the middle.

"I have no bow," Theon commented as he stepped over to her with his best charming smile.

"You'll borrow mine then, as I wouldn't ask any of the lads to give up theirs to… well like you." Ygritte commented with a scowl, "Although any man doesn't carry his bow with him, particularly here beyond the Wall, is no true bowman."

He leaned in to speak more softly to her, "I might not carry my bow but I carry the sword between my legs, maybe you can borrow that later."

She smiled at him sweetly but with a mad glint in her eye, "Try it and you won't have a cock to speak of come the morning kneeler." She brought her bow up abruptly and hit him squarely between his legs causing many present to laugh loudly, Jon and Robb most of all. Theon groaned and took the bow from her with a huff.

They took their marks fifty feet away and loosed an arrow each. They both drove it near dead center of the target. At least the boy has some talent to back up his boasts. The next round Ygritte loosed second, and drove her shaft straight through the end of Theon's which caused him to stare goggled eye at her for a long moment before taking a noticeable gulp.

They repeated this process six times, until they were well outside of the yard before it finally came to an end. Ygritte fired first. The arrow sailed through the air and drove straight into the center of her target. She didn't smile, she didn't even look particularly happy merely focused. She handed the bow to Theon.

He pulled back and loosed and as the arrow soared it became apparent his aim wasn't true. It drove into the target but only barely, hitting the outside edge of the last ring. He looked on dejectedly and handed Ygritte her weirwood bow rather forcefully. As they drew closer to the spectators she spoke to him, "Perhaps that will teach you that it isn't best to boast, kneeler." She paused and she leaned a little closer, "And it isn't a name that makes a bastard." Harry didn't hear the last but he could tell that whatever Ygritte said had drawn Theon's ire and caused him to redden in anger. She paid him little mind and approached Harry.

"Hopefully I did not do anything… wrong," She said with no hint of remorse.

Harry laughed loudly, "You are a free woman and the single best archer I've ever met, I expected nothing less than for you to prove that fact." She smiled widely at that and turned to leave sparing one more look at Jon, at which the younger boy smiled shyly.

"Well," Harry spoke, gaining everyone's attention, "I think that is enough diversion for the time being." The sun had finally fallen below the horizon, "Val had a meal prepared, and it will be waiting for us in the Hall." Many men appeared happy with this development as they moved half again as fast to reach the food.

They weren't disappointed when they arrived. A deer was roasting over a spit, fresh fish had already been cooked and sat on plates. Potatoes roasted and seasoned with a bit of rosemary were steaming in bowls upon the table. Vegetables from snap peas to corn were arrayed for everyone to take from. Flagons of apple cider sat on the table and in the back there was two casks filled with Vodka.

Over the next three hours people filtered in and out of the Hall in the hundreds, which confused the northerners slightly as they were accustomed to organized feasts. There were songs and japes thrown about and Harry sat by speaking with his guests. Tormund made a brief appearance speaking civilly with both crows despite the fact he had little trust in them. Both Torwynd and Munda had little problem sitting with Jon and Robb though. He noticed Ygritte came in and sat with the boys for a time, right next to Jon in fact. Her presence caused Theon to sulk rather spectacularly. Ned seemed rather pleased to see how much Jon enjoyed himself among the Norfolk, Benjen too.

Val came in later, only after enlisting Gilly to watch the twins for the night, as Dalla decided to spend the evening in the tavern with Mance, something that had become increasingly more common even in the few days since they arrived back from Thenn.

At one point during the night, Harry offered a taste of their Vodka to each of the guests save the younger lads. Eddard took a shot of the liquid graciously and quickly found himself coughing at the heat of it in his throat, "Bit strong for my taste thanks." Harry laughed and tipped his flagon of apple cider at him.

"In truth it is far too strong for my taste as well, but the things we do for the betterment of others aren't always to our tastes." Ned nodded solemnly, knowing full well what Harry meant.

It was at that moment that a distinctly blue Gilly stormed into the Hall and right up to Harry, "Change me back now… please?" She added the last as an afterthought. Well there goes no one knowing about the twins. Val chuckling lightly at his side certainly didn't help matters though.

Munda's voice cut through the guffaws and laughter, "Which one of them did it?"

"Emer," Gilly answered. At the same moment a dozen northerner's asked, "Which one of who?" Harry slipped his wand into his hand and waved it as discreetly as he could manage. The young girl in front of him changed back to her natural pale skin tone.

She looked down and huffed, "Much better," she turned to leave, "now I need to get back to the twins."

"The twins?" questioned Benjen nearby.

Val reluctantly answered the question, "Trystan and Emer, our son and daughter."

Harry sighed tiredly, "Surely you have heard of my abilities," all of the guests nodded, the boys included, "my children have the same abilities but lack control at their age. Anyone who's watched them has fallen victim to it at least once."

Ned still looked slightly awestruck, "It is one thing to hear of the things you are capable of, but to see them first hand, even something so minor compared to say the walls you supposedly built in a month or the buildings seemingly made from a single stone, is amazing." Harry tipped his glass to Ned in recognition but didn't comment.

"You didn't mention you had children," commented Benjen idly, "congratulations." He added.

"They are both amazing and we love them completely," Harry said with a small smile, not hiding anything now that they knew about the twins.

"I know the feeling," Ned smiled slightly as he stopped dwelling on the small show of magic, "Catelyn is pregnant with our fifth child together."

Harry raised his glass to the Warden of the North, "To your next child's good health Lord Stark." He raised his glass and clanked it with Harry's. They both took a long pull from their flagons before setting them down.

"Do you know how long you plan to remain in First Forge?" Harry asked kindly, though truly curious about their plans.

"I plan to visit the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch-by-the-Sea before returning to Winterfell, I am afraid those plans mean we might only spend another day here at the most." He smiled at Harry, "So we won't be intruding on your hospitality for too long."

Harry shook his head, "I meant nothing by it Lord Stark, you and your men have been cordial at the very least," he spared a significant glance in the direction of Ned's ward, "and until such a time as you depart, the Hall shall suffice as a place for you to sleep."

Ned nodded and looked to the Hall where all of the food had already been cleared and the area had been restored to its usual appearance. "Thank you Harry," he seemed far more comfortable withholding a title when speaking to Harry than Gareth ever was or would be, "I would request that we might have a more private conversation on the morrow." Harry nodded.

"Agreed, Stark," He stood and extended an arm to Val, which she took with a slight smile, "for now I have had enough of drink and song. I shall take my woman to be bed and be happy for her warmth." He left and they quickly made their way home where they relieved Gilly of her duty.

Val sat on the bed watching Harry as he undressed for bed, "Why do you think they have come?"

"For the same reason Oberyn came love," He said just before pulling his shirt over his head, "because they wish to see the wonder that has been built beyond the Wall, they wish to see what sort of people have made this place, and discern whether we are a threat." He leaned down to kiss her, "Ned seems a reasonable man, much the way Benjen described him to me when first we met. And as such, I doubt we shall see any trouble from him."

"Well then I suppose we have little to worry about," She said with a smirk, "we are no less civilized than the southerners if that was their concern, and no more a threat than any of the lords who play their games." Both of them had read of the games that lead to great bloodshed in the south. Harry merely nodded serenely as he lay down beside her and pulled her to his chest. Harry quickly let sleep take him as the day caught up with him.

(Scene Break)

The next morning, Harry walked through the streets toward the Hall. When he arrived he found that their guests had already left their accommodations for the morning. He didn't need to search hard to find them. They were in the yard.

Tormund and Rodrik Cassel were speaking amiably, likely about training young men how to fight. Ned watched on as Robb fought one of the Norfolk boys with a blunted blade while Theon appeared to be trying to make up for his inadequacy the day prior by pumping as many arrows as he could manage into a target. Jon stood not far away with Ygritte at his side. She was instructing him strictly on how best to handle the bow and the boy appeared to be taking it to heart. Benjen and Mormont stood further away examining one of the rune-engraved steel swords in the yard.

Harry walked up silently until he stood beside, "Good morning Eddard."

"To you as well Harry," he responded looking away from his son, "the boys wished to come to the yard, see for themselves how the Norfolk train after hearing about it from Jarl and Tormund yesterday." Ned winced slightly as he watched Robb driven hard onto his back by a boy three years his elder, "I imagine Jon's having the best experience."

Harry looked to Jon where he'd loosed an arrow square into the center of a target from some hundred feet away, "It would appear Ygritte can teach the bow almost as well as she can fire it."

"Aye, and it would appear that Jon quite enjoys her taking the time to teach him." There was a hint of delight in his voice, one that spoke to just how much he enjoyed seeing his bastard son smile. He did it so rarely when at Winterfell. Ned shook his head, "But I should leave the boys to it," he turned his steel grey gaze on Harry, "I wished to speak with you in private, as did the Lord Commander."

"I recall, and there is no time like the present Lord Stark," he responded gesturing for the man to walk beside him. Ned caught the two crows' attention and they quickly followed behind. He took them back to his home to find it empty, Val having left with the children to meet Dalla at the bathhouses earlier in the morning. He offered his guests a drink, just water so early in the morning, and sat at the table along with them.

"Now what do you wish to discuss?" Harry asked bluntly.

"I was honest in my reasons for coming here," began Ned in soft but deep and strong voice, "but I must admit myself… stunned at the reality of this place." He gestured to the other two men in the room, "I have received reports and heard stories but nothing could have prepared me for what I found upon arriving here."

"I am pleased we managed to surprise you," Harry said with a faint smile, "but there is more to your point."

Ned nodded, "My bannerman will hear of this place in time, if they haven't already, some will wish for me to call my banners, march up the Kingsroad, beyond the Wall and take you where you live." You could hear a note of frustration in his voice, "I wanted to see your walls, your armaments, and your people for myself because when I tell them I will do no such thing… and I can assure you now that will be the case… I can do so with a clear conscience, knowing full well that I am making the best decision for the North."

"That impressed?" Harry said with a hint of pride in his voice.

"Yes," Ned answered honestly, "I see no benefit in fighting you. I've had enough of war in my life already."

Harry's mood changed significantly at the mention of war, "I am afraid you shall see more of it before your life is over." He said quietly more to himself than anything, as he came to a decision. Even after just a day of knowing Eddard, Harry could see the honor and nobility Benjen had spoken of when they first met. And while Oberyn and the Dornish would be welcomed allies, there is far more the Warden of the North can do to help in the wars to come. And he should know what might be coming to harm his family, and his people.

Ned seemed taken aback by the statement, "Are you saying you plan to bring war on the North?"

The question stirred Harry from his thoughts abruptly and he raised his hands in a placating manner, "No, not at all." Ned relaxed but only slightly, "We have no need to expand Lord Stark, we are not so numerous to risk spreading ourselves thin." He shook his head, "It won't be me you war with."

"You mean the warning you relayed to me through Benjen?" Ned leaned forward interested.

"No… though that may be another war for both of us… I speak of a far greater threat, one that stirs in the cold, dark places of the world." He paused and stood, "I haven't done everything here only for the sake of improving the lives of the Free Folk, but also to protect them… from the Others."

"The Others?" Ned asked incredulously, "legends dead for thousands of years."

"I have a firsthand account of their continued existence as well as the word of a true greenseer, Lord Stark," he drew his sword from its sheath and laid the red tinted blade on the table, "This is dragonsteel, or something similar to it, just like the supposed blade of the Last Hero. It is an alloy made with obsidian that I developed explicitly so we might meet the Others with weapons that can actually harm them."

"You don't strike me as the sort of man to overreact." Ned said slowly, eyeing the blade warily.

"I'm not," Harry said tersely before turning to Benjen, "You once told me it wasn't the duty of the Night's Watch to defend the realm from other men. I don't think you knew what was coming but you felt there was something… this is that something."

Here his attention turned to Jeor, "Your order is called the Night's Watch because it was built to defend against the Long Night, and the blue-eyed creatures that come with it. I doubt the founder of the order ever had any doubt they would someday return." The three northerners sat in silence for a long time. Benjen seemed to accept Harry's words easily and not for the first time Harry wondered if perhaps the younger Stark didn't have some foresight of his own.

Ned spoke then, "What would you have me do when you can present me with no physical proof of your claims?" He sighed, "I like you Harry. I'd heard enough stories that I already respected you but I do not like all the men I respect. What you do, you do for the betterment of the people here and through the opportunities you have provided them they have become a true people."

He shook his head slowly, "But I cannot go to my bannerman making claims of the White Walkers coming out of the North only to ask them to fight beside a people they still view as savages dead set on raiding, they would string me up from the top of my own towers."

It was Harry's turn to be silent. Much like with Oberyn, Harry knew this wasn't the sort of situation that would be resolved in a single day. Negotiations never work that way. He ran a hand through his hair, "I would request that should we be forced from our homes both here and at Storrold's Point you allow us refuge in the North." Harry had considered broaching this subject with Ned via letter prior to his arrival. There is no guarantee we will be able to withstand the Others when they come, and I would rather have the Wall between us and them should we be forced to flee our homes.

Ned rubbed his eyes briefly before responding, "I couldn't promise such a thing without proof. No Stark has ever welcomed a wildling force beyond the Wall."

"No Stark in living memory faced the threat of White Walkers either." Harry responded.

"True enough," Ned conceded, "but the word of one man and a greenseer would not be enough to sway any man south of the Wall that we are facing that same threat now."

"It seems to me that we are at an impasse then," Harry pointed out with a tired sigh. He turned away from Ned and looked to Jeor, "And what of the Night's Watch?"

The Old Bear shook his head, "There are those of my men who would want my head should they know I'm telling you this but a man of your intelligence could probably divine the information easily enough anyway." He grasped the bear's head pommel of his sword and grasped at it slightly, "The Watch doesn't have the men to fight the Norfolk north of the Wall, and the same could be said should your claims of the Others be true. We could hold our own at the Wall, the Wall defends itself after all, but there is little we could offer in way of aid here or anywhere else beyond the Wall."

"And considering there is an entire group of our brothers who want nothing more than to see your blood upon the snow, offering any sort of aid would likely lead to fighting in the halls of Castle Black." Benjen added grimly. "Measure every action Harry because they will look for any spark to light those fires."

So we are on our own then… for now at least. "Should I bring you proof, at the least would you be willing to offer us safety beyond the Wall if it comes to that?"

Ned barely hesitated, "Bring me proof, honest to gods proof, and I won't just offer you refuge in the North, I shall call my banners and man the Wall with every strong arm the North has to offer until the threat is ended." Harry nodded resolutely in response, "But I hope that doesn't mean there can't be friendly relations between the Norfolk and the North until such a time as you can provide me with proof?"

"You wish to trade then?" Harry stated as much as asked.

"The North is forced to rely on the southern kingdoms for a great deal of goods. While I take little issue with that on the whole, we would benefit from other trading partners when the winter comes."

"I would be amenable to the idea Lord Stark." Harry said plainly, "Perhaps you could allow our ships to trade at White Harbor?"

"I believe I could convince Lord Manderly to allow such a thing," Ned nodded his head once in satisfaction, "I will send you a raven to discuss the finer details."

Harry shook his head, "I don't trust your ravens, you shall be leaving First Forge with a gift. Call it a token of our good will." Ned raised an eyebrow in question, "There is a reason for the owl on our banners Eddard." Harry said with a smile. Each face showed a look of mild understanding mixed with a small bit of confusion. Everyone realized this seemed to be the end of their conversation.

As they made for the door a chuckle came from Ned surprising Harry, as he wasn't the sort to laugh for no reason. When he noticed the curious looks pointed his way he looked to Harry, "When I heard of your twins my initial thought was to bind the Norfolk to the North via some sort of marriage." Harry scowled slightly, "I thought better of it in part because I doubt your wife would have resisted the urge to do some sort of physical harm upon my person." Harry couldn't resist the urge to smile at that, "But also because I realized it would mean little to the Norfolk. Ygritte, the one who helped Jon in the yard, made it abundantly clear that you are a leader by the will of the people who follow you and should your children marry a northerner it wouldn't constitute any kind of alliance."

"It is good you came to that realization Lord Stark," Harry laughed slightly, "I am in no way fond of arranged marriages and I can be just as terrifying as Val." Eddard didn't seem fazed by the statement, "I have no doubt Harry, but a word to the wise. There will be other people who take notice of you, here in this place and they will make offers for Trystan and Emer's hand. Not everyone will be as understanding as I am, and they will likely take your refusal as a slight." Harry acknowledged Ned's point before they left his home. It won't be fun navigating those sort of politics but I will do it all the same.

The Northerners remained through the day. They even provided the meal that night, going on a hunt and killing a buck. Jon and Robb seemed bound to experience everything the city had to offer in the short time they had there. Over the course of the day, Harry saw the two boys fighting in the yard, assisting where they could at the Forge with Torwynd, learning some of the runic drawings from Gilly and Munda, and listening intently as Ferny explained the finer points of some of the healing salves she put together. They didn't even get the chance to see Newport.

When they left early the next morning, Harry noted a distinct look of disappointment on the Bastard of Winterfell's face. No one here treated him as anything less than a person, bastard or otherwise it make little difference. Sitting on the back of Ned's horse just in front of Jon was an owl, preening its feathers. It isn't a mirror but I don't yet know the man well enough to risk such a thing. As they disappeared into the forest Harry had a harrowing thought. I'll have to go to the Land of Always Winter if I wish to gather evidence of the White Walkers' return. He groaned internally. Val is going to be extremely unhappy when I tell her… but it can wait until after my meeting with the Thenns, so I have time before telling her.

AN: Not really much to say on this one, expect a meeting with the Thenns in the next chapter.

13. Chapter 13

AN: Sorry I'm a little later than usual on this one but I was sick over the weekend. To the people who contacted me regarding my health thank you for the concern. Now as for the guest reviews...

coldblue: 1)There will certainly be a southern war 2)Wait and see 3)the Bolton's probaby, yes 4)That's what I'm leaning toward 5)You'll find out

Guest: 1) Ned's opinion is the only one that matters and he is the one Harry would show 2)Possible 3)I have considered it

moogle: Not as such no.

Lagate- GoT: Even were someone to learn of Harry's otherworldly origins they would be hard pressed to learn the details as he's only shared them with Val. They would be inclined to believe his own world is advanced due to his magic not because of any sort of technology, at least in my opinion, and people will covet him for that reason certainly. I'm not sure what the question was in the second part of your review.

theosay: Depending on the situation you can expect him to be equally as brutal as he was in his handling of the canniabl leader. Whether you consider that nearly as bad as the blood eagle, is entirely your opinion. I think it is a bit of stretch to say that everyone of note gets a song, I don't recall a song that commemorates Barristan's defeat of Maelys the Monstrous or a song about Arthur Dayne's victory over the smiling knight. So while he might have a song at some point, I don't see it as a guarantee at this point.

creme: He will have encounters with her at some point yes, though he did meet her once already.

i-curious-joe: Happiness is certainly there but I would say I am more surprised than anything. I don't see myself as that great an author, so the response to this story often floors me. I personally don't see Gibson's Wallace or Lambert's McCleod, the hair is just to long and neither of the men really look the part in my opinion. As for Val, Winnick's Lagertha is the person I have in mind definitely. Possibly to your last question.

anon-reader: I just don't see Harry ever being one for those sort of beards.

GredForge:: There will certainly be attempts on both Harry and his people of varying natures.

Harry approached the Fist of the First Men from the south with Karsi, Tormund and Mance close behind him. The high hill, used as a stronghold during the Dawn Age, jutted up above the Haunted Forest. The slopes to the west and north were sheer, the east only slightly less so. There was a brook nearby and as they climbed higher Harry noted an old ringwall about chest high that guarded the crown of the stony hill.

As the foursome passed the ringwall, Harry noted two swords and large axe resting against the old defensive structure. If that wasn't indication enough, it became readily apparent that they had arrived after the Thenns as the hulking frame of Mag the Mighty towered some thirteen feet tall, well above everyone, else as he tended to his mammoth mount. The giant was taller than Hagrid yet shorter than the full giants of his own world. Mag's beard was a silver grey with flecks of white; the mammoth he tended was of a similar coloring. Nearer to the center of the hill stood three men, all clad in shirts sewn with bronze disks and carrying helms of the same metal beneath their shoulders. They warmed themselves near a fire and two talked among themselves while the third remained silent.

All three men were at least six feet tall, but the tallest and silent man Harry could assume from description was the Magnar himself. Styr appeared to be some thirty five years of age and stood a full head taller than Harry with broad shoulders and an air of superiority about him. He was bald with odd markings upon his face and top of his head. His eyes were a pale grey, his nose straight and narrow, leading down to a scowling set of thin lips. His eyes snapped to Harry and his companions as they approached and gestured to the others while calling out to the giant, though Harry couldn't discern exactly what was said.

Ever since his encounter with the cannibals Harry had taken to learning the Old Tongue from Val, something she enjoyed immensely. He was happy for his lessons now as he knew the Thenns and giants almost exclusively spoke the Old Tongue.

They arranged themselves with the three men in front and the giant looming behind them as the four Norfolk came closer. While Harry hadn't kept his sword on him for this conversation, he wasn't foolish enough to deny himself any sort of defense considering they had a giant, so his wand rested in its holster along his wrist. For a long moment they simply stared at one another, waiting for the other to make the first move until Styr finally spoke, his voice as deep as Harry expected, "I have come Harry Potter. So why have you called me here?"

Harry momentarily glanced up at Mag before addressing the leader of the Thenns, "You and your people are the oldest of the Free Folk." He decided playing to their sense of pride was a good place to start, "You are the last of the First Men, as far as I am to understand it."

"You speak true," Styr retorted, "but it has nothing to do with why you have called me here."

Harry paused collecting his thoughts, "You were the strongest of the Free Folk, the most advanced and the most feared," Tormund stifled a snort at this particular comment as he never much cared for the Thenns and their, in his opinion at least, over inflated sense of self-worth. Harry didn't even spare him a glance as he continued, "Now that honor belongs to us," Harry gestured to his fellows and himself.

The statement hung in the air for a brief moment before Styr began to laugh, it wasn't cruel but it wasn't particularly pleasant either, more derisive than anything. The other two Thenns joined him while the giant continued to appraise Harry through deep-set eyes. The Magnar stopped abruptly and spoke calmly, "Strongest maybe, I have never seen this city of yours to say for sure. Most advanced, definitely if the steel armor you wear means anything. But it isn't your people that are feared Harry Potter," Styr looked down directly into his eyes, "It is you and only you, I have heard the stories of your destruction of one of the cannibal leaders near your city," He smiled then, revealing slightly yellowed teeth, "and it was destruction from what I heard, you even had him begging for death. And you managed that without ever laying a finger on him." He finished his short little speech and waited for Harry to continue.

"If they fear me alone then their fear is misplaced," Harry said almost dismissively, "I alone didn't kill Alfyn Crowkiller and bring his people into the fold. I alone didn't see to the construction of our city, nor the prosperity of our people. I alone didn't kill the Weeper, Harma, and Rattleshirt." He understood he was the most important cog in the machine that had become the Norfolk, but their achievements as a people should be given to all those who had helped in the endeavor.

"But this isn't why I called you here," Harry digressed, "Nearly half of the Free Folk now reside in First Forge and Newport. Of those who remain without, you Thenns represent by far and away the largest portion." Harry made to continue but was interrupted by a snort from Styr.

"Is this why you have called me here? To boast of the many men and women who follow and the strength of your people. Do you expect to intimidate me, and cow me with your implied threats?" He sneered, "You will find I care little for your threats and should you attack Thenn your numbers will dwindle far more quickly than they have in any of your previous battles."

"I am not threatening you Styr." Harry all but yelled, "I am simply stating facts." His voice quieted considerably as he continued, "When winter comes we Norfolk will have food and warmth aplenty, can you say the same of your people?" Styr made to reply but something brought him up short. The man might rule his own people with an iron fist but that didn't make him any less empathetic to their plight living in the furthest parts of the mapped north. He'd seen the death that winter brought and did not look forward to it happening again.

Harry allowed him a moment to think and looked to Mag behind him, "And the giants, how many remain now Mag Mar Tun Doh Weg? Will your people survive the next winter?" As far as Mance had observed and informed Harry, there were barely a hundred giants remaining and at least some among that number were vegetarians. I think any sort of winter would mean an end to their entire species should they remain near Thenn. The giant stared down at Harry before his booming voice broke the silence.

"True, we few now." That seemed to be all the giant had to say on the matter, at least for the time being, so Harry returned his attention to the three men before him.

"If you are not here to threaten us, intimidate us or anything else of that nature, then why are we here?" Styr had calmed significantly from his earlier outburst, now far more curious than combative.

"To inform that it would be in the best interest of you and your people to leave Thenn," Harry decided he might as well be blunt at this point.

Styr's eyes narrowed dangerously, "We have only ever left Thenn to raid to the south, and on rare occasions in history, follow a King-Beyond-the-Wall to attack the southerners." He paused, "Some might call you king, but you have no intention of attacking the Wall or any of the people who live beyond, so why should we come?"

Harry seemed unaffected by the abrupt rise in tension, "For the only reason that really matters in the end: survival. You can survive in the south should you be willing to accept my offer to reside behind our walls."

"And what would your kindness cost me?" Styr stepped forward and now loomed over Harry a snarl upon his face, "Will I bend the knee, me and every other lord in Thenn? Will I be forced to pay homage to you and yours and be little more than one of the kneelers in the south?"

Karsi spoke from beside Harry before he had the chance to respond, "No one kneels to Harry, we follow him by choice."

"And how many of you still remain in control of your own people?" Styr countered looking squarely at each of Harry's three companions in turn.

Tormund shrugged his shoulder, "I was the first to join Harry, or more like find myself flat on my ass and forced to follow his lead." He laughed slightly before continuing, "My people became his because he beat me Styr, simple as that." Styr seemed to accept that easily enough, he was well aware that they would follow the strongest without much contest.

"He killed the fucking cannibal leader that hounded my people for years," even after so much time Karsi sounded relieved speaking of it, "That more than anything brought me to him but that isn't why I willingly gave up my leadership. Am I still a chieftain? No, but I gave that up willingly for the sake of my people. That does not mean those who once followed me do not listen to my words or advice. It simply means they hear Harry's word as well."

It was only then that Mance finally spoke for the first time during the meeting, "There were those among Harma, Rattleshirt and the Weeper's forces who'd heard much of what happened within the walls of the Norfolk cities. Even if much of it was only rumor, they were willing to take a chance to be free of hunger and death ever at their heels." The former crow tilted his head slightly, "The men and women who came to me trusted and respected me and my word, still do for that matter, but they understood it was Harry who would be their new leader. I lost nothing and gained much, there is little else to be said on the matter."

Styr mulled something over in his mind momentarily before taking a step toward the former crow, "Tell me, would you have had me march headlong into that slaughter with the others while secretly trying to win the loyalty of my people?"

Mance gestured with his hand to stop Harry as he made to take a step in his defense, "You have my word Styr, Magnar of Thenn, that you would never have been part of that slaughter." Styr clenched and unclenched his fists so Mance continued, "You were never willing to attack the Norfolk, I merely hoped to get you into much the same situation we're in now, a conversation between you and Harry so that something might be worked out. Only that then, you would have had your entire people with you ready to remain there in the south." There was a good reason it had been Mance that went to see Mag while Dalla approached Styr when they actually went to Thenn. They really didn't know how the man would react when he learned that Mance had seemingly tried to set up Styr's death. It is good that he required no weapons.

Styr searched the shorter man's eyes for a tension filled moment before stepping back calmly, "I believe you, if only because I doubt you are foolish enough to attempt such a thing when my people are truly loyal to me unlike the shits who fell into your trap."

Styr eyed Mance one last time before turning his gaze back to Harry, "But that is an entirely different matter. We were talking about what being allowed to come south would cost me?"

"You could come further south whenever you choose," Harry retorted a little snippily, "But should you come peacefully at my request, you would be allowed to reside behind our walls and benefit from a relationship with us. All that would be asked of you is that you and yours respect our practices as we will respect yours and that should it be necessary we fight any common enemies together."

Styr mulled this over for a moment, "You expect me to believe you want that little? That you won't want obedience from my people as you have managed from those others who have joined you?" He gestured with his head toward those at Harry's side.

Harry felt his anger build slightly and he stepped forward staring up stonily at the taller man, "I expect you to believe my word, as you have no reason to question it, even if I can understand that is asking quite a lot." Styr stepped forward once again trying to intimidate Harry with his superior size but he continued unperturbed, "But should you choose to refuse my offer, fine. It will neither anger nor bother any of the Norfolk." Harry let his eyes glow briefly with his magic and noticed the briefest of flinches cross the Magnar's face, "but when your people lie freezing in their homes, after the bite of winter takes their ears and their fingers, and the all-encompassing hunger, that starvation, sets in to the point where they have no other choice but to feast on those who fell before them, you will wish that you had taken my offer."

Harry's voice fell to an eerie whisper as he continued, "Should you come to me in that moment of desperation with hopes of refuge, you will be turned away at the gates to lie in the bed you've made. And every man and woman of the Thenn, loyal as they are, will die wondering how they could have thought their Magnar was anything more than a man, let alone something akin to a god made flesh." He wasn't even sure if he could muster that sort of cold-heartedness but he was trying to make a point and he was quickly realizing Styr wasn't the sort of man who would listen to simple reasoning. Fear is simply one of the best motivators, and if that is what is required to speed up this conversation then so be it.

Styr, who until this point had seemed nothing less than the stalwart leader of the most dangerous of the Free Folk, faltered then and Harry could see two things in his grey eyes, fear and respect. Harry didn't need to be loved by the Thenns, what he needed was the respect and fear he saw in Styr's eyes so they could coexist and someday fight together against a common enemy. Harry continued to hold the taller man's gaze until he looked away and toward the two other men at each of his sides.

It was only then that Harry did the same and noticed they were looking at him in shock, clearly not accustomed to any person speaking to Styr in such a manor. Mag's deep voice broke the silence and drew Harry's attention, "Giants come south, fight with your people, help when can, but we will remain giants as we do with Thenns."

For the first time in the entire meeting Harry actually smiled, "We would be happy to accommodate you and the other giants Mag, and we would be happy with any help you might provide."

Styr took a step back away from Harry and folded his arms across his chest, "I retain control of my own people."

Harry nodded once, "As far as I am to understand it, their loyalty is absolute. I doubt there is anything I could do to change that, not that I want to mind you," he added mostly to himself, "I am offering you an alliance not subjugation." This seemed to please Styr and he extended his arm to Harry in recognition of this new alliance. He quickly returned the gesture and grasped the Magnar's forearm.

"We shall come to your lands, Harry Potter." Styr said calmly, though Harry doubted the man was completely confident in his own decision.

"Follow the Antler to its mouth at the Sea, you will find the walls of First Forge some five miles north of there. We shall ferry you to Storrold's Point where you will make your new home." Harry explained, not knowing for sure whether the Thenns knew where to find their city, "You will not regret this decision."

The Magnar seemed ambivalent about that statement for the moment at least as he gestured to the two other Thenns, "It shall take us at least two months to return to Thenn, prepare my people, and travel to your city." Harry was fully aware of this fact and imagined it would likely take even longer, giving them time to begin building permanent homes for the new arrivals. Of course that is only after we have finished with those who joined after the battle; though, we've already made a great deal of progress on that front.

As the Magnar turned away from him Harry gave his parting comment, "We shall be anticipating your arrival."

Realizing that Styr was unlikely to continue with any sort of conversation Harry approached Mag, "You and the other giants will be able to take up residence near the Thenns, just as you are now. I understand there are at least some among your number who don't eat meat," Mag nodded his large head slowly, "that will not be a problem, I daresay you will find yourself with more food than you are accustomed to." Harry feared what might happen if he offered his hand to the giant, having been subjected to Hagrid's strong grip on more than one occasion and not trusting the giant to show the same sort of restraint so instead he simply brought a hand to his chest and bowed his head. The giant before him seemed to understand the gesture and reached down to pat Harry on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over in the process and garnering a snicker from Tormund.

"Good meeting Potr," Was the giant's final pronouncement before he turned from Harry and made his way over to the mammoth.

Harry began making his way back toward the southern slope of the hill with the three others in tow. As they neared the bottom of the slope Tormund spoke up, "Well things are going to be much less pleasant at Newport once those fuckers arrive."

Harry laughed, his mood having lightened now that the negotiations were over, "Lucky for you then that you're almost never over at Newport," He shrugged his shoulders, "Besides, I doubt that even those from Newport will have much interaction with them.. The giants on the other hand seem like they would be far more willing to help."

Karsi seemed to agree, "I've had very little interaction with either the Thenns or the giants but the few times I have encountered giants in the past they have been agreeable and even passive in nature, though I did see one in a rage once when attacked by a snow bear." She shuddered briefly, "The giant ripped it apart before bashing its head in with a single blow of its club."

Harry pondered that for a moment, "We'll have to see what they might be capable of with clubs and mauls made of something more dangerous than wood and stone." They talked among themselves as they walked further into the forest for some fifteen minutes. It was only after Harry was properly satisfied that they'd traveled far enough that he had each of them take a hold of his arm and apparated back to First Forge.

They reached the gates of Winterfell near midnight and made their way inside with little fanfare. If Ned were to guess he would assume that many were already asleep and from the tired eyes of the men behind him he had no doubt they wished they were so lucky. They'd woken at dawn and ridden through the night at Ned's urging instead of stopping only to have a short ride the following day.

Ned turned back to the men behind him, "Get yourselves some sleep. We had a long ride and you earned your rest, you are free of any duties you might need to perform until noon ."

Many gave him small smiles as they made their way over to the stables and unsaddled their horses. Ned dismounted his own horse and did the same before making his way toward the Great Keep with Robb, Jon and Theon just behind him. He opened one of the doors to the building before stepping in and removing the cloak from his shoulders. He addressed the boys as they started tiredly toward their own quarters, "Try to keep quiet, no need to wake the girls or Bran if you can avoid it." They all nodded their compliance and he really couldn't expect much else given the state of them.

Ned quickly made his way through the keep toward his own chambers. He opened the door quietly hoping that he could keep from waking Catelyn only to find her awake and readying herself for bed. In his two month absence, her baby bump had grown considerably but in his opinion she looked just as beautiful as ever. He quietly removed his belt and tunic, leaving him in just his trousers and a light white undershirt, before he approached his wife. He made sure to keep from appearing in her mirror before leaning down and laying a kiss on her cheek. She half screamed but quickly started laughing as she noticed him in the mirror.

"Eddard Stark, it is not appropriate to frighten a woman with child. You should be ashamed of yourself." She scolded but there was a smile in her voice.

He pulled away slightly as he ran his hand down to the rather large bump on her stomach, "How have you been Cat?"

"As good as can be expected with my husband away and a child on the way," She leaned up to kiss him lightly, "I'm very glad to have you home to say the least. Bran has taken to climbing the walls of late and despite what I tell him he refuses to stop." She started gesticulating with her hands as she continued, "Even without Jon here, Arya insists on missing her lessons and running through the godswood when she should be in lessons. I almost wish she had someone around to watch her. And of course Sansa has been our perfect little lady. She at least gives me a moment's peace."

Ned helped her to her feet and over to the bed. They laid down beside one another and Catelyn leaned her head on to his shoulder as he spoke, "I will have a talk with Bran about his climbing though he has been doing that longer than even you know I think. As for Arya, she has the wolf's blood in her blood Cat, there is no doubt. We'll punish her, as we should, but she will continue as she likes."

"She collects scabs like Sansa collects dolls, and says anything that comes into her head." Cat shook her head ruefully, "I love her all the same, but I despair at the thought of making her a lady."

Ned could only give his wife a sympathetic look, "I believe my mother thought much the same of Lyanna. My sister would have worn a sword on her hip if my father allowed it and Arya will likely be much the same someday."

"Someday?" Catelyn scoffed, "If you gave her a sword tomorrow, she would gladly tie it around her little waist. She spends as much time in the yard as she does in her sowing lessons."

"Aye, I suppose that is true." Ned admitted with a small shake of his head.

Catelyn seemed to hesitate slightly before speaking again, "How was your trip to the Wall… and to the wildling city?"

"The strength of the Night's Watch has fallen considerably more than I'd realized and far more than Ben has ever indicated." Ned explained plainly as he let his head fall back into the pillows behind him, "The entire order now numbers less than a thousand men, and most of them are little more than rapists and thieves who chose the Wall as their punishment." And it was quite the eye-opener for Jon as well.

"Now the wildling city," Ned began, a little bit of his still present awe at the place entering his voice, "impressive doesn't even begin to explain First Forge. They have fields of grain and crops miles wide... and greenhouses that produce ten times the number of fruit as our glass gardens. They tend livestock with an ease you would expect in the Reach. They produce their own clothing, weapons, ships, homes, alcohol even. And all of this when only five some years ago they were little more than separate bands of raiding and pillaging savages."

Catelyn had an inscrutable look upon her as she spoke, "And what of this Harry Potter that Benjen told you of?"

"Equally as impressive as the city he's built and fiercely protective of his people," Ned told her, "And despite Maester Luwin's protests to the contrary very much capable of performing feats of magic." This seemed to catch Cat's attention as she pulled her head from his chest and looked her husband square in the eye.

"Even you were skeptical of that supposed fact; I can only assume you witnessed some feat for yourself to have changed your mind." She couldn't hide her surprise in the slightest.

Ned nodded slightly a small smile on his face, "A girl, slightly older than Sansa was watching Harry's children during the feast the first night we were there. Apparently they have the same ability as their father but without the control, as the girl ran into the room blue from head to toe." Catelyn laughed quietly imagining what her eldest daughter's reaction would be to the same situation. Ned paused a moment understanding what had likely caused his wife to laugh as it had amused him as well. Of course Arya would likely revel in it and ask to have something else done to her.

As Catelyn's laughing subsided he continued, "He quickly corrected the problem. But from what I was able to discern from conversations with some of the others I met while there, that little incident was far from a true showing of his ability. As far as I am to understand things Ben didn't exaggerate, Harry built much of that city with his own magic."

Catelyn was quiet for a long moment, "Well you will have quite a bit to tell your old friend then," Ned looked to her with an eyebrow raised, "There was a letter from the capital while you were away," she explained, "King Robert would like to know both your opinion and plans regarding the wildling city."

Ned hid his surprise well, "Robert is actually interest in this matter, truly? He's never cared for the Wall, much less what happens beyond."

"Well he is interested now," she gestured toward a table in the room, "the letter is just there should you wish to read it. Though it is little more than the request I told you. It might bear Robert's signature but the letter was clearly written by Grandmaester Pycelle."

Ned leaned over and snuffed out the candles at their bedside, bathing the room in darkness. It is late. Robert can await my reply one more night. The only question is exactly what I'm going to tell him.

It was late afternoon and the heat of the capital had lessened slightly with the waning sun. Cersei Lannister sat in her own quarters within the Red Keep, brushing at her young daughter Myrcella's golden hair. Her green eyes stared absently into nothing as she ignored the nattering of the young handmaidens in the room. Her gaze snapped to the door as she heard a light knocking there, she hoped it might be Jaime though doubted it. Robert no doubt has him posted outside his chambers as he fucks more of his whores.

One of the girls jumped up and quickly answered only to reveal the sickly sweet visage of Robert's Master of Whispers. Not a man but twice as cunning for it because he doesn't have a cock between his legs to pull him every which way. It's hard to believe I once thought him my greatest friend here in the capital but then he did always provide me with just enough information to keep me thinking such things. I wonder what honeyed words he wishes to ply me with tonight.

The Queen remained seated though had her daughter run along with a light tap to her back and dismissed her handmaidens with an airy wave of her hand. Only once all had left the room did she address the Spider, "Lord Varys, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Her tone brokered no question that she saw it as far less than a pleasure.

"I wonder if your Grace has heard of the unique group of wildlings beyond the Wall?" Varys asked as he approached her, stopping some three feet away.

Cersei resisted the urge to snort at Varys' question. As though he doesn't know these Norfolk have been the talk of the court of late, ever since Renly discussed them at one of Robert's many feasts. Jon Arryn, Stannis Baratheon, and even Robert at time, they all might be able to keep their tongues from waggling to and fro about seemingly important matters but Renly is a man of the people and can't help but regale others with a good story. I don't need spies to have learned of their existence to say the least.

"Yes, I am aware of the Norfolk as I hear they are called," Cersei drawled impatiently, "What of them? What could you possibly have to tell me of some savage people in a barren land that might interest me?"

"Savage? They trade like anyone else and from what I hear their city is quite impressive for being only some five years old." He shook his head, "But I am not here to argue their qualities with you, your Grace. I have had news from my little birds in the North."

"And what have they whispered in your ear?" She questioned as she filled her cup with wine.

"Lord Stark made a journey to the Wall and beyond," Varys explained, "and he and his men learned an interesting piece of information I'd not yet heard. Harry Potter has a wife and children, twins in fact, a boy and a girl."

"Fantastic for him," Cersei said over-sweetly, "the man has a cock, unlike some, and knows where to put it. If that is all you have to tell me then you have wasted your time." She gestured toward the door and scowled when he didn't move.

Varys didn't seem bothered by her jibe and continued, "I wonder if you are aware that your husband wishes to raise an army and attack these wildlings." Cersei didn't let her surprise show as apparently that little tidbit of information was kept entirely hush-hush. "I wonder how your Lord father would react to such a thing when your husband has already put the crown in debt to both the Rock and the Iron Bank. Wars cost money, your Grace."

"I am aware Lord Varys, but my husband," She spat out the word, "will do as he pleases unless Lord Arryn can convince him otherwise. And considering banners have yet to be raised, I can only imagine he has managed to dissuade Robert, so the point is moot."

"For now at least, that appears to be the case," Varys conceded, "But there are better ways to resolve matters of this nature than war." The eunuch turned toward the door apparently having gotten to the point he really wanted to make, "The Lord Hand desires an alliance if it can be managed; though he is as of yet unaware of Harry Potter's children."

Varys smiled sweetly at her, "But given his personal affiliations, should he learn of these twins it will likely leave the Storm Lands, the Vale or the North linked to a burgeoning power with thousands of soldiers to their banner, tens of thousands even; unless of course he were to try and convince Robert that his own children should be offered as way of forming ties to the crown." This only caused Cersei's scowl to deepen. She would not send any of her children away and certainly not to some cold city beyond the Wall.

He stopped at the door and looked back at her, "It was something I thought you might be interested to know your Grace. And rest assured, the King shall not hear of this from me but I have no control over what Lord Stark might have said in the letter that will likely arrive sometime within the next week." Cersei did not bid him farewell merely staring after him as the door closed shut. Always giving just enough to make you think that he is your friend, the Spider will never change in that regard.

"Still these are the sort of things that father should be informed about," Cersei said out loud. I am sure he has already heard of Robert's prospective war from Pycelle. But I have no doubt he would like to hear of these developments either way.

With that thought in mind she quickly stood from where she sat and made her way over to a desk in the room and penned a letter in her loopy script. Let's see what Lord Tywin Lannister has to say about this situation.

Stannis Baratheon sat in the all too familiar chambers of the small council, his younger brother at his left and Jon Arryn at his right. They awaited Robert. As they had received a reply from the King's old friend, this meeting warranted his attention. It is sad that the only thing that brings my brother to these meetings is news about a far off city whose leader likely spends less than half as much time wasting his time thinking on we noble lords here in the south when there are important things he might handle in his own domain.

Stannis didn't know what his decision would be should Robert decide, unwisely in Stannis's opinion, to attack the Norfolk. I've been a loyal brother, fighting Robert's wars, and earned nothing from him save slights. Eddard earned praise for breaking the siege at Storm's End after I held it against the Tyrell's for a year, only to have it taken from me. I then captured Dragonstone only to be ridiculed for allowing the escape of the Targaryen children. But given Robert's opinion of what happened to Rhaegar's children, I wonder if that wasn't for the better. Then to add insult to injury, while my brother's worn the crown the past twelve years it's been me who's ruled this kingdom beside Jon Arryn. Despite Robert's excesses and what have I to show for it except a desolate island, with nothing of any value but the rock it's made from.

Stannis couldn't help but feel that his brief relations with Harry Potter had won him far more than any of his years of loyalty to his brother. After all, little frightened Stannis Baratheon after suffering through two wars, but watching his daughter helplessly waste away had managed just that. He saved my only daughter, not only saved her but removed any deformities as well; something no other healer would, or even could have done. He couldn't thank the man enough for that. Not only had it saved his daughter's life but drastically improved his talks with other lords for with regards to her betrothal. And the only thing he asked for in return was the only thing on all of Dragonstone readily available. And I've kept my word, when his men come they will find my castellan ready and willing to negotiate a trade for more obsidian.

Despite his reservations, deep down Stannis knew that should his brother insist on war he would call his banners, however reluctantly, and sail north but it would be a close thing. Because I have always done my duty, and whether Harry Potter saved my daughter or not, whether his people deserve to be attacked or not, I will do my duty.

Robert lumbered in with a goblet of wine between his fingers and took his seat at the head of the table. Stannis found it hard to believe his brother had grown into the fat man he was now. In his youth there were few men in the kingdoms who could equal him in both size and strength. At least there was a time when he looked a King, even if he's never acted it. I suppose now his appearance matches his behavior, even if the people still love him all the same.

"I can only assume you have received word from Ned," he addressed Jon Arryn who nodded in reply, "Well let's hear it then, what does he have to say?"

Jon handed Robert the piece of parchment and let him read through it for himself. Less than a minute later it fell to the table as the King finished reading what Stannis knew he would consider a disappointing response. Jon picked the parchment up from the table and rerolled it, "As you can see your Grace, Ned is of a similar mind as me and your brothers on this matter."

Robert scoffed, "That much is obvious. He has no intention of taking his banners beyond the Wall to this new city."

"Nor should he," Stannis began, "Eddard isn't choosing inaction to spite you Robert," Eddard Stark was no friend of Stannis' but he would never question the man's honesty, particularly not when he took the time to personally investigate the matter. He leaned forward slightly as he continued, "He chooses inaction after visiting their city with the express purpose of assessing both the nature of the man who leads them and the people who make up its populace. His assessment of the situation led him to believe it would be far more beneficial to work with the Norfolk than against them. I would think you would trust your oldest friend's opinion."

"But can we be sure that Lord Stark's opinion is not manufactured by the will of this man's magic," interjected Pycelle from across the table, "The maesters at the Citadel believe they have at least one credible account of Harry Potter using his magic to alter the minds of men." This was news to everyone at the table, "As far as the maester form Karhold was able to understand it, only one of man from a group meant to investigate poachers on Lord Karstark's land was able to remember events that occurred along the coast when they encountered a wildling vessel come ashore there during a storm."

Pycelle paused briefly before he continued in his rasping voice, "Even his memory was broken with regards to the encounter, but the northerner distinctly recalled a confrontation occurring as the wildlings were the poachers. After the matter had been settled in favor of the wildlings, a dark-haired man knocked all present unconscious without even touching them, after which they awoke with no memory of these events; instead remembering something entirely different. The northerner thought himself mad when none of his fellows could remember such an event. So he turned to the most knowledgeable man he knew and divulged the information to the maester of the castle."

"It was determined between myself and the Archmaesters that it was likely the magic practitioner known as Harry Potter who perpetrated these actions," Pycelle ran a hand through his long white beard, "So it is easy to imagine that something of a similar nature could have been done to Lord Stark."

Robert seemed appalled at this news, "That bastard better not have been messing about in Ned's head."

"Robert," Jon started calmly, "the two situations are of an entirely different nature. While I can't speak to the validity of the Grandmaesters claims, I must imagine that if that was Harry Potter's course of action, removing their memory was an alternative to greater violence. He was likely trespassing on Lord Karstark's land, unintentionally or not, and they reacted poorly to the presence of wildlings who have historically raided their lands."

Stannis had to respect Jon's calm control of the situation as he continued, "On the other hand, Ned sought them out and secured guest rights. The laws of hospitality are old Robert, as old as the Wall, and not even people we might consider savages would attack, be it with blade or magic, someone under guest protections."

Robert mulled over Jon's words for a moment before shaking his head, his thick beard shaking in the process, "I don't like it Jon. I still think this man and his people are a threat and I am inclined to agree with Pycelle." Discussion broke out from every direction then, Littlefinger, Varys, and Renly finally giving their opinions on the topic at hand, bickering among themselves but Stannis remained silent in thought.

Between the time passed since its casting and Stannis' strong desire to say something that might finally dissuade Robert from his desired course of action, the Compulsion Charm which Harry cast on the Lord of Dragonstone faltered and broke. Stannis looked his brother square in the eye, blue eyes meeting blue eyes as his voice cut through the conversation, "Pycelle sees his magic as an evil, speculating on its possible uses; well I needn't speculate on anything."

He paused taking a short breath, "His magic saved my daughter, your niece's, life." Silence followed this declaration as Stannis continued, "I offered the man or woman who managed the task anything they could think to ask of me, as long as it was within my power to give. And what did he ask for in return for his service?" No one offered up a guess, "Obsidian, the most abundant resource on all of Dragonstone that has little value to me."

"Have you had any dealings with him since then?" Jon Arryn wasn't accusatory, merely curious.

Stannis shook his head stiffly, "No, but he made it clear his people would likely come to Dragonstone again to trade for more of the stone."

Robert leaned back in his chair and downed a goblet of wine before extending it to squire to be refilled. He spoke to Jon Arryn, "I will listen to the advice of my council and my Warden of the North on this matter." He paused momentarily and looked to Stannis briefly, "But I still want the situation monitored, these people are well armed and allied with one of the Free Cities at least. If Ned is to be believed, they have more, and better armed, soldiers than the North were he to call his banners."

Robert always did have a mind for war if not politics, "Given the history of wildlings attempting to attack the south, I am not entirely satisfied with Ned's belief they wish to remain beyond the Wall. It could be that unlike any in the past Harry Potter simply has the good sense to gather other allies before attempting such a thing. This Dornishman supposedly present at their city irks me, there are after all those in this kingdom who still call me usurper. I refuse to ignore them only to have a blade drawn at my back when I least suspect it."

With that the King rose and left the meeting. Stannis stared after his brother wondering if maybe he was closer to the mark than not.

It was early afternoon as Tywin Lannister read the message from his daughter once more before placing it on the table before him and folding his hands. Of course, the Lord of Casterly Rock had been informed of much regarding the northerner free folk city. Tywin scoffed at the thought of a people calling themselves free folk. He knew these people now called themselves the Norfolk but they were still wildlings who thought themselves free all the same. No man is truly free, only children and fools think elsewise. He had told Tyrion much the same when he was sixteen years old.

Still fools or not, Tywin was well aware that they had begun trading with the Braavosi, and that their armaments were supposedly as good as or better than any of the southern kingdoms. Cersei was right to think that Pycelle would see to that much. But the most concerning piece of information in Tywin's opinion had come in the form of the recent battle. The Dornish seem to have been the first to interact with these people and therefore they are the first kingdom that might benefit from an alliance with them as well.

Tywin found the idea that Robert wanted war with these people laughable. He wants to march and sail likely unwilling men into unfamiliar territory in which the opposition has lived and hunted for generations; only to attack a well provisioned and well fortified city, where he would need to transport his own provisions in the face of a protracted siege, all for the sake of Robert's need for a fight and desire to 'unify' his kingdom. His men would march home within the month in the face of the cold, assuming they would ever want to march to begin with. And Tywin wasn't even taking into account the supposed abilities of the Norfolk leader, which he was admittedly ambivalent about.

There were far better ways to deal with such situations, one only need offer the right incentive. The man is married, that much has been made clear. But his children are an entirely different matter, I shall make offer of marriage with one of the younger cousins of the lower branch, or perhaps Gerion's natural daughter, Joy. She isn't of an age with the boy but that is of little issue. Maybe even offer to foster one of the children at the Rock. Though, Tywin doubted that a simple marriage would be enough to sway Harry Potter's allegiance. There are lands I might give one of his subordinates in the Westerlands, Tarbeck Hall and Castamere have sat empty and dilapidated for more than three decades now. He knew full well Harry likely wouldn't abandon what he had built in the North but gifting them to one of the other Norfolk would likely endear him to the man.

Tywin spoke softly, "A marriage and lands in the West, men dream their entire lives for those sort of gifts and all I will ask in return is his alliance and, should the need arise, that he fight my enemies." He would offer more but a title and elevation of Harry's house was not his to give. Of course, whoever laid claim to the lands he offered would be given the title to go with it. Not that the Witch-King-Beyond-the-Wall needs any other title.

The only issue that remained was how to make his offer. He would normally send a raven and be done with the matter but there was no raven in Casterly Rock that would know the way. He could not spare his brother to the task, but he could think of one person who would likely be more than willing to take the long journey north. And as much as Tywin was unwilling to admit it, his son would likely be equal to the task. Tyrion always wanted to travel. Now it will at the very least serve a purpose. Tywin mulled the thought over and couldn't see a strong argument against it. The cities pipes and drains will simply have to suffer his absence for the time being. And of course should anything happen to Tyrion upon reaching the northern city… that too could be used to Tywin's advantage.

"Guard," Tywin called out to the man beyond his door. It opened shortly after and a red armored Lannister guard stood stiffly in the doorway, "Bring me my son, I have something to discuss with him." The guard nodded and hurried away. Tywin would guess given the time of day that Tyrion was likely in Lannisport with a whore doing what he could to taint the family name.

Tywin went about other business as he waited just over an hour for his son to finally waddle into the room. The Great Lion of the Rock was writing a letter at the time and didn't bother to look up initially, "Your guard pulled away from a rather enjoyable time I was having between the legs of a blonde haired girl," Tyrion bemoaned as he sat in a chair from across his father and made to grab the jug of wine and pour himself a glass.

Tywin's hand quickly shot out and stopped him, instead grabbing the jug himself and pouring a small amount into a glass and pushing it toward his son before bringing the wine nearer to him, "I did not call you here to listen to your inane prattling about whatever whore you happen to be sullying our name with today." He finished the letter with his signature before finally bringing his eyes to his stunted son.

Tywin leaned forward as his son gulped down the small amount of wine he had poured for him, "I have a task for you Tyrion."

"Really?" Tyrion asked in mock surprise, "Shall this one be as invigorating as managing the pipes and cisterns of the city?"

Tywin wasn't amused in the slightest, "I suppose that shall depend on you, but at the very least you shall be traveling."

Tyrion seemed intrigued and the infuriating smile disappeared from his face, "And where shall I be going father?"

"Beyond the Wall," Recognition dawned in Tyrion's eyes as he had no doubt heard tell of the Norfolk from some of the traders in Lannisport, "I have an offer for Harry Potter, the leader of the Norfolk, I cannot simply send a raven and a man of his importance deserves a noble emissary." It was a bit of a stretch on Tywin's part but close enough to the truth.

Tyrion considered his father's words, "And yet you think it best to send the one who befouls the family name at every turn with your message?" he asked lightly as much to himself as his father before chuckling slightly. The thought clearly didn't bother him as he smiled a moment later and continued without awaiting Tywin's response, "Very well father, I shall gladly make a journey to the northern city bearing your offer. Though what do you plan to offer the man?"

"Marriage, to one of your cousins," Tywin began only to be cut off by his son.

"As far as I am to understand it Harry Potter is in his thirties and wed, an offer of marriage would fall on deaf ears." Tyrion stated calmly.

Tywin waved a hand dismissively, "I am very much aware of the man's marital status Tyrion, but I just learned from Cersei that he has twin children, a girl and a boy as far as she is to understand it." Tyrion nodded his understanding, "As I was saying, we will offer one of your cousins or perhaps Joy for his own son and foster him here at the Rock. I shall offer him lands for a man of his choosing, either Tarbeck Hall or Castamere and give that man the title that goes along with the seat."

Tyrion nodded, "Quite the offer father, but who specifically shall I be offering for his son? One of the cousins or Joy?" he inquired.

Tywin scowled, "List all of them and allow him his choice, same with both Tarbeck and Castamere. I am attempting to form an alliance with this man before any of the other Great Houses might manage it, I cannot afford to have any sort of reservations." He stood and rounded his desk so that he was standing beside his son's chair, "You will leave within the week. During your journey you will avoid notice to the best of your ability; particularly by the Tullys or Starks. When you arrive at First Forge you will behave in a manner that befits your station." Tywin stared down into his son's eyes, "I am trusting you in this Tyrion, do not disappoint me." With that he dismissed his son and returned to his own seat, turning his mind to other matters.

Doran Martell sat in his chair on a balcony atop the Tower of the Sun from which he looked down upon Sunspear. He drank from a silver goblet, filled not with wine but water to fight against the heat of Dorne. His dark hair had greyed considerably as he neared fifty and it seemed ever more frequent that his gout stifled his ability to walk. About fifteen minutes prior, his guard captain, Areo Hotah, informed him of Oberyn's sails nearing the city. He was eager to hear what his brother's journey had wrought. While his brother was often away from Dorne in his youth, since their sister Elia's murder it was far more common to find him at Sunspear. He rarely left the city in a public capacity instead coming and going in secret, much as he had to visit this new city in the North.

They'd agreed it was important to determine what sort of people these Norfolk were after hearing from Oberyn's old friend, Marwyn, about his conversation with their leader. Let's hope that Oberyn was able to find out whether this Harry Potter is going to be another player in the greater game. He'd waited far too long for the opportunity to see those who'd hurt his family suffer. He would not suffer some unknown joining with his enemies if he could avoid it.

He didn't need to wait much longer before Oberyn walked into the room followed closely by Areo Hotah. Oberyn wore bright yellow silk and despite being unarmored held a spear in his hand. He rested the weapon against the wall as he approached his brother and leaned casually against the railing of the balcony. Doran bowed his head in greeting to his brother, "I would stand to greet you Oberyn but my gout has been particularly painful in recent weeks."

Oberyn smiled down at his elder brother, "It is good to see you Doran, I would have been back a week sooner but spent some time in Pentos when taking on water."

Doran eyed his brother curiously, "It is good to see you as well brother, I assume that Ellaria and Nymeria are well," At his brother's nod, Doran changed topics abruptly, "Am I to understand then that you spent more than six months traveling to First Forge, only to spend a few scarce days there before your return? Or is it that you were simply turned away at the gates as it were?"

"I spent over a month at First Forge brother," Oberyn said with a smirk, garnering a raised eyebrow from Doran, "the return journey took a month less than the trip there."

"And how exactly is that possible?" Doran questioned calmly.

Oberyn's smile faded quickly, "Because the things Marwyn informed me of in his letters didn't even begin to scratch the surface of Harry Potter's abilities. He modified the ship, to a lesser extent than his own obviously but enough that it is faster than any other vessel I have traveled in."

Doran nodded to himself more than his brother, "Interesting, so you did have talks with the Norfolk then?"

"I did," Oberyn said as he grabbed an olive out of a bowl on a table nearby, "an interesting people to say the least, unique to any others I have encountered which is saying something considering how far I've traveled. They are fierce fighters, I learned that readily enough when I spent time in their fighting yard and even participating in fisticuffs during their nightly entertainment." Oberyn popped another olive into his mouth idly, "They're people go about their lives in much the same way you would expect someone in the city," he gestured out to Sunspear below them, "the only true difference is their leader."

"Yes," Doran interjected, "Harry Potter, the man you went there to meet in the first place, what did you make of him?"

"Marwyn's estimation of him was quite accurate. He is intelligent and honest; though he seems to know when it is necessary to withhold information. It is also worth noting that he is more than willing to do what is necessary to protect his people, and… some of the things I saw him do," Oberyn closed his eyes and shook his head slowly, "you truly can't imagine Doran. I've seen the Red Priests with their fires, the shadow magics of Asshai, and even saw a blood mage perform a terrible ritual once. The simple truth is nothing I've seen compares; he could create things from nothing, move from place to place in an instant and…" Oberyn reached for the spear where he'd left it against the wall, "then there is this."

"It appears to be a spear Oberyn, even if a beautifully crafted spear. What of it?" Doran questioned, unsure where his younger brother was going with this.

Oberyn turned to Areo Hotah, and held the shaft of the spear with both hands parallel to the ground, "If you would please Areo, take that long axe you are so deadly with and strike the shaft of this spear with it." Areo looked to Doran who nodded slightly and then in one quick motion the dark skinned Norvosi brought his long axe down in a wide arc making contact with the pale white wood and expecting to cut clean through the fine piece of craftsmanship. But the snap never came, instead the large main was forced to grunt in discomfort as the material didn't yield. The strike did little more than leave a scratch in the wood. Both Doran and Areo stared in fascination for a moment before Oberyn twirled the spear away and rested it once more against the wall.

"A parting gift from Harry, a sign of our friendship if not our people's friendship." Oberyn commented about the spear before addressing the seeming impossibility that had just occurred, "That strike of Areo's would have killed a man, severing them from clavicle to navel and it did next to nothing to a piece of wood."

"You have made your point Oberyn," Doran said a little testily, "The man has talents, and you clearly gained his trust to a point where you feel comfortable speaking to his character. Now would you like to tell me the results of your visit? We both know you didn't travel beyond the Wall for the simple sake of seeing what wonders might be performed there."

Oberyn leaned forward slightly from the rail, "You were afraid he might be convinced to ally with our enemies. Well, it is my belief that he could be offered gold, jewels, a title, lands in the south, or an arranged marriage and none of it would serve to sway him. His concerns are for his people and their well-being alone."

"So, he will be an entirely neutral party then?" Doran was pleased with this information. Who knows what sort of changes someone with this man's capabilities could bring to the game.

Oberyn stroked his goatee once before answering Doran's question, "He would like to keep his people neutral in regards to the Kingdoms affairs certainly, but he is willing to aide us."

"I doubt he would be willing to help us in our ventures purely out of the kindness of his heart," Doran couldn't imagine a man who seemingly earned Oberyn's respect would be so foolish, "So what does he require in return for his aide?"

"Soldiers," Oberyn responded shortly, "Soldiers should his people face a threat."

"I could have guessed," Doran laughed mirthlessly, "The man offers only himself yet would want every Dornish spear and sword should his own people be threatened."

"He has his reasons brother, first among them being he might be their leader but he isn't their king or lord. He does not think it is his right to ask the Norfolk to fight over southern issues." Oberyn explained.

"And what threat does he foresee in his own people's future that he might need Dornishmen to come sail thousands of miles to his aid? Is it not strictly a northern issue?" Doran asked calmly.

Oberyn shook his head slightly, "I am not the man to explain this particular piece of information to you. I might believe Harry's claims but… I don't believe I could do the explanation of them any sort of justice. It would likely end in your thinking the cold or their vodka drove me mad." It was at that point the Red Viper revealed the last of Harry's gifts before departing First Forge, "Should you be amenable to the idea, I need only contact him with this mirror and unless he is otherwise occupied, he will arrive within the next two days."

Doran eyed the simple piece of reflective glass curiously as he contemplated his brother's words, "How is it that he could reach Dorne from the lands beyond the Wall in such a short time?"

"Magic," Oberyn responded smoothly, "and trust me when I say that is the only honest answer I can give you, as I don't understand it myself."

Doran fell silent as he contemplated the situation. Whatever this possible threat is, Oberyn seems to believe the man's claims even if he doesn't fully understand them, but that is no reason to rush headlong into a meeting with the man. I will take time to consider the situation with the knowledge that at the very least the Norfolk and their leader have no interest in involving themselves in southern affairs unless pressed to it.

Doran drank deeply from the cup in his hands, emptying it before pulling it down and running his thumb along the rim. It was only then that he finally returned his attention to his brother, "I shall consider meeting with him Oberyn," he gestured to the mirror with his free hand, "Should you need to inform Harry Potter of this development feel free."

Oberyn nodded his understanding, "Truthfully, I expected nothing else Doran. You always weigh the options before making a decision. But for what my opinion is worth, meeting him will do no harm. He is a reasonable man and should you decide against an alliance he will take no offense."

Doran started to wheel himself back into his quarters, "You've seen this man at his best Oberyn, but should I reject his offer he might react entirely differently than you expect. Men do foolish things for the sake of wounded pride. And with a man of his abilities, such a thing could turn out poorly. Should I simply decline to meet with him outright, I never put myself at danger but create a greater likelihood that he forms another alliance, perhaps even with our enemies if for no other reason than to spite us." With that the conversation was over as Oberyn remained without, thoughtlessly eating olive's as he ponder Doran's words.

It was late at night as Harry sat with his back resting against the wall as he sat on his bed, his three year and half year old daughter sat next to him telling him about her day in the high pitched excited voices that seems innate to children. Val was in the other room dealing with Trystan after he'd made a mess of himself during their evening meal, Harry offered to deal with the mess magically but she refused as she sometimes preferred to do things the mundane way.

"So you helped your Aunt Dalla pick berries this morning?" Harry asked her as Emer finally took a breath from her constant speaking.

The little girl nodded her head enthusiastically, "Yeah, and we picked'd the apples too."

Harry smiled as his daughter and leaned down to tickle her lightly, eliciting giggles from his daughter, "Well I'm sure she loved having your help," He said as she leaned closer into your side, "And did Gilly and Munda teach you more runes today?"

"Yep," she said with a pop to the last letter, "they showed me and Trystan the one for fire and permancy."

"Permanency," Harry corrected kindly to which his daughter nodded with a slight frown on her face, "Someday, you and Trystan will be able to do more than just write those runes. You'll be like me and be able to power them with your magic."

"My magic? You mean like when I turned'd Gilly blue, that magic?" She asked slowly.

"Exactly that magic," He poked her in the chest lightly and rested his finger there, "your magic comes from within you and when you get older, I'll teach you how to control it so that it does what you want when you want."

Emer smiled widely, "I'd like that."

Before Harry could reply, Val walked in with Trystan in tow looking slightly exasperated though she was smiling "Right all clean now," she looked to Emer, "it's time the two of you were off to bed."

Emer nodded and hugged her father's chest as firmly as her tiny arms would allow, whispering goodnight to him before bouncing off the bed and toward the doorway. She said goodnight to her mother as Trystan came over to his father and mimicked his sister's previous actions. The two parents watched them go and enter their own rooms with small smiles. Val turned to Harry, her baby bump just noticeable under the confines of her clothing. She approached the bed and started disrobing as she spoke to Harry, "I am surprised they didn't ask for another one of your stories before bed."

Harry shrugged his shoulders, "They know they can ask anytime they like but they seemed quite tired today. So what did Trystan do as Emer was helping you and Dalla?"

Val finished removing her clothing and slipped into bed beside him resting her head against Harry's shoulder, "He spent some time with Mance, he enjoys his lute playing probably more than anyone else." It was true the little boy requested to hear the songs and playing of the former crow more than anyone Harry knew, and when the man was otherwise occupied he was happy to oblige. "He'll probably want to learn from him someday."

As Val snuggled in closer to his body, Harry contemplated discussing his intention to seek out one of the Others. The matter hadn't come up as of yet because of his focus on other matters, namely preparing for the arrival of the Thenns. But they'd made considerable progress on that front, and now his mind was often shifting to finding the necessary proof to secure aid from Ned Stark.

"Val," she turned her head so that her blue grey eyes could look up into his while her mess of honey blond hair fanned out across his chest, "there is something I'm going to do… and you're not going to like it."

She furrowed her brow as she sat up straight and turned her body to look at him, "What are you going to do?"

"I am going to find and capture one of the White Walkers in order to prove their existence to Lord Stark and secure his support against them." Harry explained calmly even as he watched his wife's features darken considerably, "Dagon returned with a new supply of obsidian and I shall be forging a set of chains and shackles which I shall use to bind them."

"Why didn't you tell me of this sooner? " She bit out through clenched teeth.

"Because there were other things to worry about Val," Harry responded evenly, "but I had no intention of doing this without informing you first, I promise."

She scoffed, "And that's just it, this isn't a matter of asking me, you are simply telling me what is going to happen," Val scowled, "You are telling me how you are going to venture into unmapped lands alone. You are telling me that you very well might die in one of the cold, dark places of the world while I sit here waiting with baited breath to discover whether you will ever see your children again."

Harry felt a twinge of guilt at her words, "This isn't something I want to do Val but something that needs to be done."

"In your opinion Harry," Val snapped at him, "but only because you think we need the kneelers against the White Walkers."

"Yes I think we will need the southerners against the White Walkers but not because we are weak." He grabbed her hand and he was glad that she didn't resist, "I don't know how many undead they have at their command but however many it might be I believe we can hold our cities. I'll plan for the worst but I do believe we can hold our own." He paused as he ran his thumb along the back of her hand, "But while we sit here in our warm homes, the cold will set in. Then when they realize they cannot take us, they will turn their attention south."

He smiled sadly at her, "Southerners do not burn their dead Val, not even those from the North; they bury them. And once they breach the Wall, and given the weakness of the Night's Watch I have no doubt they will do just that, they will add thousands to their number with every city that they raze. And for every thrall they lose in those battles they will add five more and while the rest of Westeros dies we will remain here safe."

"You don't know any of this for sure," Val insisted far less angry than she was at the beginning.

"Maybe not but it's what I believe." Harry conceded before continuing, "When they've finished with the Seven Kingdoms they will return here with millions at their beck and call, and for all my faith in our people, they will overwhelm us in the end and we will be forced to live an unlife viewed through glowing blue eyes."

"So we flee to the lands in the east," Val countered though he could tell her heart wasn't in it.

"And they will come and the whole process will repeat itself," Harry sighed, "I don't think our people have it in them to flee Val, they would rather fight and die." He placed a hand on the bump of her stomach, "If capturing a White Walker might help ensure our children and our children's children can live full lives free of threat from the Others than that is exactly what I am going to do Val."

"Will you at least bring someone else with for your search?" Val knew that he'd won the argument and just wanted to ensure he would do something to keep himself safe.

"I am leaning toward asking Mance for help in the endeavor, as he is the only other one who actually knows of the threat." He smiled slightly at her, "But I won't even ask until I concede that I absolutely must venture into the Lands of Always Winter. I know that there was a time when the Others would journey to the east of the Frostfangs to accept the sacrifices of Craster's sons; I shall speak with the Children and find out whether they might know if there are any here now."

"But failing that you plan to venture into the Lands of Always Winter?" Val asked haltingly. Harry nodded in response. Val didn't speak instead resting her head once more to his shoulder and grasping him tightly around the waist. Harry gave a small smile, glad that he'd discussed this situation with his wife before gripping his wand from the stand nearby, extinguishing the lights in the room, and drifting off to sleep.

AN: Next chapter Harry goes White Walker hunting and has a conversation with at least one other southern noble.

Thanks for reading. Until next time.

14. Chapter 14

AN: Hello everyone, I am back from my long absence and while I can't guarantee I will start regular updates again, I don't intend for their to be such a gap between this and my next update. As for the guest reviews... I apologize in advance for the length of this...

coldblue: 1)Possibly 2)Yes 3) You'll have to wait and see 4)Maybe 5) Can't say 6) At some point, yes

Segfriued: An interesting idea but Harry can't bring someone back from the dead and he would need the news to reach him quickly enough to actually help.

SamGilly: Hmm it is certainly still a possibility.

theosay: You'll see in this chapter how I handle the White Walkers to some extent at least. You will see the beginnings of unique tattoos very soon.

emma: I don't have any specific plans for Davos but it is certainly a possibility.

Argan: No he doesn't. Harry had to use phoenix tears to heal early stages of greyscale.

sSSSs: Not as of yet.

OwlMan: Probably not, no.

Douglus: I could see that.

Question 4D King: That style of armor is certainly possible.

HEKART: There is still a sea that the Others would have to cross to reach Dorne. And based on the climate difference from the North to Dorne it would be a very large sea.

BaronPoe: There are more than a hundred miles and a forest between the wall and Hardhome. It certainly isn't visible.

Trending: That is far too long an answer to put here.

Francis-B: Just about yeah.

Kublai: I'm not doing anything with the Basilisk venom and phoenix tears. He will go to Skagos at some point.

Histori: More like ten legions.

kinx: I considered it at the start but decided against it. Now it just wouldn't fit with the rest of the story.

QT: No Harry won't have any use for dragonbone in this.

nin: Yes, I am always open to suggestions.

anon: Possibly

Quenching: 1) He lives in the far North, so yes 2)No 3)Eventually 4)He's made many advancements, particularly in farming 5)Eventually

bidea: 1)yes 2)I'd be open to it 3&4)No

Harry knocked on the door firmly and waited patiently as he heard rustling within. A few short moments later, the lined face of Ferny came into view a mild look of surprise upon her face. While they frequently saw each other during the guild meetings, he had never once sought her out for a private conversation.

"Harry," she frowned slightly, "what are you doing here?"

He knew she meant no offense, despite the rather blunt question, "I have a few questions if you have the time to answer them?"

She didn't respond instead opening the door wider and stepping aside to give him the room to enter her home.

He looked around, and found himself unsurprised by what he found. It smelled of various herbs and medicines, all of which were being brewed along a counter on the far side of the room. There were shelves filled with the various concoctions. She, along with the other women who were once Craster's wives, took care of the younger girls, which was quite obvious from some of the mess around the home. There were rune drawings from both Gilly and Munda laying on the table and what appeared to be some of their future plans to integrate the two together for the artistic flare that had become very much Norfolk. Finally, there were various incomplete banners and other cloth works strewn about the room.

Harry took a seat at the table, shuffling some of the clutter about. Ferny took the seat across from him and looked at him curiously, "What did you want to discuss?"

Harry realized that this might be a sensitive of topic for the woman but decided it was better to be straightforward, "I have some questions about your former husband," Ferny's face hardened noticeably, the age lines looking even deeper.

"What could you possibly want to know Harry?" She bit out as she crossed her arms in front of her.

"I perused Craster's thoughts before I killed him, though I was looking for specific information at the time," he started to explain, "my revulsion at what he did to both his sons and daughters kept me from digging any deeper on the matter." He leaned forward, "I have some questions regarding your and your fellow wives' sons."

"They are gone," Ferny said harshly, "what difference could it possibly make now?"

"All the difference in the world," Harry retorted quickly, "now tell me what you know." He was no longer talking to her as a friend or colleague but as the leader of the Norfolk.

She hesitated before speaking again, "We dreaded possibly birthing a son because we knew we would never be able to keep them." Harry gestured for her to continue and she did after a loud breath, "The day of a boy's birth, Craster would bundle him up, take him into the woods and leave him there to die."

"But that wasn't what he believed was it?" Harry prompted, he remember quite well that Craster had thought of them as a sacrifice to the gods.

Ferny shook her head slowly, "No, he sacrificed them to the Cold Ones in the hopes it would keep them from ever destroying his keep." She smiled sardonically, "Of course he would have slaughtered them anyway so he didn't have any competition within his own home."

"The Cold Ones, the Others, did they always come when one of the boys were sacrificed?" These answers could very well make his hunt for one of the White Walkers significantly easier.

"Hard to say," Ferny admitted quietly, "the cries coming from the forest always stopped after a time. Whether it was because the cold ended their lives or the Others took them into their grasp, I can't really say." She shook her head. Harry couldn't help but be slightly nauseated by either end, either to die an infant buried beneath the snow with no one to think on the death or to be taken by the Others and used toward their purposes.

"So there is no guarantee that these sacrifices actually brought the Others?" Harry questioned.

"No," Ferny said with a raised eyebrow, "Where are you going with this Harry?"

"I think you know that the Others are more than myths long gone from the world," Something flickered across Ferny's and he took that as confirmation enough, "I have reason to believe they will not remain content to stay hidden from the world much longer and should that happen they will attack, and we will need to fight."

Ferny shuddered at the thought but still seemed confused, "But why would you want to know about what Craster used to do? It does nothing to help you fight them."

"No it doesn't," Harry admitted, "I plan to capture one of their number to prove their existence to the southerners. I wanted to know if there might be some way to draw them out into the open to make that endeavor easier."

Ferny's voice rose immediately and her cheeks reddened in anger, "You mean to risk some poor child's life in an attempt to draw one of the White Walkers out into the open?" Her voice was colder than the air outside her home as she continued, "Perhaps you shall leave your own son to be taken."

Harry's eyes narrowed, "Do not assume you know my plans, Ferny. I would think by now you understand that the wellbeing of my people is important to me, and the wellbeing of my family, even more so."

"Then what is your plan?" She questioned heatedly, not yet convinced of his good intentions, "What could you possibly hope to achieve with the information I've given you?"

"Honestly, you've given me very little information of import," Harry told her a little exasperated, "You cannot guarantee that I would be able to draw them out as you have no idea whether each of the boys were taken or not." He ran a hand through his hair. She made to retort but he raised his hands to silence her, "I am not blaming you, I just hoped for more." He stood and made his way toward the door, "I shall make an attempt at drawing them out and rest assured that no child shall be put in danger." She nodded absently but didn't reply.

As he opened the door, he turned to her a final time, "This conversation shall remain between us." She nodded her understanding but Harry could tell that their conversation had left her rattled. Drudging up those old memories can't have been pleasant, particularly as she gave more than one of her own sons.

He gave her a small smile of understanding, no longer her leader but her friend, "Perhaps you should take a break, go get a drink and take your mind off of our conversation." The older woman gave him another small nod but didn't make to move.

Harry gave her one more look before stepping out of her home and shutting the door behind him. He apparated into his own home and perused the map on the wall until he found Mance's name clearly displayed in one of the greenhouses just next to Dalla, this was altogether unsurprising as the pair was often together since arriving back from Thenn, so he quickly apparated to the location only to be met by a rather unexpected sight.

Mance stood with his trousers hanging low around his hips, thrusting rapidly into Dalla. His wife's sister had her eyes closed as a moan of pleasure escaped her lips. Harry turned away immediately and stifled a bit of laughter. He and Val had more than one conversation recently about the growing relationship between the former crow and Dalla. It turns out he and his wife were right that there was more there than either of them wanted to let on.

Harry silently apparated so that he was outside of the greenhouse and waited patiently until the sounds of their rutting could no longer be heard and their silhouettes started moving about, then he knocked loudly on the door of the greenhouse. He entered to find the wide-eyed pair looking at him with slightly flushed cheeks.

He smirked at their obvious discomfort, "I would recommend in future that you not fuck in the middle of the day, where anybody might walk in, when you're supposed to be tending to more important matters." They reddened further and Harry's attention turned to Dalla specifically, "Not to mention the fact that my wife could have brought the twins to visit at any time."

Dalla snorted lightly and Harry raised an eyebrow in question, "Rest assured, Val was already here with the twins and left so there was no risk in that regard." She smirked at him, "Besides, I know my sister well enough, Harry. I doubt there is anything they could have seen between the two of us that they haven't seen in their own home at some point."

Harry gave her a small smile, "That would probably be true if it weren't for the fact that I can silence and lock our doors effectively with magic."

Dalla had a quick response to his reasoning though, "Aye, your magic but your kids have that as well. And from what I've seen it works by giving them what they want. So imagine, if you would, that Trystan or Emer wanted to see their parents in the middle of the night but found the door locked, don't you think their magic would let them in?"

The smile fell from Harry's face quickly as he thought that over, "They didn't tell you of something like that happening did they?"

Dalla let him stew in his doubt as she looked over at Mance with an evil grin on her face, until finally she returned her attention toward Harry, "No, they didn't but you might want to be over confident in your ability to keep them out should they wish otherwise."

"Noted," Harry sounded relieved, "But my warning stands all the same."

Mance spoke for the first time, "Understood, our need got the better of us. I'm sure the same has happened to you and Val."

Harry chuckled, "That much is true, but we always find somewhere private should such a thing happen."

"An advantage of being able to travel wherever you please in an instant." Mance replied sharply. Harry really couldn't do anything but agree.

"I must say, this was far from a surprise." The looks from the pair in front of him begged an explanation, "Val and I have been suspicious for some time now."

"My sister's hounding of me has made that much obvious," Dalla told him with a roll of her eyes.

Harry just laughed and Mance cleared his throat, clearly a little uncomfortable, "Right," he said loudly to get Harry's attention, "was there something you wanted."

"Actually, yes," Harry got back to the point of his impromptu visit, "I need to discuss something with you."

Mance looked to Dalla, who waved him away, "I will see you later, go discuss away with our fearless leader."

Harry gave her a glare that didn't faze her in the slightest before he and Mance exited the greenhouse and made their way along the road back toward the city.

Silence reigned briefly before Harry cast a quick harm around them to ensure the conversation was private, "I went and spoke to Ferny regarding Craster's practices with his sons."

"And?" Mance prompted.

"It proved far less fruitful than I'd hoped," Harry admitted with a frown, "there is no guarantee that a sacrifice would draw them into the open."

"But I assume you intend to try all the same?" Mance questioned.

"We will, but I refuse to put an actual infant in danger." There was no room to reason with him on this matter. He might be able to make many hard decisions but he would avoid putting an innocent life in danger when possible, "I'll form a construct that appears human in nature with my magic, and simulate its cries. Obviously there is no guarantee they shall turn up, or that they would then be fooled by the rouse."

Mance shook his head, "I fear that this plan is doomed to fail, Harry. The Others have kept themselves hidden for thousands of years, I doubt they will be fooled by something so simple."

Harry couldn't help but agree, "I don't find it to be the best plan either. Based on what little I know of them, I can't see them walking into a trap like this even if we used a living child." He looked over at his companion, "That being said, I still think it is worth attempting. Should we get lucky, we could very well end up isolating one of them, away from their thrall and while it will still be a fight, it will be far less dangerous." He rubbed the back of his head, "Not to mention I told Val that I would do everything possible to keep away from danger and the Land of Always Winter."

"Ah, so this is more out of fear for the blonde woman in your bed than anything else." Mance chortled at his own jibe but Harry didn't rise to the bait.

"I doubt Dalla would be any happier with you if she learned you didn't do everything possible to avoid venturing there," Harry stated calmly.

"You're probably right," He admitted with a slight grimace, "Nor would she be happy if we ventured beyond the Frostfangs alone, which is why there was something I wanted you to consider." Harry waited for him to continue, "We can't go alone, we must bring other people with us."

"I was already well aware we needed to bring others with us, the question is who would be best." Harry had told Val that he was considering bringing both Tormund and Karsi but he was reluctant to do so given that both had young children.

"I say we take Jarl, he's already aware of what we'd be hunting and he is a fierce fighter for someone his age." Harry had seen the young man fight and couldn't argue that he was skilled for one his age.

"He seems a reasonable choice, but we'll need more than one extra fighter to come along." He hesitated, "I will leave it to you to decide the others, including at least one warg. But… I think it would be for the best if I contact Benjen and request that he and a group of crows accompany us on the journey."

This caught the man off guard, and he reeled back as though physically struck, "Why in the world would you even consider such a thing?"

"Witnesses," Was Harry's simple answer, "when I take our captive White Walker before the southern lords I don't want anyone questioning us regarding its origins."

"You believe they are going think they are some product of your magic?" Mance was able to reach the root of Harry's concern easily enough.

"Exactly, on our first trade voyage we had a less than favorable run-in with Lord Karstark." Harry explained, "While Lord Stark might be willing to trust us, I must prepare for reactions more akin to Karstark's."

Mance sighed loudly, "I can understand your point, but many of my former brothers will be far from willing to work amiably with us."

"Which is why, I will inform him in the letter of your involvement in the venture and that he should bring those least hostile toward you and your decision," Harry explained.

Harry knew the former black brother would accept his decision regardless but he preferred. Mance shook his head getting back to the original topic, "So when shall we put our trap into effect?"

"We will try for the first time tomorrow night, I will need the day to prepare the false child." They parted ways and Harry looked forward to telling Val just how right they'd been about Dalla and Mance. She'll have a good time taking the mickey out of her sister about that one.

Harry obliterated his faux infant construct with a vicious slash of his wand. They had spent two months attempting to draw the White Walkers out into the open. He and Mance had made the attempt at four different locations, all of which were a considerable distance away from First Forge. Their most recent location had been only a short way from what had once been Craster's Keep. And nothing had come of their efforts. Absolutely nothing. Harry might have expected as much but it didn't change the fact that he was disappointed and could no longer bring himself to put time toward this venture.

Between spending almost the entirety of his days aiding the stone masons in their endeavors to build up the area, taking at least an hour or two to be with his children and wife and then remaining awake almost all night awaiting any possible White Walkers, he was entirely strung out. At least this fool's errand had allowed him to learn that the alternative potions ingredients Marin had researched proved useful. At least as far as the Pepper-Up Potion is concerned, otherwise I probably would have passed out multiple times over the past few weeks.

Not to mention he'd received word from Oberyn that Doran was now ready to meet with him. The first of the trade ships had gone to White Harbor and been allowed, as promised through his communications with Ned, to trade. It proved a less profitable journey than their trips to Braavos, but it wasn't useless. If they find value in our trade goods then they will be that much more likely to aid us when the time comes. Val had been hounding him for going on a week to take a break from at least one of his many projects and he was finding it more and more difficult to refuse his pregnant wife's demands, especially since he really didn't want to.

"Finally conceded that this venture is a failure then?" Mance asked from where he lay against a tree nearby. The former crow looked amused by Harry's violent magical outburst.

Harry rubbed at his eyes, trying to stave off the sleep his body so desperately desired, "Yes, we could continue as we have and hope that a White Walker will come along, but it seems futile."

"And the longer this takes the less time you have to convince Lord Stark and his bannerman to send aid to the Wall," Mance pointed out.

"Something I'm well aware of," Harry said with a frown. He shook his head in frustration, "You will inform those you've decided would go with us to the Land of Always Winter that we will be making the journey in a month's time. I will need time to recuperate after the drain of these last two months."

"And the Watch?" Mance asked lightly, though his eye's betrayed his interest.

"Benjen guaranteed me that he would be able to enlist at least ten men for the journey," Harry told him, "and that Mormont has agreed to the venture, though it will be kept hush from the dissenters among them."

"Well as long as none of them try to kill me, we won't have any problems." Mance commented sarcastically, which only made Harry roll his eyes.

Harry extended his arm to his fellow Norfolk, and with a quick turn they were back in the middle of First Forge. With a curt nod of farewell to one another, they made their way to their respective homes.

When Harry opened the door to his own home, his lower body was bombarded by one red-haired and one black-haired blur, each yelling out their happiness. They likely would have knocked him over had he not been expecting it. Seeing his children alleviated some of his fatigue and the light laughter of his wife from across the room brought a small smile to his face. He placed his hands on each of the twin's heads and rubbed them gently. They disengaged from his legs, grabbed his hands, and dragged him over to the table where he could see eggs and rashers, half eaten on their plates and a full one waiting for him.

He sat down and immediately began digging in as his children started telling him about their previous day.

"Da, I was in the libary with Marin yesteday and was reading about dagons." Trystan said enthusiastically. While both of his young children could read the basics, they often needed to ask for clarifications from their elders. Still he was glad to hear that his son was taking in interest in reading beyond what was required of him.

"You must have been reading about the Valyrian dragons or maybe Aegon and his Conquest." Harry commented between bites.

"It was Valwyia, the pictus were really intaresting." Trystan said happily.

Harry laughed lightly, "Dragons are really interesting, I've seen more than one of them before."

"Nuh-uh!" He said indignantly, "The book saided that dagons were gone."

"And the book was right," Val answered for Harry as he continued to eat, "but you have to remember that your father isn't like most people."

"When did you see dragons, Da?" Emer asked him quietly as her brother seemed reluctant to believe their father.

Harry shoveled down the last of his breakfast and straightened up to smile once more at his kids, "The first time I saw a fully grown one, I was at my school, for magical people like us. My fourth year there I was entered into a competition, not that I wanted to compete." He said that as much to himself as to his kids. Val snorted having heard the full story of the ordeal. If she had been there she would have castrated the bastard who entered him into that mess.

He winked in his wife's direction before continuing, "The first task of this competition was to acquire a golden egg… from the nest of a mother dragon." Trystan's disbelief had been dispelled and he was now listening to his father with the usual rapt attention that came whenever Harry told a story of his younger years.

"The dragon I was meant to steal from was massive… though not nearly as big as the history books describe the Valyrian dragons. She was mean though and I was… not well prepared. So, I went with what I was good at, flying." Harry wanted to take both of his children up on the broom, but Val had yet to agree that it would be entirely safe; though, she had promised that she would be happy for them to fly with him once they were older. After all, she still loved going with him when they found the time.

"I raced around the arena avoiding its spiked tail, and its blazing fire, all the while trying to get around it so I could grab the golden egg when suddenly," He clapped his hands together loudly startling the twins who looked on wide-eyed, " the dragon broke free of its constraints and took flight to catch me."

"I flew for my life," He stated dramatically, his tone causing Val to chuckle, "and managed to force the dragon out of the air."

"Then what Da?" Emer asked quietly, clearly a little awestruck by her father's story.

"What else? I went back to the stadium and claimed the golden egg… and came in first against my older competition." The kids smiled glad to hear of their father's long past success.

The family finished up their meal and a short while later there was a knock on the door. Gilly, Munda and Nairn were waiting outside. Gilly and Munda took Emer to work on a personal rune project they'd been working on that the young girl had been fascinated by while Nairn took Trystan to go to the yard. The older boy was a bit smitten with Ygritte while Trystan just enjoyed watching the men and women clash weapons. Val would go and check on them in once she and Harry had the opportunity to talk, but for the time being she trusted the others to look after them.

When the door closed behind them Harry turned to Val. She looked less than pleased with him, "So another unsuccessful trap? Another night without sleep? Another night where you aren't there to warm our bed?"

"Yes on all accounts," He said with a sigh as he approached her, he hugged her tightly her baby bump pressing lightly into his abdomen, "but it was the last time." He whispered into her ear.

He could feel her smile against his neck where she kissed lightly, "Good, you'll finally have some time to regroup."

"A month," He told her firmly, "I will take a month to recuperate and deal with Doran before I will make for the Land of Always Winter."

She didn't look pleased by this news but had resigned herself quite some time ago that this would be his next course of action, "Well we will just have to make the best of the next month then."

She kissed him squarely on the lips before pulling away from his embrace, "Though I'm afraid today won't be a day of relaxation," She told him sympathetically. He furrowed his brow in confusion and she elaborated, "There was a message from one of the watchtowers nearly an hour ago. The Thenns were seen there early this morning and they should be here within the hour."

Harry ran a hand through his hair in frustration, "Of course they bloody are, they couldn't have taken another day so I could have just one good night's sleep."

"Don't expect any sympathy from me," She said sharply, "you are the one who decided to carry on as you did. No one forced those potions down your throat, nor did they force you to spend every night with Mance." She chuckled, "If it weren't for the fact I know he warms my sister's bed, I might think I had reason to worry."

Harry snorted, "Definitely not, love."

She stretched on her toes and kissed his temple lightly, "I am, I believe you would say, taking the mickey green-eyes. And we both know you deserve it for being a bit of a prat these past couple of months."

"True enough," he made toward the door, "It would be best if I make my way over to the city gates so I'm there to greet the Magnar."

"You're probably right," she waved him off, "try not to kill the bastard."

"Oh, that shouldn't be a problem," He told her with a smile, "I've dealt with far worse."

He apparated to the western gate and waited there with Karsi and some fifty other guards. A little over an hour later the bronze clad Thenns exited the tree-line and approached the already open gates. Harry greeted the Magnar and his son, leading them through the city. Despite their superior nature they couldn't hide their awe at First Forge. Many of the Norfolk warriors watched them as they walked by, almost as a warning against any aggressive behavior.

Harry spoke with Mag on the journey and it was decided that for the time being the giants would remain within the walls of First Forge as they weren't comfortable with the quicker means of transportation that were going to be used for the Thenns.

They reached the gates between First Forge and Newport where they stopped, "Step through there and you shall find yourself in our other city in Storrold's Point." Given the newness of this alliance Harry was uncomfortable with the idea of giving them direct access straight into their cities. "From there you will use another portal outside of Newport which will take you to your new homes."

Styr snorted loudly, "You expect us to believe this thing will take us more than a day's journey from here in an instant. I think it is more likely you mean to kill us with your magic."

Harry could understand the hesitancy to an extent, he would be cautious in a similar situation after all. Though, why we would put a death trap in the middle of our own city, I honestly can't fathom. Still, Harry was prepared to ease their worries and made to step through the gate. Only at that moment, Toregg stepped through from the other side, safe and sound , and with a new tattoo along his forehead and temples. It was a combination of Celtic designs and the runes of the First Men. He had seen something similar when he had his private conversation with Ferny. I imagine that is what Gilly and Munda have been working so tirelessly on. Toregg stepped pass with barely a glance in the Thenn's direction. He did however share a quick look with Harry.

"As you can see, the arch is perfectly safe." Styr still looked reluctant but his son didn't. Sigorn stepped forward and straight through the arch, disappearing before the Magnar's eyes. He didn't hesitate any longer and two by two, thousands of Thenns made their way out of First Forge, out of Newport and to their new home.

Harry traveled with them to make sure that they were settled, and comfortable. He had to resist the urge to laugh at Styr's gob-smacked expression upon seeing their storehouse. Though it was made perfectly clear that they would need to be careful about preserving their goods, as they were for the time being reliant on the Norfolk, if they wished to remain better provided for than they'd ever been in their entire lives.

By the time everything was said and done, night had already fallen and Harry's fatigue had fully caught up with him. He apparated straight into his bedroom, disrobed, plopped down onto the bed and fell asleep almost immediately. When Val came in an hour later, after having fed the twins, she was worried about her husband. When she saw him there she smiled lightly, glad that he had finally found time to rest and curled up next to him.

Tyrion Lannister was tiring of the cold. Ever since reaching White Harbor some three weeks prior, where he paid a considerable sum to be taken by boat past Eastwatch-by-the-Sea and dropped off along the coast north of the Wall, the weather had only become progressively more frigid.

His two day mounted trek through the Haunted Forest with his father's appointed bodyguards had left him wondering why he ever left the brothel he'd frequented during his three day stay in the northern port city. Still, he couldn't deny a sense of excitement regarding this whole venture. After all, it isn't every day that a powerful city springs out of a snowy wasteland inhabited by savages and haunted by grumpkins and snarks.

They were making toward the westernmost of the Norfolk cities, a decision reached after having a conversation with a few of the local drunks in a White Harbor tavern who claimed they had spoken with a few of the wildlings when they'd come to trade in the city. Something which father certainly won't be happy to hear about. According to rumor, they would be far more likely to find Harry at First Forge than at Newport, and while it was a slightly longer journey it also meant they wouldn't need to try and pass the wall that cut across the thinnest stretch of land near Storrold's Point.

Nearly an hour prior they'd crossed over the Antler River via a stone bridge just near a mill. They avoided what appeared to be a watchtower and made their way straight north for another hour before the forest began to thin and a wall came into view, as they drew closer the air seemed to warm slightly. Tyrion couldn't help but note the smooth expanse of wall, not a single line visible in the entire thing. He had never seen anything of the like. The walls around Lannisport, while taller, were made of many interlocking stones. The walls of First Forge appeared to be one stone melded together, similar to what the Valyrians had supposedly done at Dragonstone. The large steel gate drew his gaze as well. They must weigh nearly a ton, I imagine there must be some sort of contraption to allow easy opening.

As his mind analyzed these seemingly inconsequential things, he and his guard approached the gate only to be stopped by a call from above, "Who are you and why are you here?" Tyrion looked up to see a woman of no more than twenty looking down at him with an arrow drawn. To her left and right, there were a dozen more men and women doing much the same.

"Greetings," Tyrion called out with a smile, "my name is Tyrion Lannister." He was accustomed to his name, or more specifically his family name, causing people to fall over themselves to please him but that wasn't the case here.

"That only answers one of my questions, Tyrion Lannister." The woman shouted back.

Tyrion wasn't fazed by her apparent hostility though; he assumed it was just a normal state of being for the newly civilized, "Indeed you are right, how foolish of me." He tried for charming but it really just wasn't getting him anywhere, "I am here to see one Harry Potter, the leader of the Norfolk as far as I am to understand it."

"And what business do you wish to discuss with him southerner?" Hmm, they are cautious if nothing else. Hopefully their leader has a similar disposition otherwise he will not last long contending with the likes of my father.

"I have a proposal from my father, the Lord of Casterly Rock," Tyrion realized that pulling out his father's name and title would likely mean nothing but old habits die hard, "one which he will likely find interesting."

"And if your father has a proposal, then why did he not come himself?" Spoke up a man to the woman's right.

Tyrion turned to him and smirked slightly, "My father has his own lands and people to concern himself with. To make the long journey from our home in the south to yours beyond the Wall would have been foolish." The half-man continued slowly, "So he sent his trusted son in his place."

"He sent a dwarf to the dangerous Free Folk." The original woman snorted, "I doubt he risked such a thing because of trust." Tyrion knew his father well enough to think much the same but he certainly wouldn't voice that opinion to a guard on the wall.

He waited patiently as the pair of guards conversed among themselves before the woman disappeared from view for some time. A short time later, during which Tyrion whistled happily to himself, the gates opened to reveal a man on the other side. He looked no older than five and twenty, had dark hair that came down around his shoulders and a closely trimmed beard. So this is Harry Potter then? It was obvious to Tyrion, he'd seen plenty of good leaders in his life and they tended to hold themselves differently than those around them. Not to mention that he has a more learned air about him than his fellows.

Tyrion and his two guards pushed their horses through the gates and he once again marked an increase in the temperature. While not what I would call pleasant, it is certainly better than the biting cold we endure through the forest.

As they neared their waiting host he spoke to them, "You may leave your horses here. They will be taken to our stables for the time being." After years of practice Tyrion was able to dismount smoothly and turned to the northern leader. Harry started walking down the arrow straight road that led north toward the city, keeping at a pace that allowed the shorter man to keep up easily enough. Tyrion couldn't help but once again marvel at the craftsmanship shown and noted the symbols embedded into the stone every hundred feet or so.

Tyrion stepped up beside Harry while his guards fell back a good ten paces, "Lord Potter…" He began but was quickly interrupted.

"I am no Lord, Tyrion Lannister." He said lightly, though Tyrion would beg to differ based on what he knew of this place. "You may address me as Harry, everyone else I know does."

"You may wish to reconsider that," Tyrion told him, "some of the people who seek you out may think less of you and yours even over such a simple thing."

Harry's smile was almost wolfish, "Then those people are fool's, and they will learn how foolish it is to underestimate, or look down upon, those who don't adhere to the same rules as they do."

I find it hard to disagree with him. "Of course, Harry. As I'm sure your guard told you, I am here to discuss a proposal from my father."

"Yes, and he sent the son responsible for the pipes and cisterns of the city to do it." Tyrion blinked in surprise once before recollecting himself. I did not think he would know of such things. Harry continued uncaring of Tyrion's inner monologue, "I imagine it is quite the important proposal."

Tyrion could understand his skepticism even if he didn't appreciate it, "I think you will find that my previous duties had no effect on what my father was willing to trust me with."

"I suppose we shall find the truth of that once we reach the city." Tyrion recognized that the man had benched any further conversation on the matter until later, "Now, I must ask how you came to arrive to our city?"

"I imagine that would be easy enough to guess," Tyrion responded sarcastically, causing Harry to chuckle lightly, "I rode and walked where necessary and took a boat to hasten the journey after a time."

"That much I could have guessed for myself, I supposed I should ask how you could have come to our city without arousing the suspicions of Lord Stark or the Night's Watch." Harry elaborated.

"Ah, well you see I am quite a small man and when not wearing the Lannister red, my loyal bodyguards blend in quite well. It was simpler than you might think to go undetected." He paused and looked up into the green eyes of his host, "Though I must question why Lord Stark would be providing you with information, much less the Night's Watch?"

"We all have our acquaintances in this world Tyrion, and some tend to be more helpful than others." He ran a hand through his hair, "I know that Lord Stark, would at the least, warn me if he knew I was likely to receive a lion of Casterly Rock at our gates." Tyrion noted that he avoided the question about the Watch but imagined that if Harry were on good terms with Lord Stark, then it was possible to be of a similar standing with his younger brother.

. A vast expanse of crops came into view, not to mention greenhouses, only a short way from the wall. While Tyrion was impressed by the construction of walls, gates and roads, he was entirely baffled by their ability to grow crops so far north. I imagine Lord Stark would be willing to offer quite a bit to have such fields raised in his own lands. It would allow the north to become almost entirely independent of the southern kingdoms.

They made idle talk, covering various inconsequential subject when Harry asked a question that Tyrion truly wasn't expecting, "So your elder sister, the Queen, what sort of woman is she?" Tyrion was surprised to hear genuine interest in Harry's voice.

The half-man hesitated thinking of how to describe a woman who had reviled him his entire life, "She is beautiful according to most in the realm. She is a strong willed woman, who has an extremely high opinion of herself; something which comes from being a part of the wealthiest family in the kingdoms. That being said, she cares deeply for her children."

"I suppose it would be too much to ask for more depth on her." Harry stated calmly.

Tyrion chuckled, "Anything more than that would be far from objective, and we haven't known each other long enough to go in depth on my wonderful sister," he stroked his chin in thought, "nor do I have any wine in me."

"And what of your brother-in-… good brother, I mean?" The term sounded foreign on his escort's tongue and Tyrion had to question whether or not he'd ever actually used it before.

"I imagine Lord Stark has provided you with enough details on his old friend, surely my opinion of him will mean little." Tyrion had little interest in discussing Robert Baratheon, First of His Name.

"Exactly he is an old friend of the king's and I would like an opinion that isn't mired in nostalgia. I have read what there was to read on his successes during the Rebellion but that says little about the man." Tyrion couldn't fault his reason so with a resigned sigh, he gave the man his opinion of the king.

"Robert is a boisterous man, who loves feasts, wine and women, far more than most men," Tyrion could relate on the wine and women but he was no king, "He makes fast friends out of his enemies and the smallfolk love him. Unfortunately, dueto his love of the finer things in life, he has found himself ever more reliant on my father." Tyrion noted a calculating look in Harry's eye, and he wondered if he might have said too much. Well, it is unlikely there is much he could do with so little information when he is so far from the capitol.

"Thank you for your honest opinion." Harry stated evenly before they fell into a comfortable silence for some time.

After nearly an hour, as Tyrion tired from the long walk, he couldn't help but voice a couple of questions that had been on his mind since the gates , "Was there a reason we could not keep the horses? We would have arrived far faster."

Harry smirked, "True but then we wouldn't have had the chance for our little chat, nor would you have been able to properly appreciate what we have built here. Truthfully, there are other, even faster ways you might have arrived at the city but I prefer to take the long road."

"My legs will thank you in the morning, I assure you." Tyrion replied sourly. "I must also question why the leader of this city felt the need to escort myself and my guards and how you came to arrive at the southern gates to begin with?"

"As to your first question, it is quite simple. I am protecting you." Tyrion looked up at Harry curiously and he elaborated, "Had any of my fellow Norfolk found you wandering toward the city alone, on horseback, they likely would have bound and gagged you, none to gently I might add, and brought you before me." Harry shrugged, "And I couldn't even really blame them, as news of a new arrival can only travel so fast. But with me by your side that won't be a problem."

"Then I suppose we ought to thank you for your thoughtfulness," Tyrion believed that the man was being entirely honest with him.

"As to your second question, I imagine you have heard the rumors about me," Tyrion nodded his head slightly, "assume that they are true, and that should allow your mind to run wild with the possibilities of how I arrived so quickly." Tyrion couldn't help but hope he would soon see a demonstration of this man's abilities.

They neared the city proper a short time later, passing various people going about their day to day lives. Harry pointed out a building which contained their distillery operations. Tyrion was quite looking forward to sampling its products.

As they moved ever closer to the center of the city, Tyrion noted the yard where a considerable number of people were training with bow and blade in a fighting yard far larger than any he had seen in the past. He could see boats both large and small making their way to dock in a domed area along the coast. It would appear that he has emulated the Braavosi docks. Harry explained that their shipwrights produced more of their vessels within. Finally, they came to the very center of the city and the expansive complex of forges where dozens of smiths could be seen plying their trade. Tyrion had to hide his confusion at seeing large barrels of dragonglass among the materials used. I've never heard of the material being used in the forging process.

They reached the Hall, where he was offered a seat. He took it with a happy sigh, as his guards took up a position behind him, before turning to Harry, "I must say, I am thoroughly impressed by your city. There is a home for every man, woman and child from what I could see; the same certainly can't be said for many other cities in Westeros. And at the same time each seems to work happily." Harry gave a small smile in response, "Yet I find myself perplexed."

Harry furrowed his eyebrow, "And what is it that perpelexes you?"

"What drives your people to work the fields, fight your enemies, make your weapons and ships, and build your buildings?" Tyrion questioned as he grabbed for a grape on the table, "It is my understanding your people have no form of currency of their own, instead trading in gems and more often simply bartering goods for goods. Now history tells us that the wildlings in general have had no use for currency. So if it isn't money that drives them what is it? If they do not need to pay to retain their happy homes then what reason is there to work?"

Harry leaned back in his own chair, "I imagine most who see our city would question the same, and I think were you to take a similarly sized group of people from your realm it may very well fail before it ever started." He gazed at Tyrion for a long moment, "The Free Folk are accustomed to hard lives, quite literally fighting to ensure they live to see the next day. By working together here, we have made those lives easier but it doesn't mean that there is any less work to be done."

Harry shrugged his shoulders slightly, "You asked what drives them if not money, I cannot answer for every man and woman here as I am sure each would have a different answer. For some they would say it is the desire to be the best at something, others would say they are doing what they can to ensure their families safety and happiness. These reasons aren't all that different from what you would hear from the smallfolk in your own lands, they just don't need gold, silver, or bronze as way to meet their goals."

"And it helps," A new voice spoke up from the doorway, "that their leader, his wife and those who once served as their clan chieftains, constantly serve as examples. Harry and I have discussed the matter and we would describe this place as a guild society with a strong emphasis on merit." Tyrion looked over to see a man approaching, he wouldn't have recognized him for a maester if it weren't for the chain around his neck, "That being said none of it would be possible without Harry. The Norfolk understand that without Harry and his efforts their new way of life would never have been a possibility. Out of respect for that, they give him their all in whatever they decide to pursue in their new lives. Some might foolishly call it a dictatorship, but all one must do is see the way of life here and they would be dissuaded of the notion."

The maester came to stand beside Harry's chair. He leaned down to whisper something to Harry before straightening and looking to Tyrion, "You will find, Lord Tyrion, that most of the people among the Norfolk came here by choice because of the opportunities present."

"Of course, many remain hunters and warriors," Harry added, "but given the importance placed on such roles for millennia, it is understandable."

Tyrion chuckled under his breath before turning to Harry, "You refuse to be called Lord or King, yet every noble in the South would kill for the sort of conviction you inspire in your people." He grabbed a goblet nearby and was disappointed to find that it was filled with only water, "But I must say it just sounds far too idyllic."

"Do not misunderstand things," Harry silenced him with a raise of his hand as Tyrion made to comment, "no place is perfect, there will always be dissenters, and those who don't wish to work and we are no different. There have been times in the past where some man or woman thought they could benefit from the work of the rest of our people without any sort of contribution. Such things are brought before the leader of the guilds, and dealt with together. Most times it isn't even necessary though, as the pressure from others proves enough to whip the non-contributor into shape."

"And what of crime? How do you deal with theft, or murder?" Tyrion was truly fascinated by this fledgling society and couldn't help but want to know more.

The maester spoke up again, "In that we benefit from thousands of years of Free Folk culture. The wildlings never stole from their own clan, instead going elsewhere to make themselves stronger. That mindset has carried over."

"As for murder," Harry spoke coldly, "we have only had one instance in which it has taken place. There are brawls and even challenges but they are held as competitions each night and what aggression is there can be worked out."

"Few are willing to defy Harry on the matter of violence," Gareth explained, "he was rather lenient with the original murderer, though it was harsh in its own way. But word spread of his treatment of a cannibal leader who intended to harm his wife and children, ever since none have wished to anger him."

"Ah, so they fear you as well as respect you!" Tyrion exclaimed, "My father has kept his own men in line the same way for quite some time, granted his considerable wealth helped."

"If they fear Harry, it is far behind any of their other feeling on him." The maester said a little defensively.

"That is my hope, at the very least." Harry smiled at Tyrion, and the half-man was glad to realize he hadn't offended the magician. Who knows what he might be able to do to me if that were the case?

Harry stood, "This conversation was truly fascinating," He smiled fondly, "It is funny, you are the first to so bluntly question the goings on of our city. It was quite refreshing." He shook himself, "I am afraid that your father's proposal must wait until later though, as I have matters to attend to." He gestured to the maester, "Should you have any questions, Gareth would be happy to answer them I'm sure."

With that he left the building. Tyrion turned toward the remaining man, "Well, Maester Gareth, I'm going to take a shot in the dark here and assume that there are no brothels in this lovely city."

"You would be correct, my lord." Gareth told him clearly amused.

"Then I would appreciate if you pointed me to the nearest tavern." Tyrion said removing himself from his chair, "I have heard a great deal about the Norfolk vodka and apple cider. I would very much like to sample them if possible."

"The tavern will be near empty this time of day," Gareth told him, "and it would be wise not to imbibe too much drink before your discussion with Harry."

Tyrion grudgingly nodded his acknowledgement, "Then perhaps you might recommend something of interest maester?"

"I hear you have a love for books…"

Harry walked through the Last Refuge, toward the library. He'd been busy for the past three days, planning for his trip to Dorne in a week's time, not to mention the excursion to the Land of Always Winter in less than three weeks' time. Then there was the other recent development, he'd put his smiths and carpenter toward a new task, crafting siege weaponry. He'd been meaning to have them built for some time but needed to ensure all those involved were of a sufficient skill to manage it. Gareth had taken to the overseeing of the endeavor and had proven to be quite good at ensuring the efforts went along smoothly.

He'd intended to hold a feast for their guest his first night in First Forge but was informed that the man was thoroughly ensconced within the library, bothering Marin near constantly about where he might be able to find some of the more obscure books Harry had managed to acquire from the Citadel. His chosen rooms were even in the fortress and Harry couldn't help a sense of nostalgia when thinking of the man's love of reading. Hermione was much the same, and if she were to see a library like ours it is unlikely anything could have pulled her out for months.

Harry entered the library to find Marin carrying roughly a stack of books under in her arms, the children had all finished their lessons for the day. She noticed him and immediately gestured with her head further into the room. She obviously knew what he was searching for.

Harry found their visitor surrounded by piles of larges tomes, reading rapidly through one of them. Harry cleared his throat to draw the man's attention, "I am sorry for the interruption," he started, finding it hard to hide the humor in his voice, "but there was a proposal you wished to discuss with me, and I thought now might be a good time."

Tyrion looked at him wide-eyed for a short moment before responding loudly, "Yes, of course."

"Excellent," Harry extended his arm, "If you will grab hold of my arm, we shall go to my wife, as I'm sure this will concern her as well."

Tyrion took his arm with a smile, "I get to meet the last of your little family, then. Fantastic, I have greatly enjoyed your…" Suddenly an intense squeezing sensation overtook his body, disorienting him terribly, a few short moments later he felt solid ground beneath his feet again, "children." He finished his sentence wobbling slightly before collapsing to his knees, trying desperately not to wretch all over the floor.

Harry chuckled as he walked around to take a seat. Val spoke sympathetically though there was a hint of a laugh in her voice, "It is a horrible sensation, and I hate when he does it to me by surprise."

"It's better that way," Harry argued, "no time to clench." Val huffed but didn't argue.

Tyrion righted himself and turned to look at the couple. He took a long hard gaze at Val before turning to Harry with a smile, "You have a beautiful wife. She puts many a southern lady to shame." He took a bow, "Tyrion Lannister, fair woman, and might I say congratulations on your coming child."

Val was amused by his antics, "I suppose what you lack in size you make up for in words."

"We all must have our weapons." Tyrion responded with a smirk.

"True enough," Harry gestured to the food on the table, "I assume you have yet to eat, so please do so now." Tyrion dug in happily taking a leg of lamb from the platter nearby.

Harry and Val waited patiently as he ate. When he finished Harry gestured toward the jug nearby, "I believe you had an interest in tasting our vodka."

Tyrion nodded and poured himself a cup of the clear liquid. Harry had to laugh at the man's reaction as the strong alcohol clearly burned as it went down, "If that isn't to your liking, perhaps the apple cider would suit you better." Tyrion had slightly teary eyes as he grabbed for the other jug. Clearly the less potent alcohol was more to his liking.

Harry leaned further over the table, "Now that you have been watered and fed, I'd say it is time that we discussed your father's proposal."

"Agreed," Tyrion started, "My lord father would like there to be an alliance of sorts between the Norfolk and the Westerlands."

"I suspected as much," Harry admitted, "but how would he like to form this alliance?"

"The same way most alliances are formed through betrothal, among other things." Harry's face visibly hardened at the word, and Val scowled.

"And what is it that your father is offering?" Harry asked icily. In three days speaking with just the children of the Norfolk, Tyrion had reached the conclusion that his father's proposal wouldn't be well received and his intuition had been proven correct.

"A female Lannister of your choice would be betrothed to your son, who would then be fostered at Casterly Rock." Harry could almost hear Val grinding his teeth by his side, "Additionally, a man of your choosing will be gifted the lordship of either Castamere or Tarbeck Hall, and everything that title includes. " Tyrion gulped almost imperceptibly, "All that would be asked for in return is aid should my father ever be forced to call his banners and your trading in Lannisport."

Val's face had flushed slightly as she bit out, "My son shall not be fostered," she spit out the word with disgust, "anywhere in the south."

Harry rested a hand on his pregnant wife's leg, "Nor shall he be betrothed, particularly not to someone he has never even met. I find it disturbing that your father is willing to give any of the daughters of House Lannister in his attempt to have our favor."

"Yes well," Tyrion started slowly, "surely it would be wise to at least consider my father's proposal. It is quite generous. And if you are truly unwilling to foster your son in the Westerlands, the girl of your choice could be fostered here in First Forge instead."

"By your standards, perhaps this is generous," Harry replied icily, "But my children will remain where I can teach them to control their magic. No one in the Westerlands would be able to help them as they grow." He narrowed his eyes, "But that is only a practical reason for my denial, the simple fact is I refuse to force my children into any marriage. I chose who I wished to be with and it is my intention that they shall do the same."

"So you disagree with fostering one of the Lannister daughters here, as well?" Tyrion reiterated as he rubbed his eyes in frustration, "And what of the other part of the offer?" Tyrion figured it best to get a full answer to his father's proposal.

"Your father offers one of two castles that have long since been left in ruin," Harry replied, "And while he might assume that I could rebuild, it is still far less of an offer than it seems."

Harry rested his hands in his lap, "Let's be frank with one another, Tyrion. Your father wishes to win our support through a meaningless betrothal to one of the lesser branches of your family, as the main family currently has no daughters save your sister and her daughter. And your father doesn't have the ability to offer his granddaughters hand."

"You are correct, in so far as it would be a betrothal to a relative not from the main branch but that certainly isn't intended as a slight." Tyrion knew that Harry was far closer to the mark than not but wasn't going to admit.

"Of course it isn't," Val laughed, "I'm sure he thinks very highly of a bunch of wildlings who learned how to build a city."

Harry smiled slightly at is wife's observation, "Of your father's offers the only one I would be open to is trading in Lannisport, but the city would take far too long to reach via ship to be of benefit to us."

Tyrion rubbed his chin, "That much is understandable, though given your other achievements to this point could you not simply link the two rivers north of the Wall and cut the travel time in less than half."

Harry shook his head, "I have considered it but it would force my sailors near the cannibals along the Frozen Shore, but more importantly it would provide a route with which reavers like the Ironborn could easily access our city." From what he'd read Harry sincerely doubted that Balon Greyjoy would have any qualms about attacking if he thought his near barren islands might benefit.

"Understandable, I suppose," Tyrion replied slowly, "The Greyjoys aren't exactly known for their discretion."

"My thoughts exactly," Harry told him with a slight smile.

"Well then," Tyrion started with a clap of his hands, "it seems that I will need to tell my father that his offer has been summarily refused. He will be far from pleased."

Harry tapped his chin in thought, "No, he won't be and reputation certainly precedes him." I would rather not have one of the most feared men in Westeros plotting against me but I simply can't agree to these terms.

He knew that if he developed a full alliance with Dorne he would be at odds with Tywin at some point but he would avoid it for the time being if he could, "I hope you will make clear the reasons behind my refusal and perhaps tell him I can provide him with something he has long since sought."

"And what would that be?" Tyrion asked glibly.

"A family sword," He hesitated, "though it would not be Valyrian steel. Instead it would be our own creation, or recreation, of dragonsteel."

Tyrion pondered this for a moment, "It will seem a pale consolation to what my father hoped for, but it may very well appease him. I would see an example of this dragonsteel so that I might better describe it to him in my letter."

"And you shall," Harry agreed before standing and walking into their room where he grabbed his sword from where it rested against the wall. He presented it to Tyrion, "Examine to your heart's content."

Tyrion pulled it from its scabbard and it looked massive in his short arms, "It is light weight," he ran his finger along the edge, "And sharp," he examined the hilt and pommel, "and certainly well made." He pushed it back into its scabbard. "I'll admit I am no expert on swords but I should be able to describe the quality of this particular weapon to my father."

"Good," Harry smiled, "Then I suppose this conversation is at its end. I would recommend you use one of Gareth's ravens to deliver the message as our owls will not await a reply from your father. You are welcome here for as long as you like though Tyrion, your father's reply will not necessitate your departure."

"Understood," he rose from his chair and made his way toward the door, "A good evening to the both of you." Once the door closed behind him, Harry sagged back into his chair and rubbed at his temples. He felt Val rest a hand on his shoulder and looked in her direction.

"What is bothering you?" She questioned softly, he was amazed in these moments how his strong-willed wildling wife could also be the unwaveringly kind, "Wasn't this what you expected?"

"It is exactly what I expected," He told her with a frustrated sigh, "It bothers me that we will likely have to deal with similar offers from nearly every southerner that seeks us out."

"It's just how the kneelers are Harry," Val ran a hand through his hair lightly, "they barter away their children. You just have to keep telling them no."

"And I will," Harry said firmly, "but they don't understand us and our ways. Eventually I may refuse someone who can't be bargained with and it will cause us nothing but trouble." He scoffed derisively at his own comment, "I'm afraid I may have just sent our messenger to the first such person out the door."

"Perhaps…" Val hesitated, clearly conflicted about what she was thinking. Harry waited for her to collect her thoughts, "Perhaps it would be wise to have a discussion with Eddard or Oberyn, they seemed the decent sort… for kneelers… and we could establish some sort of arrangement."

"A betrothal in name only perhaps," Harry mulled the thought over in his head, "so that we could tell others that they are already spoken for without actually binding our children in any sort of agreement."

"I think it is worth considering if nothing else." She said grudgingly.

"I am surprised you are even considering it to be honest." Harry told her candidly, "You are firmly against that particular southern tradition."

"And that hasn't changed one bit," Val almost snapped, "they will not be betrothed, nor will they be taken to live in some far off castle. It will simply be a way of protecting them and you."

Harry smiled lasciviously, "It's incredibly sexy when you're being devious."

She gave him a smoldering look, "Is it now? Perhaps you can show me just how much you appreciate my deviousness before we go and collect the twins from Tormund." There was no argument from Harry.

In the midmorning, the family of four appeared from nowhere, landing on shaky feet but otherwise unperturbed. They were in an oft times abandoned clearing between two dunes outside of Sunspear in Dorne. There were only two witnesses to this event.

"I really can't decide which I dislike more, apparation or portkeys." Val said tersely as she leaned down to make sure Trystan and Emer were well.

Harry chuckled, "Well a series of long range apparations would have been bad for the baby," he ran his hand softly along her fur covered baby bump, "and you were dead set on coming. So it was either a series of extremely disorienting portkeys over the course of an hour or a much longer journey by broom."

Val rolled her eyes good naturedly, "Yes Harry, you told me more than once why this was the best way of getting here but it doesn't mean I have to like it."

The pair heard a chuckle nearby and looked over to find Oberyn and Ellaria waiting for them. The twins yelled excitedly and made their way over to the pair that had won some of their affection when at First Forge. Each of the Dornish picked up one of the children, "And how have you been Trystan?" Oberyn questioned kindly.

"Good," He said excitedly, "we took'ed a portkey here. It was realllly… swirly." His sister nodded her head emphatically from where she rested in Ellaria's arms.

"Is that so?" Oberyn asked dramatically, "Sounds awful."

"It is," Val once more voiced her displeasure, "but better than the longer route."

"And how have you been Emer?" Ellaria asked the little girl.

"Great," she pointed to a piece of artwork upon her face, "Gilly drawed this on for me. I really like it."

"As you should," the exotic woman said in her slight accent, "it is a beautiful piece of art and looks even better on such a beautiful little girl." The compliment caused the little red-head to bury her head with a slight blush.

Oberyn turned to Harry and Val, "Come we will show you into the city."

They followed him through the Threefold Gate down the road that led directly to the Old Palace, they passed noisy bazaars, mud-brick homes and uncomfortably for Val and Harry a pillow-house where a scantily clad woman stood outside. They didn't enjoy having to explain that to the twins.

Harry couldn't help but note, that unlike what he'd seen of the Lannisters briefly when in Lannisport, the Dornish smallfolk found their great family far more approachable. While they certainly showed a level of deference as Oberyn made his way through the streets, they didn't bow and scrape nor make a show of seeing him.

"These furs you are wearing are far too heavy for Dorne," Ellaria commented while she played with the collar of Emer's clothing, "we will have to find you something more suitable for our warm climate." Harry glanced over at his family and noticed that they were sweating quite heavily for only having walked ten minutes and he wasn't much better. We'd probably be drenched already if it weren't for the mild cooling charms.

"If you don't, I think you will find me running around naked." Val said with a chuckle.

Oberyn smiled at her charmingly, "Not a remotely bad idea if you ask me, my dear."

Harry quickly cuffed him on the back of the head, "Keep those sort of thought s where they belong, Oberyn."

"I am merely commenting on the beauty of your wife, Harry." He retorted innocently, "Just think of it as a compliment, she is still very much desirable despite being with child."

"Oh, I completely agree with you," Harry said with a smirk, "but I've heard more than one of your stories and I'd rather not have you ogling Val you lecher."

"Well perhaps you would rather I ogle you instead then?" Oberyn teased. The pair stared at each other for a long moment before they both burst out laughing. Ellaria and Val joined them as the children looked around in fascination at the foreign city. Though, Val was little better never having been south of the Wall before.

Over the next half hour they drew ever closer to the Old Palace, which housed the Spear Tower and the Tower of the Sun. The Spear Tower jutted up around the surrounding city some 150 feet and was topped with a thirty foot spear of gilded steel. When necessary, highborn prisoners were held within cells at the top of the tower. They passed it by on their way to their guest quarters in the Tower of the Sun, the kids craning their necks to look at its tip.

The Tower of the Sun was the seat of House Martell. Its dome was crafted of gold and leaded glass beneath which sat the throne room. The room was large with thick windows of many colored glass and floors of pale marble. On a raised dais sat two seats almost identical in appearance save that one was inlaid with the Martell spear and the other the Rhonyish sun. They were given a full tour of the building and shown to their quarters, a lovely set of interconnected rooms that looked out toward the sea.

Upon reaching their room they were immediately separated. Val and Emer went with Ellaria to find some more suitable clothes while Harry and Trystan followed Oberyn to do the same. They walked a short way before coming to the Dornish Prince's personal quarters.

Oberyn left briefly before coming back with multiple pairs of small trousers and silk shirts, "Some of my nephew's old clothes. I believe they should be a good fit." He told Harry as he gave them to Trystan who quickly divested himself of his thick furs and slipped into the lighter clothing.

"It's soo soft and smooth," Trystan commented as he ran his hand along the silk.

Oberyn chuckled, "Yes it certainly is and much more comfortable than thick furs and heavy wool."

Harry made an indignant noise at the back of his throat, "Our clothing is perfectly comfortable, thank you."

"Yet, it is nothing like Myrish silk and none of your spells could ever make it so my friend." Oberyn was very self-assured of this point and as Harry ran his hand along a deep crimson shirt within Oberyn's own collection, he couldn't find a good argument.

"You're probably right," Harry admitted, "but silk is of little use in the cold. You did wear furs yourself when in First Forge."

"True enough," Oberyn agreed. Harry quickly disrobed, long having lost any prudishness about nudity having lived with the Free folk for so long, and dressed in the dark red shirt and a pair of black trousers.

It was at that time that a dark haired, brown eyed, olive skinned boy of some nine years old walked into the room accompanied by three girls. They were clearly sisters, all of them having dark hair, and olive skin like the boy beside them but they each had eyes similar in appearance to Oberyn. As they entered, Harry noticed Emer happily following behind and talking animatedly with the youngest girl.

"Uncle," so this was Trystane Martell, "we came to gather Trystan." The little boy jumped up from where he laid on the bed nearby and introduced himself to the older boy excitedly. This drew a bemused smile from the young Dornish Prince as he returned the greeting kindly. He was then introduced to Loreza, Dorea and Obella; Loreza being the youngest of Oberyn's daughters present and Obella being the oldest.

"We already talked to Ellaria and Val," Trystane was talking to both of the men now, "We shall be showing our two young guests around the rest of the palace and city." Harry agreed knowing that he could find his children immediately were they in any danger.

"And what shall you be showing them in the city?" Oberyn questioned his children and nephew.

"Why everything father," Spoke up Obella, "the mummer's, the fire swallowers and every other street performer we might find."

"You shall keep them close," He warned, "I would not have any harm come to our guests. You will also be back in enough time for the welcoming meal we have planned."

"Of course, Uncle," Trystane assured him, "There shall be no one safer in the entire city."

"I'll hold you to that," Harry told the boy seriously. With that the children exited the room and left the two men alone.

"Shall your brother be joining us for dinner?" Harry asked as the two men exited the room and went in search of Val and Ellaria.

"No, unfortunately my brother's gout has forced him to the Water Gardens for the time being," Oberyn explained, "It is only a short trip to there from the city and we shall make it tomorrow. For now, enjoy your time at Sunspear."

"And what are your brother's thoughts regarding my proposal?" Harry questioned as they found the two women speaking quietly among themselves.

"I think you will find out for yourself tomorrow, Harry." Oberyn told him evasively. Harry accepted that he would not receive any information regarding his pending meeting and instead approached his wife. She was wearing something similar to him, only her shirt was far more feminine showing a hint of her cleavage.

She tuned to him with a slight grimace, "Ellaria tried very hard to get me into a silk dress but I absolutely refused." Ellaria tried to explain how the dress would have looked brilliant on the blonde beauty, but Harry was too focused on his wife who was as close to pouting as he'd ever seen and he thought it was incredibly cute. Of course if I told her that she would probably rather violently show me her displeasure. And he honestly loved her for that.

Harry chuckled at Val's reaction and hugged her to his side, "Well as much as I would love to see you in a tight silk dress," he leaned in closer and whispered to her, "and would love even more to take it off you." She smirked slightly at that as he continued, "I know that dresses just aren't for you, love and I can take a pair of trousers and your nice silk shirt too." He leaned down to kiss her which she gladly returned.

When they broke apart, Oberyn and Ellaria were waiting patiently. Ellaria spoke, "Come, your children are being entertained now it is time we do the same for you."

They spent the day touring the city in more detail including the bazaars where Harry bought Val a serpentine bracelet that had caught her eye. While she protested initially, she still took it with a grateful kiss. They spent some time in the training yard where Val lamented that her condition denied her the chance to spar with Oberyn. She had practiced what he'd had to teach her quite often since his departure from First Forge and she sincerely wished that she'd had the ability to test her spear against his. Oberyn had shown them his private library which included books from the time of Nymeria's landing in Dorne. While Val was far better educated than she'd been prior to finding Harry in her life, she had little interest in the library so had sat with Ellaria on the balcony. They told stories among themselves as they sunbathed in the nude. It was a distraction for Harry, who was quite interested in the books, but a pleasant distraction. He made sure to provide his fair skinned wife with a charm to protect her from burning.

After an enjoyable day with their Dornish friends, nightfall came. They were finally joined then by the children as they supped in the hall. They were treated to a large spread of Dornish dishes from stuffed grape leaves to grilled Dornish snake and lemon glazed duck. Emer shied away from the snake and Harry had to chuckle at the look of disdain she had for the dish while her brother tried and enjoyed it heartily; though, the strong Dornish spices left him red faced and nearly sweating. All of this was washed down with a fine Dornish red for the adults and older children, and lemonsweet for the younger children.

The entire meal was lively, the younger children gushing about their day to their parents. Trystan had particularly enjoyed the fire swallowers, and admitted to his father that he may have accidentally made the fire a bit… more than it was supposed to be. Harry was simply glad that he had been aware of it. On the other hand, Emer loved the mummer's performance. It had been a recreation of the story of Jonquil and the little girl loved the showmanship and costumes… though she didn't say it in quite so many words.

They talked well into the night, until it was obvious the younger children could go on no longer. Harry and Val put the already sleeping twins in their bed before making their way into their own quarters. Harry fell asleep that night anticipating the following day's meeting.

Doran Martell sat on his terrace overlooking the Water Gardens as common and highborn children alike played in the pools together. Water from where the children came from the pools rested on the pale pink marble. He watched as a new batch of children, all but two of whom he recognized made their way towards the pools. He has arrived then? Very good.

Doran took note of the blonde woman, heavy with child accompanying his brother's paramour. Many a southern lady would envy her beauty and many a lord would envy his luck. From description he assumed she was Val, the Queen of the Norfolk, for all intents and purposes. Though, Oberyn has made it abundantly clear that they don't adhere to such titles.

Just minutes later, there was a knock on the door and it was opened by Areo Hotah to reveal his brother and a dark-haired man with emerald green eyes. He held himself confidently but there was no condescension present in his manner unlike many of the men of influence Doran had met in his years. He carried a small bag in his hand.

The Prince of Dorne wheeled himself toward a table nearby. Oberyn took a seat and offered one to Harry as well. Once everyone settled Doran spoke, "A pleasure to meet you Harry Potter. I have been told more than one story of your city and its people. Were these words not from the mouth of my brother, I doubt I would have believed them. The wildlings are little concern to the Dornish but we have heard tale of their savagery all the same, but his stories paint you quite differently."

"A pleasure to meet you as well Prince Doran," Harry replied cordially, "I will admit, I expected this meeting to have happened some time ago."

"I needed time to consider the wisdom of such a meeting," Doran replied in a slightly clipped tone, "in the end, I decided that there was no harm in speaking with you at the very least."

"I understand. I was simply surprised." He pulled a stick from within his sleeve, "Now, before the more serious discussions begin, I wonder if I might quickly examine you?" From behind, Areo had raised his long axe but Doran raised his hand for his guard to back down.

"Very well," Doran backed himself away from the table slightly, "I am told you have quite the talent for healing. I am curious to know if you might do something to alleviate my ailment."

Harry waved his wands methodically for nearly a minute, clearly taking in and understanding a great deal more than the others in the room. He grabbed the bag from near his chair as he started speaking, "The diagnostic charm made it abundantly clear that this is a long standing ailment, one that is currently causing you a great deal of pain." He sighed and shook his head, "Unfortunately, healing is not my expertise. I don't have the knowledge to fully remove the disease, assuming it would be possible to begin with."

"But there is something you can do?" Oberyn questioned Harry with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes," Harry smiled as he pulled a set of three vials from his seemingly endless bag, "these three potions should be enough to make the symptoms bearable at worst and unnoticeable at best." He handed them to Doran, "The blue potion will reduce the swelling caused from your gout, the red will strengthen your joints, and the yellow will dull any lingering pain." Harry paused for a moment, "Do not take them all at once as it could cause a severely adverse effect. A fifteen minute break between each potion should be enough."

"You give these to me freely?" Doran questioned as he removed the stopper from the red potion.

"I will not hold your health as ransom when your brother has already proven himself a friend to the Norfolk. What I have done for you now will have no bearing on our further negotiations," Harry said earnestly.

Doran drank the first of the potions, "But this is an impermanent solution."

"Yes but those potions can be crafted with ingredients likely available to you in your markets," Harry replied, "I shall provide you with the recipes under the condition that you share them with no one."

Doran could already feel the swelling in his knees lessen and he smiled at the man across from him, "To that at least, I think we will be able to agree."

"To the less pleasant topics then?" Harry asked curtly, clearly falling into a far less genial manner for the discussion of their possible alliance. Doran simply nodded with an almost unnoticeable squaring of his shoulders and straightening of his back, "Right then, I assume that Oberyn has conveyed my desires."

"Yes," Doran said stonily, "You wish for Dornish aid in a coming war with devil's from millennia in the past. In return for this aid you can guarantee us nothing save weapons of a high quality and your personal aid in any conflict the Dornish might face, but not the aid of your, from what I am told, fierce people."

"You are under the preconception that I can force them to come south," Harry drummed his fingers on the table in front of him as he spoke, "I can't. They follow me because I am strong and because I make them strong. That being said they will be reluctant to involve themselves in any southern conflicts. Would there be some willing to come south with me?" He asked rhetorically, "Absolutely, because many of them respect Oberyn for his willingness to help us. And for that simple gesture they would gladly do the same but I certainly cannot guarantee you the entirety of our fighting force , or even half, should you find yourself in a conflict."

"Then our alliance would be tenuous at best," Doran looked to his brother who sat by silently, watching the exchange of the two men sitting with him, "There would be nothing to hold you to your word."

"Nor would there be anything to hold you to yours, Doran," Harry replied readily, "except of course your honor."

"I could never allow the fate of my kingdom to hinge on honor alone." Doran was no fool, any man's honor could be bought for the right price and that price wasn't always gold.

"What do you propose then?" Harry asked with a knowing look behind his eyes.

"There must be something tangible behind our agreement," Doran began calmly, "And to that end, I recommend a marriage between one of your children and one of House Martell." Harry sighed lightly as Doran continued, "The wisest course would be to choose one of the younger Sand Snakes and betroth them to your son as they are of an age. From what I saw of them, they are already getting along quite well. If this isn't agreeable then perhaps Trystane would be a suitable for your daughter, he is considerably older but in time it will be much less noticeable."

"I am afraid that isn't possible. Neither Val or I believes in selling our children's future but even if I wanted to I could not accept the offer, not now anyway," Harry stated with a frown. Doran indicated for him to continue and so he did, "First Forge recently had another southern visitor, two in fact. One was Lord Stark, who came merely to assess what sort of threat we might pose to the North." So he is likely in negotiations with Lord Stark as well, this could change things completely.

Harry went on unaware of Doran's inner monologue, "But just recently, I received another visitor, one Tyrion Lannister."

Doran's lips tightened ever so slightly at the mention of the Great House of the Westerlands, "And what did Lord Tyrion wish with you and yours?"

"He had a proposal from his father, as I'm sure you have already guessed," Harry noticed Oberyn's jaw working slightly in anger and sook to appease his hosts, "He offered any daughter of House Lannister in betrothal to my son. The offer was summarily dismissed for the simple fact that my children must remain with me in order to learn about their unique talents. It did not help that he expected the support of the Norfolk in any of his house's conflicts without then offering the same treatment in return."

Oberyn finally spoke up then, "Nor would he have intended to, he would care little for a distant niece or cousin from a lesser branch. And I imagine he wished to avoid the risk at all by having your son foster at Casterly Rock." Harry nodded that was indeed the case.

"Had you accepted such an offer, these negotiations would be over." Doran was none too pleased to learn that the Norfolk could have joined with his most hated enemies.

"I am aware, and rest assured that has not and will not happen. But I do not wish to draw the man's ire so have offered him a weapon suitable of his family's status as apology for my refusal." Doran recognized the necessity of such an action and thought it wise to offer Tywin something he'd long since desired.

Doran grabbed another of the vials and downed it; it had been well beyond fifteen minutes at this point. He spun the vial in his fingers as he started speaking, "I understand why a betrothal is no longer an option, at least with one of the Sand Snakes. Tywin offered you trueborn Lannister daughters, he would not take it well should you betroth either of your children to the bastard daughters of a Prince of Dorne." Doran shook his head, "And Trystane would be out of the question as well. While his mother has been in Norvos for some time, I promised her that none of her children would be fostered away from Sunspear and I don't intend to break that promise."

"I intend to discuss the matter with Lord Stark, I hope I might be able to protect myself and my family from further offers by setting up a faux betrothal between his children and mine." Harry rested back into his chair, "So where does this leave us, Prince Doran?"

"One development has fallen in your favor," Doran began with a slight gleam in his eye, "You are currently in talks with Lord Stark, who is far more directly affected by what you and the Norfolk do. But he could offer me assurances, through betrothal, of an alliance and aid."

"I cannot speak for Lord Stark, nor would I want to." Doran was well aware of that fact.

"Yes, but the nature of this conversation could change from a two way alliance to a three way alliance." Doran leaned farther forward, "Even with a faux betrothal you would be inclined to aid the Northerners if the Starks were in danger, and were I to betroth one of my children to the Starks we would become more firmly interconnected."

He could far more easily accept this plan then something as weak as what had been initially offered to him, "I would know that I would have Northern aid both when sending my men beyond the Wall or when we need aid. I would have a definite number of men to add to my own. Not to mention the Riverlands would be inclined to aid us as well given their relationship with the North."

"I've yet to establish an alliance with House Stark though," Harry admitted, "I need to provide him and the other Northern Lords with evidence of the Others' existence. Only then will our alliance become more than a simple trade agreement."

"All the better," Doran smiled, "should you provide me with that same evidence, I would be inclined to offer you my alliance regardless of the North's decision; though I would certainly prefer that it be our three lands together."

Harry sighed, "It all comes down to providing evidence of the White Walkers in the end."

"You cannot blame us or the Starks, Harry." Oberyn reasoned, "Promising our soldiers for a fight against a myth that shouldn't exist would be unwise. I know you and I believe you, but to an outsider it would appear you are merely using fear to manipulate the Great Houses into your favor."

They were all silent for a long moment as that statement hung in the air, "Have you had any contact with the other Great Houses?" Doran questioned.

"No," Harry informed him freely though offered no other explanation.

"You are aware of my opinions on the Lannister, and I care just as little for Robert," Doran told him icily, "I know of Ned's friendship with the King but I believe he will do what is right for his people while Robert will care little for any warning you give." He looked Harry in the eye, "Agree to any sort of alliance with the Westerlands or the King and you will find yourself absent Dornish aid."

"From what I hear, Robert would rather fight me than help me." He returned the Doran's cold gaze, "As for Tywin, I know and understand your reasons for hating him and you can rest assured that I will not be offering an alliance."

"Glad to know we understand each other," For the first time in nearly a month, Doran stood free of pain and offered his hand, "Bring me evidence of the White Walkers and you will have Dorne's support. Bring me an alliance with the North and you will have my personal gratitude."

Harry stood and shook Doran's hand firmly, "You shall have the former at least." He nodded stiffly to Oberyn and then turned to leave the room.

Doran turned to his brother, "He has changed things drastically. We might have justice for Elia sooner than we ever thought possible."

"And what of the Targaryens?" Oberyn asked.

"I believe they shall still have a part to play." Doran spoke softly, "Just not the one we originally planned."

Below, Harry came up behind his wife and leaned in to whisper in her ear, "My upcoming hunt just became all the more important."

She turned to him and smiled sadly, "Well, I think you ought to make the most of the time you have until then." He couldn't agree more. He quickly divested himself of his shirt and trousers and joined his children in the water where he played with them for hours.

They met in the Skirling Pass. Benjen brought with him three senior rangers, Jarmen Buckwell, Jaremy Rykker and Thoren Smallwood and six other rangers: Mallador Locke, Blane, Wynton Stout, Ulmer, Stonesnake, and Black Bernarr. Harry had provided them all with dragonsteel weapons, all of whom took swords save Ulmer, who requested multiple quivers of arrows. He also gave them emergency portkeys. His goal was to ensure everyone made it out of this venture alive, with a White Walker in tow, even if he knew that was likely a difficult task.

Harry and Mance brought ten others with them: one warg Briar, with her shadow cat, along with Jarl, Wulf, Evard, Gorne, Holly, Rowan, Lefrik, Ygritte who'd threatened Mance before she was allowed to go, and most surprisingly Sigorn, the Magnar's son. He'd spoken at length with Mance, being the main spokesmen between the Thenns and the Norfolk, and deduced something of their plans. When Mance finally decided it best to simply explain the exact nature of their venture, Sigorn all but demanded he be involved.

Harry used Tyll to scout beyond the Frostfangs and created a portkey to transport the group of twenty-two fighters to the southern edge of the Land of Always Winter. It was a barren placed devoid of both life and light. The snowfall was constant, the cold bit down through fur and fabric and seemed to seep into the very bone, and all the while visibility was incredibly low. Harry did what he could to keep it at bay, reapplying warming charms every thirty minutes to the entirety of their company but there was something… sinister about the weather that seemed to be countering his best efforts.

Still everyone in their company had long survived the colds beyond the Wall, and Harry's spells made it bearable if slightly uncomfortable. They would search in three directions: west, north, and northwest. Harry would use Tyll to search one way, Briar her shadowcat to search the other, and the company the last. Travel for the group was difficult, wading through immense snowdrifts and skating their way across slick ice, all while battling the immense winds.

The first night, the black brothers attempted to sleep in their own tents while the Norfolk slept in a hastily built ice construct layered with a warming ward that did all it could against the cold, though they were forced to build extra fires within to find any true warmth. They shared rations with the black brothers, otherwise they likely would have starved.

On a whim, Harry attempted to apparate back to First Forge but found it impossible, like running into the Wall. Val wasn't happy when I told her via the mirrors to say the least. In all honesty, Harry was reluctant to leave the party for anything lest they be attacked in his absence. She understood that much at least. With this knowledge in mind, he altered the nature of the emergency portkeys; they would now deposit each man three miles from where they first entered the Land of Always Winter. Any further and they would be bounced off the obstacle and left severely injured.

After that first night, the black brothers had been buried in a ten foot snow drift and were dug out by Harry. When they saw the Norfolk better rested and warmed, they decided from that point on that it would be best to accept Harry's shelter at night.

Now, three weeks into the venture the morale of the group was less than favorable as the ever present cold seeped deeper into the bone. Harry was sitting in one of his temporary shelters by a fire with Mance, Benjen and Sigorn. The senior rangers were nearby with a fire of their own. Ulmer and Ygritte were discussing archery on the other side of the makeshift room. Holly and Rowan were needlessly sharpening their spears to pass the time. Jarl and Stonesnake discussed how best to climb, Jarl having gone over the Wall in the past and Stonesnake being the Watch's most talented mountain climber. The rest of the company had already taken to their furs for the night.

Harry was pulled from his observation by Benjen's voice, "It is beginning to appear as though this journey was pointless."

"No," Harry snapped at him quietly, "there is still time, and hundreds of miles left to search." He stared into the fire, licks of flames reflecting in his eyes. "We must succeed in this."

"But, why?" Benjen asked tiredly, "Should we not rejoice at the absence of the Others? Perhaps there truly is no threat."

Mance snorted derisively, "Come now Benjen, you don't believe that."

"No, you're right. I don't believe the Others are truly gone." Benjen admitted before looking to his former black brother, "But there is no evidence save your testimony and Harry's greenseer. I'm afraid that won't be enough to convince anyone of your claim."

Sigorn turned to Harry and spoke in the Old Tongue, "We are running low on food, Harry. We can only search so much longer before we are forced to return."

Harry nodded, "Especially since it would be unwise for me to depart while the rest of you remain here."

"And my men are far more restless then yours," Benjen spoke grimly, "And Mormont will expect our return sooner rather than later"

"I understand the desperate nature of the situation, thank you." Harry said heatedly, "I hoped we would come upon something by now but this land is vast and everything about it seems designed to push us back."

"That, more than anything, is evidence there is something here." Mance spoke quietly.

Harry nodded his head, "If necessary, I shall continue this alone. Perhaps, because of our number, they have no wish to approach even if I find it unlikely."

"Or," Sigorn started now in the common tongue, "they are biding their time until we have ventured far enough in that flight isn't an option and we are so worn from our travels that we will put up little fight." It was a grim outlook but altogether possible.

Harry sat in quiet contemplation, the others around him waiting expectantly. He spoke suddenly breaking the silence, "Three more days, we search for three more days and then we head back. Whether we shall be empty handed or not will remain to be seen." And then I suppose I will have to come back alone if nothing else. A lone target might bring them out more quickly.

Their little congregation broke up at that point and as Harry lay in his furs with Tyll sleeping peacefully on a pedestal nearby, he pulled out his mirror and called Val. She answered immediately and despite her best attempts couldn't hide her mild relief when each of his calls came, "So, the hunt continues?" She asked him as usual.

"Yes, but for only three days more." Harry told, expecting to see her smile.

"No, I know you better than that," Val narrowed her eyes, "Your hunting party might be done in three days but you will continue the efforts alone."

Harry chuckled weakly, "I'm afraid you've seen right through me, but I shouldn't have expected any less." She scowled at his cheek, so he decided to change the subject, "How are the twins?"

"Missing their father more and more each day," She could see the regret in his eyes regret but she didn't care. She was hormonal and upset that he'd been forced to stay away for so long, "They wish to hear their father's stories before he tucks them in at night, and while they enjoy mine well enough they aren't quite the same as yours."

"If I could come home right this moment I would, but this is important." He implored her.

After a short hesitation her face softened ever so slightly and she smiled slightly at him, "Get some rest, Harry, you will need it for the day. Be safe, I love you. " He smiled and replied in kind before shutting off the connection and burrowing more into his furs to ward off the cold.

He was woken from his sleep early the following morning by… was that knocking. He immediately became alert, grabbed for his sword and made his way toward the offending noise. He realized quite quickly that the offending noise was a steady rhythmic knocking, not the battering staccato of an assault. With a wave of his wand he formed a hole in the wall surface only to come face to face with someone he certainly didn't expect.

Three Chilrdren of the Forest stood outside his shelter, looking up at him expectantly, "Leaf? What are you doing here?"

"Lord Bloodraven caught a glimpse of your path," Leaf told him as she pushed past him and out of the cold, her fellows following behind him, "he saw many branches both favorable and terrible. We came to help ensure your success."

"Well I am… surprised to say the least," Harry said with slightly widened eyes, "but your help shall surely be welcome."

"I would not expect direct aid of this nature in future, traveler," Leaf warned slightly, "but this one thing seemed far too important to leave to chance."

Harry nodded slightly, pleased for their aid but disappointed it would likely be limited, "And your names?" He asked of the other two Children. They introduced themselves as Ash and Snowylocks before falling silent again. Realizing he would get little more from them he turned to Leaf, "We have had no success in finding a White Walker as of yet."

"I doubt that will remain the case for much longer," Leaf told him sagely. Over the course of the next half hour the other occupants of the shelter awoke and were stunned by their new guests. None there had ever actually seen one of the Children before as they'd fallen into legend.

Ser Jaremy approached him as they were breaking their camp, "You haven't been able to bring myths back from the dead but I must say I never thought to see one of the Children of the Forest, much less three." Harry just nodded slightly as he allowed Leaf to climb up onto his back so she could more easily travel.

She whispered to him as they walked, "What plan have you devised to capture an Other?"

"I have dragonsteel shackles for both feet and hands," Harry told her quietly.

"Suitable," She said as much to herself as him, "I have told you that your magic makes me feel stronger when in your presence," He made to speak but she silenced him with a look, "you will find something similar with the Others, your magic is unlikely to affect them directly."

Suddenly, Harry was all the more thankful for her assistance as he hadn't considered that fact, "Noted."

They traveled for another hour when suddenly Briar gasped as she came back to herself, "I… there is a large group of wights less than a mile east of here… they appear to be led by one of the Others."

Harry nodded and allowed Leaf to climb down from his shoulders. He pulled his wand from its holster and with some effort pushed huge amounts of snow away and up to form a canyon of sorts, fifty yards in length. He waved his wand in an intricate pattern and the snow seemed to melt as it crossed a barrier covering his new battlefield. He formed pits on each side and behind filled with spikes and set alight to force them in from the east. Mass transfiguration and conjuration of that nature all at once, left him a little bit dazed but he would keep himself going. Mance looked to him curiously, "Is there a reason you couldn't have done this before?"

"I just moved literally tons of snow, to do that on a regular basis would have left me exhausted." Harry explained.

"Which would have been bad if we encountered the enemy," reasoned Mance even as he drew his sword from its sheath. Harry, Leaf, Ash, Snowlocks, Ulmer and Ygritte stood behind as the others formed a line of shields and blades in front of them. Harry provided a barrel of oil, in which each weapon and arrow was dipped ready to be set alight at a moment's notice. With a wave of his wand, the battlefield changed forming choke points where the undead would be forced to come through and a line of oil to be set alight when they arrived.

They waited silently, as the wind and snow raged outside Harry's shielding until finally a wight crested the hill. Even in the distance its blue eyes glowed brightly in the eerie darkness. One quickly became ten and ten became what seemed like a hundred within seconds. They started pouring down into the magic-made canyon, slipping almost effortlessly along the slick, snowy slope. Some of the walking corpses showed no outward signs of damage while others had rotted down all the way to the skeleton.

They were fast, far faster than inferi had ever been and they quickly closed the distance between themselves and Harry's choke points. As the first of them stepped into the trap, Harry nodded to Ulmer and Ygritte, they set their arrows alight and fired them toward the throng of wights setting them and the oil there alight. Some crested the hill toward his right and left but none were foolish enough to take the sheer drop into a spiked and fiery pit. The group of crows and Norfolk waited alert as the wights battered themselves relentlessly against Harry's hastily made defenses.

The corpses of the undead piled up along the choke points until they were high enough for the remaining wights to climb up over the tops of Harry's make shift walls. They ran at speed toward the fighters but were met with fiery blades that set them alight and wrested their heads from their shoulders. As more began to make it through Harry's defenses, the Children became involved in the fight for the first time. He was surprised to watch as they threw, what appeared to be, fire bombs at the oncoming hoard leaving them scattered in pieces around the battle field.

For fifteen minutes this went on without a sign of the White Walker behind the attack. There were a hundred or more dead wights scattered around the small battlefield. Harry did little in way of helping his fellows, instead taking the time to recuperate from his earlier expenditure while sustaining the spell blocking the wind and snow. There had been two injuries, but nothing worse as of yet, and both the slash to Holly's shoulder and the stab in Jarmen's thigh were simple for Harry to heal.

Everyone knew the second the Other arrived because the cold overwhelmed Harry's warming charms in an instant and the oil fires wavered before flickering out. There was a moment of calm as all attacks ceased and at the crest of the slope stood three figures mounted atop giant ice spider. Their skin was a pale bluish white, their skin smooth as the ice they'd long lived in, and their eyes far brighter than those of their wights. They waited, peering down at their unwelcome guests with a still sizeable number of wights in their midst. Harry's group was outnumbered, certainly, but the Others clearly didn't expect they would need to become directly involved in this conflict so had given up a good number of their available grunts.

"By the Seven," Ser Mallidor whispered terrified, "They're real, they're really fucking there." As though his words had broken the standstill, the three White Walkers opened their mouths in a scream that sounded like breaking ice, and sent terror up the spines of all those who heard it. For Harry, it was a tangible presence pushing at his long-untested mental barriers.

Then they charged, Ygritte and Ulmer switched from steel arrows to dragonsteel and as the Others drew closer. One of Ygritte's shafts drove straight through the leftmost White Walkers leg. It screamed out in pain, and looked down in obvious surprise at the offending shaft. Then it conjured a reflective shield of ice, as did its two companions. As they approached they blocked the incoming projectiles, so the two archers once more loosed flaming arrows but the fire died before it reached any of the wights and while it staggered them for a moment, they rose again without any trouble.

In their terror Blane, Ser Mallidor, and Black Bernarr grasped their emergency portkeys and abandoned their companions to what they believed was certain death. And it would have been were it not for the Children and Harry, the Children littered the battlefield with their bombs, and while they had little effect on the progress of the cold monsters coming for the living they destroyed a third of the wights in their track.

Meanwhile, Harry moved to the front of the group and attempted to unleash a stream of fire but found it was drowned by the cold around them. Not to be deterred, he turned to cursed fire. The Fiendfyre leapt from his wand in a torrent and incinerated a dozen of the oncoming wights before Harry suddenly felt a will pressing against his own, it warred with his fire, its perfect opposite. The Fiendfyre lasted another ten seconds before it too died out against the cursed cold brought by the Others.

Harry roared in anger and started unleashing a stream of deadly curses, most common among them was the exploding hex. Bombarda rained across the battlefield and between the bombs of the Children and Harry's own offensive magic there were only some three dozen wights left and one of the spiders had been killed when the Others finally reached the living.

One of the ice spiders crashed into the line of warriors and scattering them. It devoured Evard, his screams of terrors ringing out above the sharp whistle of the wind and crushed Wynton Stout with its giant abdomen. The spiderless White Walkers took a direct path toward the Children as they fled, their attack seemingly doing nothing to the creature. Ser Jaremy and Thoren Smallwood stopped the pursuit as they fought together against the Other allowing the Children a reprieve.

Harry weaved his wand slowly as the battle raged around him. A great spike drove up from the ground and skewered the remaining spiders, a black ichor oozed from their wounds as they twitched and their legs tightened toward their bodies. He was too slow as Ulmer and Lefrik were overwhelmed by some of the remaining wights only to rise again immediately. Harry fired off an overpowered blasting hex, causing both the wights and his former comrades to go up in an explosion of bone.

Sigorn and Mance were fighting against one of the White Walkers as Ygritte attempted to wound it from afar. Thoren laid dead, his head separated from his shoulders, whether from one of the Other's or his own friends Harry didn't know, as now Jaremy, Jarl and Gorne fought off the tall monster. The last of the creatures was bearing down upon Harry. He unleashed a stream of spells, which battered into the creatures shield with no effect. Harry had to bring up his sword to block a slash of the creatures icy blade that was aimed directly for his throat.

Harry dipped underneath another strike and slashed at the monster's armored leg. The blow hit home and dug into its frozen skin, drawing an angry growl from the White Walker. Harry deflected a blow, and immediately regretted the action as it shook him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. So they have inhuman strength, that is certainly something worth knowing. He jumped back to avoid the following strike. He swished and flicked his wand levitating a large amount of the debris around them. He gave up ground form the Other and flung shards of ice and rock at the creature, the force of which knocked it off balance. Harry was so focused he didn't notice the wight that crept up behind only to be devoured by Briar's shadowcat.

Harry weaved his wand and the ice around the Other's feet shot up encasing them, trying to hold it in place. It lasted only a moment before the constraints shattered around the creature. It slashed at Harry cutting a deep gash into his left forearm, directly through his basilisk armor and pulling a stream of profanities and blood from his body. Harry conjured a group of small wolves from the rock beneath the snow hoping that the Other wouldn't so easily be able to shatter them as he had the ice bonds. They attacked at the creature's legs and arms. It struck at them, and its icy blade shattered them like glass but they were too many for it to simply fight them off. It found itself driven to its back as Harry pulled the shackles from his jacket and approached his enemy as it lashed out against its small attackers.

Harry cast an excessively overpowered banishing hex at the White Walker's weapon that managed to disarm it. He waved his wand and the wolf's lunged at the Other's arms and legs leaving them open to Harry. He lunged quickly for its left arm and bound it with the dragonsteel shackles and with a flick of his wrist the other end bound itself to its right arm. He did the same to its legs and looked down at his new captive with a sense of triump in his breast before he brought his wand to his neck.

He yelled a single word, "RETREAT!" Looking around the battlefield, there was only one other White Walker remaining, both Ash and Gorne dead at its feet. There were less than a dozen wights remaining. Jaremy and Jarl grabbed the two remaining children and the fallen Ash and Gorne then quickly portkeyed out. Harry did the same with the Other and one by one the surviving fighters disappeared from the desolate, blood-stained, and body strewn battlefield.

They waited five minutes at the portkey point for any other survivors. Harry felt a clench in his heart as he realized that of the twenty-two who'd remained when the Others arrived only half survived, and the rest were all in various states of injury. Benjen was bleeding profusely from his head, Mance had a gushing wound in his shoulder, Ygritte's arm appeared to be dislocated and she was limping slightly. They'd succeeded but it wouldn't have been possible if not for the Children.

"We need to move," Harry told everyone as he did what he could for their injuries. He found those that had been created by the Other's strange weapons wouldn't heal through magic, "One of the Other's survived that fight and I would rather we not be around should it follow us." This caused them all to shiver, though not because of the cold. They'd all come closer to death in that short battle than they had in their entire lives. They started walking, the White Walker struggling behind them as Harry levitated it, and despite the fact that he felt more exhausted both magically and physically than he'd been in a long time, he couldn't help but be glad at that their success.

AN:About the Others, I have intentionally given them more control over the weather. And in order to be killed by dragonglass, dragonsteel, or Valyrian steel they must be struck in a vital location.

Someone brought up that this would be better suited as an ASOIAF crossover and I agree. There will be more characters from the books mentioned over time but most descriptions will hold true to the show. Ages and dates, for those who haven't noticed, have been taken from the books because they are more consistent on the whole.

Thank you for reading. Until next time.

15. Chapter 15

AN: So here's the next chapter. To those who reviewed on the last chapter, whether you particularly liked it or not, thank you. As for the guest reviews...

coldblue: 1) The war of the five kings is unlikely to happen as it did canonically 2&3)Wait and see 4)Leaning toward him crafting them 5)Yes

Guest: I actually mentioned Mance's helmet in the chapter he first appeared. The Norfolk do not wear winged helmets, no.

Guest: Harry will meet plenty of other families, some of them 'candidate' bloodlines. You'll find out what Viserys thinks in this chapter.

Guest: I am not opposed to explaining Harry's connection to magic in his new world but I have been trying to show it over the course of the narrative instead of having a long conversation about it.

moniker: No, Harry is not the Prince that was Promised or Azor Ahai.

reader: You'll have to wait and see what their reaction will be. Harry will study the White Walker alone, at least for a time. They have upwards of 80,000 people now, very few of them are elderly because of the harsh nature of where they once lived. Their able fighting force is something like somewhere around 40,000-50,000. Normally that fighting force could not be sustained by rest of the population but Harry's knowledge of herbology which has increased production significantly allows not to mention the huge abundance of fish in their area of the sea. The people who fight for Harry would have a better average as they have been training together for years and while they help in the fields, their main focus is of a martial nature. No, Tyrion's bodyguards were not present at that time.

NOTE: For those who leave guest reviews, please put your name as something besides 'Guest'. I try and answer anytime someone has a question but with forty plus reviews with the author as 'Guest' it is tempting to simply ignore them and address those who left an actual name.

If I failed to respond to your review, I apologize. I really don't mean to but I can lose track of the ones that I have actually responded to.

I realized that I forgot to put this in recently but thanks to my beta, Tellimicus Sundance.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Game of Thrones and no profit is being made from this story.

Lord Father,

I arrived in First Forge, unscathed and undetected by anyone of note in my travels, where I was greeted at the gates by Harry Potter. He kindly granted me his hospitality but pressing business cut our initial meeting short. After three days spent in the extensive library contained within their fortress at what was once Hardhome, now Newport, he retrieved me and invited me to dine with him and his wife so we could discuss your proposal. I can state unequivocally that the rumors of his abilities are more than mere rumors. Upon gripping his arm, I found myself violently transported from the library directly into his home, all the way across the bay, in the blink of an eye.

But I have news that I know you are far more interested in than my well-being. I'm sure you shall be unhappy to hear your proposal was summarily rejected. Most importantly in Harry's mind, his children will not be fostered anywhere as they could prove a danger to both themselves and others given their inherited abilities. When I countered by offering that a daughter of House Lannister be fostered beyond the Wall, he spoke quite fervently against the idea of betrothing either of his children to people they'd never even met. While the Free Folk do not concern themselves with such things, it is also worth noting that he realized that you were offering to have his son marry into one of the lesser branches of the family.

As to the land and title offered, he showed no interest. He realized that anyone appointed to take those lands would need to renovate the castle there. And while he is certainly capable, it would be a task far removed from the important matters that demand his attention beyond the Wall. Not to mention, he knows there is no one among his people who would willingly swear fealty to you and restrict themselves to the lands they were granted.

Harry is open to discussing trade in Lannisport but it certainly wouldn't be of any great importance for the Norfolk. In speaking with some of the children educated in the library during the day, I am aware that the Norfolk have traded in Braavos, Pentos, White Harbor, and most surprisingly, Dragonstone. Given the distance between First Forge and Lannisport, by sea at least, Harry is unlikely to be perturbed by lack of a trading arrangement with our family.

He realizes this was not the response you had hoped for and has an offer he hopes will alleviate any animosity his refusal might cause. He has heard of your desire for a Valyrian steel blade to replace the lost Brightroar. He would craft for you, or more accurately the family, a new sword. I understand that this may seem a hollow counteroffer and even an insult but I assure you it is an offer given in good spirit. He, through a great deal of trial and error and the aid of his magic, has devised a new metal, which is called dragonsteel. I have seen a blade made of this material, and I can say that it is far lighter and sharper than a blade made from common steel. It is also purported to be more durable. Should you agree to his offer, he would gladly provide you with such a weapon.

I await your reply,

Tyrion Lannister

Tywin read through the letter a second time, his face betraying nothing of his reaction to its contents. In truth, while he was far from pleased by the response, he had been prepared for a rejection. He was well aware of the Free Folk's lack of respect for southern traditions. He had hoped that their newest leader, supposedly an outsider turned wildling, would be amenable to reasonable proposals... even if they had been more favorable for the Lannisters. But it would seem that I was mistaken; though even I must concede that at the very least his concerns regarding his children's magic is reasonable.

He tapped his fingers on the carved armrest of his seat as he considered the specifics. At the least, he had expected acceptance of his offer to lands in the West. And something tells me he cares little about the necessary renovations, if what they say is true he could make it habitable again in just a few short weeks. Tyrion's comment about unwillingness to swear fealty, and more importantly remain in the lands granted did more to assuage his anger on that matter than anything else. It would not do to have my lords squabbling against a group of wildlings because I granted them lands, only to have the attack others from within. Tywin had not considered such things, instead dealing with this new entity as he would any of the other noble families in the Seven Kingdoms. A mistake I shall endeavor to avoid in the future.

The locations in which the Norfolk had traded told Tywin a great deal. It was well known that the Norfolk were involved with the Braavosi but other than that they were supposedly an unattached entity. His entire reasoning behind sending Tyrion had been to gain their alliance before the other Great Houses. Unfortunately, he was now realizing he'd come late to the festivities. He'd received a second letter from his daughter regarding Stannis' involvement with them, not to mention the Dornish presence, but now to hear that the North had developed some sort of relationship irritated him immensely.

And while the Norfolk trade with the Northerners and speak with the Dornish, I am offered a hollow consolation compared to a betrothal. It was well known that Tywin had long coveted a new Valyrian blade to replace the one lost centuries earlier. But while this dragonsteel was intriguing, Tyrion's letter implied that he'd been making such weapons en masse. And part of the prestige that comes from a Valyrian steel blade is in its rarity. If every wildling warrior has one it loses a great deal of its value.

Still, this new metal could very well explain his focus on obtaining obsidian from Stannis. Tywin could see how that could be worked to his advantage but the substance was simply too abundant on Dragonstone for him to realistically acquire it all and force the Norfolk into a situation where they needed his good will.

Tywin found himself in an unusual situation; there was nothing he could offer to Harry Potter, or the Norfolk in general, that would entice him in anyway. He seemed to respect Tywin's reputation, if the counter offer was any indication, but he clearly wasn't overly concerned over the possible reaction to his refusal of terms. And why should he? There is the Wall, and hundreds of leagues between him and me, there is very little danger of any real retaliation for the slight.

There were only two reasonable options available to him. Tywin could simply accept the offered sword. While seemingly innocuous, it would show some small weakness; something that Tywin was averse to doing. Though it doesn't actually cost me anything, and perhaps by conceding to his terms it will benefit me in the future. Of course, he could just refuse and have nothing gained from this endeavor but animosity between himself and a growing, well-armed nation, currently building relationships with at least two other kingdoms. And there is no advantage to that.

Tywin grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment from the table and composed a letter to his son. For now, I shall agree to his offer. But already, Tywin was considering how he might turn these situations to his advantage.

A tall woman with hair the color of burnished copper framing a heart shaped face and pale unblemished skin, stared through red eyes unblinkingly into a fire burning atop a pedestal in the center of the room. She wore a long gown the same color as her eyes; it clung tightly to the curves of her slim waist and round bust. She appeared to the eye a beautiful young woman, but in truth she had lived many years and practiced her magics for much longer than her appearance would indicate.

Melisandre was one of the red priests of R'hllor, the Lord of Light, as well as being a shadowbinder from Asshai. She could see things in the flames, images of what was to come and what was already happening. They were sent by her god as a warning or to guide her path, but they were often vague leaving her to guess at the meanings.

She stood unmoving for many minutes until finally her gaze broke from the licking flame. She was in a nondescript room, with only a simple bed along one wall and a tub for bathing along the other. There was a shelf lined with various concoctions designed for various purposes. Some were benign in nature while others could strip flesh from bone far more simply than a flaying knife. Light filtered in from a hole directly above the fire; it allowed the smoke out of the building. She was currently in the Free City of Volantis in the temple of R'hllor.

She glided across the room and perched herself at the edge of her bed. She'd prayed for guidance, for knowledge of what was coming and what she ought to do next. In her own opinion, she had remained in Volantis for too long. As answer to her prayers she'd seen the Wall in the north of Westeros, and then snow and ice, whipping around a city surrounded by white walls seemingly made of a single piece of stone. And then something that drove a small sliver of fear into her heart; ice blue eyes stared at her in the darkness.

Those eyes, she knew them for what they were… the cold children of the Enemy, the servants of death and darkness. The coming of a second Long Night and the cold ones had long been feared by those who worshipped the Red God, and as far as Melisandre could surmise it seemed to be upon them. The current summer had lasted for going on seven years and was the longest in living memory. Whether months, or years in the future, the days would shorten and darkness would fall on the world forever, the Night that never ends; unless, brave men with fire in their hearts stood against what was to come.

The Wall was well-known but more importantly, it was the world's only true defense against the coming danger. From what little she knew of the Night's Watch, it was no longer the respected order of thousands it once was; instead, its ranks had thinned to a thousand or less and were filled mostly with thieves, murderers, and rapists who preferred a life in the cold north over death. What few good men were among them would find it near impossible to hold the Wall against an army of the dead alone.

But, there was another thing to consider in the Far North now. Where before there had been warring wildlings, fighting amongst themselves for whatever meager scraps could be garnered from such land, there was now a thriving people, the Norfolk. Like everyone else in the city she'd heard of the Free Folk's rapid change into something new, all at the influence of one Harry Potter. Such an unremarkable name for someone supposedly capable of so much.

The slaves in the streets tended to think quite highly of the Free Folk in general. When you're a slave though, any chance at freedom seems like a wonderful thing. She could still remember her own fear when her name had still been Melony, and she been sold to the temple as lot seven. While the slaves spoke fondly of the idea of freedom, it was the merchants who provided her with meaningful information. From what she'd heard from walking on the Long Bridge, he could conjure things from nothing with his magic, cast spells that caused immense pain, and create fires that never died.

Melisandre was a capable magical practitioner, doing things with shadows and glamours that would amaze and terrify the common man but she could not comprehend the magics wielded by this northern leader. I imagine the sorcerers of Valyria were capable of such things, but more was known of the arcane then and it was stronger when dragons were still in the world.

They had built their city among snow and ice and prospered despite everything. Melisandre tapped one finger idly against the red gem affixed to her throat by a golden choker. It was their city that I was shown. But if the Others were returning from the cold places of the world then sometime soon Azor Ahai would be reborn amidst salt and smoke, the red comet would streak through the sky and dragons would be woken from stone. And yet nothing of the sort has happened as of yet. I shall pray for to the Red God and hopefully he shall show me what I need to know. But for now, it seems my path leads to beyond the Wall.

She stood then and made her way over to her shelves of potions and quickly began packing them away into a small case. That case was put into a trunk which contained her clothing and a pouch of golden dragons. She lifted the trunk with surprising ease and exited the room, leaving the fire burning behind her. Turning left down the corridor, she made her way toward the main chamber of the temple. Fires lined the walls of the temple and at the center of the main room raised up on a dais was a great fire. Various priests milled about, a good number of them staring into the fires and speaking with the various followers who came seeking advice and direction.

As she walked through the room she felt eyes on her and turned to see the High Priest of R'hllor, Benerro, following her movement through the room. He made to intercept her quickly and came to walk beside her seconds later. Benerro was a bald older man, some sixty years of age. Slave tattoos lined nearly every inch of his face, forming a bright red mask that cracked slightly around his eyes. He was tall and thin with a lipless mouth and dark eyes that surveyed her curiously.

"Melisandre," He started, his voice high and strong despite his advancing age, "it would appear that you have decided to leave us." He spoke in High Valyrian.

The priestess glanced in the man's direction, "I have." She responded succinctly, her words carried just a hint of her apathy regarding the man's opinion.

He nodded slowly, "Would you be willing to divulge your plans?" While Benerro might be the High Priest, he was well aware that the woman before him was not to be trifled with. She'd been a priestess of their god longer than he'd been alive. He knew that he was unlikely to discourage her from whichever path she had decided upon but thought it best to at least have an idea of what she intended.

"I shall travel to Westeros." She replied after a moment's pause.

"Westeros?" He asked, surprised at the answer, "What do you hope to accomplish there. They worship the Seven, and the Old gods. They are without R'hllor's light." He scowled at this. He had sent Thoros of Myr to the Seven Kingdoms years ago, first to try and convert the fire-obsessed Mad King and afterward to bring the less-than-pious Robert Baratheon into the light of god, but Thoros had failed quite miserably on both accounts.

"I am aware, High Priest," Melisandre responded, clearly just as perturbed by that fact, "But I have had a vision in the fire and it is clear that I am meant to go west."

"To do what?" He stopped then as they reached the doors of the temple.

She smiled slightly, "I shall do as any good follower of R'hllor should, and ensure that the light of our lord shines brightly to all people." Her enigmatic response left much to be desired but before Benerro had a chance to question her further she turned walked down the steps of the temple and toward the port of the city. I shall need to hire a ship.

A twelve year old Daenerys Targaryen sat in a small room, alone, spinning the stem of an amethyst flower between her fingers. As promised that day more than four years ago, the flower had never wilted. She kept it hidden among what few personal belongings she owned, ever wary of what Viserys might say or do if he saw it. It would likely wake the dragon. He was always warning her against such things.

They were currently in Pentos in a small building in the slums of the city, a far cry from the house with the red door they'd once lived in when in Braavos. They'd gone from Braavos to Lorath, just as she'd told Harry, and they'd been greeted happily by the Magistrates there. But they found their welcome short-lived once the Magistrates realized that Viserys represented very little in way of tangible worth and their hospitality quickly dried up. The same proved true when they visited the Archon of Tyrosh and most recently, the former Prince of Pentos.

Three weeks prior, they arrived back in Pentos after visiting Qohor, failing yet again to garner any support from the leaders of the city. Upon their arrival back in Pentos, Viserys had asked for an audience with the newest Prince and the Magistrates but had been rebuffed. They called her brother the Beggar King now. She had heard the title thrown about in the markets in nearly every city they'd visited with ever more frequency as fewer people of note granted them shelter.

So now Viserys intended for them to flee from city to city in fear of the supposed assassins sent by the Usurper with what small amount of coin remained to them. Daenerys was less than pleased with the development, she just wanted to go back to their old home in Braavos, but Viserys was ever compelled by the thought of a crown and throne across the Narrow Sea. As their remaining coin grew ever smaller, her brother's mood deteriorated along with it and she found the dragon waking more often.

Voices on the other side of the door drew her from her thoughts. Viserys was currently discussing the sale of the very last of their treasures… their mother's crown. A ruby encrusted band of solid gold that Viserys had steadfastly avoided parting with over the years but they needed the money if they hoped to survive, and even if they found themselves on the short end of whatever bargain was struck they would receive enough money to survive for at least the next year.

"It is a fine piece," The Lyseni merchant Viserys had been in talks with commented with his heavy accent, "but there would be very little market for it." The man paused and Daenerys had no doubt that, knowing of their desperation, he would offer the lowest possible price reasonable and expect it to be taken.

"But there would be a market for it," Viserys insisted impatiently, "And should you still own it when I come into my throne, I will pay three times its value for its return."

"A considerable sum I assure you," He replied, clearly unconvinced that such a thing would ever happen, "but I must consider my own profits in the moment." There was a long pause before the man spoke again, "200 dragons is the best offer I can make." It was likely worth at least three times that sum but they needed the money. That sort of coin would buy them passage twenty times over and meals for months to come.

She had no doubt there was a scowl marring her brother's already gaunt face but he accepted the man's offer without further argument. She heard the thump of metal coins on wood, they were counted out quickly before the door opened and closed without another word shared between the two men. Daenerys walked slowly over to the door and made her way out into the small area where they took their meals. Viserys stared forlornly at the bag of coins that had bought the last heirloom that remained of their family… their mother.

His face hardened and his lilac eyes turned to look at her, "Well sister, it seems we shall be able to eat for some time still."

Daenerys nodded slowly, not sure what to say. She hesitated a moment longer before asking the only question on her mind, "Where shall we go next?" She had been to Volantis, Myr, Tyrosh, Norvos, Lorath, Lys, Qohor, Braavos, and Pentos. There were no Free Cities left to which they could flee that they hadn't already been, but Viserys was reluctant to travel further east to places like Slaver's Bay or even Qarth. He believed that doing so would be admitting defeat… that he would never return to the Seven Kingdoms.

Viserys leaned back in his chair, his lips a thin line as he considered her question, "It has been years since last we visited Braavos. I think we shall return there."

Daenerys resisted the urge to smile at the news for fear it might somehow incite her brother's ire but inside, she was almost bouncing with joy. Of all of the cities they'd ever lived, Braavos remained her favorite. Perhaps I might even see Harry again.

Over the years, she had learned exactly who the dark-haired man who comforted a distraught little girl really was; he was a powerful magician and the leader of the Norfolk. He and his people were the topic of discussion in every one of the Free Cities. Though people often focused on their unique alcoholic exports, there was more than enough talk of the man who had built a city in the ice and snow and turned savages into something entirely different.

Viserys surprised her then, "From there I thought we might finally go home." Their definitions of home were two entirely different things. The word always brought images of the safety of their first home in Braavos, when Ser Willem Darry still lived and protected them and their interests. To Viserys it meant Westeros and his birthright. For years she had been told how he would return home with an army at his back, and all their former loyal bannerman would rise up against the Usurper and the dragon banners would fly in the wind. Now, it appeared that he intended to forgo the army at his back.

"Why?" She asked loudly, more loudly than she intended.

His nostrils flared in mild irritation and she snapped her mouth shut. Fortunately, she hadn't irritated him enough to cause any other reaction. He stood grabbing the sack of coins from where it sat on the table, "I would think it obvious." He started coldly, "There is no one left in the Free Cities willing to shelter us, much less aid me in retaking the Iron Throne." His free hand clenched and unclenched unconsciously at his side as he continued, "If I cannot find allies in the Free Cities then I must look elsewhere."

"And where in the Seven Kingdoms do you intend to look for these allies?" Daenerys asked boldly. She knew it might very well wake the dragon, but she did not want to go to the Seven Kingdoms only to be handed over to the Usurper because whoever Viserys thought would help them, out of former loyalty to their father or brother, proved to be less than trustworthy.

His eyes narrowed and she half expected to feel the sting of a slap across her face for her impudence but it never came. Instead, he looked to her with a thin smile on his face, "I have no intention of going to anyone in the Seven Kingdoms, but we will go to Westeros." It took her only a short moment to gather his meaning.

Viserys had heard the merchants talk as well, but where she had focused on the news of Harry Potter and their astounding progress in such a short time, he had focused on something more specific; the number of armed warrior, men and women alike, who had supposedly learned to fight together instead of against each other. She had no doubt that in Viserys' mind the Free Folk, notorious for their animosity toward the people south of the Wall, could be easily convinced to fight for his cause in exchange for lands south of the Wall. With their ships they could bypass the Wall with ease and attack at the south with a rumored 80,000 warriors. With that sort of force fighting for his cause, he likely assumed that others would flock to his banner.

From what little interaction Daenerys had with Harry even four years ago, she sincerely doubted such a thing was likely but she was reluctant to tell her brother as much. Perhaps if we go to First Forge we might finally be free of the Usurper's hired knives. Truthfully, she was even more excited knowing that they would be heading to the Norfolk city after Braavos.

She smiled then and looked her brother in the eye, "I look forward to it, Viserys." She noticed his eyebrows rise in surprise at her comment before she turned to return to her own room. She grabbed the flower from where she'd hidden it under her pillow and began spinning it between her fingers once again, thinking on what it might be like to feel safe again.

Grand Maester Pycelle walked toward his quarters in the Red Keep with a rapidity that would surprise many who knew him for the weary old man who often bumbled about as he talked. It was an act, one meant to lull others into thinking him inconsequential and it worked without fail.

At the moment though, there were pressing matters that demanded his attention. He'd just been informed that he received yet another raven from Archmaester Norren and he wished to hear if some progress had finally been made by Maester Gareth with regards to his assignment beyond the Wall. Pycelle's patience had worn thin with the lack of progress.

He understood that things of this nature could take time. Maegor the Cruel survived years despite half the realm wanting him removed from the Throne, not to mention the Mad King. From all reports, in the case of Harry Potter, Gareth wasn't trying to assassinate a tyrant but a man who was respected and even loved by those who followed him. Not to mention there is the issue of his children and if Gareth is to be truly successful,l he must dispose of them as well.

But it had been more than four years since Maester Gareth had been dispatched to end the situation and in the meanwhile the Norfolk had only grown stronger and the children older. Pycelle reached his quarters and went to the scroll sitting atop his desk. He quickly broke the wax seal and scanned the document only to find the same disappointing, placating news that always seemed to come to him from Norren. 'Gareth is working diligently to get himself into a position where he can accomplish his mission. He finds that regardless of how hard he tries to prove his loyalty they refuse to fully accept him. Harry Potter proves an extremely cautious man particularly with regards to his family's well-being.' Every report he received seemed to say something similar. Only on exceedingly rare occasions did they present some new piece of information but even those rare nuggets tended to go nowhere

Pycelle found himself ambivalent about Gareth's ability to fulfill his task. In his mind, there was one of two things responsible for this fact. Either, Gareth truly lacked the ability to take care of the situation or he no longer desired to do so; after so many years, it seemed unlikely that former was true. By now he should have at least made an attempt and been punished if he failed. No, Pycelle was inclined to believe Gareth assimilated into the Norfolk way of life and had no intention of completing his task.

Throwing the parchment down on the table, Pycelle could no longer contain his frustration. His only advantage in this situation was that Robert, despite allowing a maester to be sent to the northern city, didn't really expect much to come of the endeavor. Still, Pycelle wanted this situation dealt with and now there were very few roads available to him.

They had learned, some time ago, that there was a second Norfolk city, called Newport. It wouldn't be unreasonable to send another maester beyond the Wall to serve as an advisor to this second city but he suspected that such a move would be seen for what it was, and this new maester would undoubtedly be rejected if Gareth had been turned to the Norfolk way of thinking.

He would need to take a different course of action but before he made any drastic decisions he would speak with the Spider, as much as he was reluctant to do so, and see if the eunuch might have more information that might benefit him.

With that in mind, Pycelle stood quickly and made his way out of the room, once in the corridor again he developed a slow, almost creaking walk, putting on the performance that he found necessary to thrive in the viper's nest that was the capital.

The old maester found the Master of Whispers in the gardens where the sun was shining brightly overhead. The perfumed eunuch's smell blended with the fragrant flowers all around them. As always he was wearing fine silks, this time a yellow brighter than the daffodils nearby.

He turned to look in Pycelle's direction and smiled indulgently, "Grand Maester, I was just enjoying a stroll through the garden." He gestured with his hand down the path, "Perhaps you would like to join me?"

Pycelle resisted the urge to grimace at the man's saccharine tone, "Of course, Lord Varys." He did not enjoy using the honorific when referring to the former mummer but he found himself in need of the Spider's help; so, he swallowed his pride and used it all the same.

They walked in silence for only a short time before Pycelle spoke up, he had no intention of being alone in Varys' company any longer than he absolutely needed to be, "I was curious," He wheezed an coughed briefly before continuing, "if any of your little birds have made their way into the city beyond the wall yet?"

If Varys was surprised by the blunt question he didn't show it. Instead, he shook his ever so slightly, "I am afraid not Grand Maester, my little birds do not particularly care for the cold." He leaned over to smell a vivid violet sticking out among the flowers, "Not to mention the new reputation of the Norfolk does not prevail over the rather savage reputation that the Free Folk have built up over the past hundreds and even thousands of years."

Pycelle was thoroughly irritated by this news. He had hoped that Varys might be able to give him some indication of what was happening with Gareth and whether or not he had actually been turned to the Norfolk way of thinking. Apparently I am to work on assumptions and educated guesses and nothing more. Varys turned back to Pycelle and broke him from his musings, "As far as I am to understand things, you are the only member of the council with a spy among them… I believe his name was Maester Gareth."

The old man had never told him the name of the maester sent to the northern city but was unsurprised that Varys knew it all the same. Pycelle huffed indignantly at the spymaster's insinuation, "Maesters are not spies, they are advisors."

Varys bowed his head, "Apologies, I meant no offense." But the look on his face spoke volumes of his belief in Pycelle's claim. Varys knew a spy when he saw one and there were few better than the maesters who sat in the halls of every noble lord in Westeros. There were some, of course, who simply did their assigned duties, but those loyal to Pycelle or the Archmaesters would willingly give out information when asked.

Pycelle left the spymaster without further conversation and made his way back toward the ravenry. When he arrived he set about writing a letter to Norren. He would no longer have any need to inform of Gareth's progress. Instead, Pycelle was going to pursue other avenues that would see their goals achieved. He had thought Gareth an excellent choice to fulfill the task, what with his large knowledge of various poisons and an often congenial temperament but clearly that had proven to be less than what was required. Now, he would find someone more finely tuned to the task, someone who trained for such things.

Varys walked down one of the many hidden corridors in the Red Keep, making his way toward the small council chambers. That week he received a piece of news that he had no doubt would interest King Robert greatly, as such the king was summoned to the day's meeting. The Lord of the Seven Kingdoms could often be enticed to actually join them in their important talks with the smallest hint of new information at what the Norfolk were doing. But what interested Varys far more was movement taking place across the Narrow Sea. His little birds in Pentos told him that Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen sold the last of their family treasures and made their way out of the city and toward Braavos.

His old friend, Illyrio Mopatis, considered taking them in and aiding the Beggar King in finding the army he lusted after but in the end had decided against it for the time being. The former sell-sword had no doubt that they would return to Pentos in due course and at such time he would offer them his hospitality, something he felt they would be all but desperate for by that time. Until then, they would ensure that their spies remained attentive to their movement s. And once they are with Illyrio, perhaps we shall think of a way of binding one of the Dothraki warlords to them and their cause.

One of his little birds in White Harbor told him of Tyrion Lannister's journey north, though he had every intention of keeping that to himself for the time being. I have no desire to draw Lord Tywin's ire, and no doubt it is at his bidding that Tyrion travels. Much of the other news he received was seemingly trivial expect the happenings in Dorne.

He arrived in the small council chambers, and was surprised to find the King already seated. Varys took his seat beside Lord Baelish and they waited in silence for Lord Arryn to arrive.

Shortly thereafter, Lord Arryn arrived, apologizing for his lateness. Robert waved him off, "Enough Jon, let us begin." Jon nodded and got to the matters at hand. Robert waited patiently, even if entirely bored, as the rest of the council talked about things of little interest to him, namely laws and coin. He did perk up ever so slightly when they briefly discussed the tourney in honor of Prince Joffrey's nameday that was set to take place soon.

After nearly two hours of almost quiet patience, Robert finally relented to his nature, "Seven Hells! We've done enough counting coppers." He took a large gulp from the goblet in front of him, "Someone tell me what important news demanded my presence here today." Jon frowned at Robert's behavior, still hoping at some point that the king might take more of an interest in actually ruling the country he won but conceded to his demand all the same.

Jon gestured toward the Master of Whispers, "Lord Varys has yet to inform any of us what news demanded your attention."

"Well, out with it damn it!" Robert bellowed loudly causing his Lannister squire, really his cupbearer, to flinch uncomfortably.

Varys smiled indulgently at the king, entirely unperturbed by the large man's outburst, "Of course, your Grace." He looked to the other faces now staring at him expectantly, "You will recall of course that a Dornishman was seen at the battle that took place at First Forge beyond the Wall." Robert leaned forward in his chair clearly interested, while a few of the other lords nodded their head in recognition, "Well, I can now confirm Norfolk presence in Dorne, Sunspear in fact."

"When?" Renly questioned.

"A month ago," Varys replied quickly, "but there is more to it than their simply being there." Robert gestured for him to continue, "Based on the descriptions from my little birds in Braavos, the man who visited Dorne was Harry Potter, which would make the pregnant woman with him, his wife as well as his two children."

"What can you tell us of what he actually did, while at Sunspear?" The ever pragmatic Stannis spoke up. He was entirely unconcerned with who Harry brought with him on his journey, just what was done.

"He stayed in the guest quarters of the Palace of the Sun, and appeared on good terms with Prince Oberyn." Varys told them unconcernedly, betraying none of his own thoughts on these developments.

After all, he was aware of the enmity between Doran and Robert, not to mention of the marriage pact signed between Ser Willem Darry and Prince Oberyn that promised Princess Arianne Martell, Doran's eldest child, to Prince Viserys in exchange for Dorne's support to his claim on the throne. The Norfolk and the Dornish together would make for a considerable force, and one that could easily support the claims of Viserys Targaryen; particularly with those who would raise their banners in his favor, still thinking of Robert as a usurper. But it is too early, and the realm would bleed if such a thing were to happen. Not for the first time Varys wished he had spies in the new northern cities. Because then I might have some idea of what they actually intend to do. Varys was not accustomed to being in the dark.

He broke himself from his own musings and continued on with his story, "Harry Potter visited Prince Doran at the Water Gardens, and there they, along with Prince Oberyn, had an extended conversation." He looked at the expectant face of the King and knew that he would disappoint him, "As to the nature of that conversation, I cannot say. And the guards at the door made it impossible for my little bird to draw any closer." He paused a moment, "I think it worth noting that Prince Doran left the meeting without aid and looking as though his affliction of gout no longer bothered him." While Lord Arryn seemed surprised by this news, Robert paid it no mind.

Instead, Robert looked to the Hand with an inscrutable look on his face, "What do you make of this Jon?"

He sat in silent contemplation for a long moment, clearly wanting to avoid making any rash assumptions. After a few minutes of mostly silence in the room, Jon spoke, "I think that from what we know of these Norfolk, it is most likely that they were discussing something trade related than anything else."

Stannis clearly agreed with these sentiments. And why shouldn't he? The Norfolk have put more coin in his pocket in the last three years than ever before and Potter saved his daughters life. He has no reason to distrust them. But Robert seemed unconvinced, "And if you're wrong? What if they are discussing things of an entirely different nature?"

"No one knows for sure, your Grace." Jon said softly, "What we do know is that these Norfolk have fought the other Free Folk to the point where they have essentially unified under a single banner. Outside of their own lands they have had no hostile intent, even ceasing raiding in the North according to Ned" he raised his hand when Robert made to protest, "the situation on the coast near Karhold notwithstanding. The one man who has any recollection of an encounter with them there does not remember any harm being done between them."

The king conceded that point so the Hand continued, "What they have done is build a trade relationship with the Braavosi. And if rumors from the sailors and merchants who have actually met them is true, they have a surplus in supplies; a surplus that cannot be distributed to one city alone."

Jon shrugged his shoulders, "I cannot say why they would agree to trade with the Dornish… perhaps they enjoy the wine." This caused a slight chuckle form those present, "but it seems to me that it was the Dornish who sought out the Norfolk not the other way around."

Littlefinger spoke up then, his sibilant voice soft, "You make a good point, my lord. But as you said, and according to the reports we have received from the Wall, they have only recently united almost the entirety of the Free Folk. Perhaps now that they have accomplished that particular goal they are looking for support for future endeavors."

He paused a moment then, "Lord Stark made a point of his letter of telling of their martial training and promise, that they constantly trained their forces. Why train if they have no more enemies to fight? Why not disband their armies and let them toil in the fields? "

Robert seemed to be swayed by Baelish's words but Stannis couldn't help but voice his disagreement, "They have been fighting their entire lives, and their fathers and mothers before them fought as well. It is the only way some of them know how to live. I doubt the recent changes brought to them by Harry Potter have altered their nature so much as to abandon the swords and spears." He turned to Baelish, "Do our knights not live and breathe the sword? Why should we condemn them for behaving the same?

Robert ran his hand through the dark, scraggly beard at on his chin, "All these explanations seem… convenient," he started gruffly, "I don't believe their motives are as innocent as Jon believes and I don't think they would maintain a force of some 50,000 if they didn't have a purpose for them."

Jon seemed slightly alarmed by this response. Varys knew he feared what Robert might do. The King has already driven the country into debt and wars cost money. It is the last thing Lord Arryn wants. "What do you intend to do then Robert? You cannot possibly intend any hostilities simply because they had negotiations with Doran Martell?"

"No," Robert almost snarled, "Despite my misgivings they haven't actually done anything to warrant a response. In time, I think they shall prove themselves the danger I believe them. I only wish that I could call the banners now and kill the snakes before they grow any stronger." He huffed and turned to Varys, "Find a way to get one of your little birds into that city."

Varys bowed his head, "I shall do my best your Grace, but they have proved reluctant."

Robert frowned and turned his attention to Pycelle, "And you Grand Maester, what of your plans? I have left you to your own devices assuming your maester would provide results sooner or later but it seems none are forthcoming."

The old man spluttered for a moment, not expecting the rebuke. Varys could respect the long and rather convincing performance the old man had put on over the years; he'd spent years as a mummer, and had no doubt that the wizened maester would fare well at the profession. Pycelle stuttered out a response, "I assure you, your Grace, that the maesters have discussed this matter in depth amongst ourselves and we hope to see results very soon." If our conversation just two days ago was any indication, his pans have been for naught and now he will pursue another course. But he doubted that killing Harry Potter by clandestine means would gain the result Robert desired. By all accounts his people love him, and his death would likely give them reason to do the thing that Robert suspects they've been plotting.

Robert didn't seem particularly pleased by this answer but he nodded and stood with a groan, leaving the small council behind him. Lord Arryn watched him go, a grim look on his lined face. He spoke softly to those still remaining, "Another ambiguous piece of news such as that and I don't know if we will be able to dissuade him any longer." Varys worried Jon might just be right.

Jon battered Robb's shield relentlessly until his brother yielded. They broke apart, Jon smiling victoriously while Robb rubbed at his arm. Their master-at-arms, Ser Rodrik Cassel, refused to let them fight with edged blades yet, but the blunted ones did enough to remind you of your mistakes.

They had fought together with edged blades once though, in First Forge when their father attended the discussions with the northern leader. The gregarious Tormund Giantsbane, a man who reminded Jon in no small part of Greatjon Umber, had seen them in the yard, put real steel in their hands straight away, and told them to show him what they could do.

It seemed odd to Robb and Jon but there were boys and girls years younger than them in that yard using edged blades. So they did as they were bid, and both enjoyed Tormund's japes and jokes as they fought one another and various other boys in the yard. Jon had beaten seven different boys and two girls when Jarl, a boy at least five years his elder, drove him into the cold dirt of the yard. He did it as a reminder that there is always someone bigger and better, someone who you need to work that much harder to beat.

Jon pulled his padded gear from off his shoulder and stored both them and his blade on the rack. He caught Theon's eye across the yard and nodded ever so slightly in recognition and saw the gesture returned. They would never manage more than cordiality between them but since their return from beyond the Wall, the Greyjoy heir and Jon tolerated each other with far better ease, and with far fewer barbs between them. Jon didn't know what had caused it but he found the cocky older boy had been humbled in some small part by his experiences at First Forge.

He thought of their journey almost every day now. For years, he had built up the image of the Night's Watch in his mind. They were said to be honorable men, serving the realm and protecting it from the terrors that waited on the other side. That image had been shattered within hours of arriving at Castle Black. One in ten of them was the sort of man Uncle Benjen is. But even more surprising was the city of wildlings.

Wildling, it was a word used by Old Nan to inspire fear in all of them as children. Every mother from the Wall to Moat Caillin told stories of the pillaging, raping, murdering savages who raided the North. If you were an ill-mannered child the wildlings would come in the night and steal you from your bed according to the old woman.

The truth was entirely different. In Jon's, admittedly short, experience with them they proved themselves to be very much like the men he'd grown up with. They had their own customs, many of them still speaking the Old Tongue, yes. They had their own sense of what was right and wrong but the people were just people, men, women, and children who, by all appearances, were simply trying to survive and live their lives. They no longer raid because they no longer need to in order to survive. They were not the childhood terrors that he and tens of thousands of northerners feared as children.

The entire experience had been unique for Jon, and not just because it was the first time he encountered a different culture. No, it was particularly unique for Jon because where often there was a stigma attached to his surname, the Norfolk had all but ignored it. Whenever other northern nobles traveled to Winterfell, he could see a hint of disapproval in their eyes when they came to rest on him.

But beyond the Wall, there was no marriage. Every child born there would be a bastard in the eyes of southerners. In place of marriage, men stole women, or on rare occasion the other way around. But according to the brief discussion he and Robb had with the Free Folk's maester that practice had changed since the arrival of Harry Potter and his own relationship with his woman, Val.

From what Jon had seen, the pair truly loved one another and many of their people attempted to emulate them; something which could be afforded now that they lived in a concentrated community. Ygritte told him how the custom no longer had the same meaning, as a man would often try and steal a woman from a different tribe to prove their strength while increasing their own numbers in the process. Being one people it proved nothing and added nothing.

Jon resisted the urge to smile thinking about the red-haired girl, kissed by fire she called it. She had been kind to him, in between teasing him rather mercilessly. And Jon didn't think he would ever manage to forget the look on Theon's face when she outshot him.

There were days since he'd returned to Winterfell when he wished that he'd remained behind in the Norfolk city; though, he knew that he would miss his siblings. Besides, I doubt that father would have allowed it. I'm not even a man grown yet.

Jon walked alone toward the godswood, Robb and Theon having gone off together to the winter town. He entered through the iron gate and made his way toward the heart tree. The ancient weirwood had stood more than 10,000 years. Its carved face cried red tears of sap and looked unblinkingly out at him. Whenever Jon stood before the ages old tree, he felt as though he could feel it actually looking at him, considering him even. According to his sister Arya, Lady Catelyn, felt much the same way on the rare occasion she ventured there, though she felt as though it was actually judging her. He sat silently praying to the old gods, looking down at the reflecting pool just beside the tree.

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there when he heard a dull thud somewhere else among the trees. He shook his head slightly already knowing what he was bound to find as he stood to find the source of the noise.

Just minutes later, as the noise grew steadily louder, he came upon a rather common sight. His seven year old sister, had mud stains on her shirt and face, her dark hair was a tangled mess atop her head and there were fresh cuts on her exposed forearms and hands that would soon scab. She held a bow nearly as tall as she was in her right hand and struggled with pulling the drawstring back to her cheek with her left hand. Unwilling to harm any of the trees in the grove, she had dragged a target among the trunks. A few of the arrows stuck into the target where it sat but more littered the ground around it though.

Jon leaned up against the tree and spoke loudly just as she made to loose another shaft, "Keep your arm straight." She jumped and missed low and wide to the left and about ten yards past the target it drove into the ground.

Arya turned and glared at him. Entirely unintimidated he smirked in return, walked closer to her and mussed her hair causing her to huff at him indignantly, "You made me miss!" She spoke up indignantly.

"No," Jon countered, "You were going to miss either way; I just made you miss worse than you would have."

"I hit three times in a row," She said proudly, "and each time I loosed the arrow just like I was about to before you distracted me."

Jon snorted, "Well, you got lucky then. And I think you would rather know that you were going hit the target than hope that you are going to hit it." He pointed to the scattered hits she'd had, "If you kept your arm straight they wouldn't be so far apart."

She scowled but then picked another shaft out of the ground, knocked it, and drew. Before she loosed, she looked to Jon who nudged her arm slightly forcing it to straighten. When she loosed this time, the shaft flew straight and drove into the target a few inches off the center. Without pause, she reached for another arrow and after assuring that she was positioned much the same way Jon showed her, it soared and struck just a few inches lower than the last.

Arya smiled happily and looked back to Jon, shrugging her shoulders, "I suppose you were right." Jon just arched an eyebrow, and after a moment they both laughed. Arya set the bow aside and put her back to a nearby oak sliding down to the ground.

Jon sat beside her and nudged her shoulder to get her attention, "I believe that you are supposed to be in one of your lessons with Septa Mordane." He knew she had no desire to learn from the old woman but knew his father would expect him to say something.

"Sewing," She spat the word distastefully, "we were working on our sewing. Nothing I ever make comes out half as good as Sansa's and it never looks the way it's supposed to. I would rather be out in the yard," She said almost wistfully, "I can shoot an arrow far better than I'll ever manage to sew a direwolf or gods forbid a dress."

"Well, you're already a better marksman than I or Robb were at your age," Jon said kindly, "so if you can manage to sew half as well as you shoot you wouldn't be half bad." Arya gave him a pointed look that told him exactly what she thought of that.

Jon couldn't help but think that Arya would fit in well among the Norfolk. There was wildness to her, wolfs-blooded their father called it, that just screamed for something far different from what her mother wanted her to be.

He'd told her about First Forge, swearing her to secrecy as they weren't to discuss it lest Lady Catelyn hear of it, and she'd been fascinated by the place. She couldn't even truly imagine a place where girls of an age with her could practice in the yard with the boys and travel out on hunts with their elders. Not to mention that as many of those hunters were women as they were men. Even the notion that she would have to take lessons didn't bother her.

"I don't mind studying my history or my maths," She'd told him, "I just can't stand memorizing the Seven Pointed Star or learning how to sew and play the harp. That's just not me." He knew she wanted to go there, to visit if nothing else.

"I was surprised that father has called all of the noble houses to the harvest feast," Arya's voice pulled him from his thoughts, "Usually only those who have something to discuss with him attend." Five days prior, their Lord Eddard had Maester Luwin draft letters to every one of his vassal lords requesting their presence at the new year's harvest feast.

Jon shrugged his shoulders, "No doubt father has something of importance that he needs to discuss with them." Perhaps he wishes to assure them that the Norfolk aren't a threat, maybe even tell them of his visit there. But then… he could easily send out ravens saying as much.

"Well obviously," Arya rolled her eyes, "but he's never done this before, they always come on their own for the harvest feast and only if they have business. He's never summoned them." She paused a moment and played with a stone on the ground, "The day before he had Maester Luwin send out the ravens I saw a snow white owl fly straight into the window of his solar." She knew of the Norfolk's messenger owls, "Do you think that they will be coming to the harvest feast as well?" Jon nodded absently, silently hoping that they would.

They talked together, sitting against the old oak tree, until the light began to fade in the godswood. As Jon walked with her toward the hall for supper, he anticipated the coming harvest feast far more than he had before.

Harry watched as his twins, recently turned four years old, looked down at their new sister, Lily, in her crib. He could hear the baby gurgling happily as she no doubt tried to reach at her older siblings fingers which they held just out of reach. He couldn't help the small smile that crept its way to his lips at the sound.

Val had given birth just two weeks prior. Unlike the last time, Gareth had been allowed to help with the birth, the key word being help as he deferred to the midwives wealth of experience on the matter. Their newest daughter's name had been decided some months prior. Val had been more than happy to name their next child after one of his parents. It was after that conversation that Harry had done something he feared somewhere in the back of his mind ever since he arrived in Westeros.

He took the Resurrection stone into a small clearing and turned it over in his hands three times. Relief had flooded him that day when he saw the shades of his parents standing before him. Even when still in his original world he used the stone only sparingly, knowing that one could get lost in the dead if they fixated on it for too long, but he would do it on occasion and cherished the moments with his parents. His mother berated him for taking so long, while his father just shook his head in good humor.

To say the least, he was convinced by his mother to bring Val and the twins to meet them. Trystan and Emer had been excited if slightly confused by what they experienced. James and Lily adored the two, and a ghostly tear had slipped down his mother's face when they parted.

The elder Potters had applauded Val for forcing Harry to finally act with regards to their relationship; both were adamant that they would still be dancing around one another if it weren't for her forwardness, much to Harry's chagrin. Val just patted his cheek fondly and assured him that his parents were absolutely right.

Harry offered the stone to Val, so that she might call her own mother to speak with but she refused. She didn't know if she could handle seeing her mother, Myra, again. She promised to discuss it with Dalla, and tell him if she changed her mind.

Harry's attention snapped back to the present as he heard Lily start to fuss in her crib, before he could even rise to check her Val swept into the room. She pushed the twins aside gently and picked the baby up from her crib, "Trystan, Emer that's enough of that now. I believe you both planned to go to the Last Refuge for lessons this morning." The twins nodded together and quickly made their way out of the house after bidding their parents farewell.

Lily stopped her fussing when Val exposed her breast, where she latched on for her meal. Harry watched silently as Val's lips curved up ever-so-slightly at the edges and the finger of her left hand touched ever-so-softly against the sparse blonde hair atop Lily's head.

He stood then and went beside where she sat, leaned down and planted a kiss to the top of her head and ran a hand along her braided hair; a braid that had been made by Emer the day before. Val glanced up at him and her smile widened slightly, "You are off to the Last Refuge as well again, aren't you?" She couldn't hide the small hint of concern in her voice. Of late, he spent a great deal of time in one of the deepest rooms of their fortress, his only company their captive… it bordered on obsessive at this point. But that's only because I think I'm close to finally getting answers.

"It is only seventeen days until the harvest feast in Winterfell," Harry pointed out softly, "I would know all I can of the Others before then."

"I know, Harry," Val assured him, "but I am allowed to worry for you." A smirk came to her lips, "Somebody needs to and as your mother said, it certainly isn't going to be you."

"Well, I suppose it is good I have you to worry for me then." Harry quipped. She shook her head in exasperation but chuckled slightly at the response. He leaned down to kiss her one more time before making his way out of their home and toward the gateway between First Forge and Newport.

He stopped to speak with a few of the people along the way. Qarl, the carpenter, informed him that they had completed work on five catapults and seven ballista since Harry set them to the task.

Torwynd approached him about expanding the forge yet again. Harry refused him, "No we can't expand any larger here, I think it is time we start building another within Newport or perhaps even with the Thenn as way of increasing our ties with them." Torwynd was just pleased that they would have more forges soon; he didn't care where they were built.

He noticed Gilly and Munda with their paints, putting their new designs on both Osha and Del. They were being assisted by both of Karsi's daughters, Morna and Ash. The tattoos grew ever more popular among the Norfolk and were slowly becoming as much a part of their culture as the snow owls or the dragonsteel. Osha's wound around her neck to just below her lower jaw while Del's creeped up her forearm and ended at the back of her right hand.

He stepped through the gateway and found himself in the courtyard of their fortress. Toregg was some thirty yards away training a group of men and women. Sigorn stood beside him, a number of Thenn among the group, all of whom intended to learn what they could from the Norfolk. He caught their gazes briefly with his own before making his way into the stronghold.

The room where he was keeping their captive was far as possible from the library and the children that frequent it and could only be accessed by him with magic. He walked down a torchlight corridor until he reached the end and a solid wall. He held his wand to the wall until it glowed a bright blue.

Inside stood a solitary figure, chained to the wall with dragonsteel shackles, its arms extended out from its torso. Harry stepped inside and sealed the entrance behind him. The White Walkers glowing blue eyes watched as he drew closer. It's breathing more heavily than it has in the past.

With a wave of his wand a silver stag burst from the tip of his wand. The guardian did nothing to actually harm the ice warrior but it eliminated the cold and foreboding that seemed to emanate from the creature.

Harry spent hours each day with the White Walker trying to determine its motivations and more importantly its weaknesses, particularly against magic. Fire of any sort irritated the creature but didn't actually harm it. Well everything except fiendfyre, I am reluctant to test the cursed flames lest it kill the thing. Fortunately, unlike during the battle, it didn't have the ability to put out the flames. He kept the room exceptionally warm to make the White Walker uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, most direct spells proved ineffective just as they had during the battle. He forced it to grip a common steel weapon in its cold hands and found that expelliarmus could pull it away but when its own strange weapon had replaced it, nothing happened. In that particular case it had nothing to do with the White Walker but with their weapons, the enchanted ice absorbed the magic.

Exploding hexes could push the creature back but didn't have the ability to actually harm it physically. Dark cutting curses left faint gashes in its skin but seemed to cause it little pain. He was unsurprised when the blood boiling curse did absolutely nothing. They are creatures of ice after all, and their very touch shatters steel like glass. He tried an entrail-removal curse only for it to have no effect, he expected at least a reaction but wasn't entirely surprised given their likely different physiology. The creature did not seem to need to eat though he had walked in more than once to find it sleeping. Legilllmency worked, to some extent anyway; he could enter its mind and get a general notion of what it was thinking but it was alien and within, the cold became overwhelming quickly.

There were cuts along the White Walkers' forearm from where he'd slashed it with dragonsteel and dragonglass. It hissed in anger in both instances and the wounds had yet to heel. As a test, he'd conjured a piece of obsidian and found that it didn't have the same effect, it cut into the creature, instead of shattering like common steel, but didn't cause the same sort of pain and the wounds healed within minutes. There must have been some property of the substance that Harry was unable to recreate through conjuration. Glad that I didn't try that in the actual battle.

But of the magic he'd attempted, the most effective by far had been the cruicatus curse. The creature actually cried out briefly when first it struck him, its voice a high, shrill breaking of glass. It bore the pain well enough, quieting after some time but it had clearly not expected to be effected by the foreign magic and he could see the strain of resisting the pain in the creature's eyes. He was curious what effects the killing curse would have on the White Walker but unwilling to test until after he'd won the alliance he believed he needed.

And through it all, there was always a translation charm between him and the Other. The creature never actually spoke but should he finally break its resolve he wanted to be prepared. Should their language be entirely magical it would do him little good, but he decided it was worth taking a chance.

He stepped to within just a few short inches of the thing and looked up into its piercing eyes. He asked the same question that always came first in their little meetings, "What are your people's intentions?" They stared at each other for what felt like hours until the creature surprised him.

Its jaw moved and he could hear the underlying breaking of glass but above that he could hear words, "Cold, give me cold and I shall answer your question." Harry's eyes flashed in surprised before he once more drew his wand and dropped the temperature to that of what it was outside the walls. The White Walker closed its eyes and breathed deeply twice before looking to Harry once again.

Its high voice echoed around the room almost eerily, "It was all ours once, it will be ours again and everything else along with it. Our cold hand shall stretch to every corner, it will be ours again."

"Westeros and the world you mean?" Harry clarified and received a stiff nod in reply. "When?"

"Soon." The White Walker replied succinctly, not clarifying any further. To a species that had waited 10,000 years for their retribution, soon could mean something entirely different to them than it did to Harry.

"Is there any way I might convince your people that war isn't necessary, that they need not use the dead to fight the living?" He wasn't hopeful, between his experience with this lone enemy and the warning from Bloodraven but he would prefer none of the people he cared about were put in danger by war.

"No," it almost yelled, "we shall break your Wall, lay low your cities, and take back what is ours."

Harry's eyes narrowed, "You will not find us as weak as you presume."

It laughed then, the noise coming from is chest shrill and slightly terrifying. It looked him up and down, "We have seen you, Harry Potter." The name sounded strange in its dialect as though it was searching for the words, "They could have had use for you," Harry made note of his use of the word 'they', "but you have been poisoned. It shall be more difficult in no small part because of you but in the end, you shall die and become just another of our thrall."

"If you knew of me," Harry started slowly, "why let me continue?"

It scowled, the lines on its gaunt face becoming all the more prominent with the gesture, "When you began, we did not see you. Once we did, it would have required a great force to come against you here. Anonymity was more important. We believe you shall prove a nuisance but nothing more, your people alone are not enough to stop us." Harry had every intention of proving them wrong. And if he thinks that they shall only be forced to contend with the Norfolk than they have no knowledge of my dealings with the southerners.

Changing subjects, Harry asked, "In our little skirmish, how did you quench my flames?"

The Other remained silent for a long moment. In response, Harry gradually began raising the temperature in the room until it was uncomfortable even for him and then began applying a liberal use of the cruciatus curse. After nearly fifteen of relentless treatment, it relented, "You came to our land, our place. We have built up our power there for thousands of years, there is little that happens there that we cannot fight against."

"The cursed fire I created," Harry was still baffled at their ability to fight against the fiendfyre, "how did you quench that?"

The White Walker's eyes narrowed and he seemed to contemplate defiance again but thought better of it, "My fellows and I, we did not know what to do at first. Had we, it never would have been able to spark to life to begin with, we felt the foulness of it, how it consumed the magic it touched and could feel your will controlling it." It paused contemplating what to say next, "We felt our way into the magic of it and our will together was enough to supplant yours alone and end the flame."

Harry nodded, realizing that the presence he felt fighting against the fiendfyre hadn't been their magic but their actual consciousness and while he tried to control it they tried to destroy it and together they had seen it die out.

"The obsidian that I conjured, why didn't it harm you the way the true obsidian did?" Harry had a reasonable guess but wanted to know for sure.

The creature smirked at Harry's confusion, "Your conjuration did not come from the fires of the earth, it lacked what makes it dangerous to us." So there is something in it, something that I can't recreate with magic alone. Harry supposed it was a good thing they had acquired such a considerable sum of the material from Stannis on Dragonstone.

Harry took a step back and smiled, satisfied with the answers to his questions, "Thank you for your cooperation." He turned toward the exit and opened the door; he stopped there, "This shall be the last of my visits. The next time you see me you shall be leaving this place." The next time you see, I will finally reveal the existence of your people to mine.

Two weeks later, Harry stood on a raised platform along the wall of the Last Refuge looking out at the entirety of the Norfolk, along with the Thenn assembled there. Every ship they owned was in the harbor, every merchant home from their travels abroad and all their works on hold at the moment. He called them together on the day because he was prepared to travel to Winterfell for the harvest feast there.

Tyrion Lannister stood to the front of the gathered people to keep from being trampled by the crowd. Just two days prior they had discussed Lord Tywin's acceptance of Harry's counter proposal. I have little doubt he was less than pleased by my refusal though. Harry had already assigned Falyn to the task of making a suitably impressive pommel for the new blade, as well as a grip inlaid with gold. He planned on working on the blade himself once he returned from Winterfell.

The din of so many people in one place continued to grow until Harry, ready to begin, raised his hand for silence. Like a wave over the gathered people a hush fell, every ear straining to ensure they could hear his words. He'd never called a gathering of all his people, instead dealing with the majority of people through the various guild leaders, so they were curious what he might have to say to them.

He brought his wand to his throat and cast a silent sonorous charm. As he started speaking his voice carried to everyone without problem, "I know many of you are wondering why I called you together today," He had set up an enchantment to ensure that all those present could understand him, even those people who could only speak the Old Tongue, "No doubt there are all manner of rumors, but the simple fact is there is something that I need each and every one of you to see with your own eyes." He reached to his left and pulled his invisibility cloak from the shoulders of the White Walker beneath it.

The reaction was much what he expected. Many stared in shocked silence, floored by the presence of creature only thought of as nightmares. Others yelled out in anger, cursing at the sight of the pale warrior in chains. Those few who journeyed with him to capture the creature had very little reaction, though there was a hint of anger in their eyes at the sight of the thing that had killed their fellows. The southerners' reactions were the most humorous; Harry could only describe it as slack-jawed amazement.

"This," Harry gestured toward the White Walker, "is one of the Others thought gone from the world. When Mance and I took a group west for three weeks, we journeyed to the Land of Always Winter along with a group of crows." Some seemed upset by this bit of news but Harry just spoke over them, "We were joined for a short time by three of the Children of the Forest." This news brought quiet to the people again, there wasn't a person in living memory who had dealings with one of the children.

"We captured this one in a skirmish within their lands and killed another," He paused and stepped closer to the edge of the platform, "I have spoken with it in the time since we returned. I can say with confidence that there is no reasoning with them; they want us dead, and they want this entire country from here to the tip of Dorne as their own."

"I will admit that I have known for some time of their continued existence," Surprisingly, very few reacted to this, seemingly unconcerned by his small deception. Either that or they are still too stunned by the other revelations. "But we have prepared," he unsheathed the blade on his hip, "our dragonsteel can harm them, even kill them. Our city walls can withstand them. But most importantly, our people are one and they will fight till the last man, woman or child if necessary to see them beaten!" His voice only grew in volume as he continued and as he finished his people screamed in agreement with his claims.

"But we are only so many," he continued once the noise died down, "and the enemy is many. Alone we might hold them back, keep them from breaching our walls, but they will turn their gaze south and there will be nothing left but the Others and the dead beyond our walls as we remain safely here." He scanned the crowd, making eye contact with dozens of his people, seeing only steely resolve there "They are the only true enemy, not the southerners, not the crows, but them. You may have fought the crows for generations but for the last five years there has been peace, even cooperation between them and us." He knew what he said next might not sit well but they would accept it, "That is why I have been in talks with Lord Stark, Lord Commander Mormont, Prince Oberyn and Prince Doran about an alliance against our true enemy."

Some spoke up loudly against such a thing, most of them Thenn, but many had met Prince Oberyn and Lord Stark during their respective visits and even those who did not love them, or even like them, respected them and remembered well how they had acknowledged their traditions while within their walls.

"Once I provide them with proof of the enemy's existence," Harry pointed back at the White Walker, "They have promised their aid, and the aid of their bannerman against the threat the Others pose."

He took a deep breath, controlling himself after the fervor of his speech, "It will not be easy, but for generations your people have survived in a place that was anything but easy. Together, we will fight the White Walkers! Together, we will win! Together, we will take their Long Night and shove it right up their fucking asses!" The cry that followed shook the platform he stood on. Harry wouldn't have been surprised if they could hear it two hundred miles away at the Wall.

He stepped down from the platform bringing the White Walker with him. On the ground beside Val was a chest made entirely of dragonsteel, it was expanded inside to serve as a portable prison. He deposited his captive inside and made his way toward Tyrion where he stood apart from the clamor of people, clearly in deep thought, "In your next letter to Lord Tywin, perhaps this little event would be worth mentioning." Tyrion only nodded numbly.

Harry looked at the confident Norfolk, who were breaking apart many to train more diligently in the yard or craft more of their weapons. Many had a fire in their eyes, even if there was a hint of fear there as well. Hopefully, I will get half as positive a reaction from the northern lords.

AN: So there's the next chapter, there are parts of it I quite like and others I am not entirely thrilled with. Obviously this was a lot of setup for future story points.

For anybody wondering at the new year's harvest feast it will be 297 AC, the start of the series is in 298 AC.

For those who don't already know from reading my other story, I wrote the first chapter of HP/Witcher crossover, if you voted for that on the poll awhile back or if you're just interest, take a look.

16. Chapter 16

AN: Hey everybody, thank you as always for your reviews. From now on, I will be putting the responses to the guest reviews on my profile. That way I can answer in more detail if I want to and it will not fill up my opening AN.

Thanks to my beta Tellimicus Sundance.

The new cover art for "The Difference One Man Can Make" was done my my wonderful cousin who works as a graphic designer. If you're interested in her work go to:

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or Game of Thrones and no profit is being made from this story.

They arrived in a clearing among the tall trees of the Wolfswood on the western side of Winterfell. To Harry's right, Val held Lily tightly to her chest as the baby whined softly from the new sensations she'd just experienced. Trystan and Emer stood close to their father's legs, looking around curiously and peering through the thick wood for a glimpse of Winterfell beyond. To his left, Mance peered into the forest as well, though not out of childish curiosity; his lute was strapped by a fine leather chord around his back. Behind Harry, Jarl and Sigorn held the chest containing their prisoner between them while Ygritte already had an arrow knocked for the sake of caution. Briar stood apart from the rest of the group as her shadowcat prowled around the clearing. All of the Norfolk survivors of the skirmish against the Others were there, and they would be joined at the harvest feast by those crows who made it out as well.

Harry turned to Mance, "You and the others shall remain here for now. I will retrieve you and the chest once I know for sure that there is no chance we will have any unwelcomed surprises from the crypts when presenting our guest." The former ranger nodded his understanding even as Harry removed his wand from its holster. He walked around the perimeter of the clearing, weaving a spell as he went. By the time he was done, he could assure his fellows that they wouldn't have any unwelcomed visitors. Unless they are particularly determined to find this exact spot.

As he gestured for Val and the twins to follow him he called over his shoulder to the others, "Be sure not to leave the clearing until I return; otherwise, you will have a very hard time finding it again."

The walk to Winterfell from the clearing was not a long one, just over two miles, and took nearly an hour. Harry thought it best to arrive in Winterfell as anyone else might. Portkeying or apparating into the courtyard likely wouldn't go over entirely well with the household guard, let alone the other lords who have likely already arrived. As Harry drew closer to the millennia old castle, far closer than he had when traveling to Oldtown, he noticed something that hadn't been apparent from a distance. The imposing castle had a vague feel of magic about it. It wasn't the inherently potent magic of a place like Hogwarts but Harry could feel it all the same. They say this castle was built by Bran the Builder, who is also said to have had a hand in building the Wall. I shouldn't be surprised. The idea that Winterfell shared some qualities with the Wall, which had been built to defend against the Others, was comforting. There is only so much that can be done to safeguard against the White Walker's necromancy when I don't know how they actually do it.

The five of them reached the hunter's gate and entered Winterfell with little fanfare; they filtered in with a group of smallfolk meaning to have an audience with Lord Stark. They were largely ignored save for those few people who took note of the art adorning the twin's faces.

They were directed by the household guard into the courtyard and toward the Great Hall where guests were received. A group of horsemen bearing the three sentinel trees on brown of House Tallhart entered in a rush and were approached by the stable master as Harry and his family made their way inside.

The Great Hall was filled with smallfolk seeking an audience with Eddard. The maester, a man older than Gareth with a chain far longer, called each one of them forward in turn and made a note of any business that took place.

Ned sat at a high table with Robb beside him, the younger Stark learning what he could of how to rule the North. Jon and Theon were there as well but stood away from the table. Harry and Val pushed through the crowd, out of the line and toward the wall; they stood apart from the many callers. Ned listened to issue after issue and passed judgement fairly. He promised to send hunters along the Kingsroad to deal with a beast the smallfolk believed to be a bear, which had attacked three travelers in the last month. He would also commission masons to deal with a deteriorating wall in the winter town.

Harry listened patiently for nearly a half an hour, the twins were not quite as patient. As Emer tugged on his sleeve so that he might hold her, they drew Ned's gaze.

The Lord of Winterfell turned from the man standing before him and had a quick, whispered conversation with the maester. That grievance proved to be the last heard that day, as Eddard stood then and addressed the gathered people, "I apologize, but something demands my attention. If your concerns need to be dealt with today, please see Maester Luwin." His grey eyes scanned the crowd, "Though I am sure many of you intend to remain in the winter town for the feast tomorrow. If that is the case, rest assured we shall receive more of you before the festivities begin." The gathered smallfolk broke up then, most of them turning and leaving the Great Hall while a select few walked toward the high table to speak with the maester.

Ned walked toward a door at the side of the room, silently gesturing for Harry and his family to follow. Robb offered a slight bow of his head in deference to Harry as he came to stand beside Ned, "I did not realize time had escaped me, Harry. I thought I still had hours until I could expect your arrival."

Harry waved him off, "Between listening to the concerns of your people and the stream of lords that are making their way to your home, I can't blame you for losing track of time."

Ned surveyed the five of them, "I expected more of you."

"The others are in the Wolfswood waiting for me to return," Harry explained, "I had no desire to risk bringing my prisoner here without taking some precautions."

"I am afraid with the many noble guests here, your people will need to lodge in the winter town." He nodded toward Val and the kids, "You shall be given quarters in Winterfell." Harry and the others had expected as much, Mance in particular was more comfortable with the idea of not being forced into the company of the many northern lords.

They stepped out into the chilly air again and walked from the Great Hall to the Great Keep, climbed a set of stairs up to the stone bridge that connected the keep and the Armory and made their way back down and out yet again, until finally they reached the crypts of Winterfell. The entrance was barred by an old, heavy ironwood door. There was a narrow staircase that led down into darkness of the final resting place of the Kings of Winter and the Lords of Winterfell. The magic of Winterfell was more potent in this place, seemingly bolstered by the godswood and the ancient heart tree nearby.

Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it toward the entrance. Just behind the doorway a solid piece of stone formed; he finished the barrier with a string of enchantments causing the new defense to glow a soft blue. Ned stepped up and ran a hand along the creation, "You believe this shall be enough to keep any wights at bay?"

"From the crypts, yes," Harry replied earnestly, "But I cannot say for sure from how great a distance they are capable of raising the dead, or whether or not it is possible for them to even manage such a thing when bound by dragonglass." He holstered his wand, "This is a precaution, nothing more, Eddard."

"Plan for the worst and hope for the best, I understand." Ned replied tersely as he kept staring absently at the solid piece of stone. He was uncomfortable with the idea that his father, brother, and sister, might be walking around undead in the darkness. The awkward silence that fell upon the gathered group broke as Maester Luwin joined them, "My Lord," Ned's head snapped around to look at the older man, "Lord Manderly has arrived and asked to speak with you."

Ned nodded stiffly and turned to Harry, "Maester Luwin shall show you to a room." The maester silently gestured for Harry and Val to follow. As they made their way toward the guest house, Harry couldn't help but note the surreptitious glances sent his way by the balding man beside him.

"Is there something you wish to say Maester Luwin?" Harry questioned calmly, quite sure that he knew where the maester's issue lay.

"I have heard that you can perform great feats of magic," He started a note of skepticism in his voice, "that you built a city with that magic."

"I used my magic to aid in the building of three cities now," Harry corrected calmly, "but it was not my magic alone. What exactly are you getting at, maester?"

The lines of Luwin's face deepened as he frowned, "Magic is all but gone from the world, Valyria was the last ember." Harry found his conviction admirable, even if he was wrong, "I studied the arcane secrets at the Citadel and found little of worth in that time." He turned to looked directly at Harry, "I do not believe that you are capable of the things that people claim."

Harry resisted the urge to laugh at the maester's insinuation. He looked down to his kids and smirked at the scowls marring their faces. Well I have a feeling that the maester is about to learn that the rumors of my abilities or at least my children's abilities aren't exaggerated.

"I have read a great deal regarding Valyria and the wonders they were able to produce with magic," Harry responded, "And while I can agree, that from what I have seen this world has far less magic than it did at that time, it certainly isn't lacking."

Luwin made to speak again but Val cut him off with a bit of an edge to her voice, "We still have skinchangers, giants and even though they wane the Children of the Forest beyond the Wall, maester." She glanced at Harry before her eyes narrowed in displeasure, "Your beliefs ring rather hollow given my own personal experiences."

The maester made to retort but his voice seemed to have left him. He looked at Harry with panicked eyes. He resisted the urge to laugh as he glanced down at Trystan and Emer, both of whom looked pleased. Well seems that they managed some slightly more than accidental magic. With a quick wave of his hand the maester's voice returned, "… is going on?"

Harry raised a hand and the man fell silent without magic, "I understand your skepticism Maester Luwin, and can even appreciate your caution." The maester stopped outside of a solid oak door and opened it to reveal three beds one for Harry and Val, and two for the twins, "But by the end of the harvest feast, I have no doubt that you will fully come to accept that your understanding of magic is severely inaccurate."

As Harry and his family entered the room, Luwin contemplated these words where he remained by the door. He considered arguing but decided against it, "I suppose we shall see, my lord." With that the maester closed the door.

"Yes, my lord," Val whispered the words in his ear from beside him, causing the hair on his neck to stand up, "we shall see." He smirked over at her and leaned in to lay a quick kiss on her lips and squeezed her hip affectionately, bringing a smile to her lips.

He pulled away from her and conjured a crib for Lily before looking back to Val, "I am going to retrieve the others and get them settled in the winter town." She nodded and turned to the children both of whom had pulled out books to read.

Harry spun on the spot and apperated back into the little clearing where they'd arrived. Jarl helped Ygritte finish skinning and preparing a deer they had caught in the time he'd been gone. Sigorn and Mance stood next to the chest that held their prisoner talking among themselves. Briar sat within a tent she set up, a small fire burning safely within. Her shadowcat rested just outside of the entrance to the tent.

Ygritte notice Harry looking at her and the work she was doing curiously. She shrugged her shoulder unconcernedly before answering the unasked question, "Saw this deer no more'n twenty yards out into the forest. I didn't think we'd be invited up t' the castle for some grand feast meant for nobles, so I took the shot." Her fingers glided over the fur of the dear until her finger reached the hole where the dear had been struck, "Easy shot for me, hit her right in the skull. So while you're up in the castle suppin' on some fancy meal, we'll be having a feast of our own." He was slightly surprised that they managed to retrieve the animal and return to the warded clearing but didn't comment.

Harry smirked at the fiery young woman, "Saved me the trouble of having to steal half the feast for you lot, so thanks for that." This drew a laugh from both Ygritte and Jarl. "Right," He addressed everyone, "you'll be staying in the winter town just outside of the castle."

"I shall remain here," Briar's voice reached him from the tent, "I doubt people will react well if a shadowcat walks down the street."

"Understood," Harry called back to her. Ygritte cut a hunk of the dear off from the rest and wrapped it up before setting it beside the fire for Briar. The shadowcat sniffed the air but thought better of it when Briar thanked Ygritte. Harry waved his wand to hasten the process of packing away the deer so they could get moving.

The five of them walked to the winter town. Unlike Harry and his family, they received a good deal of attention. More than one person looked perplexedly at Sigorn because of the scarification on his face, while others approached Mance hoping to pay him for a tune which he declined, for the time being at least. The bow on Ygritte's back, not to mention the strange black metal chest they carried drew some attention as well.

"Harry!" He turned at the call of his name to see Ser Jaremy Rykker standing outside of one of the larger buildings of the winter town, "Lord Eddard sent us word of your arrival." He gestured toward the building and they followed him in, "Jarmen and I are lodging here. The Lord Commander and Benjen are up at Winterfell, and two of the cowardly shits that left us in the Land of Always Winter are sleeping with the hounds." He finished heatedly, still irritated with his fellow black brothers.

The tavern they entered was rowdy, smallfolk were imbibing drink and singing along merrily as a minstrel in the corner played 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair'. Ser Jaremy pushed his way through the crowd and toward the staircase. There were three rooms for the wildlings Norfolk. Ygritte claimed one for herself while the men shared the other two.

"Everyone is here then?" Harry asked Jaremy as the others left them.

"Aye, and plenty ready to tell the lords here what they saw." He smirked slightly, "As much as I am sure that Commander Mormont believed you and your fears, you missed a rather good show when we finally told the story… he was less than pleased with Blane and Black Bernar when they returned. They thought they were the only survivors." He grinned maliciously, "They damn near shit themselves when they saw Benjen that day."

"What happened to Ser Mallador?" Harry questioned.

"No idea," Jaremy clearly wasn't to bothered by the knight's absence, "according to Bernar, he ran madly toward the Frostfangs after his portkey deposited him. They didn't see any trace of him after that." He sniffed dismissively, "I say good riddance to him."

"Probably just another wight in the horde," Harry commented, causing Jaremy to grimace slightly at his lack of tact. He shook himself before speaking again, "I'll be seeing you tomorrow?"

"Aye," Jaremy responded, "I have a feeling it is going to be quite the show." Harry nodded his agreement before the knight left him to go to his own room.

Harry went to Mance's rooms and retrieved the former crow. He would blend in best with the southerners.

Harry walked back to the gates of Winterfell, he was passed along the way by another lord, this one bearing the pink flayed man of House Bolton, as he made his way toward the castle. Harry caught only a passing glance of Lord Roose, he was beardless with short greying hair, and exceptionally pale skin, even for a northerner. His lips were thin and set in a grim frown. Behind him was a younger man; by the look of him, he was Lord Bolton's son, Domeric. He wasn't as pale as his father, and his dark hair grew to his shoulders blades. He was laughing at something the man beside him said. He seemed quite the contrast to his father.

As Harry made his way through the guest quarters back toward his rooms and along the way he passed a familiar face. Lord Rickard Karstark had started to bald in the time since their short encounter along the coast near Karhold. The man looked at Harry only briefly, his brow furrowing in thought as they passed in the hall before he continued to his own quarters. Harry had his concerns regarding Karstark. If the maester at Karhold told him of the guard's broken memory charm, then he should at least know of the incident even if he still can't truly remember it. I can only hope that he will be willing to accept that my actions were the ones that led to the least amount of violence.

He opened the door to their quarters to find Val softly singing to Lily, the twins were resting on their small cots. His wife looked up as he stepped in and smiled slightly, "Everything settled?" Harry nodded and walked silently over to her, trying not to wake any of his sleeping children. Mance remained by the doorway

Val stood and placed Lily into the conjured crib, "The maester came by again while you are away. Eddard has asked that we come to his solar once you had returned." She sighed slightly, "No doubt he wishes to discuss the private matter you messaged him about." While Val understood how it would make their lives easier when dealing with southern lords, she was still reluctant to betroth her children. He could see her discomfort and gave her a warm hug and kiss to her forehead.

"No need to worry, love," He assured her, "if Ned is unwilling to agree to my proposal then we will just continue to respond to the southerners as we have so far, with rejection."

She nodded against the side of his neck before pulling away, "We shouldn't keep him waiting then. Southerners are a prickly bunch when it comes to such things." She looked to Mance almost menacingly, "The twins are to remain here until we return, I don't trust most of these people and I wouldn't have them wandering." Mance nodded firmly, aware that she would take it out on his hide if anything happened to the twins while they were away.

Harry laid a hand on Val shoulder, "Mance will be able to handle them," He looked to the man in question and gave a sympathetic smile, not really wanting to relegate him to babysitting duties, "if anything happens you know how to contact me." Mance nodded his understanding as Harry and Val left him alone.

Maester Luwin had provided Val with directions to Ned's solar and they quickly made their way toward the Great Keep. Val glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye, "What was the point of bringing the children if they are going to be confined to the room the entire time we are here? They aren't needed to help convince the northern lords, and nor am I for that matter."

"They won't be," Harry responded as they made their way up the staircase to the upper levels of the keep, "We just don't want them wandering alone around the castle when they would be mistaken for one of the smallfolk's children. Tomorrow they will be able to roam as much as they please, Ned has assured me he will make our identities known to his bannerman tonight."

"Now you, on the other hand, are here because I know you would have torn me to pieces if I thought to have this conversation with Ned without you present." He resisted the urge to chuckle as he saw a sly grin creep upon her lips.

"I suppose that is true enough," She responded lightly.

They reached Ned's solar a few moments later, entering after knocking and receiving permission. Inside Ned sat at a table with a slew of papers before him, while his lady wife sat beside the fire nearby holding a young boy no more than a year old. All three pairs of eyes, even those of the young child looked to Harry and Val.

Both of the elder Starks stood as a courtesy. Ned gestured to his wife before speaking, "Harry, Val I introduce you to my lady wife, Catelyn." They exchanged pleasantries briefly. The auburn haired woman seemed slightly distant to Harry, cold even, as though she thought slightly less of them for being from beyond the Wall. She sat beside Ned at the table as he gestured to two chairs on the other side of the table.

"So, what personal matter do you wish to discuss?" Ned asked bluntly.

Harry glanced briefly at Val before responding, "Recently we have had a new visitor to First Forge, one Tyrion Lannister," Both Catelyn and Ned's eyebrows crept toward their hairline at this piece of information, "you would be interested to know that he passed through the North without your knowledge of it but that is not the point of this conversation."

"Now, I don't think it needs to be said that he didn't come to Firs Forge of his own volition," Harry continued, "He is there at the behest of Tywin, who through rumor learned what he could of Norfolk and now seeks to have our allegiance."

"Tywin is shrewd if nothing else," Ned said slowly, "it is unsurprising that he would seek to gain something out of your growing reputation."

Harry nodded slightly, "He offered any one of my men the title and lands associated with Castamere Or Tarbeck Hall. Of course, as is tradition here in the south, he sought to bring about that alliance by offering a match with one of the daughters of House Lannister to my son. And of course, Trystan would then be fostered at Casterly Rock."

Ned's face was set in a grim line at this news, "I would sooner entrust a child to a pit of vipers than I would to Lord Tywin." There was a distinct edge to his voice, one that Harry had yet to hear from the Lord of Winterfell.

"Noted," Harry replied succinctly, "I know the man's reputation and know how he would have used that connection to influence me, but that isn't the sole reason that I refused him. Among others, I refused because I know I must keep my children close given their magic."

"Understandable," Catelyn spoke up for the first time, "But what exactly is your point?" She looked rather irritated with the direction of the conversation. Ned looked to her out of the corner of his eye but didn't say anything.

Val looked at the older woman, unperturbed by the curt words, "I pointed out that because you southerners are so fond of marrying off your children to form bonds, that we will at some point be forced to suffer another offer of that sort. And the excuse of needing to keep the children in Harry's company will only last for so long. Many of you southerners tend to be prickly about such things." She said almost haughtily, throwing her braid over her shoulder at the same time, "Tywin only accepted our rejection because of a counteroffer from Harry, which we believe was only reluctantly agreed to because he knew the one-sidedness of his own offer. As it stands, we have no doubt there are others who would not accept that our customs differ. We would prefer not to risk the ire of one of your lords when there are things of far more importance that demand the Norfolk attention." Silence fell over the four of them as Val finished her explanation.

Catelyn looked wide-eyed at the blonde-haired woman across from her clearly not expecting her to be remotely educated given her origins. Val was always well spoken for a wildling, and she would never be cowed because some southerner thinks less of her. Harry resisted the urge to laugh as he cleared his throat to draw attention back to the conversation at hand, "That being the case, we would like to discuss betrothing our children to yours." Ned made to speak but Harry raised his hand to forestall any arguments, "Unlike any others who I might discuss this with, you are fully aware of the situation with Trystan and Emer. You know that their magic could be dangerous if not around me. We are already on the very verge of alliance with one another, making it all the more convenient as I wouldn't have to explain to Lord Tywin why I would choose your family over his, as he already knows of our contact with you. There would be no need for fostering, and I would be perfectly willing to dissolve them in the future."

There was very little reaction from Ned, he simply brought his hand up to his chin and lightly ran a hand through his neatly trimmed beard. On the other hand, Catelyn looked slightly alarmed, eyeing her husband with a hint of fear in her eyes.

"It seems innocuous enough," Ned after a few short seconds of thought.

"Ned," Catelyn almost hissed, "think about this."

"I will," Ned replied unconcerned by her apparent displeasure, "but I can see Harry's point. It seems a worthwhile arrangement. We would be tied to one another by more than just common cause," Catelyn looked ambivalent that such a thing was likely to happen, "And as he said, there is no need to follow through in the years to come. And that would do a great deal to assuage some of Arya's fears if nothing else." He looked to Catelyn meaningfully but she just scrunched her nose up in distaste. Ned actually smiled slightly, "In fact, Arya would probably wish to foster at First Forge."

"And we would be happy to have her if that is what you decide," Harry interjected into their byplay, "We will expect a response before our departure."

"And you shall have it." All four stood and Ned walked them to the door, "I shall see you tonight when you are introduced to the other nobles."

"I have a feeling it will be quite an interesting meal." With that the couple left the two Starks to their conversation.

When they returned to their guest quarters, they were surprised to hear voices coming from within. They opened the door to find Jon Snow speaking with Mance while a younger girl, some eight years of age who looked a good deal like the older boy, was speaking happily with the twins.

"… other options. Whether your father allows it or not." Harry caught the end of what Mance was saying to the young man.

Jon nodded thoughtfully before his grey eyes found Harry, "My lord," he said instinctively, "it is good to see you again."

Harry didn't deign to correct him, "And you as well, Jon."

The dark-haired girl, he could only guess was Arya bolted right next to him looking up at him almost accusingly, "You can do magic." It wasn't a question but a confident, excited statement.

Harry chuckled softly down at the disheveled girl, "I can, yes." He gestured toward the twins who had walked up behind Arya, "Someday those two munchkins over there will be able to as well."

"That's what they said," She smiled back at the two smaller children, "But they said they can't control it yet," She looked expectantly up at Harry, the twins looking up at their father as well, "Would you show me?"

Val snorted from beside Harry, "I like this one, she gets right to the point." She looked down at Arya curiously "You're Arya aren't you?" The girl nodded firmly, not the least bit concerned by their scrutiny, "Eddard was right she probably would quite enjoy First Forge," Jon smiled at that statement clearly in agreement, "She doesn't seem to have it in her to be the average southern lady." Arya grimaced at the very idea, causing mirth to dance in Val's eyes.

Harry pulled his wand from its holster and waved it quickly. A blue bell flame appeared over the top of his outstretched palm, Arya watched but didn't seem overly impressed by the feat, after all she had heard of fire jugglers before. He smiled before waving the wand again, she waited expectantly but didn't actually see anything. Then both she and the twins heard a soft growl behind them and turned to see a fully grown lion behind them appearing rather irritable. All three jumped away, wide-eyed. Harry chuckled before he destroyed the conjuration. Arya looked up at him, wonder in her eyes, while Trystan and Emer looked a little smug, always proud of their father. He looked down at Arya and smiled, "Good enough show for you?" She nodded mutely, "And that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface."

Jon put a hand on her shoulder, "You just wouldn't take my word for it would you?" She looked up at him incredulously, clearly telling just how ludicrous she found the notion. Jon mussed her hair causing her to scowl before pushing her on the back toward the door. He looked to Harry, "We'll be off, her mother will be furious if she looks like this come the feast tonight." Mance departed with them.

The sun was beginning to set as Harry and his family prepared themselves for the feast. For the first time in their long relationship, Harry saw Val wear a proper dress. It was the same shade of red as the weirwood leaves, trimmed with pale white with intricate lacework around the modest chest; around her shoulder she had a white fur pelt. She didn't look entirely comfortable in the garment but she certainly looked ravishing in it. Despite having birthed three children now, Val still looked every bit the beautiful young woman he had met in the Haunted Forest. Of late, he had noticed that she didn't seem to be aging the way he expected. Something to look into at some point.

Harry wore something akin to the traditional northern garb, with leather overcoat line with furs and a pair of leather trousers. The children were in simpler clothing, but looked clean and well-kept. Emer's red hair was in a braid like her mother's. Before they departed, Val fed Lily and put her down for a nap. Ygritte would watch her while they were gone.

They entered the Great Hall with a throng of other lords and ladies. There were a group of minstrels playing tunes at the side of the room, Mance was actually among them, their music ringing out over the din of voices as people made their way in.

The Starks sat apart from the other nobles at the high table, though Harry couldn't help but note that Jon wasn't amongst them; instead, he was relegated to one of the long tables in the room. The massive hall could seat 500 people and it seemed to be nearly filled to capacity.

They found themselves situated beside a boisterous man, bigger than most and his equally large son, Greatjon and Smalljon Umber. They introduced themselves to the Lord of Last Hearth, and he looked at them quizzically when they only provide their first names with no surname, but he let it pass and as they dug into the meal before them they spoke congenially. Trystan and Emer found him to be quite enjoyable.

Harry could constantly feel eyes finding him among the crowd, curious eyes that clearly wanted to know who the stranger among their number was, Val could feel it as well though it was directed as much toward the vision of beauty that she presented than any actual curiosity of who she was.

Harry scanned the room when he noticed Roose Bolton scrutinizing him with more attention than many of the others. He had pale grey eyes, almost disturbingly pale. Harry met his gaze unflinchingly and the man eventually turned away to speak to Lord Rodrik Ryswell.

As the meal seemed to be drawing to a close, but before any of the lords or ladies had left the hall, Eddard stood and gained the attention of the crowd, he didn't raise his voice but it carried to all those gathered all the same, "Many of you have no doubt wondered why I requested your presence here at Winterfell." There was a murmur of agreement to the statement though it quickly passed, "For many years now, there have been rumors of the Norfolk, the united wildlings that have taken up residence in two cities north of the Wall. Some of you have had dealings with their merchants and benefitted because of it," He looked to Wyman Manderly, who nodded enthusiastically, the trade with the aforementioned people having been the subject of their conversation earlier in the day. "But most have had no dealings with them, let alone their leader, the man most refer to as the Witch-King-Beyond -the- Wall" He gestured to Harry to stand and he did, "I introduce you to, Harry Potter, his wife, Val, and his twin children, Trystan and Emer" Voices rose in surprise, and Harry looked to Lord Karstark to see anger in his visage.

Ned waited patiently till near quiet fell once more in the hall, "I visited him and his city when I made my inspection of the Wall this year. We have corresponded since that time and he, along with the brothers of the Night's Watch," He looked to Lord Commander Mormont where he sat beside his lady sister, Maege, and his nieces along with Benjen, "has news that shall drastically effect every man, woman, and child here." His piece said, Ned sat and waited for the chaos that he had no doubt would ensue.

It started as Harry expected, Lord Rickard stood from where he sat beside his daughter, Alys and eldest son, Harrion, pointing imperiously at the wizard, "You and I have business to discuss!"

"I suppose we do," Harry responded calmly, unaffected by the man's anger "It has come to my attention that the memory charm I placed on you and your men along the coast failed, at least in one case, and that you are now aware of the altercation."

Rickard was momentarily taken by surprise by Harry's demeanor before his anger boiled back over, "You tampered with my mind and the minds of my men!" He roared taking a step toward Harry despite the tables between them.

"I did," Harry agreed, "But it wasn't because I had any malicious intent or even desire to tamper with your mind. At the time it was the best solution for a bad situation." Harry stepped away from the table and walked toward the front of room where he was met by Lord Rickard, he looked up at the slightly taller man as he continued, "No harm came to you or your men, and by removing your memories I assured that you didn't make any… foolish moves against us. I hoped to avoid future conflicts."

Lord Rickard turned to look at his liege lord almost pleadingly, "He and his men hunted in my lands without my consent. When confronted with this, he attacked us and then removed our memories."

Ned looked to Harry, already well aware of the story but knowing this needed to be resolved, "Did any harm come to your men, Lord Rickard?" Rickard shook his head in the negative, "Then the only true crime was the taking of your deer." Ned said with finality.

"And what would you like in return for that offense, my lord?" Harry questioned bringing Lord Karstark's attention back to him.

Rickard contemplated the question for a long moment before grinning slyly, "For taking my memory and the deer, when you had no right. I want the deer's weight in silver."

If he expected Harry to balk at the price set, he was sorely disappointed. Instead he chuckled, "Quite the sum, I'm sure; though there is no knowing now what the deer actually weighed." Harry rubbed at his chin feigning thought, "Tell me, my lord, how long has it been since last you were raided by one of the Free Folk?" There was no response from the irritated man, instead he just set his mouth into a defiant scowl so Harry answered for him, "months, years even," Harry smirked as the man visibly deflated, "There is only one reason for that change in the norm and it is our unification, which was a result of my intervention." Harry didn't like to boast but he felt the need to put the elder man in his place, "So, how much would you say that is worth, my lord?" He was asking rhetorically, "Certainly, it is worth more than a deer's weight in silver."

Greatjon thumped the table from his spot nearby Val, "He's got you by the bollocks there Rickard." He laughed a fully bellied laugh, "We both know there have been less than half the raids in the last five years, and it has dwindled to nothing of late."

"We all know that to be the truth, Lord Rickard," Maege Mormont spoke up, "Even Bear Island has seen less raiders in recent years, and the tribes along the Frozen Shore are still separate from the Norfolk."

Harry pulled out his wand and twirled it between his fingers deftly, "Would you like the memory back, my lord? Would you like to see exactly what happened?" The man eyed the stick briefly before shaking his head, unwilling to risk the magic, and looked to his fellows but he saw no true support there, least of all from Ned. He expelled a heavy breath through his nose before turning and storming back toward his seat. Harry was content that the matter was resolved but could see from the glare still directed his way by the other man that there would never be any love lost between them, "Should you ever change your mind, the offer shall remain open." Lord Rickard turned away from Harry then, drawing some chcukles from the others in the hall.

"What news do you have that required the presence of every northern lord?" Roose Bolton's spider soft voice broke the silence that followed the confrontation between Harry and the Lord of Karhold.

"You would not believe me if I simply told you, Lord Bolton," Harry could see some of the men had imbibed too much, now certainly wasn't the time.

Ned spoke from behind him, "The hour is late, I only wished to introduce Harry tonight, my lords and ladies." It was also meant to give Harry and Lord Karstark the opportunity to have their little confrontation before the more important matters were discussed. At least this way Rickard would have some time to cool down, "Tomorrow morning, we shall meet in the Great Keep at which point your curiosity shall be sated." The gathered nobles seemed less than pleased by this development but accepted it without complaint, many of them rising and making their way to their guest quarters. Harry remained behind as the many people filtered out. He was approached briefly by Wyman Manderly, the Lord of White Harbor. The corpulent lord was pleased to meet the man who had made his city all the more prosperous with the influx of goods from the Norfolk, not to mention the vodka that he had come to quite enjoy over the years.

When everyone had left the hall only Harry, Val, Ned and Robb remained within, Catelyn having left sometime earlier to tend to Rickon, "That went better than I expected." Harry told the Starks lightly.

"Rickard is a prideful man, but a good man." Ned commented, "With time, I hope that he will see there is no use in quarreling with you. I still don't approve of what you did there, even if I can see why you did it."

Harry was interrupted before he could respond, "You can truly take people's memories from them?" Robb asked accusingly from his father's side, clearly he found the very idea distasteful.

"Yes, I am really capable of taking people's memories from them," He rubbed at the back of his neck, "though it is far from my greatest talent, and I generally dislike doing it."

"I am scared to ask what else you might be capable of," Robb said stonily, "can you take away a person's will, or influence them to do as you wish."

Harry looked to the younger Stark, well aware that the answer he gave would likely be disconcerting, "I can use a compulsion charm to influence people to do something, though it only works properly if it is something they would already be willing to do. Or if they are adverse to the thing I wish them to do, I could cast the Imperius Curse which would place them under my control." Robb looked alarmed at this statement and turned to look at his father who looked less than pleased as well, "Though a suitably strong mind can resist the spell, and the caster must reapply the spell as it deteriorates over time."

"You can do this to multiple people at once?" Ned asked with narrowed eyes.

"It is possible, though there are limits." They looked expectant so he elaborated, "If I cast the spell, I must supplant the will of the person whose mind I have taken over; with each subsequent casting of the spell it would become more difficult as I would be forced to supplant yet another person's will." The conversation had taken a turn he wasn't expecting, so he sought to assuage their fear, "I have only cast the spell twice, and it was in the middle of a war where I was forced to break into a bank where something of importance was being held."

Ned nodded slowly after a moment's pause, "We truly don't have a full understanding of your abilities, and to hear you are capable of something as reprehensible as that, drives that point home."

"The key there," Val spoke up in his defense icily, "is capable. Harry would never do such a thing without cause, and certainly has never done anything of that nature to the people," She looked significantly at the northern lord, "who he wishes to develop honest alliances with."

Harry smiled at her slightly before turning his attention back to Ned, "I assure you, Lord Stark, that I have never once used any of the spells we are discussing on you or any member of your family. I only resort to such methods when it is necessary for the defense of my family or people. " He placed his hand on Trystan's head as he finished.

"I believe you," Ned replied earnestly, as Robb nodded almost contritely beside his father, "but you can understand how the knowledge could be discomforting." Harry agreed wholeheartedly, remembering very well how he'd felt when he found out magicals were capable of such things.

With that awkward conversation behind them they went their separate ways. When they reached their quarters they found Ygritte resting with her head on the wall, reading, albeit slowly as she was still new quite new to it. Lily was sleeping soundly in the crib. Without even saying good night to their parents both Trystan and Emer made their way to their beds and crashed there, falling asleep almost instantly.

A short while later, Harry laid on the bed with Val's loose hair splayed across his bare chest as she rested her head there, "I am more exhausted from four hours in the company of these southerners than I would be from a full day in the yard."

Harry's chest rumbled as he chuckled in agreement, "They can be draining, love. I can only hope that it will be worth the frustration."

She drew lazy circles along his abdomen, "When are Doran and Oberyn due to arrive?"

"At dawn," He replied as he closed his eyes, his fatigue finally winning out as he lost consciousness.

Harry waited in the clearing yet again, the sun had barely pushed up over the horizon, its still pale light illuminated the leaves of the trees. He only waited a few short minutes before standing before him were Doran and Oberyn Martell. They were dressed in heavy furs, the sort that wouldn't be seen anywhere near Dorne. The three men exchanged pleasantries before walking toward Winterfell. I am growing tired of making this walk. Harry was pleased to note that Doran was walking with ease. It is good to see that the potions are working.

"I was surprised to receive your letter as soon as I did after our conversation at the Water Gardens," Doran commented as they neared Winterfell's gates.

"Capturing the Other was no simple task," Harry replied, "but we were very much determined to see it done." He looked to Dornishman beside him, "I am positive that you shall find my evidence convincing, but how shall you broach the subject with your bannerman?"

"Our harvest feast isn't for another week," Doran commented, "they trust my judgement and I believe that they will believe our account of this meeting." He shrugged slightly, "And should talks with Eddard go well, they will understand why I am obligated to aid the North against the threat."

"Your concern is misplaced," Oberyn assured Harry, "They will listen to us, and realize that the threat which your people face could become a threat to the entirety of the kingdoms." If it proved necessary, Harry was prepared to bring his prisoner to Dorne.

They entered the Great Keep, the room already starting to fill with the northern lords and ladies. The black brothers along with the Norfolk stood apart from the rest, the dragonglass chest sitting on the ground between them. Briar stood apart, she seemed slightly irritable as she was forced to leave her shadowcat in the Wolfswood. However, quite strangely in Harry's opinion she seemed oddly fixated on both Jon and Robb who were chatting with the Norfolk. Though both seemed entirely unperturbed as Robb spoke with Jarl and Jon spoke to Ygritte, Theon was nearby scowling at the red-haired young woman who had thrown a rather sharp verbal barb his way.

A handsome, middle-aged woman with her greying hair in a tight bun spoke up as Harry entered, paying the two Dornishman little mind as they remained closer to the entrance, "He has arrived, can we finally learn what news required our presence?" She was scowling at Lord Eddard.

"Lady Dustin, you may think this an inconvenience but in short order you will discover the necessity of it." Ned rebuked her, but she just turned her head away sharply in disdain.

"My lords and ladies," Harry grabbed their attention as he moved to the center of the large room, "I understand you impatience so... let us begin."

"For me, this started more than five years ago…" Harry told them of his encounter with Bloodraven, though all save Ned and a little crannogman, Howland Reed, clearly didn't believe that the former Lord Commander of the Night's Watch remained alive beneath a weirwood tree beyond the Wall. He told them of the greenseer's advice, of his warning regarding the White Walkers and even of the warning regarding the stag's and the wolves, which caused curious glances in Ned's direction, which he ignored.

He explained to them his invention, or reinvention, of dragonsteel. This garnered some interest for no other reason than its apparent similarities to Valyrian steel, even if it was still inferior. Then Mance spoke, many murmured about the former black brother and the breaking of his vows but silence gripped the room when he told them of his encounter with one of the Others in the Land of Always Winter and his near death at their hands.

Then the black brothers and the other Norfolk continued the story. They told the northern lords in exact detail the nature of their venture into the Others' domain. The wonder that was evident in each of their voices as they told those gathered the Children of the Forest were more than just myths lost to the world was quickly displaced by the fear they felt in their encounter with the White Walkers and their undead thrall. It was nearly palpable in the room as they recounted every detail.

"When my rangers returned and told me their story, I believe them, just as I hope you believe them now." Jeor Mormont told the gathered nobles, "The Wall wasn't made to guard against flesh and blood men, and the Night's Watch wasn't founded to worry about raids. We were meant to battle against the Long Night; it is coming again and I am afraid we lack the strength to fight against it alone."

"What proof is there of these claims?" Rickard Karstark questioned loudly. He gestured to Harry, "We are already aware that the Witch-King," he spat the words spitefully, "can remove and alter peoples' memories, who is to say that he didn't do the same to all of these supposed witnesses."

"Our dead would speak up in Harry's defense," Ygritte almost growled, "But they are wanderin' the ice field past the Frostfangs." She gestured to Mance, "He brought many of us together. He told us of his encounter with the White Walker years before Harry even arrived beyond the Wall, long before they had ever met."

"As far as you are aware," Retorted Barbrey dismissively, "If he is capable of removing memories then Mance Rayder may not even be aware of his first meeting with the man. All of you could be basing your claims on memories that never truly happened." Harry did not appreciate being spoken of as though he weren't even there. Though, while he knew full well the argument was entirely incorrect he couldn't help but admire her shrewd analysis.

"And what reason would he have to concoct such an elaborate lie?" Galbart Glover of Deepwood Motte questioned the woman.

Rickard snorted, "He could mean to cause a panic in us at best, at worst he means to have us call our banners and bring them beyond the Wall so the Norfolk might destroy us. Then coming south and taking the North would be a simple thing."

"I have seen their city, Rickard. They have no reason to attack south of the Wall." Ned defended speaking harshly to the man, "They are not so numerous that they could take and hold the kingdom, and Harry isn't foolish enough to attempt such a thing." There were some who looked convinced of this while others were clearly still unconvinced.

Deciding that it was time to provide them with more than just stories, Harry stood without a word and made his way over to the chest, drawing the attention of the other occupants of the room. Mance and Benjen stood on each side, their hands wrapped around the hilts of their dragonsteel blades. The eyes of all those present watched as he opened the black chest, pulled out his wand, and waited as something rose out of the unnatural depths.

As the pale warrior was revealed little by little Harry heard shuffling behind him as the lords and ladies attempted to better see the creature. There was at least one loud gasp, and heard another plop down into a chair with a heavy thud. Benjen and Mance both flexed their hands on their swords as they thought back on the men that had been lost in the process of capturing this creature.

The manacled Other, taller than every man there, even Greatjon Umber, loomed over the northern lords his glowing blue eyes looking them each squarely in the eye. Harry looked to each of the nobles in turn, and found similar sights looking at each of them. Many were looking wide-eyed at the creature before them, what color they had in their faces had visibly drained. The contentious Lord Karstark and Lady Dustin had both fallen silent. Doran and Oberyn looked on talking quietly among themselves. Both men caught Harry's eye and nodded slightly. Harry had to resist the urge to look smug at the stricken look on Maester Luwin's face.

"Doubt the stories if you wish, question my motives if you don't trust me," Harry told them quietly, "but this White Walker standing before you is very real. He, two of his fellows, and their thrall killed a total of eleven Free Folk and crows combined in our effort to capture one of them so that we might provide you with proof."

"And what do you expect us to do with this new information?" Roose Bolton spoke up for the first time.

"Prepare for the coming danger," Harry responded as though it were obvious, "And aid us and the crows when it arrives."

"How do you expect us to convince our people such a thing is necessary when we are still experiencing the longest summer in living memory?" Barbrey found her voice again, even as she continued to stare unblinkingly at the White Walker.

"I am not asking you to call your banners tomorrow or even next week," Harry said letting a hint of irritation enter his voice, "But you cannot bury your head in the snow and ignore the coming danger."

"But can't we?" Roose interjected, "Is there really any danger to us? The Night's Watch is depleted, every person in the North is aware of that fact, but the Wall remains. As Commander Mormont said, it was built to protect against this enemy. Why should we not let it do what it was built for? Why should we fight an enemy that will only ever truly be a threat to you wildlings?"

"Assuming the Wall will remain standing, that these creatures of ice cannot find a way around it," Harry replied as evenly as he could manage despite his growing ire, "you would still find yourselves freezing to death in your halls as the Long Night grips Westeros, and when you could have fought them strong and healthy, you will instead be fighting them cold and broken." Harry scanned the crowd with his emerald gaze, "Refuse to acknowledge the danger, refuse to aid us in the coming conflict and we shall concerns ourselves with our defenses alone. I am confident that we can defend our cities and they shall leave us be for a time."

Harry paced before the fire, looking to the White Walker captive, standing there rigidly, "And when they fail to take us they will take you instead, and you will receive no aid from us when the Others break your Wall, and fall upon your lands like a storm." He sneered at his attentive audience, "You will wish that you had chosen a different course in the end because at least I am offering you the opportunity to fight."

Ned stepped in front of Harry, drawing all attention in the room to him, "My lords and ladies, I know there are times when we have quarreled but I have known many of you since I was a child, we fought together against the dragons and the krakens." He glanced at the silent captive, "But winter is coming and the Others along with it. And when they come, when they threaten our homes, we will fight together again." He looked to Benjen and Mormont, "The Watch cannot hold them at bay, they are too few; so, it will fall to us, to keep our families' safe." His grey eyes darkened, "When they come, I shall call the banners and you shall come with your men, as is your duty. If you don't, and we survive I will march to your strongholds, your castles, drag you from your halls and hang you as traitors." Ned's fervent speech left many slack-jawed while others seemed momentarily defiant. Harry, among others, took note of these lords before the Greatjon stood.

"You are our liege lord," The Lord of Last Hearth started, "and this thing," He gestured to the Other, "is evidence enough for me that there is a threat." He bowed his head to Ned, "When you call, the strength of Last Hearth will come." All others present responded in kind, though some clearly did it reluctantly most notably was Lady Dustin. Somehow I doubt that some of them will be sending the total sum of their men when the time comes.

It was as the nobles began to talk among themselves, many discussing how they might prepare for the possible confrontation while others talked more softly, that the captive finally made to speak, the chilling language of the Others causing many of the occupants of the keep to shudder involuntarily. Harry pulled his wand quickly and cast a translation charm, "What was that?"

It looked at Harry, malice in its glowing eyes, "Your preparation, your agreements, they will mean nothing."

"So you say," Harry replied indulgently, not really taking the White Walker's words into consideration, "I suppose we shall see." He stared unperturbed up into those eerie blue eyes, "But I would rather fight than submit, whatever the result." Harry had come to realize that the Other was supremely confident in their superiority. Hopefully, I will be able to exploit that fact in the future. He relayed the brief exchange. Many of the nobles left the room then, no longer wishing to be in the Others presence though many continued their conversations. As Doran and Oberyn approached Ned, Harry returned the White Walker to his dragonglass prison.

Sigorn and Mance grabbed the chest once it had been shut and sealed, "We will return this to your quarters." With that the two men left in the wake of the few straggling lords. Jon, Robb and Ygritte left together, seemingly making their way toward the yard. Briar followed their movement out of the room intently. Curious, Harry moved beside her, "You seemed oddly fixated on those two young men?"

The skinchangers eyes found Harry's as she spoke, "I'm surprised that you haven' noticed it." She sounded almost disappointed, "I didn' meet them when they visited First Forge but you did." She shook her head slightly, "They have the gift, both of them. Given time and training they could both be talented skinchangers."

Harry's eyebrows moved toward his hairline in surprise, "Interesting…" If Jon and Robb have the potential perhaps all of the Stark children do. He shook himself before speaking again, "I will be sure to speak with Lord Stark about your discovery." After I find out whether or not it is only the two of them. Briar didn't respond, instead she just shrugged her shoulders unconcerned before leaving the room.

Harry made his way over to Ned as he conversed with the two Dornishman. Doran's voice reached Harry as he drew closer, "… best interest of the Dornish to aid in the coming fight. We might be furthest from the Wall, but I am not foolish enough to believe that should it fall, we wouldn't be in the same sort of danger as the rest of Westeros."

Ned nodded slowly, "Your aid would be most welcome, Prince Doran, and I am pleased to hear that you have the foresight to understand the true danger," he hesitated slightly, "I will admit that I hope the other Great Houses will be equally swayed when presented with evidence of this threat."

Doran smiled thinly, understanding what Ned was insinuating, "I hope the same, even if I doubt such a thing is likely." He had his spies in the capital, even if they were not so numerous as the many other players of the game. Doran was aware of Robert's ever growing paranoia regarding the Norfolk's movement. From what he could tell, there would never be any sort of alliance between the crown and Harry Potter if Robert had any say in the matter. On the other hand, Tywin Lannister was unlikely to consider the Others a threat, even if presented with living breathing proof of their existence. Doran knew that Jon Arryn could be a reasonable man, and had little doubt that had there been a different man as Hand of the King, Robert already would have called banners and tried to make war against the Norfolk.

"But," the prince continued, "as we shall be the first and the only guaranteed members of this alliance, I would seek to solidify our ties, give us a reason to fight with one another beyond common cause."

Ned sighed and nodded, "Perhaps we should retire to my solar so we can discuss your proposal in more detail… after I retrieve my wife." Doran followed Ned as he went toward the stairs of the keep, leaving Harry and Oberyn alone.

The Red Viper turned to Harry with a roguish smile, "Quite the little speech you gave there, truly moving."

Harry made a vulgar gesture in response causing both to laugh, some of the tension Harry had been feeling during the meeting leaving him, "Your brother, was does he intend to propose?"

"A betrothal," Oberyn stated as though it were obvious, "And it wouldn't surprise me if Lord Stark accepts, he knows that we have cause to spite him," He referred to Lyanna's part in the rebellion and inadvertently in Elia's death, "and yet we offer aid instead." Harry nodded expecting the answer. The pair made their way out into the yard. Many of the lords were watching as their children and heirs sparred with one another. Ygritte and Jon were standing apart, she was unwittingly giving him more of the very lessons that had recently made Arya a better archer.

Separated from many of them were two boys being watched by Robb and Theon. One of them was fully padded and looked almost comical in how his movement was limited as he swung about a wooden sword. The other boy was Trystan, smaller than the boy across from him by a good deal, but wearing nothing but his usual clothing. Harry watched proudly as his son managed to heft the heavy wooden instrument, not with ease but without any great strain either. The two boys batted at each other for a few long minutes, neither remotely skilled at the art, instead just leaving new bruises as lessons. When they were finished with their display the taller boy removed his padded helmet to reveal auburn hair, and blue eyes, he looked a good deal like a younger, Robb Stark. Harry looked at the boy more closely now, with his magic as well as his eyes, and was unsurprised to find the younger Stark boy had a potential same as his elder brothers.

Harry and Oberyn walked up to the three boys. Trystan was excited to see the Dornish prince and embraced his leg, uncaring of his sweat-stained body. Harry looked at the younger Stark, "It is nice to meet you, Bran. You looked as though you have been working a long while in the yard." It was a lie and Robb smirked at Harry from behind his brother, but the compliment brought a wide smile to the boy's lips.

"Thank you, my lord." Bran responded, "I hope to be a member of the Kingsguard someday." Harry smiled indulgently before turning and looking to Trystan as Robb helped his brother from his padding.

He mussed Trystan's hair, causing him to laugh, "Do you know where your sister and mother are?"

Trystan nodded enthusiastically, "They're in the godswood." Harry picked up the four year old easily and walked toward the gate on the other side of the courtyard. Oberyn left them there, deciding he would prefer finding company in the winter town over venturing into the godswood.

He found Val sitting on a stone beside Maege Mormont, they watched as Arya, Emer, and Maege's youngest daughter, Lyanna, fired arrows into a target nearby. The two women were talking amiably among themselves as Lily nursed from her mother, "I always preferred the mace over any other weapon, something satisfying about the crunch of a man's skull after it's caved in their helms."

Val chuckled slightly, "Before Harry, we were lucky to have a worthwhile weapon between us. A spear could be made from any tree in a tight spot, and stones could be sharpened," She smirked, "I suppose I found something enjoyable in spearing a man who thought he was going to 'spear 'me."

As he approached, Emer giggled and launched herself toward her father while the two other girls stopped what they were doing. Harry placed Trystan on the ground and after giving Emer, a light hug back moved over to Val.

Arya spoke up before he reached his wife, pointing without care at the tattoo on Emer's neck leading toward her chin, "I would like one of those." Emer smiled, apparently expecting this comment.

Harry just looked at the strong-willed little girl and nodded slightly, "I suppose you shall need to visit First Forge then." The very idea excited her immensely, and she talked quickly with his daughter.

As Harry turned back to his wife she smiled slightly at him, fully aware of how tiring the earlier meeting had been, "I would ask you how things went, but I have heard a great deal already from Lady Mormont." Harry looked thankfully toward the Lady of Bear Island as he plopped himself down beside Val. He half listened as Val explained that she and Emer had come there to relax away from anyone when Arya arrived target in tow. The older girl had been more than happy to have the younger girl join her, and was more than a little pleased that Val didn't have even the slightest inclination toward taking her to Catelyn, or even worse… Septa Mordane. Maege arrived only a short time prior, Lyanna, in tow. She sought comfort from her gods after the startling experience of finding the White Walkers still lived.

He was more intent on watching Arya and Lyanna, no longer distracted by his arrival, as they began loosing arrows at the targets again, Emer and Trystan having moved in the direction of the heart tree. He looked at the little Stark girl, even as she loosed another arrow into the target. Another skinchanger, it would seem that all of the younger Starks have the gift.

The rest of the day progressed slowly for Harry. Before the actual harvest feast took place Harry saw off Oberyn and Doran. The elder brother shook Harry's hand firmly as they stood in the clearing again, "I shall contact you on your mirror should I require your presence when I meet with my bannerman, but I believe there will be no need for your intervention." With that the two disappeared.

That night, a grander feast was served in the Great Hall, and even more food was served to the smallfolk in the winter town. Harry looked to the elder Stark daughter and found that the budding auburn-haired beauty had the same dormant abilities as her siblings.

He couldn't help but notice the glare that was sent his way by the Catelyn that night. I have a feeling Ned has reached a decision on not only my proposal but Doran's as well, and it isn't exactly what his wife wanted.

That night, as Harry rested in his bed, he was glad to know that they would be returning home the next day. It will be interesting to see how many people come along for the ride.

Ned rubbed his eyes tiredly, as he looked at Jon standing across from him. To his right, Catelyn was smiling, something she rarely did when around the bastard boy. Ned was truly exhausted; dealing with the noble lords, and having negotiations with not just Harry but Doran, left him drained. On the table before him, there were two different letters each one detailing the revelation of the Others continued existence, one was meant for Jon Arryn, the other for Hoster Tully, he planned to enlist Theon to contact his father, well aware that Balon Greyjoy would scoff at anything sent to him by Ned personally. He also knew that Lord Arryn would inform Robert of the letters contents. And I fear what his reaction will be.

The Lord of Winterfell sighed loudly as he looked back to the dark-haired boy, "You wish to go with the Norfolk when they depart today, why?"

Jon glanced briefly in Catelyn's direction. Yes, no doubt he wishes to be away from Cat. Despite my efforts, she has never managed to bring herself to accept him. The young man straightened, "I shall be three and ten within the month, some would call me a man grown already." It was true, boys younger than Jon had gone to war before, and bastards seemed to grow up more quickly.

"I have grown up in Winterfell and loved it in that time," Ned could tell that Jon had thought over these words very carefully, "but this is not my place. For a long time, I thought that Night's Watch would be my place… that I would fight alongside Uncle Benjen, protecting the realm…" He hesitated a moment before continuing, his jaw flexing slightly, "now I would join the Norfolk instead. I understand the risks involved, I understand that it will put me closer to danger but it would offer me an opportunity to grow and learn I would be deprived of with the Night's Watch. And I believe they shall do more to protect the realm than anybody " Ned wasn't surprised that their visit to the Wall had left Jon disillusioned with idea of being a black brother.

There was very little that Ned could say to argue against letting Jon travel to First Forge. He isn't too young; boys younger than him have been sent away to page and squire with nobles and knights for centuries, some have even taken the black. He fully understands what sort of life he will be stepping into… how can I deny him when it will clearly make him happy? Ned resisted the urge to chuckle as he thought back on Jon's interactions with Ygritte. I am sure a certain red-haired young woman has a part in his decision as well.

Pulling himself from his musings, Ned shut his eyes briefly before nodding once, "Very well, if it is your desire and Harry accepts you into his company, I shall allow you to join the Norfolk." Catelyn tried to hide it, but she was obviously pleased by the news. She won't be nearly as pleased once we've spoken to Arya, maybe even Bran. "I believe I shall have a task for you," Ned told Jon to which he raised a quizzical eyebrow, "Go, find Harry, and put forth your request. If he accepts we will speak again before your departure." Jon turned to leave but before he reached the door Ned spoke again the barest hint of amusement in his voice, "And send me Arya and Bran if you would."

One the door shut behind him Catelyn's good mood quickly fell away as she spoke harshly, restraining herself from yelling, "I still do not like this, Ned. Arya and Bran should not be betrothed to the children of a magician," She scoffed at the word, "who commands a horde of wildlings. Imagine what might happen to them."

"I have," Ned replied tersely, tiring of this argument after only a day, "And I find it no worse than would might happen to them if they were sent south… to Highgarden, or King's Landing, or Casterly Rock." His grey-eyes darkened with his mood as he looked to his wife, "I am far more concerned about Sansa and her reaction to being betrothed to Trystane Martell than I am about Arya and Bran's well-being if they wish to foster at First Forge." Fortunately, Doran doesn't expect Sansa to venture to Sunspear immediately. "If anything happens to Bran or Arya, Harry can inform us immediately and they could visit here any day they wish thanks to his magic. I would think you would be pleased with such a thing."

"I am no more pleased with your decision regarding Sansa than I am Arya and Bran," Catelyn scowled fiercely but fell silent as the door opened to the room and the two aforementioned children made their way into the room.

Both seemed slightly perplexed by their presence in Ned's personal solar. Ned spoke softly, not wanting either of the two children to think that they were in trouble, "Arya, Bran there is something that we need to discuss." They both nodded nervously but didn't respond.

"You have met Harry Potter and his children, from what little I have seen and heard of your interactions with them, you have even enjoyed their company since their arrival." Arya realized where the conversation was going first and her face quickly closed up, "You will find it is a good thing because as of today you are betrothed to the twins respectively." Bran furrowed his brow in confusion while Arya's frown deepened.

"But…" His son started hesitantly, "the Free Folk don't believe in things like betrothals?"

Ned smiled at Bran's perceptiveness even as Arya looked to him hopefully, "That is true, and this will not be a traditional betrothal. In essence, this shall be a betrothal in name only, a way of allowing Harry to refuse any southern lords who seek to reach him through his children. Should either of you find yourselves emotionally attached to the twins as you grow older, then you may marry if you choose," Arya snorted derisively at the thought, and Catelyn rolled her eyes at the sound, "but unlike traditional betrothals you will not be obligated to." He swallowed thickly once, aware that Catelyn feared the next part of the conversation, "You also won't be required to foster with the Norfolk," These words had a distinctly negative effect on Arya, and Ned now had no doubt what her decision was going to be, "unless you so choose to; Harry has already said he would be happy to have you among them."

"I would like to go," Arya blurted out excitedly.

"Arya," Catelyn hissed, "thing about what you are saying."

Arya frowned, brought her hand to her chin, and then said again louder than before, "I would like to go." Ned resisted the urge to chuckle at her stubbornness. He had no doubt that she would miss her family in time, but at the moment, it presented Arya an escape from all of her mother's rules, and her desire was no doubt bolstered from hearing Jon's tales of the place. And Jon will be with her and that alone will be enough to keep her from being homesick most the time. She has always been closer with her than any of the others.

She continued unaware of her father's musings, "If I change my mind, Harry can send me home in less than a day, not weeks." Arya looked pleadingly at her mother, not wanting her to be upset, "I want to know what it is like there." She didn't voice her inner belief that she would fit in there far better than she did with her mother, sister and Septa Mordane.

Bran spoke up quietly, "I would like to remain at Winterfell," Catelyn smiled widely at his words, "But, I would also like to visit the Norfolk for a time, if that is possible."

Ned nodded at his children, "I believe that shall be acceptable," Catelyn huffed quietly but he paid her no mind, "Arya, return to your room and pack your things. You will be departing with the Norfolk before the end of the day. Bran, I shall discuss your visit with Harry in the future." Both children smiled before leaving the room in a dignified manner, though he heard rushed footsteps once the door closed behind them.

"Shall we tell Sansa then?" Catelyn asked him stonily.

"No Cat," Ned replied wearily, "I think that would be better coming from you, and not today. She is too preoccupied with Jeyne and Alys to be concerned with such things." After all, Sansa idolized her mother. Catelyn nodded stiffly and he could see the tears in the corner of her eyes. He stood and wrapped an arm around her waist, "I understand how this bothers you, why this bothers you. I would be lying if I said it doesn't irritate me as well. But this would have happened sooner or later, just be happy they seem pleased with our decisions as of yet." She smiled slightly but it did not reach her eyes, she disengaged from her husband and left the room.

Ned rubbed his temples to push away the headache that was threatening to take over. Cat will forgive me… I hope. In time, she will realize that this is for the best.

With that hopeful thought in mind, Ned stood and went in search of the guest that had brought such frustration into his life. He found him alone, standing in front of the crypts, dismantling the barrier he had placed that barred the way.

Harry turned when he heard the soft crunch of snow beneath Ned's feet. They were having a summer snow that day. The solid wall fell as Harry spoke, "Well it would seem that the dragonsteel interrupts their ability to perform necromancy." Ned looked into the crypt and was pleased to find that there were no corpses sitting along the stairs leading into darkness. "Either that," Harry continued, "Or it realized there was little it could do in its situation that would actually be effective."

"Let us hope that it was the former," Ned said as he came to stand just beside the Norfolk leader, "You shall be having two additions on your return home."

"Arya?" Harry questioned knowingly, and received a nod in return, "I'm not surprised, and Bran?"

"He wishes to visit," Ned said lightly, "But not to foster there."

"That is good." They fell into a comfortable silence. Ned could tell that Harry had something on his mind that he wished to tell him. After a few short moments, he spoke, "There is something you ought to know about your children."

Ned hadn't been expecting that and his head snapped in Harry's direction, "What about my children?"

"All of them," Harry said calmly, "even your youngest, have the potential to be skinchangers, talented skinchangers as far as me and Briar could tell."

Ned raised an eyebrow in surprise, "Is that strange?"

"As far as Briar tells it, yes," Harry admitted, "it is very rare for six children from the same family to have the capacity to be skinchangers."

"You can teach them?" Ned questioned.

"I can, though there are others who would be better suited for it." Harry shrugged, "I would recommend that you tell your children of this development, I will do the same for Jon and Arya once we arrive in First Forge, and if they wish to develop the skill, we will ensure that they are given the opportunity. Regardless of their decisions though, I or one of the skinchangers shall inform them of the dangers that go along with the ability." Ned nodded, agreeing that would be the best course of action for the time being.

The day passed slowly after that for Ned. Greatjon Umber put together a hunting party but he was more concerned with the pending departure of Jon and Arya.

That night he walked with the Norfolk and his two children, Catelyn was clearly doing her best not to cry as she kept Arya close. Robb and Jon spoke together quietly, the two boys, despite their difference in birth had always been close.

They reached clearing and found Briar waiting for them. Jon stepped over to Ned and awkwardly offerd his hand. The older man took the offered hand and shook firmly, "Take care of yourself, learn what you can, listen to what Harry tells you, and look after Arya." He emphasized this last command fully aware the sort of trouble his youngest daughter could get into, "You'll do well there."

Jon smiled slightly before a frown came to his long face, he spoke softly so that only Ned could here "Father, I know it is an uncomfortable topic, but my mother…" He left the request hanging in the air.

"Someday Jon," Ned replied tightly, "someday I will tell you of your mother." Jon was clearly disappointed but he accepted his father's words.

Ned walked over to Arya, who was being tightly embraced by her mother. He noticed her roll her eyes and he gave her a cross look causing a look of contrition to replace her exasperation. He hugged his youngest daughter, "You will miss this place more than you expect," She smirked at that, but he knew it would be true in time, "and we will miss you." He pulled away and told her seriously, "Be safe and for once in your life, listen." This caused her to laugh rather loudly.

The pair bid farewell to the rest of the family before joining the Norfolk. Harry looked squarely at Ned, "I'll be in touch." With that they disappeared. Ned stared at the spot for a long moment, still not accustomed to that form of travel. As he turned and wrapped an arm around his emotional wife, he twisted his neck trying to relieve some of the tension there. Well at least with Harry gone, things will relax a little. Yet, Ned knew things would not return to normal anytime soon.

AN: Well there is the next chapter, the one that many of you were looking forward to; I hope it met your expectations.

Quick comment on my description of the Imperius Curse. It is my opinion of how the curse ought to work, a person should not be able to be thousands of miles away controlling dozens of people at once, it just doesn't make sense when the caster should have to overcome the will of each of those people. I never liked the description in canon, if you disagree with me, great, you're more than welcome to your opinion just as I am welcome to mine. I am not going to argue about it with anyone.

17. Chapter 17

AN:Thanks as always to everyone for the favs , follows and reviews. Responses to guest reviews for the previous chapter can be found on my profile.

Struggling to fall asleep, Dalla's blonde hair fanned out across her pillows as she laid awake the same night that Harry and Val left to visit the southerners... taking Mance, her favorite pillow, with them. Even after seeing the White Walker in the flesh, she still wasn't convinced that he should be bothering with the kneelers, but in the end, it was Harry's decision and Val supported him. His shocking reveal and rousing speech before departing had left the Norfolk in a great commotion. More than one of the children had gone to their parents, clearly terrified by the prospect of the thing that had been presented to them by their magical leader. Even among the Free Folk, where such things were still remembered, the Others were very much the terrifying monsters of myth. She had been one of the few in the know, as it were, about the venture into the Land of Always Winter, if for no other reason than Mance having influence of his own among the Norfolk, took counsel from her on many matters that troubled him, just as he did the same for her. And I would be able to fall asleep if he wasn't forced to be down in Winterfell.

Dalla could genuinely say that she was happy with Mance. For years, many had questioned why she hadn't had a man. While she wasn't the fighter that her sister was, Dalla could easily avoid the dim and the brutish who so very often would try to steal her. If they couldn't take me then they really weren't worth any time beyond that. But then Val had come to her and told her of the mysterious dark-haired man she'd met in the woods. Dalla had no problem admitting that she distrusted Harry in the beginning, but he proved to be a competent and charismatic leader who genuinely wished to better the Free Folk, and while there were times where she could still say the magic he performed baffled and even scared her, she trusted him. I trust that he and Val, and every other member of the Norfolk will do everything necessary to beat back the Others… and we can do it alone if needs be.

Her eyes started to feel heavy as the darkness gave way to sleep. Just as she was on the precipice there was a loud banging on the door to the small home she and Mance usually shared. Dalla jerked awake from the unexpected noise which persisted even she fumbled around blearily in the darkness to dress herself. She managed to find a simple grey dress sitting by her bedside before throwing on a heavy black fur cloak. She opened the door,a dagger in her hand lest there be any danger. On the other side, Tormund nearly bashed his hand into her face as he went to pound on the door again muttering to himself, "Wake up you lazy piece of bear…" He stopped suddenly as he stumbled forward and into their home.

"Tormund," Dalla said tersely, aware that the only reason he would disturb them at such a late hour was if there was something of pressing concern that required their attention, "what is going on?"

"We've a problem." She raised her eyebrows imperiously, impatiently waiting for him to elaborate, "There was accident in the mine." He told her gruffly as he made his way out into the cold of the night.

Dalla followed him out immediately; there was a light snow falling in the paved street leading further into First Forge was wet as it melted on contact. "Cave in?" Dalla asked as they got closer to the gateway that led to the mine.

"Yes," Tormund replied curtly, "Talking to Rilk," one of the miner's and one of the more highly respected people at the outpost, "there are at least forty people trapped in by the cave-in."

"Does anyone know what caused it?" She questioned, but Tormund only shook his head in the negative.

"None of the miners in that area, heard or saw anything out of the ordinary. Chances are a support snapped." He shrugged his shoulders slightly, "What difference does it make? We need to figure out a way of getting them out." The two of them stepped through the gateway and found themselves in a throng of people all jostling about in a bit of panic.

The duo moved closer to the mine which was now deep and expansive after years of being worked. They were approached by the thin faced Rilk, looking more than a little irritated with them as he broke a discussion with Karsi, "I tol' you to get 'elp Tormund. I meant 'arry you sod, not 'er" He gestured toward Dalla, "I coulda done wel enough with 'er," He pointed at Karsi who looked like she was ready to break the offending finger.

Dalla stepped up to the man and looked him squarely in the eye, "In case you have forgotten, Harry is gone." He scoffed at that but she continued, "For the moment, you will have to make do with the aid of average people instead."

"What does it matter if 'e is gone?" Rilk questioned indignantly, "You could contact 'im on your mirror, 'e could be back 'ere and have the whole thing taken care of quick as you like." He looked into the mine, no doubt in the direction of the cave-in. "And the men n'women down in that mine will be able to sleep easy tonight in their own beds." There was clearly genuine concern for the people in that mine but Dalla knew now was not the time to disturb Harry. And we cannot rely on him to solve every problem that comes our way.

Karsi spoke up then, "Harry is dealing with important matters. Matters which I see no reason to distract him from, given what he is trying to achieve." She made her way down the ramp into the extensive mine system. "We can handle this on our own, now show us to where the incident took place."

Rilk looked as though he would balk, but seeing the look in Dalla and Tormund's eyes quickly followed behind Karsi. They reached the bottom before he spoke up, "It's this way." They made their way to the right and down into a dark tunnel. The travel took a good deal longer than she would have expected. Eventually, as the air in the tunnel grew evermore stale… and warmer, they reached the caved in section of the mine.

"Well, 'ere you have it." Rilk said irritably, "What do you propose we do?" Dalla barely spared him a glance as she made her way over to the barrier between them and their fellow Free Folk.

"Could you not just have men begin digging them out?" Tormund asked, a bit distractedly.

Rilk snorted, "If you think there is any man or woman who will be willin' to start diggin' in this tunnel after what happened here already then you are touched, Tormund." The Talltalker growled but did nothing more to react to the jibe.

Dalla looked to the supports in the tunnel nearby, "Do you have any idea what caused the collapse?"

Rilk huffed, "Wasn' in this area meself but I can tell you the most likely culprit was a snapped support." He looked around the tunnel as well, "Though I spose it is possible that because this is one of the lower tunnels something from above could have caused the cave-in."

Dalla nodded, "Would it be possible to dig down from one the upper tunnels down to the miners?"

He stared at her for a moment before snorting derisively, "Again, we don' know how stable this tunnel is, coming at it from above could easily cause a second collapse and bury the people behind that stone n' dirt."

"Are there any tunnels at this same level that run along the same route as this one?" Karsi questioned grabbing and lightly tossing one of the loose stones as she knelt beside the rubble.

Rilk thought about it for a second, "Aye, about thirty feet through this wall," he gestured to his left, "there is n'offshoot where we found heavy deposits of metal about a month ago."

"Could you dig a new tunnel that would connect the trapped tunnel and that one?" Dalla asked hopefully.

"It should work," Rilk said slowly, "though we'll be doin' it blind. We'll have to guess 'ow far down the cave in finished."

"Then it would be best to go overly far in the hopes that you can get passed any danger and actually avoid the cave-in." She looked concernedly toward the rubble yet again, "You know these people, and I have little doubt they are terrified at the moment. How long do you think they have before they run out of air? How long do you think it is before we are not trying to rescue them but recover them?"

Rilk swallowed thickly at that, "I'll be getting' back up to the surface now, it would seem to me that we 'ave some work to do." They could hear him muttering numbers as he made his way back up to the surface. No doubt trying to figure out just how deep they need to go into the other tunnel.

Tormund rested a hand on her shoulder, even as he used his other hand to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow, "There was a reason that I called on you, Dalla But I think you can rest now." He smiled at her beneath his thick, red beard. She returned it with a small smile of her own and swayed slightly from her own fatigue. Alone, she made her way back toward the surface. By the time shearrived back home, Dalla was truly exhausted and as she fell asleep that night the situation at the mine weighed heavily on the mind.

The miners worked through that night, but despite their diligence progress was still slow. The thirty foot distance between the two tunnels seemed substantially as only so many of the workers could be in the tunnel at any given time, and there were a number of them still unwilling to risk the possibly unstable area. Added into that was the unfortunate discovery of a solid vein of iron that impeded their progress all the more.

But late the following day they broke through into the other tunnel. The trapped miners were for the most part alright. Three unfortunate souls had been buried alive by the initial collapse and one had a punctured lung and shattered leg, she died of shock and blood loss as their makeshift tourniquets proved ill effective.

Dalla watched as the surviving miners filed out of the new tunnel. The very last was a young woman, no more than eight and ten, and she looked to Dalla and Karsi where they stood beside Rilk, "We thought that Harry would come for us."

Dalla smiled a little sadly at the younger woman, "He would have in a moment had we contacted him," This brought a scowl to the young woman's face, "we didn't because we were fully aware of the importance of what he is undertaking."

"And our lives weren't just as important?" The girl responded coldly, "You would think he should have at least been given the option of aiding us lowly miners." She made to turn but Dalla stopped her with a tight and no doubt painful grip on the young woman's arm.

"I don't know you," Dalla started glaring at her, "I don't know your name. But regardless of that fact I am very much sorry that you were trapped in that mine for… a day." She smirked slightly as the girl bowed her head, clearly realizing that her ordeal had not been nearly as trying as she was making it out, "I think though, given the circumstances, that you and your fellow miners were retrieved in a timely and efficient manner, and while Harry could have done it faster, there are times when we must fend for ourselves." The girl nodded timidly and Dalla finally removed the iron grip she had on her arm.

As the young woman turned to leave she stopped and looked back at Dalla, "You may want to go and have a look at the tunnel." Dalla raised a questioning eyebrow, "We stumbled upon something we didn't expect, breaking through is what caused the cave-in." Dalla nodded before making her way down toward the other tunnel with Karsi. It grew ever hotter as they drew closer to a sound of roiling and bubbling water. Hmm so they stumbled upon an underground hot spring, perhaps Harry might find this interesting.

Robert looked around the small council chambers. It seems my visits here come more and more often these days. His gaze fell back down to the parchment laid out before him. For good reason though it would seem. The letter was from Ned, addressed to Robert but meant as much to appeal to Jon Arryn as anyone else.

Robert turned to Varys with a frown beneath his grizzly beard, "He was in Winterfell. He was in Winterfell and yet there was no word from your little birds until after the fact." Robert was resisting the urge to throttle the perfumed eunuch where he sat, "What good is a master of whispers, if none of the whispers he hears are of any use to me."

The eunuch was unperturbed by the implied threat and met the king's gaze unflinchingly, "I have done all I can, your Grace. I have worked diligently to get someone into the wildling cities, but it is difficult to find someone willing to risk such a thing." Robert rested himself against the table waiting for the reasons that Potter's visit had come without warning "Given the unconventional travel methods of Potter, it is difficult to receive any information regarding where he might be. The little birds in the North knew nothing of Lord Stark's invitation to the man. It seems he kept it entirely to himself."

Robert begrudgingly accepted that reasoning, "And what of the Dornish presence there?" Robert pushed the parchment roughly down the table, "Did your little birds have nothing to tell you of their dealings in recent months?"

"No, your Grace," Varys replied in that same damnable tone of voice. "Though, I have received news regarding the actual goings on in Winterfell at the harvest feast."

"Some good news then," Robert said relaxing back into his chair, he gestured for the eunuch to continue, "Well, out with it then!"

Varys nodded indulgently toward the king, "During the festivities, Potter and his wife had a private conversation with your old friend. No doubt that is the time when they discussed the more personal matters contained within the letter." He gestured down the table, "What was not included was the altercation that took place during the feast."

Robert was intrigued by this, "An altercation, I cannot imagine that Ned would allow such a thing in his own halls."

"He did," Varys replied succinctly, "but for good reason. Lord Karstark approached Potter regarding the incident along the coast some years ago." The eunuch hesitated a moment, "Lord Stark allowed them to settle it between themselves."

"And its resolution?" Stannis asked from further down the long table.

"Contentious at best, though Potter came out with the upper hand." Varys said. Robert found the entire thing rather strange. I cannot imagine Ned would allow one of his bannerman to be slighted by some wildling playing at being a lord.

Renly spoke up then, "And regarding this claim that the Others have returned, and are amassing behind the Wall?" Robert balked at the very idea of such a thing. And even if it is the truth, what difference should it make to Ned and the North? Is that not the purpose of the Wall and the Night's Watch, to hold back the Others? Robert failed to take into account that it wasn't there numbers alone that could be a threat but the fact that unending winter came with them. Regardless, he still doubted the validity of the claim and very much believed that it was just some sort of ploy by the wildlings.

Varys looked unhappy as he explained, "Lord Stark was diligent in ensuring that no one save those who were invited to attend that meeting were there; however, those present at the meeting were not tight-lipped." He smiled then, that thin mysterious smile that came with knowing far more than anyone else in the room, "From what my little birds were able to gather, there was in fact some creature presented to the northern lords, one that generally matched the description of the White Walkers that supposedly came with the Long Night millennia ago."

Littlefinger laughed loudly, "Surely this is a jest." The brothel owner looked about as convinced as Robert felt, "The Others do not exist, and if they ever did they passed from this world long ago. Does it not seem more likely that this is something contrived by this Harry Potter so that he might finally succeed where previous Kings-Beyond-the-Wall have failed?"

"My thoughts exactly," Robert agreed loudly, "he seems the sort to think through his schemes better than those who came before him. Who's to say that with his magic he couldn't simply create this creature that has the northerners pledging themselves to his cause?"

Jon shook his head from beside the king, drawing his attention, "You disagree?"

"Aye, I do," Lord Arryn said unrepentantly, "I have known you and Ned since you were children, and I have little doubt that he could see through such a ruse easily."

"Perhaps…" Pycelle coughed uncontrollably for a moment before continuing, "Perhaps it is as we fear, and Lord Stark has fallen under some sort of enchantment at the hands of the mage."

"Given his previous history, with regards to tampering with people," Renly added slowly, "that seems far more likely than ancient creatures awakening beyond the Wall."

"There were those among the northern lords who voiced similar sentiments," Varys informed them, "though theirs seemed to be the dissenting opinion. I would not be surprised if we receive missives in the next few weeks that raise that very concern. Though from what I am to understand, many agreed that the creature was genuine and could pose some sort of a threat to the North."

"Do you know who those dissenters were?" Robert asked curiously.

"I do." The eunuch replied shortly. Robert was pleased to hear but was forced to turn his attention elsewhere.

"This is all well and good, but there is more that must be addressed in this letter." Jon Arryn interjected impatiently, "Lord Stark has betrothed his youngest daughter and second son to Potter's twin children, while his oldest daughter is now betrothed to a prince of Dorne." Jon took a drink from the goblet in front of him, "Regardless of whether we are convinced of the danger these creatures present, or even whether they are what they appear to be. Lord Stark and Prince Doran clearly believe the threat they pose and are moving to bind themselves in more than just common cause."

"The Dornish have no love for the throne after what happened to Elia Martell," Stannis pointed out, "I find it strange that they would be any more willing to accept the Starks considering their role in the Rebellion."

Jon tilted his slightly, "I would agree, though I suppose it is possible, given the well-known confrontation between Robert and Ned regarding the fates of Elia and her children that Doran and Oberyn are more understanding of his role in the matter." He shrugged slightly, "But if that isn't the case, I think that makes it all the more likely that the lords in question have true worries about the situation." Jon glanced in Robert's direction.

The old man knew full well that Robert had designs toward binding his heir with Ned's eldest daughter. A prospect that has become ever more unlikely. Robert looked to the man who raised him and sighed. Jon will counsel caution and perhaps it is time that I heed him in this matter. "I still believe these Norfolk are a threat, that they have designs more malicious than it appears," He shook his head slightly in defeat, "but given that those I have appointed to handle the situation have failed quite spectacularly," he glared at the maester who had been so confident he could see Potter removed, "and there is no way I could justify doing as I truly wish by raising the banners, rooting them out of their frozen cities and forcing them to bend the knee to the iron throne," He could see Stannis' grim visage harden even farther at the very prospect of such a thing. Not to mention I would have Braavos irritated with me for attacking their major trade partner without provocation, not to mention the northerners are now beginning to benefit as well. "So we shall take another course, the one I know you have voiced in private, Jon." He let the statement hang in the air for a moment, consigning himself to the course of action that his father in all but blood recommended.

"And would you please enlighten those who are not privy to your private conversations with your Hand?" Stannis broke the silence, irritated by Robert's hesitation.

Robert looked down the table at his younger brother, and ground out irritably, "I would think that rather obvious, Stannis. If we will not fight them," His face scrunched up in distaste, "then we must treat with Potter and his people. It seems all the more pertinent when considering their ties to Braavos, some of their dealing with Pentos, and theirclear affiliation with the Dornish." The last was verbatim what Jon had said to him in private not a week prior, "We cannot afford to be uninformed about these matters, so it seems the only way to find out more is through, Ned, who is very much supporting Potter, or by going to the source." He gestured to his Hand. "After all, as Jon pointed out, if rumors are true, then Potter could be here to explain the situation within weeks, instead of forcing us to rely entirely on letters."

"This seems… the most appropriate action given everything that we know," Stannis said slowly, trying and failing to hide the hint of surprise from his voice.' Everything that we know,' he says. We know nothing but what we hear from rumors and Ned, and we can only hope that Ned's mind is his own. If nothing else, Robert thought it would be interesting to see if Potter was willing to journey from his frozen home down to the capital. A man with something to hide would likely choose to remain where he knows himself to be safest.

The meeting went on from there, he sat through the monotony of counting coppers; though, even Robert must admit that their debt to the Iron Banks seemed a truly considerable sum.

As the seven of them stood to depart from their meeting, Robert spoke once more. "I shall expect a missive sent to Ned regarding communication with Potter to be sent within the day." He knew Pycelle could likely contact him through Maester Gareth as well but he would prefer using Ned as a go between instead. Jon nodded his head at the command. Robert smiled slightly and turned his attention to Varys, "And I expect you to increase your efforts regarding your little birds and the northern cities. We shall never know if the man has any ulterior motives when the only information we receive of him comes from rumor and when he is speaking with others. We need to know what it is that is happening within his home." Varys bowed obediently and made his way out with the rest of the men of the small council. After giving them leave to exit, Robert hefted himself from his seat and walked out after them, his squire just behind him.

He made his way to his own personal quarters where he passed the Kingslayer guarding his door. He entered to find a whore waiting for him on the bed a jug of what he assumed was wine sitting on the small table beside it. He walked to the table and poured himself a glass, he looked at the liquid and realized from its hue it wasn't what he expected. He looked to the half-naked woman on his bed, "What is this?"

She gave a small smile, "Have you not had it, your Grace? It is the cider imported from those wildling cities beyond the Wall." She took a sip of it from her own glass, "I believe your lady wife ordered a barrel."

Robert tightened his lips in irritation but looked to the drink in his glass. Well a drink is a drink I suppose. He brought the glass to his lips, surprised that he enjoyed the taste. Hmm first good thing Cersei's has done for me in years. He tipped the drink up and downed the contents quickly. Well, whatever else the wildlings might be, they can make a damn fine drink. With that thought he dropped himself into the large bed and indulged himself in the young woman there.

Arya gasped as she felt the unyielding smack of ironwood against her abdomen, though this did not mean a reprieve as she felt the same shaft make harsh contact with her back and send her sprawling into the dirt of the training yard. She could hear the soft laughter of the woman responsible for her treatment just behind her.

"Come now, southerner," Osha said through her chuckles, "you must tire of this." There was no sympathy in her, just humor at Arya's repeated inability to make progress with the spear. But despite this fact, Arya persisted. Upon her arrival at First Forge, she had been ecstatic to find herself not only allowed but encouraged to participate with the boys in the yard. There are as many spearwives here most days as there are men.

More often than not, Arya would learn from Osha, or Karsi, or Tormund, or whoever else happened to be helping the younger would-be fighters with the other children her age. However, Arya found herself at a gross disadvantage upon arriving in her new foster home. The other children her age, at least those who wished to fight, had been working toward that very goal for years.

So after each lesson, she would pester, quite incessantly, whoever their instructor happened to be until they agreed to spend some extra time with her helping to catch up. Tormund would tell her stories, mostly lies if I am to believe others around the city, while he walked her through how best to hold a sword and shield, even if she would struggle at times with the weight of it. Of those who worked her with the spear, Karsi tended to be the most sympathetic, having daughters of an age with her. On the rare occasion that she had the time to help, Val was exact and critical of every little thing Arya happened to do wrong, though very much helpful in correcting those mistakes. Osha, well she was the most violent, the most brutal of her teachers. She would simply beat on Arya incessantly until the bruises served as enough of a lesson.

"M'lady, surely you would rather be back in the Hall, sewing dresses with the others less suited for this sort of thing," Arya snarled at the implication, even as Osha smirked victoriously at having managed to raise her ire… again. "That tends t'be all you southern ladies are good at, right?"

Arya lashed out with the shaft in her hands, flailing wildly at the wildling woman across from her. But Osha just smiled unrepentantly as she dipped and dived around every assault without problem. As Arya stabbed forward with the blunted blade of the practice spear she winced as she felt the sting of Osha's shaft hitting her in the shoulder. Another welt for the collection it would seem. She straightened back up, forcing herself not to grimace at the pain she felt in her limbs. She wants to make you angry. It makes you unfocused, it makes you stupid.

Arya took a deep calming breath, and she didn't even notice as the cocky smile fell from the wild woman's lips. This time as Arya attacked, it wasn't in raw anger. It was measured, and thought out. She actually considered her guard and the counter that might come should she make an attempt instead of concerning herself solely with hitting Osha. She still was struck, more than once, but she stayed on her feet twice as long as she usually managed against this particular instructor.

As she pulled herself up out of the dirt yet again, Arya wiped away the sweat from her brow and the blood from her split lip. She went to grab her weapon where it had fallen but Osha's leather boot pinned it to the ground, "That is enough for today, m'lady." She knew that Arya hated the title and that was exactly why she chose to use it, "You did better, much better in fact." She paused a second, "But you're still shite with a spear." Osha offered Arya a hand even as she glared up at her, "But you're as shite with the spear as the other children now."

Arya smiled through the pain she could feel emanating from… well everywhere. Osha looked entirely unsympathetic as she grabbed the other spear from the ground, "If I was you, m'lady, I would consider staying away from the spear." Arya looked at her, one eyebrow raised in question, "You're better with the sword, quite a bit better. Tormund thinks so too, Karsi thinks so too, Val thinks so too, just because we're called spearwives, it don't mean that every woman here has t'use a spear." She pointed over to where Karsi was bashing on a dummy, "She's as good with a spear as most, but she's better with a sword and there's no shame in that."

Arya thought this over a moment, "Tormund's way of using a sword," She glanced down at her slender frame, "it doesn't really… suit me all that well."

Osha shrugged her shoulders, "Learn what you can from him, as long as you can, and when you actually know how t'use it, you can figure out what works best for you." Arya didn't entirely like the sound of this but she could see the wisdom in it. I would prefer an appropriate teacher, who could actually teach me something properly suited for me, but I suppose I ought to take what I can get. Osha walked over to a rack nearby, "Now go, you're done for the day."

Arya nodded and made her way out of the training yard and limped her way down the street toward a now familiar house along the way to the Hall. She knocked hard on the door, and after some bustling from within there was an answer, "Yes, what is it?" Ferny said curtly, the kindly older woman responsible for overseeing much of the day to day production of the Norfolk. Arya looked up with wide, almost pleading eyes, her face a mess of bruises, and a dried line of blood running from her nose down to the edge of her jaw.

The older woman huffed and ushered her into the house, which smelled of dozens of different herbs while the tables were piled high with fabric used by hundreds to help cloth the people. She felt bad when she noticed that Ferny had clearly been enjoying a moment to herself as her midday meal was sitting on the table nearby, "I didn't mean to intrude."

Ferny arched an eyebrow, "No, I'm sure you didn't, but you have and for good reason." She rummaged through a number of clear vials and jars sitting on one of the many shelves along the wall. She grabbed one that was a paste, another that was a translucent sort of blue and finally she grabbed a basin filled with water and a cloth. She set that down in front of Arya, "Wash yourself, first." She set the paste down, "Apply that to your bruises and they should be gone within the hour," Finally she handed her the vial, "That should help with any swelling."

Arya smiled tiredly and gave a small nod. Ferny returned the smile ruefully and shook her head, "You have only been here for a little over a month, girl, and yet, I've seen you more often than anyone else in the last year."

Trying to look sheepish but not really managing it, Arya replied, "Well, no one else here needs to catch up the way I do." She took the cloth, looked to the mirror sitting nearby and began to clean herself up.

Ferny clucked irritably, "You don't need to catch up at all." She sat down at the table and began eating her meal, between bites she continued, "No one expects you to be a spearwife. From what I hear, you are already quite the little marksman. Shooting a bow and arrow won't see you limping around First Forge like a cripple."

"I want to be a fighter," Arya said petulantly, not wanting to hear the same arguments she had heard since the first time the old woman had seen her bloodied after a training session and offered to help her, "And this only ever happens," she gestured to her battered body, "when Osha helps me."

"Some help," Ferny said quietly, "You still get bruises with the others, even those your own age, those just aren't so bad that you are forced to come to me for help."

Arya couldn't really argue with that point, "Everybody gets bruises like that, whether they're learning to fight or not." She could remember quite vividly the myriad of times her mother had scolded her for acquiring some new scab or bruise and most of them hadn't been won in the fighting yard. No, most of those came from crawling through the nooks and crannies of Winterfell, or running about in the godswood or even the Wolfswood.

"True," Ferny relented, knowing full well that there was no arguing with the girl in front of her. They sat in relative silence for the next few minutes as Arya did as the old woman told her, The paste was rather unpleasant, as it smelled faintly of spoiled eggs, though by the time all was said and done her skin of her face was left pain and blemish free.

As she left Ferny's home the woman had a parting comment as she readied herself to return to help those younger than her who preferred working the loom or making the potions and salves, "I'm sure I will be seeing you again soon." Arya gave a half smile at that and turned along the road and made her way toward the Hall, where she hoped to find herself a meal. Smelling Ferny's for nearly an hour had left her stomach grumbling.

As she entered the Hall, she couldn't help but be surprised yet again by certain things about the Norfolk way of life. Many of the men and women ate in their own homes, cooking for themselves, just as the people in and around Winterfell did on most days. But despite this, everyday there would be an offering of food in the Hall, provided not by some servant being paid for the service but by a collection of men and women who wished to provide for the children, some of whom truly had no one, their parent's having passed some time ago, and those tradesmen, particularly the smith's, who would often work tirelessly at their craft, leaving them to ignore necessities such as food at times.

Arya went to the table and cut herself a hunk of beef from the roast that had been laid out. Spooned herself a good portion of onions and potatoes, and walked over to a table nearby to sit and eat… alone. So far, she had enjoyed her experience but there were times where Arya would feel rather lonely. She got along well enough with the twins but they were younger than her by two years even if they often didn't seem it. Jon would try to keep her company, or keep an eye on me more like, but he would find himself distracted by his own interests. Chief among them being a red-haired girl. Most days it didn't bother her, as she was at least friendly with those she took lessons with and from. But there were some moments where she did truly miss her home and the familiar faces that went with it.

As she sat there eating quietly, Gilly with her new 'betrothed' in tow came through the door carrying a number of parchments. From what Arya could see from the distance, a number of them were already covered in markings while others were blank.

They sat down nearby and started talking between themselves. Arya found it quite odd watching the older girl speaking to the boy, and actually… considering his opinion and listening as he explained something as they were looking at the parchments.

Curious, Arya stood and approached them. Gilly noticed her first and smiled at her, even as Trystan's gaze found her and he waved happily. She couldn't help but wave back due to his enthusiasm. Gilly noticed the slight limp to her walk, despite the potion that Ferny had provided her, "Did you have a rough time in the yard?" Trystan gave her a sympathetic look, as only at five years of age he and his sister would often be in the yard as well and had seen the treatment she allowed herself to endure under Osha.

"Only as rough as I was willing to make it." Arya said, very much aware that her stubbornness regarding learning to fight and how far she was willing to take it had been discussed among the younger Norfolk if nothing else.

Gilly giggled slightly at this, a noise that grated on Arya slightly if for no other reason than it reminded her of Jeyne Poole and her sister commiserating between themselves about her lackluster needlework. And whether Arya wanted to admit it or not, the reminder was unwelcome as she did miss her sister and her pestering. "Well, I am sure you are doing wonderfully." Arya gave a small smile. Looking at Gilly, or Munda, and even more so when speaking with them, it was hard to reconcile how they were with what she had been raised to imagine a wildling was like. Most of the children are as well-spoken as any of the young nobles in the North, certainly not the uncouth, raving, raiding, and murderous monsters that were supposed to come for us in the night if we misbehaved.

Trystan looked back down to the parchment in front of him as the two talked, drawing something out there, "What are you doing?" Arya questioned loudly, and without preamble. It was one of the things her mother had tried quite diligently to break her of over the years. She almost always said the first thing that came to her mind.

Neither Trystan nor Gilly seemed to mind her outburst , "We're working on a runic array, one that Munda and I think might be helpful. Trystan and Emer have been working with us on it." She pushed a piece of parchment toward Arya and gestured for her to sit. To Arya it looked like little more than artwork, similar in nature to that which was tattooed on more than one of the Norfolk's faces or arms, or like the designs worked into the stonework of the houses around the city. I still need to get one of my own.

"What do these runes do?" Arya asked, genuinely curious about the oddities. She recognized a few of the 'words'. Some of these were etched into the tombs of the first Kings of Winter deep in the crypts. But many more of them were entirely foreign to her.

"As of right now," Gilly said, regaining her attention, "that particular cluster doesn't do anything. But we intend for it to be rather violent, given the right ingredients, and the right container, mixed with a little bit of magic." Arya looked at her with one dark eyebrow raised in surprise, "Those of us who are less inclined toward fighting would still like to provide aid against the White Walkers," A shiver went through both Gilly and Trystan at that, and while Arya had yet to actually see the legendary warrior supposedly held captive, she could understand the response, "This is what I, Munda, and some of the others decided to do to aid the efforts." She took another sheet of parchment from the stack, "Nairn and some of the others are working on something that should improve the siege weapons."

Arya was slightly in awe that people not much older than her, and in some cases younger, were doing so much to help this effort. Then again, from what I hear it was Gilly and Munda with Harry's help who did a great deal of the work on the portals that make it so easy to get from place to place around here. She turned to look at Trystan, who continued to work attentively, though he did glance at them on rare occasion, "How are you helping?"

He looked up with his big eyes, a mix of his mother's and father's, not expecting the very direct question, "I… well," he stuttered briefly, but recovered quickly, "Me and Emer can use magic… on a… a smaller scale than da' to try and… test the runes before he does the real thing."

Gilly shook her head slightly, "That's not all they do though, like their father they tend to be entirely too modest." Despite his attempts to stop her Gilly managed to pull the piece of parchment away from Trystan and showed it to Arya, "Trystan has a knack for the drawing of runes, particularly those that Harry learned before coming to our land." Arya took the parchment and actually had to marvel at how cleanly the lines were drawn, and how it all flowed together, "On the other hand, Emer can draw, though not the more complex runes. Instead, she has a knack for seeing how they could best go together without any backlash." That statement made little sense to Arya but she understood that it must be a bad thing.

The three fell into a comfortable silence until after looking at the drawings for a time Arya spoke again, looking at both of the pair, "Would you teach me?"

Trystan smiled widely, while Gilly just nodded her head, "I would be happy to teach you when I can."

"So would I." Trystan added enthusiastically. It was clear he quite liked runes, though from what she could see he quite liked anything that had to do with the magic that his father could perform.

"And, could you also…" Arya hesitated a moment, feeling slightly awkward and even shy, something she was entirely unaccustomed to, "teach me how to speak the Old Tongue?" Her inability with the language of the First Men had left her entirely unable to speak with some people, particularly some of the Thenn she had met since arriving.

"Munda would probably be better suited for that than I am," Gilly admitted a hint of red coming to her cheeks, "I can speak it well enough, but I don't use it as often as I write the old runes." She tapped her chin, "Her mother might be willing to teach you." Arya smiled widely at that but noticed that both Trystan and Gilly's attention was focused over her shoulder. Her brow furrowed as she turned to see what had drawn their attention only to find that Harry was standing just behind her, looking at the three of them fondly.

His gaze fell to Arya before he finally spoke, "Your brother has just returned, Arya." He had been outside the city hunting since early that morning. He must have caught something if he has already returned… or more likely that Ygritte caught something. But Harry continued, "I would like for the two of you to join me for a moment." She was confused by this. Arya had seen and spoken to the Norfolk leader on more than one occasion since joining them, as had Jon, but it was rare that he would request their presence as such. Much less look so serious about it. She looked to Trystan and Gilly but found no answers in their perplexed faces.

Arya just nodded and they exited the Hall together in silence. Walking toward them down the road, Jon and Ygritte were talking, or arguing, among themselves as Jon carried a small deer across his shoulders. Ygritte had her weirwood bow draped across one shoulder and Jon's ironwood one on the other. How did Harry know they returned if they only just got back to the city?

"You shouldn't have been able to hit it from there." Jon said almost petulantly as they grew closer.

Ygritte looked entirely self-satisfied, "You know nothin', Jon Snow." Arya resisted the urge to giggle at what had become a mantra that the older girl tended to repeat to her brother. I am quite sure she does just because she enjoys how much it riles him up.

Of course, Jon just scowled, indignant about the jibe, "We were more than a hundred feet away and you drove that arrow through the animal's head."

Ygritte just shrugged her shoulders and her lips curling in a victorious smirk, "I would think you would know by now that if I say I can hit a target, I can hit a target." Jon shook his head in defeat but couldn't hide the slight upturn of his lips. The pair stopped in their tracks when they noticed Harry and Arya standing in their way along the path. They both looked a little wide-eyed and Arya notice a blush come to Jon's cheeks as he looked to Harry who wore a knowing smile.

"It would seem your hunt went well," he gestured to the prey sitting on Jon's shoulders. The pair nodded quietly as Harry stepped closer, pulling out his wand. The deer disappeared then, much to Jon's surprise; he let out an undignified yelp as he stumbled forward from the change of weight on his shoulders. Harry looked to Ygritte, "You will find it back by your own quarters. I am sure Jon would have been more than happy to take it there himself," he spared a glance at her brother who was looking down at his boots, "but, I need a word with him and his sister."

Ygritte inclined her head, "Righ' then, thanks for that," She nudged Jon in the shoulder as she started to walk away, "I'll be seein' you tomorrow." Jon nodded and watched her walk away, only breaking his gaze when Harry cleared his throat. Arya couldn't stop the bubble of laughter that escaped her at his look.

Jon glared at her, though it lacked any real heat, "Oh, shut it."

Clearly amused by their byplay, Harry gestured for the pair of them to follow. Both of whom did so obediently. He may not be a lord like father but he certainly commands respect with the same sort of ease.

They walked for a good while, out of the city proper, until they reached a smaller encampment further down the shore. This is where the skinchangers live, why is he bringing us here? Despite Jon telling her of their existence after his initial visit to the Norfolk, Arya had still been surprised upon meeting skinchangers for the first time. According to Maester Luwin, such abilities had died out centuries ago but she had seen proof that wasn't true. Apparently, only one in every thousand was born a skinchanger, and they tended to keep mostly to themselves. That was why this small collection of buildings was set apart from the others. For a long time there had only been tents but Harry finally ensured they had permanent homes. Between the Thenn and the Norfolk, there were only some eighty skinchangers in total and for the most part they were just like anyone else, though some could be more bestial than others.

They approached one of the houses and without knocking, Harry entered. Jon and Arya shared an anxious look before following in his wake. The house they entered was dark, the windows covered by thick fur. It smelled of meat and blood. Surround by furs and eating the ribs of some beast, Briar sat on the floor, leaning into her shadowcat.

She looked at them dispassionately as they drew closer. Harry went and stood beside the skinchanger and gestured for Jon and Arya to stand across from them. Still thoroughly confused they did so almost on without realizing it as they each stared at the animal, blood still on its maw.

Finally unable to contain herself, Arya blurted out, "Why are we here?"

Harry chuckled slightly, "I have every intention of telling you." He rubbed the back of his head, "I could have told you this by myself, but thought it best to have someone more experienced in such things present. I intended to have this conversation sooner. But better late than never, I suppose." He was rambling; Arya noticed he did that sometimes.

Briar interrupted his seemingly tangential train of thought, "You have been here long enough to have seen we skinchangers and what it is we are capable of," She took a breath, "You may have also heard that skinchangers tend to be able to sense the potential in others." Arya and Jon both nodded, having heard that from Val actually. "It so happens that Harry does not come by being a skinchanger as most do." She glanced at him, "I believe that his magic mimics it though it is not exactly the same, so he did not notice it as easily as I did." Arya had seen his animal more than once. The snow white owl had left his home twice since her arrival, journeying south.

"Notice what?" Jon questioned, his dark eyes shifting from Harry to Briar and back.

"You and all of your siblings have the ability to skinchange." Arya could feel her jaw drop in surprise though it quickly shot back up as she noticed Harry laughing softly. She glared at him as Jon just continued to silently contemplate this information.

Harry coughed to hide his amusement at their reactions, before continuing where Briar left off, "Your father plans to inform your siblings, though I know that pressing business has had his attention as much as it has had mine." He said the last more to himself than them, "But that being said, if you choose to, you will be trained in how to control the ability."

Arya couldn't quite wrap her head around something though, "We're all skinchangers… or at least have the ability to be?" Harry and Briar both nodded at the question, "But… isn't that odd? I mean… there are only some eighty in the entire land beyond the Wall and there are six of us from House Stark."

Harry lips thinned in thought, "I agree it is quite odd. But I would say that is all the more reason to ensure that you understand what it means." He was silent for a long moment, clearly considering her word before continuing, "Again though, the decision is yours. You can ignore it, repress it even and it will have no effect on your lives." Arya looked to Jon, and could see that he was torn. Yes, he was clearly interested but there was also fear that went with being a skinchanger, as some people couldn't understand the things they were capable of. Yes, they are certainly respected by the Free Folk, but there is a healthy fear as well. And Jon has faced enough ridicule in his life simply for being a bastard.

Arya didn't have the same sort of worry in her. She'd seen how people treated Harry, the twins, and the skinchangers; while there was some fear there, they didn't tend to treat them any differently than they would anybody else. Their magic makes them different, yes, but most people seem to be able to look past it. Already having come to a decision, she looked right at Briar, "I would like to learn, though… it wouldn't be the only thing I would be focused on." Briar smiled thinly before looking to Jon who nodded slightly when he realized her gaze fell to him.

The rest of that meeting passed in a blur for Arya, as Briar went over the basic tenets of a skinchanger and explained the dangers of entering certain animals as opposed to others. By the time, all was said and done the sun had fallen below the horizon, and Arya had grown truly weary. Jon seemed to agree as they made their way back to the home provided them in silence.

Harry resisted the urge to flinch at the glare that Val was sending his way. It was early morning, Trystan and Emer were at their lessons, while Lily slept silently in her crib after being fed. The reason for Val's irritation was quite simple; Harry had just informed her that he intended to travel to King's Landing in two days' time for a meeting with Jon Arryn. It had been set up through Ned and communication via the owls over the last two months since the harvest feast. He was slightly perplexed though as this was quite common since their relationship was formed.

Val walked up to him, her face implacable, at which point she proceeded to hit him, rather hard, on his left arm, "Why must you always do this?"

Harry rubbed at his shoulder, a look of confusion written on his face, "What do you mean, love?"

Val threw her hands up in frustration and started pacing in front of him, "Every time you intend to go off to one of your meetings, you inform me days before you actually go." She crossed her arms just underneath her bosom, "The only time you haven't is when we went to Winterfell." She started ticking off fingers, "You did it before you went off to see the greenseer, both times, you did it before going off to Braavos, you did it before leaving for Oldtown." She deflated slightly then as she dropped the last finger, "Is there a reason that you feel the need to inform me of most of your plans or decisions only after you have made them and with only a few days of notice?"

Harry approached his wife slowly and she accept his touch as he wrapped his arms around her slim shoulders. He truly didn't mean to spring these things on her but despite how long they'd been together he still found it hard to break certain habits, "I am sorry, Val, truly."

She looked to him, searching his eyes with her own and she sighed tiredly, "I know you don't mean to do it, Harry. But when you make plans and only deign to inform me of the decision after the fact it makes me feel as though you don't always value my opinion."

He kissed her temple hard, before pulling back and whispering in her ear, "You know that I value your opinion far more than anyone else's, but there are times when I fall into old habits." He smiled ruefully, "You've heard the stories from my younger years, I was very much of the mindset where I would do what needed to be done and worry about the consequences later. Not to mention the decade I spent entirely unaccountable to anybody." He ran a hand through her hair and was glad as she leaned into his touch, "I don't mean to leave you out of these decisions."

"I know," She told him firmly, "But how long have you been communicating with Jon Arryn, a month? More?" He nodded slightly, "Why couldn't you have told me of this sooner then?"

Harry sighed, knowing full well that she was in the right, "I should have told you, and I should have considered your opinion in this regard."

Val nodded as she pulled away from him, "For the record, I don't like you going down to that place alone. From what conversation I had with Maege, the capital is nothing but a nest of vipers, one that I plan to help you deal with."

Harry blinked owlishly, "But who will stay with the children?"

"Dalla, of course," She said as though it were obvious, "it wouldn't be the first time she looked after the twins, and given the way you can travel we won't be gone for more than a day."

"Right," Harry said absently, before smiling widely, "excellent, I would much prefer to have your wonderful company while dealing with the southerners."

She gave his cheek a gentle tap, "I know you would." She gave his shoulder a shove toward the door, "Now, I believe you have somewhere you need to be."

For a moment, he didn't know what she was talking about having been perfectly content to stay with her but, then realization hit him. He gave Val a quick peck on the cheek before making his way out the door but not before grabbing the wooden box that was resting against the wall.

Once outside the house he apperated to find himself looking at Tyrion and his two guards all ready to make their way onto a ship, Tyrion was laughing with Tormund, the two having found they had a similar sense of humor when the southerner managed to pull himself out of the library. The Lannister finally decided it was time that he return to the Rock. Harry approached the half-man and offered his hand, "Tyrion, your company has been interesting if nothing else."

Tyrion smiled slightly, "That is likely the most favorable evaluation of my company that I have ever managed."

"Few people have the same appreciation for such things as I do," Harry said replied with a hint of humor in his voice.

Tyrion noticed the long finely crafted box in his hand and looked at it expectantly. Harry turned it so that it was facing the dwarf and opened the lid to reveal a finely crafted longsword. The pommel was golden in the form of a roaring lion, leading into an ornate golden grip and guard. The blade itself was tinted red, giving the entire thing the two Lannister colors. Tyrion inspected it, clearly impressed by the craftsmanship that went into its production but didn't make to reach for the grip. He smiled crookedly up at Harry, "It is a fine weapon, of that I have little doubt; though, I have a feeling it won't be much of a consolation to my father."

Harry shrugged, knowing full well that Tywin had likely learned of his children's betrothals to the Starks, "Your father is a… reasonable man," The words seemed strained even to his ears, "I'm sure that he will understand that a match with the main branch of the Great House nearest to us was most beneficial." Tyrion and Harry had discussed the betrothal after his return and Tyrion had even spoken briefly with the two Stark children but beyond that little had been made of it between them.

"Hmm yes, reasonable," Tyrion said as much to himself as to Harry. Both Harry and Tyrion found themselves disappointed by Lord Tywin's response to his son's last letter regarding the White Walkers. Foremost, the Lord of Casterly Rock doubted in the existence of the White Walkers to begin with and even if the claim was true, he believed it to be an entirely northern problem. Tyrion vehemently disagreed with his father, "I only hope that I shall manage to make him slightly more reasonable upon my return home." Harry and Tyrion both knew it wasn't true, but that Tyrion would try all the same

"So long Lannister," Harry said with a smile.

"So long Potter," Tyrion returned as he turned with his guards and made his way back and toward the ship. With that the half-man left the Norfolk, with far less pomp and circumstance than he had become accustomed to in his privileged life.

Harry watched the ship leave the domed harbor before turning and making his way back toward his home, walking this time as he was in no hurry. As he passed the Hall, he was stopped by Gilly, Munda, along with four other teens, Arya and his twins. Between them, they held a number of parchments, and two different spherical objects. He couldn't help but notice that some of their clothing was singed or that Trystan and Emer, while smiling, had quite a bit of soot covering their faces.

"What's going on?" Harry asked slowly, looking closer at his children and making sure that there was nothing significantly wrong with them.

Munda stepped forward and offered up a set of drawings, "We've been working on a new rune array, something different than anything else we have worked on. It is more… offensive in nature than what we usually do."

Harry took the sketches from the girl and looked over their work. It was good, and from what he could tell at just a quick glance, for all intents and purposes it looked as though they had created magical explosives in the form of both mines and grenades, as one of the arrays had a way of detecting proximity while the other was meant to explode on contact. Munda twisted her hands in front of her, "The only thing we haven't been able to figure out is how to ensure the proximity is only triggered by the wights or their masters. We've had some ideas but at the moment, we have no way of testing it."

He just nodded absently as he took the spheres from Gilly. He was surprised they were both made of dragonsteel. As he looked to them questioningly, Arya jumped to explain, "We tried stone, common steel, and even pure iron, but only the dragonsteel was able to handle the rune array when the twins put magic into whichever construct."

Harry resisted the urge to smile as he looked imperiously at his children, "Is that why you look as though you got far too close to a fire." They both nodded sheepishly, and Harry just sighed not entirely surprised, "You need to tell your mum or I about these sorts of things because then we can do something to try and limit the risks," He looked to all of the children there and could see that he got his point across.

They stood there in the street in relative silence as Harry read over their work, until finally he looked up and smiled widely, "Despite the fact that you should have at least warned someone of the dangerous thing you were attempting, you have done extremely good work. I'll have to sit down to look at everything more thoroughly but… I believe it looks good." This brought proud smiles to all of their faces, "Once I have looked it over and discover just how much magic it can handle before becoming unstable, you can start working to produce them at the forges." This clearly excited all those gathered as they started speaking loudly amongst themselves as they made their way back into the Hall. Trystan and Emer each gave him a quick hug before following along with the others.

He watched them walk off before making his way home. He spent a good portion of the day looking over the notes regarding these creations, and had to admit that he was impressed with their work. It was early in the night, Val was sitting in a chair near a fire in what was essentially their sitting room, playing with Lily; While both Trystan and Emer were lying on their stomachs on the floor reading a book together. Harry couldn't help but notice how entirely mundane they appeared in that moment.

That was when he heard his mirror softly vibrating on the table, he answered to find Toregg looking back at him, "Harry, there is an unknown ship with the Braavosi Titan on its sail that we have allowed in to dock at Newport. We thought you would like to be here when they disembark." Harry nodded his head and resisted the urge to hit his head on the table. This is just going to be one of those days, isn't it?

Val heard the whole thing and just gestured with her hand for him to go. A moment later, he was in Newport and found Toregg standing along the many docks. He could see the sails of the Braavosi ship as it approached. It was clearly a merchant vessel. He had expected this to happen eventually. In fact he was surprised that it had taken as long as it had for one of the Braavosi to visit. He assumed that most were simply content to wait for the Norfolk to come to them.

The first man off was stocky, with a square, windburnt face and grey hair trimmed short. It wasn't anyone that Harry recognized from his admittedly infrequent visits to the Free City. The next man he did recognize though. It had been years since he last saw Syrio Forel, but the man had changed little since then. He was still bald and had one of the thin Braavosi swords at his hip.

The two approached Harry where he stood with Toregg. Harry spared a nod to Syrio before looking at the merchant, "What is your name, and why have you come here?"

The merchant wasn't put off by the question, "Ternesio Terys is my name, and I have come so that I might, how you would say, get a leg up on the competition." He smiled widely then, "That and I was paid a hefty sum to come here."

Harry nodded and turned to look at Syrio, "You could have waited for Dagon to arrive in Braavos." Admittedly the sailors; journeys to the Free City were not quite as frequent as they were in the early years of the First Forge, though there were still usually at least three or four instances a year where he would travel to each, "He would have been willing to ferry you here free of charge."

Ternesio laughed at that drawing Harry's attention, "I would not charge the former First Sword, he has my respect and so came without paying."

This caught Harry off guard, "Then who paid you?"

Syrio looked over his shoulder where two people were walking down the gangplank onto the dock. The young man was gaunt-faced with lilac eyes, and a slim build. He wore fine silks and had a sword on his hip. Despite the years since their last meeting, he still recognized the little girl he had comforted on his first visit to Braavos, the flower tucked behind her ear only confirmed his thoughts. She gave him a small smile as their eyes met. Harry resisted the urge to grimace as he considered the ramifications of this particular occurrence. The last of the Targaryens among the Norfolk; something tells me such a thing will not go over particularly well south of the Wall.

His initial thought was to simply turn them away but then he saw the look in Daenerys' eye, the hope there, and he knew that if nothing else, he would hear them out.

Yes, definitely one of those days. He couldn't help but think despondently.

Along the frozen shore there were two tribes of people who despised one another and raided Bear Island to the south. One faction adorned themselves with the tusks of slaughtered walruses while the other took the antlers of what few stag could be found west of the Frostfangs; though they disliked each other, both hated the cannibalistic ice river clans and would war against them frequently. These people had queer names, taken from the beasts that they took from the sea or slaughtered on land. They used chariots made of walrus bone, pulled by massive dogs or the reindeer that they bred. The women clad themselves in walrus skins, while the men stuck to furs. They lived in huts made entirely from ice, as it was their most abundant resource.

Like many of the Free Folk, they were savage, though much more so than those who had become the Norfolk. But there was one distinct difference between the people of the Frozen Shore and the other men and women who lived beyond the Wall. They had no weirwoods with their carved faces, no heart trees with their sprawling branches and blood red leaves. No, the people of the Frozen Shore knew ice and snow, and so… they worshipped gods of ice and snow.

When the storm came down from the north, from the Land of Always Winter, from the place where they believed their gods resided, most did not cower and flee from the storm. The Great Walrus bid his people leave their huts and greet the storm and their gods, as did the Great Stag. Some mothers took their children then, stowing them away in the nooks and crannies of their frozen huts, afraid for what might be coming. And they were right to be afraid.

The snow came heavy, obscuring everything from view until suddenly eyes burned in the darkness. Eerie blue eyes. And then they came, crashing upon the people, gnawing at them, clawing at their throats, until blood stained the once pure white snow. They went into the houses, and they found those cowering, crying women and children who had the good sense to fear their gods' wrath. They were dragged from their homes then, and their bodies added to the piles of the dead.

The snow fell harder, starting to bury those unfortunate souls, and complete silence fell along the coast. And then one of them came, its footfalls made neither sound, nor print in the snow. It raised its hands, as if in prayer, and the dead opened their eyes; now the same translucent blue as those who had taken their lives. The old clans of the Frozen Shore were gone, and the army of the dead grew in number.

AN: So there is the next chapter. Not much to say. Hope you enjoyed. Until next time.

18. Chapter 18

AN: As always thank you for the reviews, they are very much appreciated. Responses to guest reviews from the previous chapter can be found on my profile.

Thanks to my beta Tellemicus Sundance

As they made their way out of their shabby cabin and onto the deck carrying what few possessions they had to their names, Daenerys couldn't help but notice as her brother shivered beside her. She furrowed her brow slightly at that because while she could certainly feel the chill in the air, it didn't bother her in the slightest. Unaware of her thoughts, Viserys started to walk away from her.

They made their way over to the gangplank and started to walk its length. It was at that moment that she saw Harry. That's amazing, it's as though he hasn't aged a day in the years since we last saw each other. As they approached, she watched as he seemingly appraised her brother, looking him up and down before it shifted to her. Daenerys was pleased to see the recognition his eyes.

When they came to stand before him, Viserys made to speak, only to be interrupted as Harry spoke abruptly and without introduction, a hint of irritation or frustration clearly present in his voice, "You will follow me in a moment. But until that time, remain silent." Viserys was clearly irritated by what he no doubt considered rudeness to a king but she was glad that he seemed to have the sense not to reply beyond that. Had I done such a thing, I have little doubt that it would have woken the dragon.

Harry turned to look at the merchant, "I assume you know which men you ought to seek out if you wish to discuss trade?" Ternesio smiled and recognizing it as the dismissal it was, made his way back onto his ship yelling out to his crewman in Braavosi.

Turning to Syrio, he smiled thinly, "I would gladly sit and speak with you, learn why you have come to see us," His eyes darted in their direction, "But I am afraid that I have more pressing matters to attend to. We shall speak soon though. And until that time, you may have our hospitality."

"I understand," The former First Sword said bowing his head slightly in deference, "And I am grateful for your hospitality."

"Toregg!" Harry said loudly. The man a few yards behind him jogged to his side quickly, he was taller than Harry by half a head and broad chested. He had dark auburn hair that fell around his face in tangles and a long braided beard, knotted at the end. Harry's returned his attention to her brother as he spoke to Toregg, "Please ensure that Syrio is given a proper place to rest. And when Ternesio asks, point him to Dagon or Yorik." The man nodded and with that those around them dispersed.

Viserys made to speak, but yet again Harry ignored him. Daenerys resisted the urge to snigger as her brother's nostrils flared and he let out a slight huff. If Harry heard this he made no indication as he turned on his heels and, gesturing with two fingers for them to follow, made his way away from the docks and toward the large stone castle that sat further along the shore.

Daenerys followed slightly behind her brother. She looked all around her as they passed buildings and people alike on their way up the slight slope toward the castle. She almost started squirming as she noticed that everyone they passed seemed to stare after them as though they were some sort of exotic attraction. It was only when she noticed a young woman pulling at her own hair and looking at it almost forlornly that she realized what had them so firmly enthralled, it was their appearance. I suppose they have never seen anyone with the blood of the dragon before. Understanding why they were staring made it easier for her to ignore. As they neared the gates of the castle, she could hear a clangor of shields and swords from within.

In silence, they passed beneath a portcullis and through a set of massive metal doors. As they came into the courtyard that silence seemed to follow them in. The warriors, men and women both, looking sweaty and fierce some of them with tattoos along their arms or faces, stopped and stared as they passed. She could feel some of the men's eyes on her, surveying her as though she was something to be taken. She kept her own gaze fixed firmly ahead at the door to the fortress.

Well, she did that until she heard a solid thwack in the direction of the gazing crowd. One of the women had struck a tall, bald man with the shaft of her spear. Daenerys watched as he brought his hand to the back of his head, and it came away bloody. The woman said something in a language that she didn't understand, causing a number of chuckles and all of the warriors to return their attention to their work in the yard. Daenerys caught the woman's eye and smiled slightly, and received the barest of nods in return.

She had fallen behind slightly in her distraction and had to jog slightly to catch up with her brother. They entered the castle, and despite having supped in the homes of nearly every ruler from the Free Cities, she was still quite impressed by the building. The stones seemed to be made of a single block of stone. I remember Viserys said that Dragonstone appears as though it was made from a single stone, a craft lost in the Doom. On the walls hung tapestries depicting various things from the snow white owl depicted on the banners on the ramparts, to a pack of wolves devouring their prey, and a battle that took place in the snow among in a small village of wooden houses.

They entered the great hall to find it empty, there were four long tables that ran parallel to each other, in them were carved runes. Not the sort of crude carvings that could be found in the tables of dockside inns but intricate carvings that seemed to blend together. They are probably significant somehow. There was no raised dais as she had come to expect when entering such places.

As they neared the heads of the four tables, a chair appeared at the head of the one on their right. Viserys stared wide-eyed at the feat, while Daenerys wasn't particularly surprised. Just like how he conjured that flower years ago. Harry lowered himself into the chair, and gestured for the pair of them to sit on the bench beside him. Viserys lowered himself slowly, while Daenerys sat further down the table. Oddly, it was just far enough to be outside of the reach of his arm.

Harry looked at her brother briefly before turning his attention to her, "Daenerys Targaryen, I am surprised to see you again, here most of all."

Viserys turned to look at her, and she could see the restrained fury in his eyes. She'd successfully hidden the nature of her flower from him, even on their journey from Braavos, he thought that it was something that she had picked before their departure. But I suppose that secret has just been revealed. I should have realized this might go poorly.

Ignoring her brother's malicious glare, she smiled slightly at Harry, "I did not think we would see one another again either, my Lord," She did not know if it was the right honorific but thought that it was better than nothing at all, "but through my brother Viserys' will it has happened." At the mention of his name Viserys turned away from her, finally seeing an opportunity to speak.

"Yes, my Lord," Viserys was not naturally inclined to show others respect, thinking himself above them in all situations, but he knew he needed something from this man, so she wasn't entirely surprised that he swallowed his pride, "There are matters I desire to discuss with you. Proposals that I believe you shall find interesting."

"And why should I listen at all?" Harry questioned, "Are you not an exile, hunted and hounded by King Robert's assassins at every turn? To ensure the safety of my people, I ought to put you back on a ship and return you to the Free Cities." I would prefer if you didn't. I tire of ships. She stared at him with wide pleading eyes at those words. She hoped that he would be able to show some of the same small kindness he offered along the canals of Braavos.

"I believe that there is no assassin who would follow us here." Viserys said through strained smile, "They would fear your magic, and what you might do to them should they be found out." Daenerys gave her brother a sideways glance. What reason would he even have to protect us should assassins come to his home, he has no reason to be loyal to us.

"You believe," Harry said airily, "I should risk the safety of people I care about, put them in harm's way simply because you believe that my magic would deter Robert's assassins?" He asked sarcasm dripping from his every word.

Viserys frowned, pausing to try and think of any way to respond to that. She could see as he started to sweat slightly under the pressure of Harry's expectant gaze. He thought this was going to be simple, that he was going to arrive here and find a willing ally who would gladly offer his army to his service. Just like the Triarchs in Volantis and the Magisters in Myr, this will not go as he hoped but maybe we might at least have a safe home for a time if we can just convince Harry that there will be no danger to his people.

"Have many people come from foreign lands to visit your cities?" Daenerys asked, drawing Harry's attention away from her brother.

He shook his head, "No, visitors to the city are few and far between."

"And of those visitors, how many do you not meet personally?" She continued, uncaring of her brother's scowl.

"All of them, or nearly all of them," He responded, and she could see that he already knew her meaning and that she had probably won this part of the argument.

"Then it would seem to me, that it would be quite easy for you to find anyone who came by ship to search us out." She paused slightly in thought, "And should an assassin be willing to make the long journey north of the Wall to find us here without your knowledge, it would only be my brother and I in danger, as someone with that much dedication is unlikely to be sloppy enough to harm others."

Harry sighed and rubbed at his eyes, "True enough, any hired knives would find themselves in a very difficult situation if they hoped to attack you here much less bring harm to any of the other occupants of our cities." He leaned back slightly in his chair, "Though that still doesn't provide me with good reason to keep you here. Robert Baratheon's hatred of Targaryens is well known, and he already feels more than a touch of animosity toward me and my people; sheltering you would only cause greater enmity between us and could very well lead to open warfare."

"The Usurper," Viserys spat out, "took what is rightfully mine, I am Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, the Iron Throne belongs to me and I will have it back. With Fire and Blood I will have it back." Daenerys just watched Harry as her brother ranted. While most of the leaders in Essos would indulge her brother's belief, he just sat there disinterested and unimpressed. She looked at Viserys and couldn't help but feel that in Harry's opinion he was little more than a petulant child, "And I believe together such a thing would be possible." That is probably what all of them have thought over the years.

Harry was clearly unsurprised by this turn of events, "So the Beggar King couldn't find his army in the east so he came home and hoped to find a new friend," Her brother bristled at the unflattering title and made to interrupt but Harry just talked over him, "Your proposal is what then? We give you the aid of our fighting men and women against Robert Baratheon and his allies, and in return what are we to receive."

Viserys visibly calmed himself before speaking again, "You would become the Warden of the North, from the Neck to your lands beyond the Wall. Your people would rule." He smiled cruelly, "I would give you the opportunity to have revenge on the northerners, and the Night's Watch, men who have hated you and killed you and defeated you at every turn in the past."

"It is an interesting proposal," Harry responded blandly, not in the least bit swayed by Viserys' impassioned words. He leaned forward slightly and looked between them. He is about to crush whatever hope Viserys had in this gamble. And probably whatever hope I had in staying here.

"You are offering me the position of Warden of the North in exchange for fighting a war for you," Harry started from the beginning, "But I have no desire for the title, I have enough though I must say the-Witch-King-Beyond-the-Wall certainly has the best ring to it. You say those lands south of the Wall to the Neck would become Norfolk, except that we would have no way of holding such vast lands and would lose them within months."

He leaned forward in his chair, his green eyes boring into her brother's lilac ones "But those are the least of the reasons to refuse this proposal. The Norfolk would never fight for you, who feels entitled to a throne simply because your father, who was a terrible king, sat on it. Every one of them would sooner make their way into the sea wearing their gleaming armor and drown in it; they would see it as a better way to die."

"My father was a great king," Viserys snarled, and Daenerys believed it too, though her only source of information on the man came from her elder brother.

"A great king?" Harry repeated sardonically, "No Viserys, great kings do not suffer from intense paranoia that leads them to mistrust every member of their court. Great kings do not see treason in every corner and burn people alive over imagined offenses."

"Lies," Viserys sneered, "Lies told by the Usurper so that he could take the throne."

"No, the maesters may have their faults," Daenerys was surprised by the clear distaste he had for the order, "But they record history in a largely unbiased manner, and every book written of the Mad King's reign paints a very clear picture of the sort of man and ruler he made. Or perhaps you don't realize that your father earned his moniker before Robert ever raised his banners in rebellion."

Daenerys turned a perplexed eye toward her brother. She didn't sense any lie in Harry, any artifice, but his words contradicted everything her brother had ever told her about their father. Viserys ignored her quizzical gaze though instead fixing Harry with a glare that would see him burst into flames if he had the power.

Harry was entirely unbothered by it, waving his hand airily, "But, I digress. To the matter of revenge for past failures and defeats, you will find the desire for such things sorely lacking among we Norfolk. You might find some who are sympathetic to such ideas but they would be far and few between and most of those dissenters would be in no position to do anything about your proposal." He smiled almost wolfishly then, "But, let us put the proverbial nail in the coffin. I am currently allied with the Starks of Winterfell and the Martells of Dorne, my own children being betrothed to Eddard's while he has betrothed one of his daughters to Doran's youngest. Two of Eddard's children currently reside in our city." The corner of his lips upturned slightly, "And I am meant to meet with Jon Arryn within days."

There was a pregnant silence and she could see her brother's brow twitching as he resisted his natural reaction to do something rash. Hoping to distract her brother for the time being, she spoke up, "The Martells and Starks have chosen to ally themselves? Even after what happened during the Rebellion?"

Harry looked her brother in the eye for a long moment, almost daring him to do something, and as he made to address her, she saw nothing remotely close to fear but instead there was only clear amusement, "Both Doran and Eddard have recognized the significance of a threat here beyond the Wall, namely the Others, and have settled whatever difference they may have had because of their mutual concern regarding this matter."

Viserys scoffed derisively, "The Others don't exist. You may have fooled Doran into believing such things, but he will come to realize this and abandon you and the Usurper's dog!" His voice grew louder as he spoke until he was yelling at Harry and rising in his seat.

"Sit!" Harry said firmly, and Viserys fell into the bench, "Your skepticism means nothing to me, I am simply providing you with the facts of the situation. I have living, breathing proof of my claims within this very castle. Doran will not abandon my cause unless I see fit to ally myself directly with Robert Baratheon, something which seems highly unlikely given his distaste for me and mine." He shook his head slightly, "But this isn't a discussion about my allies and their loyalty to me. No, we are discussing you." He pointed at Viserys, "And you offer me nothing but trouble. You have no armies to your name, you have no talents that might be of use to me." Harry scowled at her brother, "You are just a beggar at my door, just like you have been in every Free City since you were dispossessed of your title and lands. There is not a single good reason to aid you."

"I am a dragon!" He said petulantly, and Daenerys feared what imprudent thing he might do next. Hopefully it won't result in his death… or mine for that matter. "When I return to the Seven Kingdoms, men will flock to my banners."

"You are not a dragon," Harry said with a hint of steel in his voice, "You are an impudent little child with delusions of grandeur, who believes he has allies where he has none." He smiled briefly, clearly reminiscing on some old memory. "And you will be dead before you are twenty if you don't rid yourself of them."

Viserys' jaw clenched and unclenched before he stood abruptly, grabbing at her arm roughly, "Come Daenerys, it seems I have wasted my time here."

"You are free to go," Harry said from where he sat at the end of the table, "Though I hope you have the coin necessary to see yourself aboard Ternesio's ship for another journey, otherwise you shall have to wait a time until one of our own merchants leave port." This brought Viserys up short, and he turned to look at Harry going a little pale.

She glared up at her brother. He just insisted upon drinking and whoring the entire time we waited in Braavos to find a ship here, housing us in the finest of rooms, and burning through coin that could have lasted us years. He assumed that we would find allies here and there would be no need to worry of coin. And now he doesn't even have the coin necessary to see us safely back to some hovel in Lorath or Braavos.

Daenerys took a calming breath, before speaking as her brother seemed to have been stricken mute, "I am afraid that we find ourselves in need of your aid. We do not have the coin necessary to see ourselves on a ship back to the Free Cities."

"Ah," Harry said standing and making his way toward the back of the room where there were glass windows that looked out over the bay, "I suppose I would have been willing to provide you the necessary coin, but it would seem that it is a moot point." Out in the Shivering Sea there was already the sail bearing Braavos' Titan meandering away from Newport. "Ternesio managed to finish his business very quickly."

"Would you be willing to house us here until one of your own ships departs, or perhaps command them to do so now?" Daenerys asked hopefully. I would prefer the former for my own comfort but the latter to ensure our safety. I have no desire to be on a ship again after such a long journey but there are more important things to consider I suppose.

Harry looked down at her as she came to stand beside him, he glanced back at her brother where he stood rigidly, "I will not command any sailor to bear you away from this place when they only returned recently." He ran a hand through his hair, "For the time being, you shall be allowed to remain with us." He turned and started to walk out of the room, "But you shall abide by our rules, and avoid quarreling. Should you fail to do this, you will not like the consequences. If you are lucky, it will be me who deals with you, if you are unlucky… well, let's just say that it will be far worse." His voice brooked no argument, and his eyes found her brother, the warning clear.

He walked them through the fortress, passing the library, and what sounded like kitchens from the hustle and bustle coming from within before they reached a long corridor with doors all along it. He showed each of them to their own room. As she came to sit on the simple, comfortable feather bed that sat in the room, she smiled slightly. Well we're far closer to home than we have been in a long time… even if it only last for a few weeks. It fell when she considered the sort of mood her brother was likely to be in. He will beat me.

It was early morning, the sun just cresting the eastern horizon with its first warm rays of light. Very few people were up and about around Winterfell. But while others slept soundly, Ned poured over the shifts of parchment that sat on the desk in front of him. Half a dozen of them were about the usual mundane matters while the other twenty spoke of one very prominent topic, the Norfolk and the Others. In the months since their visit to Winterfell, it had been the only consistent thing which caused his lords to write him. Many questioned him regarding how they were meant to prepare for the future conflict, others questioned Eddard regarding supplies particularly weapons made of the dragon steel that Harry planned to provide, while still others questioned- as subtly as possible- whether or not he had lost his wits and senses altogether.

The near constant stream of letters and messages had been only a fraction of his problems of late. While Catelyn had largely forgiven him for the decisions regarding their children, mostly upon realizing that Harry truly had no intention of keeping to the betrothals, his daughter was an entirely different matter. Sansa was still a child who lacked understanding of the world and what it was truly like; she believed in all of the tales of noble knights going about on pure white horses, rescuing maidens. She wanted to go to the capital and see the knights in all of their splendor at tourneys. She wanted to marry the prince and someday become queen. Well she is still marrying a prince, just not the one that she hoped for. Sansa spoke to him only when it was absolutely necessary of late, and even then their conversations were brief at best. Catelyn consoled her but it would appear that it did little to help in her demeanor.

He finished writing a response that very directly rebuffed Barbrey Dustin's attempts at goading him when there was a knock on his door, "Enter."

Maester Luwin's opened the door, the links of his chain clinking noticeably as he entered, "We have an unexpected visitor, my Lord." Ned raised a single questioning eyebrow, "Harry Potter and his wife await you in the great hall."

Ned stood, muttering to himself quietly, "He is meant to be speaking with Jon today, what reason did he have to come here." He quickly made his way down the stairs to find Harry and Val standing there together, speaking softly among themselves. He couldn't help but notice that both were clearly dressed for a more important meeting.

"Harry, Val," He addressed them to gain their attention, "We were not expecting you."

They both looked to him and Val smiled slightly, "Nor should you have, Harry intended to speak with you through the mirrors but decided that this was a conversation better had in person."

"Very well," Ned said hesitantly, "what would you like to discuss?"

Harry sighed, "It would seem that my reputation and that of the Norfolk has drawn some attention from unexpected peoples." He looked at Val briefly, "Namely, the exiled Targaryens."

Ned actually had to resist the urge to gape at Harry, "You are telling me that you have the Targaryens in First Forge right this moment?"

"Actually, they're in Newport," Harry replied a little flippantly, "But yes, they are with us at the moment. Viserys wished for my aid against the crown. He wanted me to give him the Iron Throne."

"And no doubt see my head on a spike, along with every other lord who rebelled against his father and was responsible for the end of Targaryen dynasty." Ned couldn't help the irritation, if not outright anger in his voice.

"Yes," Harry replied succinctly, "I refused of course. But, the ship that carried them there had already departed in the time we had our discussion. So I have allowed them to remain with us until such a time as one of our own ships departs for the Free Cities."

"Why come to me with this?" Ned questioned, "You could have held this as a secret and let them leave without me any the wiser."

"In all honesty, I am doubtful of that fact," Harry responded, "I imagine that there are spies in Braavos who gladly provide the location of the Targaryens to Robert's spymaster."

"Varys, yes." Ned said thoughtfully, "His little birds would likely know of their journey to your home."

"But there is another reason I am telling you of this." Harry told him, "I believe they can be of some use."

"In what way?" Ned asked warily.

"Robert 's hatred of the Targaryens is very well known," Ned nodded his agreement, "If I keep them among my people, they can serve as no threat to him. He may even be grateful."

He is going to be sorely disappointed when he comes to meet Robert himself. Ned shook his head sharply, "No Harry, his hatred knows no restraint where it comes to the 'dragon spawn' as he put it to me. He would want you to kill them and bring him their bleeding corpses before he would show anything close to gratitude. Anything less and he will simply believe that you are harboring them with the intention of aiding them in retaking his throne."

Val snorted, her blonde braid bobbing on her shoulder, "So should he learn of their presence, it would just be another reason for Robert to fear us and wish for our destruction." She looked shrewdly at Harry, "Fantastic, as though we don't have enough to concern ourselves with."

"At the rate he is going, Viserys will be dead within the week," Harry said pitilessly, "He only avoided being beaten bloody as of yet because I'm having Toregg keep an eye on him." Ned was genuinely surprised by the apathy in Harry's voice for Viserys' possible fate.

"Yes, but Daenerys has been nothing but pleasant," Val pointed out, as they ignored Ned for a moment, "And you would never be able to bring yourself to kill her, least of all for some southern king's sake."

"So you either send them away, sooner rather than later," Ned interjected, "Or you risk Robert's ire. And given how he already feels about you and your people according to Jon, I fear what he might choose to do."

"And what do you think of it?" Harry asked curiously.

"I do not think that we can afford to irritate Robert given the current issue of the Others," Ned hesitated for a long moment, "But I would not murder two people in cold blood for the sake of Robert's favor, and I know neither would you. Send them away, as quickly as you can."

Harry nodded grimly, "Very well, it was my initial reaction to do as you recommend but I found myself willing to hear them out at the least."

Val chuckled slightly, "You remembered comforting Daenerys years ago in Braavos and because you find her to be a rather pleasant girl, you were willing to help her, not her prick of a brother. Even if good sense told you that it wasn't the best decision in the world." He has met the Targaryens before?

Harry smiled slightly at his wife innocently, but as she arched one eyebrow he shrugged his shoulders in defeat. He returned his attention to Ned then, his mouth set in a grim line, "Will it matter whether I send them away now? When Robert hears of me sheltering them, will he not think the very worst?"

Will Robert believe, even with my support, that Harry has no intention of aiding the Targaryen's even if he were to send them away tomorrow? I would like to believe that Robert is reasonable enough to understand he has no control over who might seek him out, but I can't honestly say. From the recent letters shared with Jon, he doesn't seem to be the same man he was in our youth. And where Targaryens are concerned… "I cannot say with certainty how Robert will react; whether he will believe you or not." Ned frowned grimly, "It is an unfortunate thing that something you had no control over may very well cause great harm to your goals."

"Life is full of unfortunate things, and I have endured my fair share," Harry shrugged noncommittally, "I shall endure this one as well and hope for the best." His eyes bored into Ned's own grey ones, "But let us say that between you and me, we cannot convince Robert of my lack of complicity in this matter, and that he reacts aggressively because of his hatred for the Targaryens. He may very well call his banners to try and root me out and find the 'dragon spawn' that I am harboring."

Ned did not like the direction that this conversation was going but recognized that it was one that needed to be had, "If they have left your cities, I do not believe he would do something so rash."

"Even if he believes that we were plotting to help remove him from the Iron Throne?" Val asked keenly, getting right to the heart of the matter.

"Jon would convince him that such a thing would not be wise." Ned said though it lacked conviction.

"But say that Jon fails to curb your old friend's temper and he chooses to call his banners against us." Ned genuinely wished that the magical practitioner before him would simply let this issue lie but knew he wouldn't receive such a reprieve, "If Robert decided that it was in his best interest to attack us, what would you do? How would you respond?"

Ned had contemplated that very question on more than one occasion in recent months. Ever since Jon's letters informed me exactly how Robert feels about the Norfolk. Faced with the blunt question, he hesitated longer than might be considered appropriate, "I would do whatever was right for the North and the people that I am responsible for."

"A very diplomatic answer," Val said tersely, "But lacking in any actual substance."

Ned resisted the urge to snarl in frustration as both of them fixed him with narrowed, curious eyes. I miss the days when the wildlings were simple and all I needed to worry about regarding them was their ineffectual raids. "We have made a pact together, and should Robert be unable to recognize the real threat for what it is, I shall stand by you regardless of our history together."

"I am glad to hear it." Harry said relaxing slightly, "It is good that we had this talk, and I think you would agree that this was better had in person. With that matter settled, I should be departing for the capital."

Ned nodded idly as Harry and Val made their way past him together, "I can't help but wonder," He said loudly as the pair reached the door, "if you feel the need to have a similar conversation with Doran?"

Harry gave him a long look, "No, I don't. He has no love of Robert so should the king choose to attack us, I know full well who the Dornish would side with. Doran does not have years of brotherhood and friendship that could lead him to question his decisions." He frowned, "But should Robert decide that he would prefer to fight with, as unlikely as I might find it, then I shall likely have an issue with the Dornish. Doran made it quite clear that an affiliation with the crown would ensure that their offer of aid would be rescinded; though, I can't help but wonder if his opinion may have changed now that his son and your daughter have been promised to each other." I would hope that the myth he saw with his own eyes would be enough to convince him that old grudges should be set aside for the time being. Then again Ned knew that such a thing was only overly optimistic thinking. I have my doubt that Robert will be able to manage such a thing.

Harry and Val exited the great hall, speaking to someone as they passed through the door. Catelyn slipped through just before the large doors closed shut, she approached him quickly, "Ned, why were they here?" He took a deep, long suffering breath and began explaining to his wife.

The sun beat down relentlessly as the members of the Small Council, royal family, and five members of the Kingsguard stood waiting outside of the castle for the arrival of their guests. Stannis ground his teeth uneasily as he could feel the sweat dripping on his collar. He noticed as his brother gestured for his squire to fill his cup yet again. Probably the simplest life for any squire in the entire kingdom.

Standing to Robert's right was the queen. Cersei looked entirely disinterested in the entire affair, as though she had far better things to do than wait in the heat for some wildling from beyond the Wall. Joffrey beside her, with his golden hair and haughty expression looked very much the same.

The prince sneered down at his younger siblings as they said something between themselves. Looking at the three children, all of them with golden hair and green eyes wearing the crimson of House Lannister, he could not help that same suspicion he had been feeling for some time now. Those are not Robert's children, I would be willing to bet my life on it. Stannis had only recently voiced this belief to Jon Arryn, and the pair of them had begun to investigate the matter as discreetly as they could possibly manage.

Stannis felt the urge to sneeze thanks in no small part to the inordinate amount of perfume that the eunuch to his left had decided to wear on this particular day. The Spider had a deep frown etched on his face, as though he had recently received some disturbing news. Though perhaps he was just displeased that the King-Beyond-the-Wall was meant to arrive within the next few minutes. I still find it hard to believe that Jon managed to convince Harry to come here.

They waited only a short while beneath the beating sun before the gate leading into the Red Keep opened to reveal seven people. Two of the Kingsguard, Ser Barristan and Ser Ser Arys, flanked five of the Norfolk. Harry and a honey-blonde haired woman wearing a white dress accented with hints of blood red. She leaned over to whisper something to the magician beside her which caused him to chuckle. Stannis had never met his trading partner's wife before but he could admit that she was not what he would have expected of a wildling woman. Behind them there were three large men, one of them carrying a chest while the other two carried a cask between them.

Harry gestured for the three men to stop behind him, which they did without question. He approached the gathered people and bowed his head simply, "I am Harry Potter, though I suppose you were already aware of this fact."

"It is customary to kneel before a king," Cersei spoke up blithely from beside Robert, drawing everyone's attention.

Harry smiled thinly, coldly, almost cruelly and it caused the queen to recoil ever so slightly, "He is not my king, and we do not kneel." Next to Stannis, Renly seemed to take great pleasure in seeing Cersei firmly rebuked with no response forthcoming. No one thought to contradict Harry, not even Robert, as he returned his attention to the rest of the gathered crowd, "My wife, for lack of a better term, Val." She just surveyed them all with grey-blue eyes, not saying a word.

Robert finally spoke then, though he eyed the lovely woman standing before him before doing so and smiled in a way that once captivated any young woman he came across, "Welcome," He said boisterously, and far more pleasantly than one might expect if they knew of his opinions on the Norfolk. Whatever else he might think of a man, Robert has always had a talent for trying to win others over. "You have already met my wife, Queen Cersei. Beside her are my children the Princes Joffrey and Tommen," he indicated his two sons, "And Princess Myrcella." The two younger children were smiling up at the pair of strangers while the eldest looked as though he had smelled something sour.

Harry cut him off then, "And your small council members, Lord Stannis your middle brother and master of ships, Lord Renly your youngest brother and master of laws, Lord Varys the master of whispers, Lord Petyr Baelish the master of coin, Grandmaester Pycelle, and finally Lord Jon Arryn the Hand of the King." He said all of this gesturing to each man in turn as he said their names, "Now, if we are finished with the tedious pleasantries perhaps we could get out of this sweltering heat and discuss the matters for which I am actually here."

"Yes, of course" Robert said from behind his scraggly beard, clearly taken back from the unusual lack of decorum shown. Most men wouldn't speak to a king in such a way, but then Harry just made it quite clear that Robert is no King of his.

All of those gathered filed into the Red Keep, Cersei and her children walked ahead of the rest seemingly glad to be away from their guests. She guided all of her children in the opposite direction of the rest of them. She had no desire to subject them to such a thing to begin with, but Jon made it clear that we would be treating Harry as we would any other significant foreign dignitary. She did however manage one final show of courtesy as she bid Harry and Val farewell. The younger children seemed to be disappointed that they were being forced to depart. They probably wish to know if he can really do magic. Joffrey didn't even spare the pair a glance as he continued along the corridor.

Harry turned to look at him from just in front of him, "How is your daughter's health?"

Stannis smiled toothlessly, remembering quite well the help that had been given to him, "She is well; in perfect health actually. I would thank you again for the aid you provided me in that matter."

Harry waved his hand dismissively, "I was well compensated for my aid, and I would say we have both benefitted from the trade partnership that developed out of it. I am just glad to hear that Shireen remains well."

They reached the Small Council chambers in a few short minutes. Robert took a seat at the head of the table; Harry took the one at the other end, Val beside him. His fellow Norfolk took up positions behind him while the Kingsguard fanned out around the room. There was food already laid out on the table and both Harry and Val took a piece of bread from the plates before them. They would not wish to be without guest right.

As Harry swallowed, he watched the knights with amusement in his eyes, "I wonder," Harry addressed the room, "is it customary for the entirety of your Kingsguard to attend such meetings. I was under the impression that only the Lord Commander had a seat on this council."

Jon clearly didn't see any amusement in the situation, "Surely you would agree that given the nature of this particular visit, extra precautions are certainly warranted."

Harry nodded slightly, "Understandable," he gestured to the two men near the cask behind him, "If you would be so kind as to tap that cask for me." They both nodded and did as he asked. Harry stood then and seemingly pulling goblets from nowhere began filling them and passing them around the table, "Lads, you can depart now if you like. Thanks for the help." All three of them turned then and left without a further word.

He turned back to the room, "I am sure that our goods have made it to the capital some time ago by now," Harry looked to Stannis who nodded in recognition, "But I didn't wish to risk it, and I admit that I am rather fond of our apple cider." He sat down, and both Val and Harry took a drink from their own goblets before anyone else present was willing to do the same.

Jon put down his own goblet after taking a small sip, "Right then, to business."

"Absolutely," Harry said cheerily. Stannis couldn't help but notice that his wife seemed amused by his behavior, "But I admit that it is quite a long story."

Stannis and the other small council members sat in silence as he explained, as briefly as he could how the Norfolk had come to be, with vague descriptions of the magic he employed and what the nature of the current threat that they faced. Val interjected on rare occasion but mostly left it to Harry. I am rather impressed that Robert managed to remain silent without interrupting. Perhaps he promised Jon that he would behave himself.

Grandmaester Pycelle scoffed loudly when all was done, his raspy voice breaking the silence that had followed, "The magic you speak of is impossible."

There was a hard glint in his eye as he looked to the wizened old adviser, "Funny," he said looking at the long chain hanging from the man's neck, "I see a Valyrian steel link on that chain so you must have some understanding of the 'deeper mysteries' as your order puts it." Pycelle made to interrupt, but Harry just continued without care, "Which means that you know that magic is capable of impressive things."

"And I am sure that you are aware of the content of the letters your Archmaesters receive from Gareth," Val added with an overly-sweet smile, "So you should be the most likely to know that the magic he can do is very much real."

Pycelle spluttered as Harry waved a hand dismissively in the man's direction, "But discussing what sort of magic I am capable of is not the purpose of this meeting." He looked to Robert, "This meeting was for you to treat with me, which I must admit I found rather surprising." He smirked speaking instead to the entire room, "I suspect instead its true purpose is for King Robert to determine what sort of man I am, whether or not I am really the threat he believes me to be." Stannis almost smiled at that because Robert, while saying the right things of late, still desired war and knew he would need to actually meet the man to find a proper reason to do such a thing. And it was obvious from the look on his brother's face that Harry had hit home in his reasoning.

Harry clapped his hands loudly startling everyone, "Or perhaps I am wrong and this truly was just so that we might treat with each other and come to an understanding," His voice quieted, "But I have my own purpose for this meeting. No doubt some rumor has reached you of what occurred at the harvest feast in Winterfell. Well I think now is good a time as any for you to see the threat we and, in time, you will face. It is my hope that presenting you with such a thing will be enough to convince you of the importance of us remaining civil with one another if nothing else." I don't remember him having quite this flare for the dramatic the last time we met.

The wizard stood then and made his way to the chest, pulling his wand from his sleeve as he did so; the lid opened then. "Must be a truly terrible threat we face if it can fit in that chest there." Littlefinger quipped snidely from across the table. Harry looked over his shoulder as his wand sat above the rim of the lid and just smirked at the brothel owner, Val wore a strangely similar look on her lips.

Slowly, a head appeared from within and quickly a body far larger than what should ever have been able to fit in that chest followed. They all watched as the thing was pulled from the chest until before their eyes stood tall, pale skinned White Walker bound at both the ankle and wrists watching them with eerie glowing blue eyes. The hands of every Kingsguard went to the hilt of their swords, Harry just smiled and looked at a stunned Littlefinger, "It's bigger on the inside." He told him in a fair mimic of the man's voice. Littlefinger didn't have any of his usual snippy responses, instead just staring like the rest of them at the thing situated in the center of the room.

Robert stood and approached the creature, actually needing to look up at the unnatural thing standing before them. He walked around looking it up and down, even poking at its limbs as though it were a piece of meat, before snorting, "Doesn't look like much."

"It is bound in chains made of dragon steel, with neither armor nor weapon on its person and far from the ice and snow in which they thrive, with none of the dead that serve as their thrall" Val remarked tersely, "I imagine you would look rather unimpressive as well in such a state." Robert just stared at her, not sure what to say. Far more accustomed to women willing to bend over backwards for the king.

"Yet," Harry interjected, "there is one thing that might change your opinion." He turned to look at the nearest Kingsguard, "Ser, please unsheathe your sword." Stannis watched as the Kingslayer did just that taking his fine blade from where it rested on his hip, "Have at him." Harry said, stepping away from the Other.

Without hesitation the Kingslayer brought the blade up and slashed at the creature's neck. But as the weapon made contact with pale skin something happened that he clearly wasn't expecting. The blade shattered on contact with all the ease of glass. Ser Jaime stumbled having expected some sort of resistance before stared down at the hilt that remained in his hand. The White Walker actually looked amused by the futile attempt.

"Thank you," Harry said, patting the knight on the shoulder and guiding him back to where he stood before, "As you can see the Others are impervious to conventional weapons. Thanks to my own personal encounter with them and their thrall, I can say that their wights are not nearly as difficult to kill, fire and beheading serve as a perfectly acceptable means of killing them once again but they come in far greater number than their masters."

"In what way are they a threat to our realm?" Stannis questioned, "It is said that the Wall was made with the express purpose of holding back the Others." He considered it a reasonable argument. Particularly given the current state of the crowns finances; we can't afford a war, not with the Norfolk and not with the Others.

"It is," Harry agreed easily, "But how shall a Wall withstand the biting cold of a Long Night? If you were to ignore this threat, you will very likely freeze and starve in your castles, and when everyone is dead and only the Others remain, what good will that Wall be?" Harry gazed warily at the White Walker, "Though I would also say given that they have returned for the first time in thousands of years that they are not overly concerned with the Wall."

"Who is to say that this is a genuine White Walker," Pycelle questioned, "It seems rather convenient that it is only within years of your arrival that monsters thought gone for millennia have been discovered once more."

"It is interesting that you would be the one to question such a thing when you were quite confident that complex magic was entirely impossible." Harry rebutted easily, "But, the simple truth is that such things are beyond my capabilities. And while I can certainly conjure or transfigure animate creatures from the inanimate, something of this nature," He gestured to the White Walker, "is beyond me."

Harry returned it to the chest on the ground before sitting down. He folded his arms in front of him, "I have provided you with everything I possibly can to convince you of that I am not a threat to your kingdom." The levity that had been present in his voice earlier in the meeting had disappeared entirely, "If you are reasonable men, I believe the least you will garner from this meeting is that your generally suspicious nature regarding us will benefit no one." He looked squarely at Robert, "But I would hope that you can see that this threat supersedes any petty squabble you might have with us or among yourselves." He sighed slightly, "Or instead you could decide that we are still some threat to you, despite evidence to the contrary."

Quiet fell in the room as Harry gave them what amount to a final decision to be made. But then Varys spoke, his sibilant voice soft and kind, "I wonder, Harry, if the Targaryens have arrived in one of your cities yet?"

The air in the room seemed to shift at the question and Stannis could sense a possibility for violence where before there had been none. He could even hear a deep guttural sort of growl come from his elder brother. And Stannis would be lying if he didn't feel his own jaw clench at the very thought of the Targaryens. I should have had them on Dragonstone all those years ago.

But neither Harry nor Val seemed the least bit concerned by the eunuch's question, "They have," he replied cheekily, "I am sure that they would be glad to know you are asking after them."

"The Targaryens are among the Norfolk?" Robert ground out the question as though it were physically difficult.

"Yes," Val answered this time, "I believe Harry just made that perfectly clear to your master of whispers." She was almost taunting the king but his focus was squarely on Harry so he barely even seemed to notice, "They arrived two days' ago without our invitation aboard a Braavosi ship."

"Why did they come?" Jon Arryn asked, clearly anxious.

"Oh," Harry began, "for the same reason that they have ventured anywhere since their exile after the Rebellion . They wished for the Norfolk to aid them in retaking the Iron Throne."

Everyone seemed slightly taken aback by his blunt honesty. "And you refused them?" Stannis questioned.

"Well yes," Harry said blithely, "I had no reason to even consider it; they have nothing of worth that might prove useful with the exception of an old name. And while that might be worthwhile to some, it means nothing to us."

"Is Lord Stark aware of this development?" Jon asked slowly, as though he truly could not believe what he had just heard.

"He was just informed this morning," Harry replied, "I had no intention of keeping such a thing a secret from him."

Robert finally seemed to break from his stupor them, "You will give them to me."

Harry grabbed a grape and popped it into his mouth, "Why?"

"They are dragon spawn," Robert told him with what was an attempt at calm, "And I would kill every one of them that I can get my hands on."

"Hmm," Harry hummed, "So shall you be strangling your brother's before you throw yourself from the tallest tower of this lovely keep then?"

Robert recoiled backward as if struck, "Excuse me?"

"Last I checked, your grandmother was Aerys' aunt making him your cousin," Stannis was genuinely surprised by his knowledge of their history, "Does that not make you dragon spawn? Or do you need two Targaryen parent's to qualify as such?"

Given the rather gob-smacked expressions on his audience, Harry just continued, "Or perhaps the fact that the founder of your house was the supposed bastard brother of Aegon the Conqueror qualifies you as dragon spawn?" He shrugged his shoulders, "I suppose it is a matter of opinion, nothing more, but it is rather unimportant. I shall not be handing over the Targaryens."

"And why would you refuse me this request if you have no intention of offering them your aid?" Robert's knuckles were beginning to turn white where they sat against the table, as he tried valiantly to restrain the outburst that was begging to leap from him. I doubt my brother has ever shown quite this level of diligent restraint in his entire life.

"They would already have left us had the trading vessel that brought them to us still been at our docks when our initial conversation finished," Harry somehow remained unperturbed by the clear rage on the face of the man across from him. Even I want to smack him, and I know Robert is far more angry then I. "But as that was not the case, they have supped among us since that day."

"They have guest rights," Val pointed out, anger tinging her voice at the implication that they would break the old tradition simply because Robert wanted their heads, "And it would be an affront to the old gods to imprison those with guest rights, who have done nothing to us or ours, only to hand them over to certain death."

Robert glared across the table at Harry, hoping to intimidate him into agreeing to his demand. But the wizard didn't flinch, just holding the king's gaze without issue. Stannis was unsurprised when Robert stood abruptly and yelled across the table, "The Others take you then! And pray to your old gods that I do not call my banners and raze your cities to the ground before they have the chance!" He stormed out of the room bashing open the door on his way out. All save Ser Barristan and Ser Arys followed behind him.

"Well," Val said dryly, "that seemed like quite the reasonable reaction."

Jon Arryn chuckled hollowly, even as the other members of the small council made their way out of the room, "Robert understands little of reason when it comes to the Targaryens." Renly, Littlefinger, and Pycelle made their way out without saying their farewells. Varys, the ever sweetly man stopped before the pair of true northerners, "It was a pleasure meeting you."

Harry gave a small chuckle, "I am glad you feel that way, Varys. I am not sure that I can say the same." With that the Spider departed.

Jon sighed wearily, looking every bit his more than seventy years, "Lord Commander, give us the room." The famed old knight nodded before both sworn brothers left, shutting the door behind them, "I shall speak with Robert," he told Harry without preamble.

"I hope you are able to deter him from any of his more drastic desires," Harry replied evenly.

"I have managed it in the past," Though even he didn't sound convinced, "If it is any consolation, I believe things were going quite well prior to Varys' question."

"I agree," Stannis spoke up, "though better that he found out now rather than later, getting the story directly from you rather than through rumor."

"I had every intention of mentioning it once the main focus of the discussion came to its close," He confided in the two men, "But that decision was taken from me rather unexpectedly."

Stannis looked at the northern leader skeptically, "You do intend for them to depart from your lands, don't you?"

"I do," Harry agreed without hesitation, even if there was a hint of strain in his voice. Stannis actually relaxed slightly, "And should some of the sailors be willing to alter their current schedule and return to sea sooner than they mean to then they will be gone by the end of the day; otherwise it will be a month or more before they depart." He looked to Jon, "So where does this leave us?"

"Worse off than we were at the start of the day," Jon answered, "It will be hard to convince Robert of anything now that you have refused to hand over the Targaryens. He is unlikely to believe anything but the worst, and I will call it victory should I manage to convince him that you have no plans to aid them in their endeavors."

"And what of the Vale," Harry asked, "After seeing what I had to show you, would you be willing to offer any aid against our enemy?"

"I can understand why you are seeking out aid, and even why the northerners would wish to offer theirs" Jon started, and Stannis could tell that the old man would refuse him, "but it is my own opinion that the White Walkers and their thrall can be held back by the Wall. And while I sympathize with the struggle you and your people will face, I will not risk the Valemen for the sake of a war thousands of miles away."

Harry turned to look at Stannis, the same question in his eyes. I am afraid he will be sorely disappointed with the answer, "I do not have many bannerman of my own, and I would not bring what few I have north. You can expect a continued supply of dragonglass but that is all I can offer."

Harry and Val shared a look before they both stood, "Gentlemen, I believe it is time that we depart lest Robert decide that guest rights truly mean nothing. Stannis, it was good to see you yet again. Jon, it was an interesting first meeting." He stopped to levitate the chest beside him, "You may keep the cask." As he opened the door and exited with Val by his side, both the Kingsguard followed behind them. It was wise of Jon to ensure that the Lord Commander remained with our guests. He is not the sort to let something unseemly happen to someone he is commanded to protect.

"I prefer your vodka," Jon called after him.

Stannis looked at the older man across from him, "That could have gone better."

"It could have," Jon agreed, "I feel I may regret not offering him my support in the future."

"As do I," Stannis agreed, "It may have been enough of a reason for him to aid us in our investigation. But I have very little to offer him in terms of men, and I would not risk them for a war beyond the Wall."

"Decisions can be changed," Jon remarked, "And should the need arise, I would be willing to change mine."

Harry stood, panting in a large room deep inside of the Last Refuge not far from where the White Walker was being held. The walls and ground appeared as though they had suffered a recent and rather tireless bombardment, rubble lay scattered across the floor haphazardly. There were scorch marks burned into some of the stones while others suffered worse, having melted from the intensity of the heat that had been applied to them. Short sighted fools, the lot of them. They can't see the threat for what it is and other people will suffer for it.

He brought a hand to his cheek only for it to come away red and wet with blood. He waved his wand over the offending mark and felt as the cut sowed itself shut. As he turned to leave, the room behind him righted itself, the broken, battered and burned stones suddenly looking as pristine as they had when first they were placed in the room.

The frustration of his recent discussions had brought Harry to this point. I could let them all freeze to death in their homes. Allow the Long Night to take hold without any contention and focus on the survival of the Norfolk alone. It would be constant war, possibly even for centuries, even after I am dead and gone. But I believe we could survive while the rest of this continent dies. Though that is why I have put such effort into things as it is, I don't want us to just survive; surviving isn't living, and certainly not the way I want my children to go through life.

He ran a hand through his dark hair. Perhaps the North and Dornish alone shall be enough to not only hold them back but actually defeat them. It would appear that is all the aid I shall receive for the time being. But then who is to say we will not have a war to fight here and in the south given Robert's current mood. There was a part of Harry, one that didn't give a fuck what Robert thought, that considered allowing the Targaryens to stay. What difference does it make if he attacks me for that or some other imagined slight? In the end it seems inevitable that he is going to do as he pleases.

As he passed the wall that concealed the White Walker, he could hear a faint noise from within. Curious. He opened the wall to find that the pale warrior seemed to be expecting his entrance. It was staring right at him and laughing at him. Well that I wasn't expecting.

He cast the translation charm on the creature, "What do you find so humorous?" Harry questioned stepping closer, very much willing to inflict harm given the right motivation.

"You are angry, frustrated. Otherwise you would not have spent the last hour unleashing your fury." The White Walker said with actual amusement in its voice, "I told you once that you might make things more difficult, but in the end that you shall die. Now you have seen why; where you shall quarrel and question among yourselves, always with differing goals, we have one purpose."

Harry scowled, clenching his hand tighter around his wand, "Not all of us have differing goals, and those of us who understand the true threat will ensure that it is dealt with." He made to leave before he was goaded into doing something he might regret. Killing it would grant me nothing.

But before he was able to seal the exit behind him, the Other had parting words for him, "You aren't as confident in that as you were when first we spoke."

With that the wall closed behind him. He walked through the fortress, lost in his own thoughts mulling those words over. Preoccupied with his own thoughts, he nearly ran into Daenerys, she had a book in her hand. He could just make out the title, "The Lives of the Four Kings, taking an interest in your family's history?" Harry did not know it but when he copied that particular book in Oldtown he increased the number of copies from four to five.

Daenerys smiled slightly, "I have only ever heard anything about my family from Viserys, and…" She looked slightly conflicted, "after our conversation in the great hall, I realized it may be best to learn what I can of them myself and form my own opinions if I can."

"That is always a wise. Better to make our own opinions than allow others to make them for us." She started to walk away from him, "Your accommodations have been to your liking?"

"They have been comfortable, yes." She told him, "They lack the extravagance of some of the places we stayed when I was younger, but I think I prefer it that way." There was a fondness in her voice as she continued, "My favorite home was always the one with the red door in Braavos. And of all the places we have lived, this seems to be the one with that same sort of… warmth."

Harry just smiled sadly at her, "Well, I am pleased that you are enjoying yourself even if it is only a temporary arrangement." He watched the light in her eyes dim slightly at those words and regretted that he would have to send her away. Though I would not be sad to see her brother depart, speaking of which, "Where is your brother?"

She grimaced, fully aware that her brother had been a less than respectful guest, "I believe that he is somewhere out in the town." Fantastic, hopefully he doesn't do something foolish and get himself hurt or worse. I shall have to do something nice for Toregg for keeping an eye on him.

"Well I shall leave you to your reading," With that the pair parted ways, and Harry made his way down and into the yard. He looked around and resisted the urge to laugh as many of his skilled warriors, along with Arya Stark, watched, captivated as Syrio Forel performed the Braavosi water dance. Harry had yet to speak to the former First Sword but something he intended to rectify today. Though later perhaps, he seems to be enjoying himself at the moment.

Harry's stomach grumbled rather loudly, causing him to realize just how hungry his exertions had left him. He walked through the yard toward the gateway and quickly found himself in First Forge, he went to the Hall and a large grin cracked across his face as he saw his children there with Val, just getting ready to eat. There were quite a few people in the Hall already, and Tormund sat with Torwynd across from his own family. One of the women walked by setting down fish and meat, even as Munda entered a jug of lemon sweet in her hand. It was a drink which they had tasted in Dorne that had proven quite popular north of the Wall, particularly with the younger people. Trystan and Emer loved it. Both Trystan and Emer smiled up at her as she poured some into their goblets, offering some to Val as well.

He sat down with the rest of his family, greeting both children with a kiss to the tops of their heads, "How have you two been today?" Both children started talking loudly, he smiled at Val as he leaned over to give her a kiss on the lips and ran a hand across Lily's tiny head where it rested against her chest.

"Jon and Ygritte say they saw a direwolf on their hunt yesterday." Emer told him as he started filling both her plate and his own.

"Did they now?" Harry said actually quite surprised, "Direwolves are rare even in the Haunted Forest. They are alright?" He still remember the injuries he had healed on Jeremy Rykker many years prior after his own unfortunate encounter with one of the massive wolves.

"They're fine, da'" Trystan continued for his sister, "It sniffed around in a clearing by them, and then continued along."

They were interrupted then as Gareth arrived carrying a letter, he offered it to Harry, "This arrived from Bear Island."

"How did they send it to us?" Harry asked surprised, taking the piece of parchment from maester. Although in name only these days.

"It arrived by owl," Gareth replied evenly.

Harry furrowed his brow, "I was not aware that Bear Island had an owl of ours."

"That would be my doing," Val told him, "I sent a letter to Maege Mormont."

He hummed his understanding as he began reading. As he scanned the paper quickly, his eyes narrowed, "Gareth please find me Del, I have something that I would like her to investigate."

"Harry?" Val asked concerned.

"It would seem that something has happened to the clans that remain along the frozen shore," He explained grimly, "Lady Mormont informed me of a disturbing stillness there and a great snowstorm that came down out of the north. She would send her own men to investigate but thought we might be better equipped to handle such things."

"Send her a letter," Val said, "Tell her that they would appreciate the assistance. If we are in an alliance, we can't be the only ones to handle these things." Harry nodded to Gareth, and the maester departed to see it done.

He placed the parchment down and everyone who had been distracted by Gareth's arrival began to eat. They talked among themselves of their days. It was as he went to take a drink from his own cup that Trystan started coughing. It was a hoarse, uncomfortable sort of cough that sounded… awful. Emer seemed to know that something was wrong before anyone else.

As his son started to choke, Harry pulled his wand from his sleeve. He put it against Trystan's throat and found that there was nothing there, nothing obstructing his airway. Emer screamed loudly as her brother started to grab at his throat, leaving ugly red marks there. Poison, it must be poison. With a loud crack that he normally controlled Harry apperated away to their home, and silently summoned his small phial of phoenix tears.

He arrived back just seconds later to see that Val held both of their daughters. She and Emer openly wept as Lily wailed in infantile confusion. Having returned during his brief departure, Gareth was trying to help his still struggling son while a crowd watched in horror as there seemed to be nothing to be done.

"Move," His magic forced everyone crowded near Trystan to obey, physically moving some people back as his utter rage made itself known. He kneeled down and looked his clearly terrified son in the eye.

"Everything is going to be alright," He uncorked the small phial and tilted Trystan's head back. He poured three drops directly down his son's throat. And I'll empty the whole fucking thing if that is what it takes. Trystan stared up at his father and Harry felt himself holding his breath unconsciously, and then the little boy took a great shuddering breath that wracked his entire body. It was only then that Harry breathed a sigh of relief and held his son close, listening intently to his soft breaths.

Val gave a cry of relief before suddenly the entire family was in one single embrace. They stayed like that for some time, oblivious to the rest of the people in the room. He squeezed each of them firmly before pulling away to stand and look at those gathered, Tormund was stood at the very front with Del just beside him.

People actually flinched slightly at the glowing green eyes that peered out from their leaders hardened face, "Tormund, no ship, no person leaves the cities until I find who was responsible for poisoning my son." The Talltalker had no words for Harry, he just nodded dumbly. There was some disgruntled grumblings at this so Harry made his reasoning clear, "I will not allow an attempted assassin to roam our streets where they might harm anyone." People fell silent as they realized that it wasn't just his family that would be in danger.

"Gareth," The maester had struggled back to his feet after being thrown by Harry's magic, "Please inspect our food and drink and determine what exactly was poisoned." Not even bothering to answer, he immediately approached the table and sifting over the plates and goblet that had belonged to them.

"The rest of you," Harry said scanning the crowd, "please leave us." The person responsible could be any one of them. But Harry was confident that none of the Norfolk would resort to such clandestine means of harming him and his family.

Catching Del's eye he gestured for her to remain, "Given what happened, I am reluctant to allow anyone to depart the city but there is a pressing matter." He sighed, feeling weary from the emotional trauma of the frantic events that just occurred, "I want you to assemble thirty of the best hunters, those that know how to remain unseen and unheard and make your way toward the frozen shore. I need to know if the Others have made their first actual move." He grabbed her arm before she could leave, "However I will speak to each person you choose before they are allowed to depart."

As Del left the room, Harry walked over to Gareth, "What can you tell me?"

"Based on the reaction Trystan had, the poison used was the strangler," The maester informed him as he ran a finger through Trystan's goblet, "It would appear that it was in the lemon sweet, the same lemon sweet that you and your family tend to enjoy with your afternoon meals ever since your visit to Dorne."

"And anyone could have tampered with the contents before it arrived at the table," Harry said curtly, "I shall have to talk with those who prepare the meals."

"I shall gather them for you," Gareth told him dutifully.

"And Munda as well," Harry told him much to his surprise. I doubt she had any hand in this but perhaps someone gave her that particular jug of lemon sweet. The maester nodded all the same to the command and made his way out.

Harry watched him go gratefully before being firmly embraced by Val, he stroked her hair and whispered quietly into her, "It's alright love, it's alright. I am going to find whoever did this and make them suffer as much as they made him suffer."

"Good." The simple response contained true hatred, the kind that he had never heard from Val before. And he knew that he felt the same.

19. Chapter 19

AN: Thank you as always for your reviews. I quite enjoyed reading who you thought was responsible for the attempt on Harry on his family. If I failed to answer anyone's question I apologize. Answers to guest reviews are now on my profile.

Thanks to my beta Tellimicus Sundance

A little over an hour after the frenetic event that took place in the Hall, Harry sat alone, staring down at the surface of the table, a scowl on his face. Val and the children had returned to their home, where he knew with utter certainty there was nothing that might harm them. This must be dealt with quickly, otherwise I fear that there may be another attempt made. He had his suspicions of who might be responsible for attacking his family, but he did not want to assume and fail to discover and punish the truly responsible party. He turned toward the doorway when he heard footfalls.

Gareth led a group of seven people into the room, all of them deathly quiet. There were five women and two men. Munda stood with her mother, Tilda, slightly apart from the five others. The youngest of those gathered, she appeared utterly distraught and on the verge of breaking down. She and Gilly have always been more than fond of the twins. He was confident that she hadn't done anything to directly cause Trystan harm but he hoped she might be able to provide him with the identity of who gave her the jug of lemon-sweet. He knew the others were unlikely to know anything but it was possible that they may have seen something of use.

Clearing his throat, all those present looked at him, a hint of fear in each of their eyes. The Norfolk respected him, certainly, and he had proven that he would do what he could to better them, but they also knew to fear his wrath should something be done to harm or even threaten his family. Stories of how he dealt with the cannibal leader who threatened to feast on his children and rape Val were still told in soft whisperers in the taverns at night.

Trying to reassure them that he would not be doing terrible, painful things to them with magic, he gave them all a brief smile before speaking, "I am sure that you have all heard what occurred here earlier," They all gave timid nods at that, even the men, "It has been determined that a poison, called the strangler, was added to the lemon sweet that not only Trystan drank but that Val, Emer and myself all intended to drink as well."

He stepped forward, scanning their faces, searching for any hint of guilt. He found none, just trepidation, "I want each of you to understand that I do not blame you for what happened." He looked pointedly at Munda, who was sniffling back tears. Tilda smiled at him appreciatively as he continued, "But, if any of you happen to know anything that might aid me in discovering who did this I wish for you to tell me now."

Realizing that they weren't being accused of anything regarding Trystan's near-death experience, they all seemed to relax slightly. One of the men, Howd, spoke up hesitantly, "Most of the lemon sweet in our storehouses was recently bought from the Braavosi trader who arrived in Newport last week. It is likely that the jug given to you during your midday meal came from the trader." Harry had expected as much, but he very much doubted that it had been sold to them with the poison already in place. There would be no telling whether or not the drink would ever find its way into his family's cups were that the case. And we would have tossed the whole lot of it had we found any one of them was poisoned. Though, even Harry had to admit that Ternesio had left with a great deal of haste that day. If there is no other thread to follow, it may merit some looking into.

"Certainly worth noting," Harry responded, "However, I am more curious as to whether any of you happened to see someone lurking about near the storehouses that you normally wouldn't."

Each contemplated that for a short moment before each of them shook their heads' almost as one. Harry sighed frustrated by the lack of information they were able to provide, but not entirely surprised. There was something he could do to find out for sure whether or not any of them had seen anything unseemly happening, but he was reluctant to use legillimency when they were clearly all of the belief that no one unusual had done anything in the storehouses. They'll think that I don't trust them, and how long will it take for that word to spread throughout the cities. While searching for one clandestine enemy I could make myself dozens more if I decide it is a necessity to rummage through the minds of those who trust me, and who I in turn need to trust.

He shook his head slightly and turned to look at Munda, "Did someone actually give you the lemon sweet that you brought to the table? Was there a reason that you chose that particular jug?"

She struggled for words even as her mother whispered silent encouragement, finally after a long moment she spoke up, though never looking him in the eye, "I'm… I'm sorry, Harry. I really can't remember. It all happened so quickly, I just remember grabbing the sweet and then everything here. It's… " She bit back a sob, "It's just a blur. I want to remember but I just can't." To some extent, Harry found that difficult to believe. But then, traumatic events can leave people with fragments of memories. Still, she remembers somewhere in her conscience. And Harry had faith she would be willing to aid him in whatever way necessary if it ensured that they found the person responsible for the attack.

"That is alright, Munda," Harry told her as kindly as he could manage given his current mood before looking to the others, "I thank you for what information you could provide. But now I must ask you to leave us." The five of them appeared relieved to be allowed out of his presence. Despite his assurance they still feared what he might do. "Gareth, if you would please wait outside." The man nodded and stepped out with the others leaving Harry alone with Tilda and Munda in the Hall.

He stepped closer to the teenage girl, his gaze piercing her, "This was not your fault Munda, no more so than it was Trystan's fault. You brought the sweet to the table and he drank it, but you did not add the poison that nearly took his life." He rested his hands on her shoulders and she finally looked up at him fear and regret roiling within her vision, "But there is something to be done; something that would allow me to see into your memory, into the things that you can't quite grab onto." He didn't want to force the issue but he was willing to if that was what proved necessary.

But he needn't worry about such thing. She pushed away from her mother gently, and without any hesitation she told him, "Do what you need to." Her mother made to protest but Munda turned to look at her, steely resolve in her gaze, "If it will help find the person responsible, I wouldn't imagine not doing it."

Tilda nodded, resigned before placing a kiss on her daughter's temple, "I shall leave you to it then."

Munda smiled as her mother left them before returning her attention to Harry, "What do I need to do?" She eyed the stick in his hand warily as he pulled it from his sleeve. The Norfolk had seen him do terrible, wonderful, and impossible things with that thin piece of wood, he had little doubt that she was wondering which sort she was about to endure.

He tried to smile reassuringly but it didn't reach his eyes, "I need you to think back to when you retrieved the jug. You may not be able to recall all that happened but it will guide me to what I am looking for and make it easier to find." He grimaced, "I apologize in advance for any stray thoughts or memories I might encounter while in your mind. I should be able to avoid such things but there is no guarantee." While much better at this sort of thing than he had been in his younger years, he did not claim to be the greatest at the mind arts; only ever needing to use them sparingly.

"I understand," Munda responded with forced calm. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them to look up at Harry again, "I'm ready." Harry smiled faintly at the show of bravery before raising his wand with a whispered Legillimens.

He was immediately bombarded by her thoughts and memories. He could see her giggling as a small child as Tormund threw her into the air, Tilda teaching her how to skin the deer her brother's had brought from the Haunted Forest when she was little more than five years old, her and Gilly pouring over notes on runes and their uses, both of the girls helping his twins learn how to write those same runes, even as she felt a hint of jealousy at her inability to use them the way his children could. But throughout those brief flashes, he could predominantly feel her joy, her happiness but then it seemed to die as she fixated on the twins within her own mind and another scene took over.

Harry watched from Munda perspective as the life was choked from Trystan's small lungs. But he held her there fixating on that moment and pushing backward in the memory. He followed the memory as Munda returned to the storehouses, just next to the kitchens. Munda's mind seemed reluctant to continue on but he pushed backward and as the image of the teen returned to the storehouse he found what he was looking for. There standing among the many casks of wine, and cider, and the jugs of lemon sweet was someone he did not expect though. If for no other reason than she hadn't been present when Gareth brought those who helped that day in the kitchens. He watched as Munda did not choose the jug of lemon sweet but was handed it before removing himself from her mind.

Munda took a great heaving gasp of air at his sudden departure, hugging her arms across her chest. Harry paid her little mind instead considering what he had seen. When Munda regained her bearings, she looked to Harry just as perplexed as he felt, "Ferny gave me the lemon sweet?"

"So it would seem," Harry said tensely. He could not imagine a scenario in which Ferny would desire to harm his family. Certainly not of her own free will. He knew better than most that people could be coerced into doing things they did not wish to whether through manipulation or magic, the results could be the same. Or worse yet, it wasn't Ferny but somebody who took on her appearance. He knew there were those who could do such things in this world as well, having read of the glamours employed by the red priest of R'hllor. Or worse yet the Faceless men, the only way they might take a face is for another to die. He didn't know what was the more unpleasant thought… that Ferny was forced into attacking his family or that she was already dead and someone had taken her visage to do the deed themselves.

He rested a hand on her shoulder, guiding her out of the Hall, "Thank you for your help Munda. I believe the information you have provided will aid me in finding the person responsible for the poisoning."

Her earlier distress seemed to have left her, scowling as she stared straight ahead, "Trystan and Emer are like my own younger siblings," She told him earnestly, "It was terrible watching him go through that, and I was devastated to think that I had caused it in some way." Her frown deepened, "When you find the person or people responsible, I hope you give them a slow and tortuous death." Despite her usually being quite the sweet girl, he was unsurprised by her rather vicious desire. Even if they live in a city and are what southerners might consider civilized, they are still the Free Folk. Harry just nodded solemnly to her words as they exited the building. Tilda and Gareth awaited them together, talking quietly.

Tilda immediately approached her daughter and started leading her away as Gareth came over to Harry, "Tell me," He started softly, "why was Ferny not among the number that you brought to me?" The elder woman would often take part in preparing meals for those who did other work.

Gareth furrowed his brow in confusion, not expecting that question, "According to those who helped in the preparation of the midday meal, she was not among their number today. Why do you ask?"

Starting to walk down the road toward Ferny's home, Harry replied, "Because Ferny was the one who gave Munda the jug of tainted lemon sweet that came to fill our cups."

Gareth didn't know how to respond to this revelation, walking along beside Harry in stunned silence. Finally as they drew nearer to her home he commented quietly, "I find it hard to believe that the woman would be capable of such a thing. She has never been anything but loyal in the time that I have been here."

"Nor was she ever anything but loyal in the time prior to your arrival," Harry replied as they reached the door, "But that doesn't mean that she wasn't involved, though I believe there is more to the story." He knocked on the door to the home and instead of the usual bustling that he had come to expect whenever he visited the woman there was just silence, "And I fear that it will not have a happy ending." His wand fell into his hand and with a simple Alohamora the lock opened.

Ferny's smallish home was always quite cluttered given the multitude of things with which she assisted around the city, but there was a haphazardness to the things about her house that was entirely out of character for the old woman. A number of jars had been sifted through quickly, and those that had been discarded lay on their sides their contents falling to the floor, pooling there and mixing to cause a pungent odor. The various lengths of cloth and silk that usually sat in tidy piles around the room were instead strewn about the floor. But despite everything that was clearly amiss there was no blood that he could see.

"There has been a struggle here," Gareth said gravely as he oved further into the room, running his fingers over the fallen jars.

"Clearly," Harry agreed succinctly as he ventured further into the home. He came to Ferny's bedroom; pale rays of light illuminated the nearly immaculate room. There was a fireplace just between the two windows, in which ash and charred wood remained. The only obvious blemish in the room was the stain of blood on the furs that lay atop her feather bed. Could possibly be her assailant's blood but I highly doubt it.

His wand still out, he looked for any other signs of the struggle but nothing was readily apparent. He silently cast an Accio for Ferny's body in the hopes that might hasten their search, quite confident that she had met an unpleasant end. What he didn't expect was for the entirety of the bed to shift closer to him. He pushed down on the soft surface only to feel a lump within that ought not to be there.

Cutting open the fabric, he sifted through the stuffing only to find Ferny's body face down within. He pulled her out and laid her down face up on the bedroom floor. Looking at her corpse, his fear was confirmed. Her wrinkled face, weathered by years of experiences both tortuous and joyous, was gone, what remained behind was only musculature, eyes and bone.

"I was unable to find anyth…" Gareth stopped mid-word as he looked to the body on the ground. He immediately paled before turning slightly green. His experience at the Citadel studying medicine was the only thing that stopped him from regurgitating his earlier meal, "It would appear that your fears were well-founded."

"Yes," Harry agreed, steel in his voice. He was not angry with Gareth but the events that had taken place. At least one dead, and almost certainly more than that. My own son was almost among them. Harry intended to ensure that this assailant experienced the full extent of pain that magic could cause, "In your professional experience, how long would you say it has been since her death?"

Gareth took a few minutes examining Ferny's remains in detail, "Two days, maybe three." He finally concluded, "You are aware that the person responsible is likely an extremely dangerous and experienced killer?"

"I am aware that we are almost certainly dealing with a Faceless man, capable of taking another's appearance," He gestured to Ferny's absent visage, "And that given the nature of their contracts, the person is still somewhere within our cities." There were few books that included information on the assassin's order but he couldn't imagine one of their number departing without actually ensuring their goal had been achieved. And considering their failure, I can only assume that another attempt shall be made if I do not find the person responsible soon.

"What shall you do then?" Gareth questioned.

"Everyone shall be informed that there is someone roaming one of the cities wearing the face of someone they would trust. I imagine that the assassin must have been wearing the face of someone Ferny trusted as there was no sign that the person forced their way in," He explained pensively, "And while I do not wish for anyone else to be harmed, I have no desire for the culprit to depart our home alive. As such, I shall ensure that nobody leaves our walls unless I am certain that they are not the one behind this attack." He resisted the urge to grind his teeth, "And personally, I shall ensure that my children and wife are safe. As they shall be in the most danger given that as a family we were clearly the ones targeted."

"There will be discontent regarding your restrictions on the hunters and sailors," Gareth warned, "Not to mention the possibility of distrust and panic should people expect one another of being the culprit."

"I am aware," Harry didn't mean to sound so irritable, but he was trying to ensure the safety of his people, and his family, "But I would rather they be vigilant than keep them in the dark. I can only imagine the reaction should they find out I deliberately withheld information that could affect their well-being." Fortunately, most should be safe. The Faceless men are said to bring their 'gift' only to those they are contracted to unless it is necessary. He looked down at Ferny's body. He needed somebody that anyone would trust.

Ten minutes later, the two men exited the home with Ferny's corpse wrapped in clothe and levitating behind them as they passed through the strangely quiet city they gathered a large following of people. Hundreds followed in his wake as he passed through the gateway into Newport.

By the time he reached the main gate of the Last Refuge thousands were following in his wake, curious murmurs could be heard all throughout the gathered crowd as he stopped there and dropped the body gingerly into the lightly snowy ground. He hoped to disperse word of the situation faster rather than not and his walking through both cities with a body following had drawn more than enough attention. Many of them likely think that I found the person responsible for what happened to Trystan. He knew full well that particular piece of news had already been dispersed throughout all three cities.

He removed the clothe covering the corpses face, and at the front of the gathered crowd there were wide, surprised eyes while many more behind attempted to look around to see what caused the general gasp. Harry noticed Arya and Jon standing together beside Briar, no doubt having had a lesson in skinchanging before gathering the crowd. Val says Arya has become fond of Ferny since her arrival. I imagine this shall hit her harder than some who have known her for years. Jon put a hand on Arya's shoulder as she tried to get closer.

Further along the mass of people, Viserys stood beside Daenerys. The young man appeared to have an excited anxiousness about him, something unseen in him since his arrival, particularly when in the presence of either of the Stark children. He usually couldn't help but glare at either of them on the rare occasions he came in contact with them. At least that is what Toregg has told me. While Viserys appeared as though he were resisting the urge to smile widely at the current situation, something which utterly peeved Harry, Daenerys had a small frown on her face, as though she were trying to determine who exactly the faceless body belonged to.

Casting a silent sonorous charm, Harry quieted the crowd, "For those who are unaware of the events that have taken place today, while in the Hall for our midday meal there was an attempt on the lives of myself and my family by means of poisoned lemon sweet." He paused, swallowing thickly as he thought back to his son's gasping breaths, "My son drank some of the tainted drink but fortunately, I managed to counter the poison before he lost his life."

There was a smattering of surprised murmurs though nearly everyone already appeared to know the story as he expected, "I have spent the intervening hours searching out the person responsible." Many glanced down to the body by his feet, clearly assuming that he had brought the culprit to justice, "Unfortunately, while I have learned certain important details about the person responsible I have yet to find them." His eyes hardened as he looked out of over the many eyes before him, wondering if the Faceless man was currently among them, "And worse yet, I found the dead body of Ferny in her home, when it was learned that she provided the lemon sweet drunk by Trystan." He pointed down to her body, "As you can see something was taken from her after her death."

Ferny might have been flattered if she had been there to see for herself the outcry at her death and harm done to her post-mortem. Harry saw as tears appeared in Arya's young face, and Jon wrapped an arm around her shoulders, cradling her to his side in comfort.

"For those who have heard of them or have read of them, I believe it is apparent that the person responsible is one of the Faceless men, meaning that at this time they have likely taken another face or returned to one they have already used in the hopes or remaining undetected." He scanned the faces in front of him yet again, "Be vigilant with those around you. Do not be caught unawares."

"And until such a time as the assassin is caught, no one shall be allowed outside of the city unless given direct approval by me." This was met by a roar of anger. They are the Free Folk, and I am infringing on their freedom. "Because," He shouted over the crowd, "Should this measure not be taken, it is very much possible that the man who killed Ferny, a woman who has been nothing but loyal and productive for years, and perhaps many more, could escape the justice I intend to reap upon them." Shivers traveled up the spines of more than a few spectators as the thought of how painful Harry's justice would be. It had the added effect of ending any discussion regarding his new command.

"This will be a temporary measure," Harry told them firmly, "And a short-lived one at that if I have my way." With that he pointed his wand down to Ferny's wrapped corpse and a burst of flame exploded from the tip, engulfing her remains. There was a silence among the crowd as those flames flicked upward, a plume of smoke billowing upward. Scant minutes later, nothing remained of the woman save her ashes. It was only then that Harry walked down and away from the castle. The crowd dispersed as he departed, though a few followed in his wake, Viserys tried quite fervently to reach him first but Tormund arrived faster, Sigorn beside him.

Harry looked to the Magnar's son, "I expect your father will be less than pleased by my decision, but it must apply to all three cities otherwise it will be much easier for the person responsible to escape if they so choose. If I need to I shall cut off the connection with the Thenn for the time being if he is not agreeable."

Sigorn snorted, "He will not be agreeable, he is rarely agreeable where you are concerned. But I think he shall do it all the same."

Harry thumped the younger man on his shoulder, "I appreciate your help. Stress that this will be temporary, and not something I enjoy implementing to begin with." The younger man nodded his understanding as they came to the gateways before making his way through to the Thenn city. Harry and Tormund stepped through to First Forge.

"Do you have any idea how you are going to find a killer who could be anyone in the city?" Tormund questioned.

"I have a few ideas," Harry told him vaguely; his tone making it clear that he had no intention of expounding upon his plans.

"Let's hope the people in the city manage to have patience as these ideas take shape." They stopped together when Harry noticed a gathered crowd just outside of his home. Seeing Del among them, Harry figured this was the group she had selected to investigate the goings-on along the Frozen Shore. Tormund spared Harry one last glance before departing without further word.

Approaching the gathered group he could see Osha and Mance among them, he was actually rather surprised not to see Ygritte. But then again, she has been rather preoccupied lately. Del stood from where she rested against the side of his home, stepping to the front of the group, "I have done as you asked."

"I can see that," He said gratefully, "You warned them of what will be required before they are allowed to leave?"

"She 'as," Osha spoke up from beside the other woman, "But you better not go lookin' for anythin'… private while you're siftin' around in our heads."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Harry said with a slight smirk, unsurprised Osha of all people would be the one to make a point of it, "I shall be brief, only confirming you are who you ought to be." There some nervous glances but nothing out of the ordinary and one by one he entered each of their minds. Mance's had been rather humorous as he was singing the Dornishman's Wife quite raucously within his mind.

Still, they all proved to be the person they should have and when he finally pulled from Del's mind, he addressed them as a group, "Del has already informed you that you will be traveling to the Frozen Shore in order to determine what has happened there, but you shall be meeting a group of crows and Mormont soldiers at the Shadow Tower." Mance seemed a bit peeved at this news, "Now I want to make it perfectly clear that you are only meant to find out what has occurred there, and should it be as I suspect and the Others have added to their number, you return without further investigation. Should you encounter any of their thrall, or worse yet one of them and you believe it impossible to fight them off, then you will flee. No one should die for the sake of learning what happened there." With that the ten of them departed, portkeys on their person and headed toward the gateway that would take them to the western gate.

He watched as they walked away before entering his home. It was oddly silent, given that the entire family was within. Dalla was sitting with Val as she fed Lily, though every five seconds or so his wife's eyes flicked over to where the twins sat closely together as they read quietly. She didn't want to look away from either of them given what had happened only hours earlier.

They turned to look at him as he entered, the twins bolting up and hugging his lower body. Trystan's embrace seemed more desperate than usual. Harry forced himself to smile down at them despite the absolute rage he felt at the cause behind that desperation. To this point, his children had been unaffected by the threats that surrounded them. That isn't the case anymore. It infuriated him that they had experienced such a harrowing experience at such a young age.

Both Trystan and Emer smiled up at him as he patted them on the head, gently pushing them back toward what they were doing as he approached Val and Dalla where they sat. Dalla stood offering Harry a sad smile as she made for the door, "I have work I must attend to." He just sat down beside Val, and she quickly molded herself into his side. The twins each bid their aunt farewell as she made her way out of the door.

Speaking softly so as to not be overheard by their children, she questioned him, "So what has happened?"

"Ferny is dead," Val gave an involuntary gasp, "And… a Faceless man using her visage provided Munda with the lemon sweet."

"A Faceless man?" Val questioned quizzically. She must never have read any of the few books that speak of the order.

"An assassin who can take the faces of the dead and wear them as their own," She grimaced at that. He could understand her reaction, it wasn't the most elegant way of taking another's appearance but it certainly seemed to be one of the most effective. Unlike polyjuice there is no time limit, nor can it be dispelled like self-transfiguration, nor like the glamours of this world does it need a gem to ensure it remains intact.

"It could be anyone then," She said with a hint of panic, "somebody else that we trust, who could get close to the children."

He pulled her closer, offering comfort even as he was carful of Lily, "I won't lie, the assassin could have taken another face now, even of someone we trust." He ran his hand up and down her back as he saw tears more from anger than sadness enter her eyes, "But Trystan and Emer shall still go about their days as usual." When her head snapped to look at him, he placated her, "I will ensure that those around them are who they should be each day though." Among other things.

She nodded reluctantly, well aware that smothering them would only cause them to lash out. And given their recent trauma I imagine it would be rather violent accidental magic.

"What will you do?" She finally asked after burping Lily and laying her down in her cradle nearby.

"For a start, I plan to use the Stone tonight," Harry confided to her. He was not certain how the Resurrection Stone would work with the dead of this world, Val never having taken him up on the offer to attempt such a thing with her mother. Nor do I know what might happen after I burned her body.

Val smirked slightly in amusement, "She is going to scold you."

Harry chuckled softly at that, and squeezed her hip slightly. It was the first time that he had smiled in hours, "She probably will." Val shifted so that her head rested on his shoulder, "I also plan on surveying the map in the hopes that I might find a name out of place."

"And what shall we do should both of those paths fail you?" She asked tentatively.

"We will be patient and vigilant."

It had been a week since the attempt on Harry and his family. While certainly sympathetic to what the young boy went through, there was a selfish part of Daenerys slightly pleased by the results of the attack on Harry and his family. It had provided her the opportunity to remain even longer in a place that she was quickly coming to enjoy. Something she could not honestly say of any of their homes since they lived in the red-doored house in Braavos.

Daenerys sat with her brother in the Hall where he was yet again trying to speak with Harry. Since news of the attack had reached his ears, he had shown a single-minded desire to have a conversation with the magical leader. Realizing that Harry clearly had more patience for Daenerys than he did him, her brother had taken to dragging her along in effort to make it that much more likely that Harry would spare him the moment of time that he desired. As of this point he had eluded her brother quite easily, but it seemed that today he would get lucky.

Harry was speaking with an older girl, red-haired with a bow on her back and Jon Snow, the bastard son of Eddard Stark, he was dark-haired and long-faced with the scraggly-beard that young men would often try to grow. Until recently she had believed that Eddard Stark was nothing more than Robert Baratheon's dog, and that the two together had slandered her father. The latter usurping his position as king. Viserys never spouted anything but vitriol for the great lords who committed treason against their house.

But in her two weeks among the Norfolk she had done little except read, and she had fixated on the history of her family. And as far as the maesters were concerned, it was Viserys who tried to make their father appear better than what history actually told. And not just our father but the entire Targaryen dynasty.

And that was without taking Rhaegar into consideration. There was no clear answer as to what her eldest brother had really done with the Stark girl. Some claimed that he had kidnapped her, others that she had gone with him willingly. But what was clear is that he had forsaken his wife Elia in favor of another, sparking Robert's Rebellion. With everything that she learned, Daenerys couldn't help but reconsider her viewpoint... or more accurately the viewpoint that Viserys had long been providing her.

She was pulled from her thoughts as she felt Viserys move beside her. She looked up as Harry stood and bid Jon farewell. Like a wolf to fresh meat, Viserys immediately stood pulling her along with him. She resisted the urge to wince as his thin, boney finger dug into the flesh of her arm. She came to an abrupt halt as they stood directly in Harry's path. He glanced between them, a flicker of irritation showed in his eyes and though she had only been in his presence a handful of times she couldn't help but feel he looked more haggard, than he had in any of her previous encounters with him.

"Harry," Viserys said, having learned from others around the city that he cared little for the monikers the southerner's and Essosi used for him, "I have been hoping to speak with you."

"Of course," he replied evenly, "I apologize for your prolonged stay here, but until such a time as the person responsible for the attack on my family, there shall be no ships leaving our cities." He clearly hoped that would be the end of it, but her brother continued.

"Understandable," Viserys agreed with a thin smile, "It was the attack that I hoped to discuss with you." He gestured back toward the empty table they had been occupying.

Harry looked to it, shaking his head slightly, "Very well." The three of them took seats around the table, "What did you wish to discuss?"

"It is well known that Faceless men only give their 'gift' to those they are contracted to do so," Viserys started confidently, "I wonder if you have given any consideration as to who might have been the hand behind the attack on your family?"

Harry scowled at the younger man, having less patience for her brother's pride than he could usually muster, "There are people who I believe may be responsible, but they are only conjectures."

"But surely it is obvious who would most benefit from the death of your family?" Viserys said, either unaware or uncaring of Harry's irritation.

"Many would benefit," Was the stony reply.

"But few have the necessary gold to afford the assassin that probably still roams your city." Viserys insisted.

"I am aware," Harry snapped, "that I have enemies you know nothing about, Viserys Targaryen, and some I myself may not even know of yet." His emerald eyes bore into her brother's and Daenerys resisted the urge to snicker as he shuddered in discomfort, "More than gold can be offered to the Faceless men in return for their services."

"Yes, that may very well be true," Viserys said, regaining some of his composure, "but wouldn't you agree that the Usurper has a great deal to gain from your demise and the means to actually see it done." He smiled toothily, "And were you willing, I am sure there are those in the south who would raise their banners in aid against him were you support my claim to the throne. And together we might make him and his ilk pay for their treachery."

Harry's face twitched as he seemingly fought the urge to yell or even strike her brother, when he spoke his voice was noticeably louder, "Should I learn that Robert Baratheon is in any way responsible for the attack on my family, I will deal with it accordingly." He leaned forward so that he was very near to Viserys who leaned back nervously, "But it would not be for your sake. Your family sat on the throne for nearly 300 years. It was lost, not because Robert usurped your position, but because your father was a mad man and your brother a fool." He stood abruptly then, staring down imperiously at the pair of them, "Get it through your deluded mind, boy," He spat the word out, the table rumbling slightly as his magic reacted to his anger, "The Free Folk will never provide you with any aid in reclaiming the Iron Throne." Daenerys just stared, unsurprised by the response much less his irritation. He has more important things to concern himself with than my brother's desires, now more so than ever I would think given the danger in the shadows his family is facing.

Harry stood and made his way to the door even as her brother's face went nearly purple in his seething anger, "How dare you!" His voice was hoarse and his fury only grew as Harry ignored him, uncaring as he exited the Hall without turning back. Viserys bolted out of his chair and made to follow the magician, his hand moving toward the hilt of his sword as Harry could no longer be seen. Harry will kill him.

Whatever Daenerys might think of Viserys, he was still her brother and she didn't want to see him die. Eyes widening in terror, Daenerys' flew after him and grabbed Viserys' wrist before he had the opportunity to draw his sword and charge after their gracious host. His lilac eyes turned from where they were burning with visible hatred for the man who had thoroughly rebuked him, to her. And now I have 'woken the dragon'. It didn't cause the fear in her that it had in the past.

She released his wrist quickly, already knowing that by turning his ire away from Harry she would likely receive it instead. As Viserys roared something unintelligible, drawing the attention of all those nearby, she braced herself, more than willing to take the punishment if it ensured not only Viserys retained his life but that she wouldn't be forced from Norfolk cities just yet. Viserys' hand fell away from the sword hilt and instead swung backward as he made to strike her. She closed her eyes expecting for the sting on her cheek but it never came. She squinted with one eye to find her brother standing unnaturally still, a nasty snarl still on his lips and his hand mere inches from her face. Magic.

Looking toward the doorway, she expected to see Harry standing there with his thin wand drawn. But instead it was his twin children standing on either side of Arya Stark. The young northerner had a noticeable cut running the length of her cheek. Next to Emer were two other girls, Karsi's daughters she believed, Johnna and Willa. She had only met the former wildilng leader twice but she found her to be quite kind.

Just behind them, she watched as a girl she had seen in the library on more than one occasion turned and rushed back out of the Hall. Daenerys just stared at the children before her, only able to assume that it had been one of Harry's children that managed to spare her from Viserys' anger.

It was only when she turned to look around the rest of the room that she realized that most of the other occupants of the Hall were standing, more than one of them glaring at Viserys. The girl with Jon even had an arrow knocked and drawn, aimed right at his chest. They were going to defend me. She couldn't help the heat that rose in her cheeks at that revelation. There had been very few people in her short life who had been willing to do such a thing, many having turned a blind eye whenever she happened to 'wake the dragon' around others.

Attention shifted away then as Harry appeared in the doorway. He stopped momentarily to speak with the gathered younger children. All five gesticulated in her direction, he nodded his understanding and ruffled the twins' hair affectionately and healed the cut on Arya's cheek, before straightening and approaching her with long strides.

He looked Viserys up and down, he seemed angry but there was also a hint of amusement in his eyes. When he spoke his voice lacked the hard edge it held during her conversation with her brother, "I am told that your brother intended to strike you?" There were murmurs of agreement in the otherwise silent building as all those who had witnessed the altercation confirmed what his children told him.

Daenerys glanced from her brother and back to Harry for a moment before nodding he head slightly, "He did yes," She looked over at the twins who were both watching the conversation intently, "I believe one of your children stopped him."

"They did," Harry responded offhandedly, "But what made him decide to strike you? Surely his frustrations were directed at me."

"They were," Daenerys said slowly. She was reluctant to say any more than that but didn't want to lie to Harry either.

He gestured with his hand for her to continue, "So what is it that caused him to take out his frustrations on you instead of me?"

She sighed knowing this would not end well for her brother, "He planned to attack you… with his sword… because you had 'woken the dragon'." Harry snorted derisively at that but she continued, "I did not wish for him to harm you nor for him to face the punishment that would come for such an attack, so I grabbed his wrist to stop him. For my insolence," She had heard that phrase on more than one occasion from Viserys, "he made to harm me but Trystan or Emer interfered."

"I don't believe this is the first time that he has taken violent action against you, is it?" His voice was surprisingly gentle. It reminded her of that time along the canals of Braavos. Meekly, she nodded in agreement to his question.

Harry hummed to himself at that, "Thank you for considering my safety, even knowing it could be detrimental to your own." Daenerys hadn't expected his thanks for such a thing. I doubt he was even in any real danger. I was doing as much for Viserys and myself as anything. He pulled his wand out and waved it over Viserys, he brother immediately started moving again, backing away clearly terrified by the gathered crowd of incensed Norfolk.

"Viserys," Harry drew his attention sharply, "You should thank you sister, should you have succeeded in drawing your sword to attack me… you would be dead." The young man in question gulped fearfully, nodding his head frantically in recognition. When it appeared that he would not actually speak, Harry gestured toward her, a deep frown on his face, "I am waiting."

His lilac eyes flitted from Harry to the gathered crowd and then finally to her. She could see the burning anger in him, but he acquiesced with the demand all the same, "Thank you sister." He bit out each word as though it were physically painful for him to say.

"You're welcome, Viserys." She said quietly, growing uncomfortable with the attention that was being focused on them.

Viserys seemed to think that was the end of it, but Daenerys wasn't so optimistic. As he made to leave, grabbing at her arm as he did so, Harry spoke yet again, "We are not done." Harry's voice stopped him in place almost as though it had been a physical blow, "There is the matter of your attempt at striking your sister."

"What of it?" Viserys snapped though immediately regretted it, speaking more calmly.

Outside of the yard, violence was highly frowned upon particularly when unprovoked. Most of all against a young woman, who had no experience to defend herself, "I take issue with it." Harry snarled through gritted teeth, "Your quarters shall be further separated for the duration of your continued stay here. If you were wise you would stay far away from her unless you can control yourself. Should I find out that you have struck her…" He let the threat hang in the air, "Am I understood?" Viserys sneered but nodded in recognition. Harry gestured for him to leave before Viserys stormed out of the Hall, pushing past Arya and Gilly roughly.

Everyone seemed to go back to their own business then, Daenerys just shuffled nervously from foot to foot as Harry turned to look at her, an eyebrow raised in question, "I appreciate your help, just as I always have," She said sincerely before grimacing, "But what will happen when I am forced to leave this place with my brother? How will you ensure that he does not simply take out on me all that he cannot now?"

Harry gave her a small, sad smile, "For the time being, you shall remain in this place, even if it means suffering your brother." She knew this had far more to do with his concern over the Faceless man likely still in their midst than her safety but the sentiment was appreciated, "And as for when you depart," She hated the very thought of it, something he seemed to notice, "you must trust that I shall ensure that he will be unable to harm you. And I promise just that, even if it means sending him half way across the world from where I send you." Daenerys was rather taken aback by that idea. I've never been without Viserys. If not for him, we both would have died years ago… or at least that is what he has always led me to believe.

It wasn't an altogether displeasing idea, but she suspected that Harry had other means of assuring such things if he so desired. He will probably give me choice when it comes to it.

"Alright," Daenerys finally said, "I trust you." He didn't say anything further before making his way out of the Hall. As she fell back into a chair with a thud, she closed her eyes for a long moment rubbing at her temples. As she opened her eyes, she was surprised to find others sitting around her. While some had been rather fascinated by her appearance, very few had approached her since their arrival. Though, Marin in the library has been very kind, as have Karsi and Val when I've had the chance to speak with them.

It was Trystan and Emer along with the others they had been with, even Arya, which was odd as the Stark's tended to avoid her and Viserys. Fidgeting slightly as they all took out books and drawings and all sorts of other things, Daenerys considered whether she should leave. She watched as Johnna and Willa prepared ingredients with a mortar and pestle when she noticed that Arya's grey eyes were gazing at her intently. She was trying to ignore it when Arya blurted out rather loudly, "You're not what I expected of the Mad King's daughter."

"Thank you?" Daenerys answered uncertainly, as the others laughed at Ayra's bluntness; though, she noticed Trystan seemed rather subdued. Understandable given what happened to him. Apparently they were quite accustomed to such things from the young Stark girl.

"Your brother though…" Arya muttered it to herself but it was heard by Daenerys anyway. She decided it best not to comment.

"What are the Free Cities like?" Willa asked her shyly, the younger of Karsi's daughter gazing at her with innocent blue eyes, when Daenerys looked the girl with her head tilted, she blushed slightly, "The merchants have only ever been to Braavos and Pentos. I heard you had been to all of them."

Daenerys smiled in understanding, "I have…" and with that she found herself spending hours among the others, sharing stories. It was rather pleasant and… odd to be so carefree speaking with people around her age.

She didn't notice as time passed, eventually Val came to take the twins away, Karsi her girls. Gilly departed as well, leaving to join Munda. Arya and Daenerys remained together though, talking easily with one another. Daenerys was becoming more comfortable with the younger girl's brash nature, which made speaking with her all the easier.

There was something curious to Dany though. She expected that speaking to either Jon or Arya would lead to some sort of confrontation, but nothing of the sort had come to pass. Arya didn't seem to hold her responsible for the things her father had done and beyond her initial comment she hadn't even made mention of it.

The younger girl had no desire to make her way to her temporary home as the sun was setting in the west. Instead, Arya decided to take a walk along the shore near Newport. Daenerys readily agreed, preferring the younger girl's company to being alone in the fortress. Arya and Daenerys walked together along the shore south of the Last Refuge though still within the walls of the city. "So what is it like being able to skinchange?" Daenerys asked the younger girl curiously.

"Hmmm," She contemplated the question, "Well, I can't really say for certain. Briar only really prepared Jon and I for doing it for the first time. She's gone over all of the dangers in each animal, what we can expect the first time we enter their mind."

"Do you know what sort of animal you want to skinchange with?" There was a large rock formation just ahead of them and the other side was the stretch of coast where the shipwrights of Newport worked their trade.

Arya hesitated a moment, as they both heard a noise up ahead though thought little of it, someone just working later than the rest "Probably a wolf to start with, it only seems appropriate after all." Dany chuckled at that, "but maybe an owl too. I quite like Harry's owls." She trailed off in thought, before a wide grin split her face, "Could you imagine if dragons still existed? It might be possible to skinchange into one." Arya seemed ecstatic just at the thought but it was quickly tempered, "But it would probably take a truly prodigious talent. Dragons were said to be as intelligent as men."

Fire made flesh. They gave the Valyrians' their empire and Targaryens' their dynasty. Daenerys went to answer before stopping as they came around the side of the boulder. The shipwrights worked in an open area covered by wooden roof and nothing more to keep snow from falling onto their work. But something was amiss, the noise they heard earlier hadn't been someone working diligently at reshaping the wood to build one of the Norfolk longboats but someone struggling alone to push a small skiff into the Shivering Sea. The short but well-built man wasn't someone that either Arya or Daenerys recognized, but he was quietly muttering to himself as he tried rather ineffectively to move the boat into the water.

Arya moved away from Dany even as she tried fruitlessly to stop her. This man clearly was doing something he shouldn't and, if they were discovered, Dany had little doubt that he would do what he thought was necessary to keep them from telling anyone else. At best, it is someone chafing under the command Harry has given. At worst, it is the Faceless man roaming about the cities. Her initial reaction was to go and find someone better suited to dealing with the situation, but, not wanting to let the younger girl wander off alone, Dany followed after Arya.

Daenerys noticed absently that Arya had an almost eerie ability to remain silent as they drew closer to the larger unfinished ships that stood in stark contrast to the smaller one being slowly forced toward the water. They hid closely together between one of the ships and a work table just beside it.

Remaining out of sight they were now close enough to hear his mutterings, "… a single opportunity and after that nothing but impossible to explain vigilance. It would seem we underestimated his magic." There was a growl in the back of his throat, "And three people dead who never should have just to get close enough to make any sort of attempt."

Arya and Daenerys' eyes were both wide as they looked to each other, Arya made to move, pulling a small dagger from her hip. Daenerys put a hand on her shoulder, knocking the smaller girl back slightly and into the work table. As she jostled into it, a wooden hammer fell to the ground with a resounding thud.

Daenerys could feel her heart pounding in her chest, loud enough that it drowned out all other sound. She glanced back toward the man only to see him approaching their hiding place. Seeing the same thing, Arya bolted away back the way they came as Daenerys went the other direction. She hadn't meant for them to split up. She looked behind her, only to find that there was no one following in behind her. Perhaps he didn't see us. The hope was short lived as she heard a shrill scream that sent a shiver through her blood.

While Dany had only really met the young Stark girl earlier that day, she knew that she wouldn't, no couldn't, abandon her to such an unfortunate fate. Daenerys ran as quickly as her legs would take her back the direction she came, picking up the hammer that had dropped to the ground as she passed the work table.

Hurrying in the direction where she heard Arya scream, Dany came to a halt as she found her leaning up against the jagged boulder. She was staring up with wide terrified eyes as the man approached her, the knife that had once been Arya's now resting in the assassin's hands. Knowing that hesitation could be the difference between life and death, as silently as she could while still being hasty she approached his back as he leaned down to Arya.

As she raised the wooden hammer in her hand, she heard him say clearly to his would-be victim, actual remorse in his voice, "For what it is worth, I am sorry." With all of the might in her admittedly weak arms, she swung the hammer into the side of the assassin's head. He clearly didn't expect it, as it sent him sprawling face first into the ground.

Quicker than she would have expected, the man turned on her trying to push his body up off the ground but Arya's leg suddenly flashed out and hit him squarely in the face, causing blood to spurt out from his nose and for him to fall face first yet again into the stone of the shore line. This time he didn't move, Daenerys stood there shell-shocked for a moment as Arya got to her feet.

The younger girl showed a bit of the wolf's blood in her as she aimed a swift kick into the man's gut before taking a heavy breath and looking Dany in the eye, "We need to tie him up."

Harry sat in his home looking at Syrio Forel, only half listening as the bald man explained the rather vague reason why he had come. There were two reasons for him seeking them out; a long ago promised fight , and the hope of a new opportunity. Truthfully, the former First Sword liked what he had seen of the Norfolk over the years and wished to offer his rather impressive knowledge of the sword and other martial pursuits.

And Harry just didn't care. This was not to say that he didn't appreciate the man's intentions, nor that he begrudged his presence but given his recent frustrations, this wasn't a conversation that particularly interested him.

In the week he had been searching for their assassin, he had found no further leads. Using the Resurrection Stone he had managed to contact Ferny but learn very little. Her shade was in great pain when it came across, irritated at him not only for her death but for bringing her back. The only thing of use he managed to garner from the dead woman was that she hadn't recognized the man who came to see her but that he was one of the dockworkers. His hand had been sliced open, bleeding profusely.

As for the map, it proved useless. He poured over the names, searching the tens of thousands for one out of place. Whether it was because he made a mistake in its creation, because the method the Faceless men used to take another's identity fooled it, or simply because the man's name would not appear out of place, Harry did not know. All he knew for sure was that in the last week he had found nothing else to lead him to the assassin. And people are beginning to grumble about the restrictions I have implemented.

His gaze found his wife where she was sitting, between the twins as they both rested against her side. She looked thinner than usual, the constant possibility that their children might be in danger wearing incredibly thin on her nerves.

Syrio noticed his distraction, "Harry?"

"Hmm," Harry's head snapped back in the man's direction, "Oh, I have no problem with you remaining here. And any aid you might be able to offer us would be greatly appreciated."

The swordsman recognized the dismissal for what it was, but smiled, "I gladly accept you continued hospitality." He stood and made his way to the door, "And I shall be expecting you in the yard once you have dealt with the other unpleasant business." Harry huffed a laugh as the man opened the door.

Tired down to his very bones from days of little sleep and ever growing anxiety, Harry wanted nothing more than to flop down into his bed, but as he felt the mirror in his pocket vibrate he knew that was unlikely to happen. He answered the call only to see the sweating, bearded face of Toregg, "Harry," he spoke loudly enough that Harry winced, "you need to come to the Last Refuge now!" Without waiting for a response, the call ended. Instead of being panicked, Harry could think of only one thing that would cause that sort of reaction in the usually controlled man.

Harry went over to Val, where she was beginning to nod off even as the twins rested against her side. He kissed her on the temple, causing her eyes to flutter open and seek his own out, "I am needed in Newport… urgently."

This caused her drowsiness to pass, her eyes wide and alert, "You think…" He nodded, "I am coming with you then." She made to gently move the children, but he stopped her with a featherlight touch to the shoulder. She looked up at him, a glint of defiance in her beautiful eyes but sighed when she realized he wouldn't budge on this.

"You need to remain here," He told her softly, "There is no telling how long I might be away, and the children shouldn't wake with no one here for them." She closed her eyes and gave her agreement. He kissed her once more on the head before apparating away.

He arrived in the courtyard of the fortress where Toregg was waiting for him. He gestured for Harry to follow and they made their way inside, down a dozen corridors until they reached a largely unused area of the fortress deep within. It was just above the area only accessible by magic, and given the cells within, it was quite clearly the dungeon.

Sitting side by side against one of the far walls, Arya and Daenerys both had a light sheen of sweat on their skin and were quite clearly exhausted from whatever had taken place. In the center of one of the cells, chained by the wrists to the ceiling was a man Harry didn't know. He was dark-haired but slightly greying at the temples. His nose was clearly broken, and dried blood stained his face and shirt. Lying discarded at the side of the cell, were the tattered remains of what appeared to be a sail. He looked to Toregg, "Why are Daenerys and Arya here?"

"They were the ones who found him, knocked him unconscious, and dragged him back to the city," Daenerys actually glared slightly at Arya for that last one, causing Harry to chuckle slightly. Toregg gestured to the still unconscious man, "And they agreed to stay and watch him while I went to retrieve you."

Harry tuned to the two girls, "Where did you come upon him?"

They shared a quick look before Daenerys spoke up, "We were walking along the shore and found him by where the shipwrights work. He was attempting to push a boat into the sea."

"He was muttering to himself when we drew closer to him." Arya spoke up loudly, "He was voicing some personal frustration over his inability to harm you or even find the opportunity to in the last week." Harry looked between the two girls, unsure what to say. As a father he felt the need to rebuke them for putting themselves in such clear danger, but he would be a hypocrite given his own youthful adventures. And had they chosen to search out others for help the man may have been gone and in the sea before they arrived back. He trusted his sailors' ability to find the man had that been the case but admitted to himself this was certainly the better end result.

Instead of scolding he just shook his head in exasperation, even though he couldn't hide the slight upturn of his lips, "You shouldn't have put yourselves in such danger," He squatted down so that he was at eye level with both girls, "But I am truly grateful for what you have done tonight." The next words slipped out before he even thought about what he was saying, "If there is anything either of you would have of me that is within my ability, you need only ask."

He watched with dread as Daenerys' eyes lit up, "I wish for you to allow both my brother and me to remain here."

Realistically, he could refuse. Given prior promises, it wasn't entirely in his power but the hope in her amethyst eyes made it all the more unlikely that he would do so. Damn my fucking saving-people-thing. Closing his eyes he took a calming breath before answering, "Very well, but you must understand that should your brother do anything else against our practices, he will be dealt with accordingly." Based on her reaction she was already aware of this fact.

"I completely understand," Her voice was firm, and more confident than he had heard from her yet, "But should he be forced to leave this place, or should he choose to, I will still be allowed to remain." He nodded his agreement and turned to Arya.

The Stark girl, shook herself when she noticed the attention had returned to her. She thought over what request she might have of him, "Please provide me with potions to heal any injuries I might acquire in the yard. Ferny used to do it…" She trailed off fondly before her metallic eyes glared over at the man suspended in the room with them.

Harry grinned at the girl, "That won't be a problem. I will provide you with your own personal supply of the necessary potions and balms." He straightened and looked down at her, "Though from what Val tells me, you will need them less and less." Arya blushed at the praise, though was clearly pleased to hear his wife thought as much.

As Harry focused his attention on the prisoner before him, his eyes hardened and the light in the room dimmed slightly, "Now if you would all leave me, there is something I must attend to." All three of them made their way out quickly, aware that Harry was about to make this man suffer. When the door shut behind Toregg, he pulled his wand from his sleeve and silenced the room. Though with how much I expect to make him scream they might still hear it throughout the fortress.

Pointing his wand at the unconscious man before him, he cast a silent Enervate and the man snapped awake with a gasp, looking around frantically. Noticing first his bindings, he quickly searched for a means of escape before his eyes fell on Harry, and they widened almost comically, terror etched into his features.

"You are the person responsible for the attempt on my life," Harry started, his voice bitingly cold, "but more importantly you made an attempt on Val's life and my children's lives. Not to mention, you killed no less than two people for no other purpose than trying to get close enough to make those attempts. I was quite fond of one of those people." Wisely, the man didn't try to deny it, instead choosing to remain silent.

"However," He started pacing in front of the suspended prisoner, "I am also aware that you are a member of the Faceless men, meaning that you did this at the behest of another." He stopped and stepped so that he was directly in front of the man, "So, I am far more interested in the hand holding the weapon than I am the weapon itself."

Harry's voice became almost friendly as he fixed man's broken nose with a wave of his wand, "Should you answer my questions honestly, this can be rather painless for you." He fingered the elder wand imperiously, "But should you resist, I will cause you more pain than you can possibly imagine after ransacking your mind for every piece of information it might hold." Harry's words just hung in the air as the man gulped loudly enough that it echoed in the little cell.

"What do you want to know?" The assassin asked with a surprisingly clear voice.

"You arrived on the ship from Braavos?" Harry questioned wanting to know some of the details before he reached the truly important matter.

"It took months to find a way to even reach your city where I would have the cover of a larger group. Disguised as one of the deck hands, I aided in the loading of their goods into your storehouse and killed one of the dockworkers." He elaborated without any prompting, "I took his face before returning to the ship. I made sure the Braavosi saw the man who journeyed with them before leaving the ship with the face of the dockworker. No one questioned as he was helping load the ship before I took him."

"The dockworker, Ferny and the shipwright," Harry listed, "Those are the only three whose lives you took?"

"Yes," he replied succinctly.

"The poison?" Harry asked, assuming the implied question obvious.

"I hoped you would be the one to drink first," He admitted, "With you dead and the face of the woman your family trusted, it would have been easy to accomplish what was expected of me."

"Seems rather sloppy, all things considered." Harry said conversationally.

"You are a difficult man to get close to," he said, a hint of irritation in his voice, "And your children and wife are rarely alone, making it nearly impossible to make it look like an accident. So I took a risk. That risk only served to alert you of my presence and make it entirely impossible to get close to you."

"Very well," Harry twirled his wand in his fingers, "Who is it that gave you the contract on my life and the life of my family?" There were only so many people capable of affording such a thing, though he could think of more than one who disliked him with the means.

The man hesitated at the question, which told Harry that he must know, "I can simply take the name from you should you refuse." The would-be assassin remained silent, and Harry gave a vicious grin as he brought his wand to bear. The probe was not gentle, not remotely. It battered into the man's mind and caused him to cry out, a deep guttural thing that one would expect from a dying animal. Relentlessly, Harry tore through the man's thoughts even as he futilely tried to think of anything but the person who hired him. Battering his mind with every ounce of hate he could muster he found the name in mere moments but it felt like hours to his victim.

He exited the assassin's mind, to find him sweating with exertion and twitching slightly. But paid him no mind, speaking quietly to himself, "So the Grand Maester has tired of Gareth's lack of success."

"Tell me," Harry dragged the man's head up so that he could look him in the eye, "When your order learns of your failure here, will they send another?" He nodded his head exhausted.

"Hmm," Harry doubted the man would lie after what was just done to him, "And should the person who issued the contact die, would they cease to threaten my family."

"Yes," he croaked out brokenly. "He would not complete payment until such a time as we succeeded. Should he die, we shall never receive full payment and the contract is void."

"Very good," Harry said with a wide, toothy grin, "Thank you for your cooperation." The man sagged in relief as Harry made his way to the door, seemingly ready to depart. He wanted to give him that hope, that belief that he had made it through this ordeal largely unscathed.

As he reached the door, he spun back around and the crimson torture curse leapt from his wand and struck the unsuspecting prisoner square in the chest. His entire body stiffened, the muscles in his neck popping out as every nerve in his body felt like it had been set on fire. His screams were the only thing that could be heard in the room, as Harry watched on with calm satisfaction.

After nearly a minute under the curse, Harry released him from the pain. When their eyes met, there was a look of betrayal in that stolen face. He smirked slightly, "I think you would agree that the questioning was rather painless, but you must still face justice for the things you have done." He cursed him again though it lasted only scant seconds, "And I'm afraid I promised my wife you would suffer how you made my son suffer." The man's eyes teared up as he realized the horror of what was really happening, "This will be the longest night of your life."

By midnight, screams could be heard in the Last Refuge as Harry doled out his retribution. They lasted hours longer.

20. Chapter 20

AN: Hey everyone, long time no update. But it is finally here. Thanks as always for the reviews and PMs, I always appreciate them. Responses to the guest reviews are on my profile as usual. And from now on, I think I'm going to answer them when I get them instead of when I publish a new chapter, that way guests can get answers to their questions sooner if they want them.

As always, thank you to my beta Tellemicus Sundance

Ned awoke alone, Catelyn having started her day a short time before, to a dull hum reverberating from the nearby table. He was tempted to simply ignore the noise. I have little doubt that a call this early in the morning is only going to cause me a severe headache.

Groggily, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stumbled toward the mirror which was slowly moving closer to the edge of the table as it insistently tried to gain his attention. With a yawn, Ned answered the call, and on the other end was a thoroughly disheveled and weary Harry Potter. There were deep circles beneath the magician's eyes that made his usually bright eyes seem dull.

Pushing his evermore greying hair from his eyes, Ned spoke scratchily, "What can I do for you this morning, Harry?"

Harry ran a hand through his dark hair, something Ned had noticed was a bit of habit when he was either nervous or deep in thought, "An issue arose within our cities recently that has, as of now, been resolved. But there have been unforeseen complications as a result."

Ned suddenly felt significantly more awake at that declaration, "What has happened, Harry?" He demanded more than asked, "Are Arya and Jon alright?" The usually calm Lord of Winterfell couldn't hide the hint of urgency that entered his voice.

"Both of your children are perfectly healthy," Harry placated, a slight smirk coming to his lips as he paused, though it quickly fell as he continued, "Though that was not always a certainty."

A scowl found its way to Ned's lips and he made to speak before Harry cut him off, no doubt sensing his irritation, "A Braavosi trading ship made its way into Newport and traded a number of goods before returning quickly the way they came. This was the same ship that delivered the Targaryens to First Forge." Harry ground his teeth slightly before continuing, "But another person from that ship remained in our city without my knowledge, a Faceless man."

Jaw dropped in shock, Ned was momentarily unable to respond, too preoccupied with his own thoughts. A Faceless man among the Norfolk? I was aware that Harry had enemies but I didn't expect any of them to resort to assassination. Perhaps it was unwise to allow my children to foster there. The Lord of Winterfell had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Whoever sent the assassin must have had both the means and a reason to do so. That was quite the short list of people.

"But this unwelcome visitor has been found?" He finally inquired while Harry just waited patiently.

"After killing three people and making an attempt on my family's life, yes, the perpetrator has been apprehended." Harry replied, his lips a grim line, "And that is why I have called for therein lies my newest complication."

Ned's brow furrowed reflexively, "I don't follow."

"I wasn't the one to find him," Harry explained. "Arya and Daenerys happened upon him while he was trying to make his escape. Together, they managed to knock the assassin unconscious, though there were moments where it was a close thing." Harry's voice softened and he looked Ned straight in the eye. Even through the mirror those emerald eyes could cut right through a man, "Daenerys saved your daughter's life."

Ned frowned, nodding ever-so-slightly in understanding, "She has my thanks then."

"As she does mine, and there we reach the root of this problem," Harry replied seriously. "Given their actions, I gave both of them the open opportunity to ask anything of me that was within my capability."

Harry ran a hand through his hair once again, "Arya's request is a easy thing to follow through on," he told Ned vaguely not sure how much he knew about his daughter's time in the yard or the bruises she was subjecting herself to. "Daenerys' request wasn't unexpected, given how she has come to enjoy her time in First Forge, but it is inconvenient."

"She requested that she be allowed to remain among your people." Ned finished with a heavy sigh, having realized where things were leading. Truthfully, he could not fault Harry for his offer; he would have done much the same were such a service provided to him. But he could have been more careful in the wording at least. He is well aware of the dangers the Targaryens pose.

"Thank you for informing me," Ned said slowly, "I shall have to send a letter to Daenerys and thank her for her part in the whole affair." Harry shoulders relaxed at his response. "You must realize that Robert will not be happy when he hears of this, nor Jon, nor Stannis for that matter. You assured them the Targaryens would remain among your people for only a short time!" A bit of his own frustration seeped into his voice as he finished.

"I am well aware of that fact, Eddard," Harry replied tersely, "But none of those men helped me capture a man who nearly killed my son." He growled out, before taking a deep, calming breath. "It might interest you to know that after interrogating the assassin, I have come to learn that it was Grandmaester Pycelle who contacted the House of Black and White." He spat the old man's name with venom.

Ned had known Harry for quite some time now and never had he seen such unrestrained hate in his eyes as he did at that moment, "Do you believe that Robert sanctioned the attempt then?"

"I am inclined to believe that he was aware of the attempt on my life if nothing else," Harry explained, "though I cannot say for sure. This is not the first time that the order of maesters has sent someone to harm me so until I know for sure I will reserve judgement."

For the sake of his old friend, Ned hoped that Robert had no hand in the attempt, "You mentioned the interrogation of your prisoner…" He said leadingly.

"So I did," Harry replied shortly.

"You learned all that you needed to?" He had seen some of the magic Harry was capable of and heard of some of a scant few of his less savory abilities, and he doubted that he would approve of the methods Harry employed to get the information.

"I have, yes." Ned waited for an explanation but it appeared that there was none forthcoming.

Letting it go for the moment, Ned asked, "Your prisoner has met his end then?"

"By now, I think it is likely that he has expired." Harry said with an eerie calm.

"How could you not know?" There was a hint of accusation in his question.

"It wasn't only me that was affected by the man's actions, and so I alone could not administer justice. I gathered what information I needed from him and took my own pound of flesh as it were." Ned noted there was no joy in Harry's expression at the declaration, but there was a distinct satisfaction there. "Val would have castrated me had she been denied the opportunity to exact her own measure of vengeance."

Ned resisted the urge to shiver at the thought. He knew Val was not the sort of woman to be crossed, less so if you were foolish enough to threaten one of her children. The Free Folk were not far removed from the years they would fight amongst themselves murdering, raiding, and raping. And the worst of them would do terrible things to their enemies, things that had long since been outlawed south of the Wall. Ned almost felt sympathy for the man being forced to endure their wrath.

Shaking himself, Ned returned to the point at hand, "What do you intend to do with what you have learned?"

"I shall deal with the Grandmaester in short order," Harry answered honestly, "This is the second attempt that he and his order have made against my family. I shall not tolerate it any further."

"Do you intend to kill him? Or will you simply remove his memories? Or compel him to do as you desire?" Ned probed irritably, "Surely you can see the precariousness of the situation. To do anyone of these things could lead to further inciting anger in Robert should he learn of your involvement. And a change in Pycelle's attitude toward you would be just as conspicuous as his death."

"I would think his death would be far less conspicuous given his age," Harry responded nonchalantly, "But that is neither here nor there, my friend. I shall deal with it as I see fit."

"We are allies, are we not? Should I not be aware of your plans particularly if it proves consequential to the North?" Ned's temper was beginning to flare at Harry's indifference.

"Do you think I am aware of every plan you have made? Or that Doran has? Do you think you know everything your bannermen might do?" Harry countered unperturbed by Ned's annoyance. "We are allies but that does not mean that you need to know every detail of my intentions. I have made you aware that I intend to deal with the situation and that will need to suffice."

It was rare that someone talked to the Lord of Winterfell quite so brazenly. Ned resisted the urge to shout at the man staring back at him in the mirror. How long before this comes back to bite us both? But then he could concede that Harry had valid reasons for his desires to harm the old maester. In the end, there was nothing Ned could do to force the issue. Bringing back Jon and Arya wouldn't bother him, but it would anger them. I am unwilling to break our alliance over such a thing. And there is no information I have that could convince him to change whatever his current course might be. The simple truth was Harry would do as he pleased in this matter, and there was nothing that Ned could do to change it. And looking at Harry's tired green eyes; he could see that the other man was well aware of that fact too.

"Very well, I will trust your judgment on the matter." He finally relented. As much as I fear what the outcomes might be. "Though tell me, will you be making any move against the House of Black and White?" For all of Robert's love of war, Ned could at least say that he had people around him who would counsel caution. The Faceless Men were an unknown to the Lord of Winterfell, and he didn't know what to expect should Harry seek vengeance against them as well.

"The Faceless man was a weapon used against me doing only as his employer bid him," Harry shrugged. "I shall ensure that the order is aware of the foolishness of taking any contract on me in the future."

"And should they be unwilling to see things from your perspective?"

Harry smirked slightly, "I doubt that will be an issue. But should it prove to be, I will deal with it accordingly." He fixed Ned with a meaningful stare, "And that is the last that I will say on that matter, for this truly is only my concern."

Rubbing at his temples as he felt the beginnings of a headache taking hold, he nodded his head, "Thank you for informing me of the situation. I am sure you must speak to Doran as well."

Harry tilted his head in acknowledgement, "It was the least that I could do." Yes and that is all you have done. Ned made to end the conversation but the wizard interrupted just before he had the opportunity, "Expect a large shipment of dragonsteel weapons in the next few days."

"That is good news," Ned admitted, "It will do a good deal to appease some of my bannermen."

"Perhaps this will help build some trust between our people." Harry mused.

"I certainly hope so," Ned glanced at the stack of parchments nearby, "If nothing else it will stop them from pestering me each week for news on the matter."

Harry chuckled good-naturedly, "Until next time, Lord Stark." With that the connection closed, leaving Ned staring back at his own grey eyes. It seems my days always start off wonderfully when Harry is involved.

It was early morning as snow fell heavy among the tents of the gathered company. Ser Alliser sat in sullen silence beside the fire. Wil sat to his left looking uneasily among their many other companions while Qhorin Halfhand sat to his left chewing juicy sausage provided by the wildling bastards. His fellow ranger had no more love for them than Alliser, but as he put it, "Food is food, and I won't be picky when it's good—here least of all." He referred to the long expanse of ice all about them.

While Ser Alliser was well aware of the claims being made by the wildlings, he gave them little credence. He would sooner believe that dragons have risen out of the Fourteen Flames again. No, in Alliser's opinion, the only true threat beyond the Wall were the wildlings not the Others. And yet, there he was freezing his bollocks off to check on the lives of wildling bastards.

Ten men from Castle Black, ten from the Shadow Tower, ten of the wildlings, and twenty Mormont men-at-arms made up their ranks. They had originally intended to sail down the Milkwater to the Bay of Ice, but the mouth of the river had frozen as had much of the water near the shore where the clans resided so circumstances forced them to travel by foot with too few horses for the wildlings and the Northerners.

They had suffered the company of the wildlings for twelve days now. It irked Ser Alliser to see them warm beneath their furs, strong chainmail just beneath the surface clinking with each step they took. Where once they had poor wooden spears tipped with rusted iron, swords of old bronze, and shields of poorly banded wood, now they had their infernal dragonsteel that looked like it would cut sharp and pierce deep. How many of us warned Mormont that if he left them be they would become a threat? Now they are properly armed.

Then there were the Mormont men-at-arms. He truly couldn't believe them. Wildlings raided Bear Island for millennia yet it gave them no pause. They bonded with the wildlings as though they were long forgotten friends. Even their commander Lady Alysane Mormont, the Young She-Bear, one of the Lord Commander's five nieces, treated them like equals.

The noble lady looked right at home among the wildling spearwives. The woman was big everywhere, but strong; her hands had calluses from hours with the sword. She looked nearly as wide as she was tall thanks to the layers of leather and armor. She was speaking quietly with Del and Mance on the other side of the fire.

Looking at the face of the traitor bought a fire to the seasoned knight's belly. The former brother of the Night's Watch sat there bold as brass, not caring in the least of the withering glares he received from the men he once served with. Alliser and Qhorin very nearly killed the traitor upon first seeing him. The Lord Commander should have Mance's head on a pike but instead he forces us to work with him.

As Alliser glared across the fire at the could-have-been-king, Waymar Royce, a newer member of the Night's Watch approached Lady Mormont, all but turning his nose up at the two wildlings with her. The third son of Lord Yohn Royce was arrogant, thinking himself far above men who had been ranging beyond the Wall since before he was born. Pampered little shit.

To Alysane's credit, at least in Alliser's eyes, she listened to the young man prattle before turning away from him dismissively and calling across the fire, "Halfhand, it is time we should be going."

The ranger swallowed his last bit of sausage, "Aye, only a little while longer yet before we reach one of the clans. Start packing the tents lad." His rasping voice carried over the howling winds. Waymar huffed petulantly at being ignored but did as he was bid by the Halfhand. Son of a lord or not, he knew of Qhorin's reputation and had the good sense to respect it as well.

They broke camp quickly, and with the fire quenched the biting cold of the North cut through the furs down to the very bone.

"Seems to me its growing colder again," Gared commented as they trekked through the deep snows. They numbered fifty men and women in total, and their footprints were washed away in the snow as quickly as their feet departed them.

Walking just ahead of them, Osha heard his comment over the rushing wind despite the furs wrapped about her, "It is gettiin' colder, best hope yer prick doesn' fall off." She laughed loudly at her own jest, "What is it those Starks say, 'Winter is Comin''. They 'ave to be righ' eventually."

Alliser snorted from behind his furs, "And your lot would have us believe the Long Night is coming with this winter."

"And it is," Osha replied heatedly, "I'm sure you'll see for yerself soon enough." They glared at one another for a long moment before Osha turned to face forwards.

"We shouldn't be concerning ourselves with the well-being of wildlings," Gared spoke more softly, "We used to fight them, and now we're helping them."

From his other side, Waymar hummed his agreement, "I came to the Night's Watch with the understanding that I would be protecting the realm from the wildlings, not aiding them."

Qhorin laughed loudly, "Apparently you don't get much news in the Vale then lad," the man shoved Alliser in the shoulder, "When was the last time you heard of trouble with the wildlings?"

"We've been hearing of trouble with the wildlings for nearly a decade now," Alliser answered angrily, "Just not the sort that our Lord Commander thinks is worth doing anything about." Qhorin looked at him with a raised eyebrow, "Six months since the last ranging and that was to deal with a group of cannibals near the Fist who captured and ate two of our men who were out hunting." He had gone out with Benjen Stark for that one. They had passed one of the towers being built by the Free Folk along one of the arms of the Milkwater. They keep taking more land. Someday they'll spread across all of the lands beyond the Wall. And how long after that before they decide that they need land south of the Wall Alliser wanted to confront them but Benjen commanded otherwise, and as First Ranger he had the lead. Fucking Starks.

"It'd been eight months at the Shadow Tower, and that was because the Great Walrus was getting restless." Qhorin told them, "I've been in the watch for three decades now, and I've never seen things so calm."

"Like the calm before a storm," Came Mance's voice from just behind them, "You'll wish for this peacefulness again in the future." It was the first Mane had actually spoken with his old comrades.

Alliser scowled, "So you say traitor." The former ranger would have dropped dead where he stood if looks could kill.

"Aye, so I say," Mance responded evenly, not the least bit irritated by Alliser's anger. Qhorin watched his former friend through narrowed eyes before they fell into an uneasy silence.

At a guess, Alliser would say it was past noon by the time they could see the icy homes of the walrus men through the veil of snow.

No fires burned within the village. And the snowdrifts usually kept low by the clans rose up along the sides of their homes. There was no person or beast in sight, not one of the reindeer that the clan bred. The only sounds were the crunching of snow and the whipping of the wind in their faces.

"Check inside," Alysane commanded, gesturing to the structures around them. They spread among the scattered buildings, a few people to each building.

Following Qhorin inside, Alliser wasn't surprised at what they found. Dried blood stained the floor at their feet, while the rudimentary bedding and tableware lay strewn about the single room home. It appeared as though there had been a struggle. He scoffed derisively as he looked around the chaos of what remained inside, "Looks to me as though the antler men finally decided to strike against the walruses."

"It does at that," Qhorin agreed as he leaned to more closely inspect the blood on the floor. There were boot stains there that led back toward the outside, "But that isn't their way. As much as they hate each other, they are far more likely to war with the cannibal ice river clans than they are with one another."

"Someone younger, stronger must have seen an opportunity and took it." Alliser dismissed, "And we've spent weeks wasting our time over something we could have told Mormont without trudging out here." They lingered for a few minutes, enjoying the short reprieve from the biting wind, knowing that they would need to report to Lady Mormont soon. Qhorin hummed to himself and made his way back into the snow.

The two black brothers crossed the village and went to the largest hut, a crowd of people moving in and out as they reported to Alysane. Inside, they found the she-bear with Mance as they conversed, "… would be worthwhile to learn whether or not this has occurred elsewhere."

"My people are cold and tired," Alysane said with a slight frown, "yours are as well. I doubt any of them have the desire to trudge from village to village."

"But this told us nothing, except that there was a struggle," Mance countered, "We have no idea who attacked or why."

Alysane tilted her head, showing her fleshy neck and took an exasperated breath, "And where is the next nearest village?"

"A few hours west," Alliser interjected as he made their presence known "But it seems quite obvious to us what happened here."

"There is nothing obvious about what happened here," Mance retorted harshly. "All that can be told from what remains is that someone or something attacked this place."

"And it was most likely one of the other shore clans, or perhaps even one of the ice river clans," Alliser smirked at his former brother, "Suppose none of their lot are good enough for the rest of you bastards… though I can't imagine why."

Mance made to reply but was cut off by Alysane, "Yet there are oddities," she looked around the room, "surely you noticed the lack of bodies or the abundance of resources that remain."

"Aye, we noticed but we didn't give it much thought," Qhorin admitted. "Whoever did this would have burned the bodies. As for the goods…" He trailed off not sure why such things would be left behind.

"Where are they?" The Lady Mormont asked sharply, focusing in on the bodies.

"In one of the other huts most likely," Qhorin told her, shaking himself from his own thoughts.

She nodded slightly, "But none of my men, or yours, or Mance's reported even a hint of the dead." She looked between the two men, "There are no remains to be found, be it body or bones."

That brought both Qhorin and Alliser up short. While it was possible that the hut where the burning occurred could have melted in the fire, it was highly unlikely. And the wildlings burn their dead.

"I agree with Mance," Qhorin finally conceded with a grimace, the words leaving a bitter taste in Alliser's mouth as well, "There is plenty of daylight left. We should make our way to another village."

"Very well," Alysane said moving toward the exit, "The sooner we leave, the sooner we get there then."

The three former brothers shared a look among themselves before they followed behind her.

The snowstorm that had hounded them throughout the entire journey still refused to abate as they made their way further north along the coast. Men and women alike grumbled about the march through the growing darkness.

When they reached the second village, the sun was beginning to set behind the clouds in the west. Within the scattered huts and frozen hovels they found similar scenes.

"They are all just empty," Alysane shook her head slightly, "Just blood but no bodies. And yet again the food and goods that should have been taken by a rival were left behind."

Alliser and Qhorin shared a look, both of the pair admittedly disturbed by the current course of events. Stubborn as he might be, Alliser could concede that there was something amiss.

"How many people lived among the clans?" Alysane asked, looking toward Mance.

"A couple thousand," Del answered before Mance had the opportunity, "I would reckon that they're all dead now," she snorted lightly, "well in a manner of speaking." Mance gave her a look but she was clearly unrepentant.

"No small number of people. It's more fighting men than we can muster on Bear Island," She commented offhandedly, "But we have visited only two of these villages, what makes you so confident?"

"The evidence doesn't point toward any sort of raid by their enemies," All eyes snapped to Qhorin, none expecting him to take up the same argument as the wildling woman, "that much is certainly clear. And given the lack of bodies, it wasn't the cold of the storm that took their lives." The snowstorm that enveloped the Frozen Shore had been seen from the Shadow Tower as well as Bear Island.

"So it would seem that the Others have made their first overt move then," Alysane stated plainly what Mance and the other wildlings had been thinking since they stepped into the first village. Given the situation Alliser didn't even have it him to sneer at the claim.

"Giv'n what we found here we should leave quickly. Jus' as Harry said." Osha spoke up for the first time, "I don' want to be 'ere if they decide to come back." She was almost nervously turning a large piece of metal between her hands.

Alysane deliberated only briefly before nodding her assent, "Very well, we shall gather the men…" She stopped abruptly as a terrified scream rang out through the village over the whipping of the wind. The soft sounds of movement and frantic words could be heard from just outside the hut.

Quickly the six occupants made their way outside and back into the cold. Torch light illuminated the snow and ice as corpses rose from beneath its depths. Some looked as though they still might belong among the living while others were bloodied, mangled shadows of what they once were. Their luminescent blue eyes shone brightly in the darkness of the oncoming night as they stared unblinkingly at their potential victims.

Ser Alliser had seen many things in years spent as a ranger: giants, mammoths, wargs, even cannibals feeding on their own young—the sort of things that men south of the Wall laughed off as myth or simple stories to scare children. However, like those southerners, he had long disregarded the myth of the Others and their undead thrall as just that, a myth. Watching as a corpse, missing one arm, shambled toward him with fresh blood between its teeth, he couldn't help but reassess that belief.

As he stared listlessly at the oncoming threat, it caught fire. It screamed, a shrill unnatural thing that caused a chill to go through all who heard it, and it had nothing to do with the cold. Even as one fell, another followed in its wake, three more by its side. And dozens more continued to rise from the snow in which they had concealed themselves. Once pristinely white there were now dark lines of red marring the surface.

Drawing his sword, the knight could see the dire situation in which they had found themselves. From the gaps between each hut, more of the wights pressed them together in the middle of the village. He watched as two Mormont men were ripped to pieces as they tried to fall back, struggling in the snow while the corpses seemed entirely unhindered by the obstacle. Gared was swarmed by three of the undead as he tried to help one of the Mormont men away from the oncoming horde. The pained, tortuous scream that came from the pile of bodies was enough indication of his fate. Young Wil seemed frozen in fear as he was dragged back with the other living that remained.

"Close ranks!" Lady Mormont bellowed over the screams of the dying, "Don't let them overwhelm us." They fell to her command, but it seemed a futile thing as yet more lines of the dead followed behind their fellows. We've been baited like a deer in the wood.

It was then that Sir Alliser saw it sitting far behind the ranks of undead. Despite the encroaching darkness, its blue eyes, brighter even than those of its thralls, and pale white skin made it stand out from where it sat atop a giant ice spider.

Looking around at their now consolidated ranks, Alliser guessed they had already lost a third of their fighters if not more. Qhorin's left arm was hanging limply apparently dislocated. More of the wights were set aflame but it did nothing to deter the monsters. They were driven forward by the will of their master just behind.

Alliser slashed out with his blade taking the head off of the half-decayed corpse of a young girl who had been crawling toward his feet. The head fell with a dull thud into the snow as the body began twitching erratically on the ground. He heard another distressed shout as one of their number fell to the encroaching hoard. He heard the whiz of an arrow passing just over the aged knight's head.

He followed the black-tipped shaft as it whistled through the air toward the White Walker sitting confidently atop its eight-legged mount. The aim was true, it would have driven into the creatures neck had it not moved before it had the chance to reach its destination.

"It's time to leave." Mance called out loud enough so that the other wildlings could hear him. The Mormont men and black brothers thought the comment outright insanity. They were trapped with little hope of escape. We'd need to kill ten of them for every one of us.

He felt an arm hook around him from behind, just as Del spoke a word in a language that he didn't recognize. The world spun uncomfortably for long seconds. When he landed with a sudden, hard drop into the snow, he was left disoriented. He lost the grip on his sword and skidded somewhere yards away from him. He was vaguely aware of the pained, disgruntled moans of others around him, but as he pushed himself to his knees he was solely focused on retaining the contents of his stomach.

Looking around blearily, he was shocked to see the monolithic presence of the Wall nearby, the Shadow Tower dimly lit in the early night. The wildlings were all standing, talking quietly among themselves, seemingly unperturbed by their travel. One of the men approached and offered his hand which Alliser took without comment.

"What just happened?" He asked of anyone.

"We've escaped," Mance said calmly, as he set fire to two wildling corpses that had been brought along for the ride, "And you've been returned to the Wall."

"How?" Qhorin asked gruffly, as he bound the bleeding wound on his arm with a strip of cloth.

Del looked at the seasoned ranger and told him plainly, "Magic."

"And we should all be glad of it," Alysane interjected as the wildlings seemed to move together, "for without it we would surely be dead." We lost thirteen as it is, but it easily could have been all fifty.

When all eight of the remaining wildlings came together, Osha removed the metal disk she'd been toying with earlier from her furs, each of them placing their hands on its surface. Mance smiled thinly, "Your assistance in this matter was greatly appreciated." He looked between his former brothers and Lady Mormont, "This is where we leave you though. We must report our findings back to Harry." Alysane made to speak and delay their departure but with a whispered word from the spearwife they disappeared.

"Stop there!" The command rang out in the stillness of the morning, the sound resonating through the trees of the nearby forest.

Below the heavy metal gates of First Forge, Melisandre stared up from beneath a red shawl at the guards above. The two just above looked young to her though most looked young to her after her long years. Both had closely cut beards, under which were scowls. As she looked each man in the eye in turn, she could see clear distrust there if not outright hostility. It wasn't a look she was accustomed to seeing from young men. Desire, lust absolutely but it is a rare thing to see distrust in men so young.

Further down the wall there was a man and a woman, each with an arrow drawn and ready to loose.

"Who are you?" The taller of the two men asked her, "and why are you here?"

"My name is Melisandre," She spoke clearly, no hint of fear or apprehension in her voice, as she removed the shawl from her head. Her accent caused the men a moment's pause, "And I am here to speak with the man called the Witch-King-Beyond-the-Wall." They were watching her more closely now, as she drew closer to the gate a slight sway to her hips meant to entice the men, and the woman for that matter.

One of the men smiled slightly as he looked down at her, his eyes fixated on the expanse of exposed cleavage. The woman further along the wall scoffed loudly, drawing Melisandre's attention, "Given recent events here, it takes more than a desire to speak with Harry to enter the city. What exactly do you wish to discuss with him?"

"The threat that all people ought to fear," She spoke passionately, as she always did when the matter of the Great Other and his servants came to the fore, "and the aid I would offer in the war against them." A moment of silence passed between the four guards as they looked between one another. All four stared down at her and she returned their gaze unflinchingly. After a moment, one of the men moved down from the wall and toward the gate

Long minutes passed as the three guards who remained continued to watch her vigilantly. But Melisandre was taken with other matters. She was looking intently at the gate and wall. There was a dull thrum of magic emanating from the intricate, and admittedly beautiful, runic etchings that surely took weeks, if not months, to complete.

Fixated as she was on the etchings and the magic coming from them, she didn't hear the voices from the other side of the wall, nor the commotion as they moved behind it. Only as the metal doors began to creak open did she realize that they were allowing her in. She expected to see a man on the other side but instead there was a tall, beautiful, blonde woman looking at her with piercing eyes as she held a young child against her side. The babe was pulling happily on the woman's long braid.

The woman walked forward until she was but an arm's length from Melisandre. Despite her height, Melisandre still stood slightly taller, her red eyes gazing down at the blue grey of the person across from her. There was an… echo of magic upon the woman, something that did not belong to her but that was quite known to her. Harry Potter's woman perhaps.

"The guards tell me that you have come to offer aid," She gave no introduction. Melisandre thought her less directly hostile than the guards had been, but there was an undercurrent of skepticism in her words. She knew distrust when she saw it. The guardswoman said that current events dictated more caution. I wonder what has caused their caution? The way the woman held close to her child seemed to have built from something more than simple maternal love.

Ignoring the matter for the time being, she bowed her head in deference to the clearly important spearwife, "It is as your guards told you. I would do what I am able against the cold enemy." She stepped closer, "From what I have heard and seen, those desires would be best served here." Melisandre gestured behind to where she knew the city lay.

The free woman looked her up and down critically, "What aid could you offer? With a few exceptions, it is my experience that the women of the south…" Melisandre made to interrupt at that but she continued firmly, "and the east are not exactly renowned for their skill in battle."

"I have been fighting the Great Other and those who might serve him for years beyond count," A light of recognition shown in those blue-grey eyes, "And in those many years I have practiced my arts, and I can say with confidence that they will aid you in the conflicts to come." She was not expecting to have her motivation, or capabilities, scrutinized in such a way. But then these people know little if anything of the Red God or those who serve him. Less so of the shadow binders of Asshai.

"The red priests hold fire sacred as far as I know." This statement caused Melisandre to blink owlishly just once before she recomposed herself, "Some books claim that those of your order might twist the flames to your will. Such ability could prove beneficial given the enemy we face." Thinking that she had managed to convince the woman of her usefulness Melisandre began to smile, but stopped as she noticed the spearwife scowling, "However, your order is also quite well-known for its… fervency. And you will find few who are willing to forsake the Old gods for your red one."

Melisandre resisted the urge to scoff at the woman's words. There was only one true god. The trees the Northmen had worshipped for millennia were nothing more than hollow idols to her mind. Biting her tongue for the time being, Melisandre nodded serenely, "I understand your concern, but I have no intention of turning you away from your gods." It was a lie but there would be time to worry about such things once she had situated herself within the city.

"I'm sure," Was the stony reply she received. There was a long silence between them as the spearwife turned the matter over in her mind. Finally she sighed, irritation written across her face, "You will show me, here and now, some measure of your magic."

It seemed a reasonable demand to Melisandre. Bringing up one of her pale hands to rest just in front of her breast, the red-gold, ruby-encrusted choker fit snuggly around her neck glowed with a slight heat. At that same moment a burst of flame shot up from her palm with slight more ease than she had experienced in recent years. She ran her hand through the heat, unbothered by the flames before snuffing it out. There was no awe in the wildling's eyes, something she wasn't accustomed to. But given how this city supposedly came to be, I should have expected such a reaction.

The woman looked almost disappointed, frowning she gestured for Melisandre to follow as she turned on her heel, "Harry had pressing issues that demanded his attention away from home, and he has yet to return." They passed beneath the two great metal gates together, and within, it was noticeably warmer. Beyond the wall there was a great expanse of crops wherein people could be seen toiling in the field. There was a solid stone road that led toward the coast, but they did not turn down that road instead turning right to face an archway that the wildling stepped through without pause, expecting Melisandre to follow.

The sensation of magic gliding over her skin was pleasant and instant after she found herself standing in the bustling city of First Forge, the sound of hammer on anvil resonating through the town. A group of children ran across her path, one of them apologizing as they nearly bumped into her. "My name is Val," the previously unnamed woman said tersely, "And in Harry's absence, my word is his."

Val turned to look her in the eye once again, "You shall be allowed to remain among us until such a time as Harry returns. Then he will make a decision with regards to your offer of aid. You shall make yourself useful in whatever way you are able until that time." She glared daggers with those blue-grey eyes, "You won't in any way try to preach your religion unless someone asks you directly regarding it though you are free to practice it in private as you see fit. Beyond that you are free to do as you please, save harming others," She smirked slightly, "Unless they have done you some great offense. You will learn quickly how such things are dealt with here."

"Understood," Melisandre agreed easily, unperturbed by the restrictions set upon her. She had no issue biding her time. Such things might change quickly once I've met Harry.

It was a clear, warm night in Braavos. Yet the Secret City was bustling just as it did in the light of day. In the Blue Lantern and the Dome, mummers plied their trade, crowds of people packing in shoulder to shoulder to watch their performances. It was the third time they'd done their plays that day. From each tavern and inn the raucous laughter and bawdy singing of sailors well into their cups filtered out to the streets. From the brothels of the city, flowery perfume and cries of passions reached the senses each time another patron entered or exited the establishment. Near the Moon Pool, the ringing of steel on steel could be heard as the thin swords of the bravos clashed and sang to the glee of the gathered crowd.

On the Isle of Gods, priests and practitioners of each religion went about their end of day rituals. A large congregation of R'llohr's followers could be heard within their high red temple, 'the night is dark and full of terrors' falling from the lips of hundreds. A few Westerosi sailors kneeled before the statues of the Seven in the Sept-Beyond-the-Sea. In the Temple of the Moonsingers, the largest of temples on the isle, many of the Braavosi gathered and prayed together. Then there was the House of Black and White, sparsely visited even when the sun shone, had only one man climbing up its rocky knoll. It was a bravo, blood seeping from his punctured side. He sought out the waters of the Many-Faced God so that he might hasten his end.

That is to say, there was only one man approaching the House of Black and White to the naked eye. Underneath enchantments that masked both sight and sound, Harry made his way up the steps to the great ebony and weirwood doors. It had been many years since last he visited. He still remembered discussing the gift of death with one of the priests. They ought to be more discerning about whom they are willing to deliver their gift. A fact which Harry had every intention of making perfectly clear to the order.

He pushed his way into the house, dim torchlight lighting the pale grey stone and the numerous depictions of death which the order held sacred. In the center of the main room, a body was being pulled away from the pool, limp and lifeless. The acolyte responsible for the deed wore dark robes and a hood covered their face. Harry followed behind, adjusting the weightless body he carried upon his shoulder, as he began to descend a staircase.

On the second floor they passed the sleeping quarters of the priests and acolytes, though they were empty at the moment. Finally they came to the third and final floor, though he knew it was far more expansive than anything above.

As they came to the first room, the acolyte Harry followed lifted the body they were carrying and placed it on a table for preparation. Harry stunned the acolyte before passing through the door on the far side of the room. He came to a short staircase that led down to the Hall of Faces.

Harry stopped, stricken by the sheer number of dead that had been prepared by the servants of the Many-Faced god over the centuries. The faces sat along the walls and pillars of the room, stretching from the floor to the ceiling. A few of the thousands of faces were missing, no doubt currently serving as the disguises for one of the deadly order.

There were a number of doors along the walls of the temple. From what he had managed to learn from his former captive, many of them led to training areas for prospective members of the order while the one in the center led to a meeting room in which there was a single round table where the Faceless men, not otherwise assigned, would gather each month to assign the contracts received by the order. It was a meeting that ought to be occurring that very night. And Harry was particularly confident of the veracity of the information he had received.

With quick strides, Harry made his way across the hall of faces, keenly aware of the serene death masks. He passed through the doorway quietly and into a dark corridor at the end of which was a dimly room from which he could hear voices.

Passing into the room unnoticed, Harry took note of the fifteen people around the table, only one woman among them. Seven seats sat empty. He knew that none of them carried any weapons on their person. After all, this is a sacred place for their order.

The room itself was simple, unadorned or furnished beyond the tables and chairs. The table itself was made of ebony and weirwood, just as the doors to the house with the same carved moon face.

"We've received contracts for two people here in the city, one in Pentos, two in Lorath, and one in Qarth in the last month." A kindly looking man spoke in the otherwise silent room, though there seemed to be some surprise at the mention of Qarth. Perhaps they don't often receive contracts so far east. Harry realized it was the same man he spoke during his last visit, "A merchant and bravo here in Braavos, a Pentoshi captain, a priest and magister in Lorath, and one of the Undying of Qarth."

"A man would deliver the gift in Lorath. The city is well-known to him." One of the nameless assassin's spoke up sibilantly.

The kindly man nodded, "You shall grant the gift to the priest then."

And so it went, each of the other three contracts being claimed by one of the assassins around the table. The stern faced one took the magister in Lorath, the squinter the bravo, the fat fellow the Pentoshi captain, and the plague face the Undying in Qarth. The kindly man assumed responsibility for the merchant in Braavos. There were no arguments or contentions among them. If nothing else, he could say was that they were taught their lessons well. There was no joy for the idea of bringing death.

"There is still no word from our brother in Westeros." The kindly man broached the topic which Harry had been patiently awaiting.

The woman among their number shrugged unconcernedly, "We did not expect that it would be simple to complete that particular contract. Killing one man can be difficult enough but an entire family is another matter entirely. I am confident that the desired end shall be accomplished given more time."

As the words left the assassin's mouth, a loud bang resonated through the room. All eyes were drawn to the broken body resting face-up and unmoving on the table. There was blood staining the clothes of the corpse from wounds suffered before death. The assassins could see that one of the faces used as a disguise had been forcefully removed from the body, the dried blood that ran down from unblinking eyes indication enough for them.

In the heavy silence that followed the unexpected event, none seemed to know what they ought to do. They were not frantic in any way but instead their eyes darted to and fro around the room, trying to find any sign of the source of this intrusion.

It was then that Harry finally revealed himself a beaming smile on his face, "Well, isn't it lovely to meet you all." As all eyes shot to him, there was brief hint of panic in the face of the kindly man. Ah so he recognizes me. How fortunate? "Excuse my intrusion but we have some pressing business that must be discussed."

"Harry Potter," the voice held no warmth as it had when they spoke some years ago, his eyes glancing from the corpse to Harry's own emerald eyes, "like most we have heard of your exploits over the years but it is quite the feat to pass by one of our order without notice, much less fifteen of us."

"Ah well, I have my ways," He gestured to the battered body on the table, "I will admit though, it was made all the easier after what I learned from your colleague there."

One of the assassins made to rise, but Harry struck out with one of his hands, "Sit." He said firmly, the smile fell from his face as he forced the fat fellow back into his seat with a little bit of wandless magic. He lacked the sort of control with wandless magic that he had with his wand but it provided a better show. The wooden chair cracked in protest of the force, "As I said, we have matters to discuss. And until such time as that discussion has reached its conclusion, none of you shall be going anywhere." His tone made it clear he brooked no argument.

"I think it is clear why you are here," the woman said gesturing to the body, "you discovered our brother while he was attempting to complete your contract. You killed him to ensure that he would no longer be a threat. And now you have come to threaten us into standing down to ensure the same."

"You're partially correct," Harry contradicted her conversationally. "He was discovered though not by me. He was killed, clearly, though not by my hand." He smiled toothily, "I just extracted every bit of information I could from him before I left him to the others who were affected by his actions."

"And as a result, I am fully aware that you will not be 'standing down' because of intimidation alone. It would take the death of your contractor before your order will leave me and mine alone." But that was a situation that would be dealt with in very short order, "I am sure that were it within your abilities at the moment, each of you would be attempting to see the completion of your friend's failed contract."

No one tried to contradict him. They were tense, each of them understanding the danger of the situation. Harry began walking around them, idly drumming his fingers upon the table or patting one of the room's occupants on the shoulder. The lordling actually gave the barest of flinches back from his touch, "Now as the preliminaries have been finished let's get down to the actual purpose of this discussion."

"I am certain that your current contract on me will be null and void within days," Harry told them grimly, "So dispatching another of your number to attack me and my children would obviously be futile. So, I am here to discuss the future, your future to be specific."

"And what exactly would you like to say with regards to our future?" The kindly man asked calmly.

"Well should anyone ever come to you again, seeking a contract for the death of my family you will provide them with a price that could never possibly be achieved." Whatever humor or congeniality had been in him at the start of this conversation disappeared entirely, "And if you are wise, you might even inform me who exactly wished to make the contract."

Raising his hand to stop any protests, three mouths shut abruptly, "I am aware that this goes against your orders views on secrecy and discretion. But your order also frowns on killing those who are not specifically named in the contract," He nudged the foot of the corpse, "And this one failed miserably in that regard. Consider it your recompense for the three lives he took needlessly." None of those around the table looked pleased to hear this. They expect one uncontracted death for no other reason than their brother would need a face that wouldn't be suspicious. But three seemed excessive despite the circumstances.

The plague face, pale and missing one ear, spoke up, "And if we refuse these conditions of yours, what will you do?"

Harry drew his wand from its holster, the tip crackled angrily and glowed a deep purple, "Simple, I kill you all and every member of your order. Introduce you to the god you serve so diligently, so to speak." Each of them looked from his wand to his grim visage and those intense eyes that promised nothing but pain. "Your temples will burn. People will need to find their own ways of 'receiving the gift' because your order will become nothing more than a fading memory." The spell jumped from the tip of his wand and impacted the body on the table. It began to tear apart skin, muscle until there was nothing left but bone which vanished with a silent spell, "Much like your friend there."

He saw flicker of fear in their eyes then, despite their training and the image they had learned to project as a result. They couldn't hide that fear that settled in their minds at the thought of his promise.

Swallowing thickly the kindly man spoke with a slight hitch in his voice, "It would seem that our decision is an easy one."

"Agreed," Harry said smiling yet again, "As long as you leave me and my people alone, there will be no issue between us."

Looking at each of the other gathered members of the order, the kindly man received small nods from each of them, "You have our oath that this order shall take out no contract on you or yours, and if it is within our capability we will inform you should such a thing be attempted again."

"Fantastic," Harry said with a clap, "I am glad we came to a civil end." He stepped away from the table, "News will reach you of the Grandmaester's death at which point you can consider our current business concluded."

"We will be awaiting word of his death. But should nothing be heard on the matter in the next month, we will be obligated to assign another to your contract."

"That will not be a problem." With that said Harry disappeared from House of Black and White and reappeared on a ship in the docks of Braavos.

Dagon rested against the mast, waiting patiently, sipping a bit of cider. Noticing Harry's arrival he pushed away from the mast, "I take it things went well."

"They did. And now we're leaving." Dagon needed no further urging, yelling out for his fellow crew mates and heading toward the helm.

Margaery Tyrell sat upon a cushioned, silk chair working diligently on an embroidered shirt for her eldest brother Willas' upcoming nameday. He was well past the age where such things were celebrated but she made sure to do something for him each year all the same; just as she did for her brothers Garlan and Loras.

Sitting with her on the balcony of her private quarters was her younger cousin Elinor, and two of the ladies from the cadet branches of their house, Megga and Alla. They chatted softly and excitedly of the knights and lords that had caught their eye at the most recent tourney. Margaery just smiled and indulged in the frivolous talk on occasion as she looked out over her family's lands.

From the castle to the first of the three tiered walls there were vibrant, colorful gardens with flowing fountains. Colonnades and statues of marble sat to the side of the smooth cobbled pathways. There were singers, harpists, pipers, and fiddlers serenading people as they strode serenely through Highgarden. The tunes they played and songs they sang carried up to the balcony like bird songs.

She knew that if she were to walk down those paths toward the furthest walls that they would turn from the older square towers that had been built in the time when the Gardeners first called the castle home to the circular towers that had been built by her own family in the time since Aegon I Targaryen made them Lords Paramount of the Reach. And between the middle and furthest wall there was an elaborate, well-tended briar labyrinth.

But Margaery, as much as she loved her home, was not the sort to be contented with it. Nor was she contented with her current station. No, she wished to be the queen of the Seven Kingdoms. As Elinor mooned childishly over the thought of Lord Renly… trust me dear cousin, he has no interest in anything beneath your skirts… her own thoughts drifted toward Robert's youngest brother and Loras. They intended to approach the king, tactfully, with tales to her affection for him. The pair hoped to convince him of her similarities to his lost love, Lyanna Stark. And if all went well, in time Robert might prove willing to set aside Cersei in favor of Margaery of his own accord.

Unfortunately from what she had heard from her brother, those plans were set ever further down in priority. Robert concerned himself with only four things food, drink, women, and the Norfolk. If it were women alone that fascinated him things would likely be simpler. But no, it was the Norfolk that most often held his attention of late.

The wildlings who built a city were heard of in the Reach, but it was only talked of fleetingly. The wildlings meant little to them so far south but rumors of their growth and exploits would send tongues waggling for a few days at least. More often than not they were talked of as the fairytale monsters they had been for centuries, millennia even. Though, that didn't stop high and lowborn alike from enjoying their alcoholic exports.

Margaery paid them more mind than most she assumed if for no other reason than they appeared to be an obstacle to her ultimate goals. She was pulled from her musings by the door to the balcony opening. Dressed in finely embroidered gold and blue silk, Olenna Tyrell looked elegant despite her advanced years.

All four young women stood respectfully while Elinor and Margaery warmly greeting their beloved grandmother. Sitting with a huff among them, Olenna looked to the younger girls, "Ladies, I wish to speak with Margaery alone for a moment." Recognizing the dismissal for what it was they all hurried to follow the Queen of Thorn's command.

When they were alone, Olenna reached to the table before her and grabbed a fig, popping it into her mouth, "I have missed you, grandmother." Margaery professed sincerely. While she loved her own mother, everything she was came from her grandmother, and she was always profusely thankful of that fact.

"And I have missed you, dear girl." The Dowager Lady of Highgarden spent the last three months visiting family in the Arbor. The moist air of the island helped her alleviate a cough that had come on from the dry summer heat, "I've just come from speaking with your father," Margaery could hear the word oaf even if it wasn't said, "and learned something rather worrying."

"Really? And what would that be grandmother?" Margaery had expected illicit stories of the Redwynes or rumors she had gathered from corresponding with some of her old friends, not news from her father.

Olenna leaned forward, looking Margaery square in the eye, "I am told that our crops and goods that have seen the Tyrell name rise in prominence and wealth over the years remain largely unsold and stored away." A portion of each harvest was always held in reserve for the coming winters but the rest was sold in great quantities, particularly in the Vale and the North.

"I don't see that as particularly worrying grandmother," Margaery stated calmly, "They say a long summer means a longer winter, surely the added stores will prove fortuitous when the warm nights turn cold."

Olenna shook her head, seemingly disappointed, "But this is not a single occurrence. For the past three years, increasing quantities of our crop has gone unsold. And our storehouses grow ever more filled."

"And I take it you are aware of the cause of this?" Margaery questioned.

"From the rumors I have heard, the blame can be laid solely on the Norfolk." Margaery only tilted her head quizzically, "They have been providing large quantities of goods to the northerners through White Harbor at prices our own merchants cannot hope to match." Olenna frowned slightly, "And their goods don't spoil as ours do, they need not worry about a wasted crop."

"The work of this Witch-King-Beyond-the-Wall I take it." Margaery had heard of the man from Renly and knew that at least some rumors of his capabilities were not exaggerated.

"Presumably, yes." Olenna granted, "How long before our own farmers are forced to seek other work elsewhere because they cannot find a way of selling their wares? How long before our stores spoil? How long…"

"I see your point," Margaery interrupted earning a raised eyebrow from Olenna, "But how do you propose we alleviate this worry? We can't stop them from dispersing their goods, nor do we have any means of competing with them with regards to the longevity of those goods. And our goods can't be sold any cheaper with how much they cost to produce." She pursed her lips in thought, "But I believe you are wrong, the farmers of the Reach will be contented so long as they are able to provide for themselves. They may not have quite as much coin in their hands after each harvest but they will still be able to live their lives in the same fashion they do now."

"You underestimate the anger of the smallfolk," Olenna warned, "when they see their purses grow smaller each year they will blame their liege lords."

Margaery made to retort but snapped her mouth shut, as she thought it over. History had proven the truth of those words, "But the point remains, there is no recourse here."

"I disagree," Olenna said congenially, "It would appear to me that we need to adopt the same practices as the Norfolk. Only at that point would we be able to sell at cheaper prices, and hold larger quantities."

Margaery gave a tinkling laugh, "You make it sound so simple, grandmother. But it is my understanding that one needs a practitioner of magic readily available to accomplish such things."

Olenna grabbed her hand conspiratorially, "This Norfolk king, I hear he has a woman but no wife as civilized society defines it."

"Yes and he has two children that I am aware of, both of whom are betrothed to the Stark children." Margaery assumed Olenna wasn't aware of that information given her raised eyebrow. "And from the stories Loras has heard from Renly, their king is very much in love with his woman. And she is not the sort to be trifled with."

"Then I suppose it would take a woman of many wiles with a great deal to offer to shift such a man's desires." Olenna commented meaningfully.

"Grandmother," Margaery began stonily, "I have no desire to travel to the cold North. I have no desire to seduce this king."

"You wish to be a queen." Olenna pointed out.

"Of the Seven Kingdoms," Margaery noted irritably, "not two frozen cities north of the Wall!"

Olenna sighed, and gave a weak smile, "I understand dear. I only ask that you consider what I am saying." She stood and rested a hand on her granddaughter's shoulder. "Despite your youth I trust you a great deal more than anyone else in the Reach to approach these Norfolk, certainly far more than your father. And I believe that acquiring their aid will be tantamount to our continued rise. As of now, we are hindered by these Norfolk, while the Starks, Martells, and even the Lannisters if rumors are true have benefitted. And that is to say nothing of Stannis Baratheon."

Her grandmother pulled Margaery's head toward her stomach and stroked her hair momentarily, "Should you reconsider your stance on this matter, remember that you will have more to offer than your charms. Nor do I think it would be wise for you to go alone, and Willas has always been fond of the idea of traveling. I believe the two of you together might win us allies where we otherwise have rivals."

With those parting words, the austere lady of House Tyrell left the balcony. Alone, Margaery realized she had a great deal to consider.

Grandmaester Pycelle stretched his old bones as he watched the pretty young thing from Baelish's brothel saunter out of his quarters, her bare ass bouncing pleasantly. The learned man felt relaxed for the first time in quite a while. He was quite confident that his plans regarding Harry Potter would reach their conclusion in the near future. I gave Gareth years to ingratiate himself in the hopes that his placement there would bear fruit. This faceless man deserves a few months to manage the same.

Fortuitously, Robert's ire had only grown with regards to the Norfolk recently after learning of their harboring of the Targaryens. Now when the deed was done it would only serve to better curry favor with the King. While Robert has always encouraged the prospect of removing the sorcerer now I believe he would be downright gleeful to hear of his demise. The death of the children would see the rest of the Archmaesters pleased as well.

Admittedly, the price had been steep; a large sum of gold, the passing of obscure knowledge from tomes hidden within the citadel, and the promise of two children that would go on to be trained by the order. But he considered the contract well worth the price if it saw an end to the headache in the North.

His only worry of late came in the forms of Jon Arryn and Stannis Baratheon. The Hand and the Master of Ships had been inquiring around the city, seemingly seeking out the bastard children of the King. Pycelle could guess at their reasons but acting against them in any way would only serve to increase suspicion. The queen's own spies will know of this and should the situation demand action, it will be taken.

Grabbing his maester robes and chain, he folded them neatly as he prepared for rest. Usually he would trouble a servant with the matter, but he had sent them away when the whore arrived. He began the tedious process of snuffing out the candles in the room

Across the room, one of his windows burst open from a great gust of wind, smacking noisily into the stone wall and casting the room into darkness. Odd, such winds are not common in the summer. Still it saved him a great deal of time. Relighting a single candle by his bed first, he crossed the room pulling the shutters closed.

As he passed by his personal desk, stacked with parchments and tomes, he didn't notice the man sitting in his chair, feet resting on the table. When he was standing next to his bed, a voice echoed in the otherwise quiet room, "Good evening, Grandmaester, how good to see you again." It was a voice that Pycelle recognized, and a chill went through his bones that had nothing to do with his old age. A nightmare, nothing more. Surely I must be dreaming. Turning he was unsurprised to see Harry Potter sitting in the dim light of a freshly lit candle.

Pycelle stuttered out of fear, not to provide his usual act, "Harry Potter, how are you here? Why are you here?"

Harry smirked, clearly enjoying Pycelle's misery at the moment, "I came through the window," He stared intently at the Grandmaester, those green eyes seemingly glowing in the lowlight. "As to why… well, I think you know full well why I am here."

Shuffling slowly toward the door, Pycelle said with as much forced calm as he could manage, "I am afraid that I have no idea what you are talking about."

He reached the door but as he tried to open it, he found it locked. With shaking hands he tried to unlock the door but the mechanism would not budge. Glancing toward the dark-haired man still sitting nonchalantly at the desk, he saw only amusement at his feeble attempts at escape, "Funny, you are running as though I am death come to take you to one of your seven hells, but you have no idea what I'm talking about."

Not knowing what else to do, the Grandmaester yelled out ragged and raspy, "Help! Someone, anyone!"

This drew a full-bellied laugh from the wizard as he removed his feet from the desk and leaned forward on his elbows, "You will find that no one can hear you. I have attended to that matter as well."

Cowering backward toward the furthest corner of the room, the old man sought any way of escape but could see none. Perhaps the window, a long drop and a sudden stop would probably be better than anything he has in store for me.

Suddenly he was pulled bodily across the room until he was standing rigidly before the desk, "Please come closer, there is so much that we have to discuss." Harry said coldly, the tip of his notched wand pointed squarely at Pycelle's chest.

"I want you to know that I found your assassin." He growled out the words, "He killed three of my people and nearly killed my son."

His voice fell softer then, barely above a whisper, but it made him seem all the more dangerous, "And for his efforts he suffered, at my hand, at Val's hand, and at the hands of the others he wronged. His false face was ripped from him, and he screamed." He spoke through gritted teeth, "Imagine the pain I was willing to inflict on the tool used to harm my son, and then consider what I would be willing to do to the person responsible for it in the first place."

Pycelle shuddered involuntarily, resisting the urge to empty his bladder, "I… I will do whatever you ask, give you whatever you ask. Please, just spare my life."

Harry just laughed cruelly, "The Faceless man didn't beg. He suffered his torment with the steely resolve you would expect. He was younger than you, and only doing what he'd been trained to do." He pointed menacingly, "But you, old and feeble nearing the end of your time, don't have the will to face your end with dignity—even fully aware that it was your own choices that have led you to this moment."

"Your body couldn't take the sort of treatment that the assassin endured," He grinned wolfishly, "Your heart would likely give out within minutes."

Pycelle allowed a relieved sigh to escape at that declaration. At least it will be quick. But as his eyes came up to meet the wizard judging him, he felt his mind suddenly assaulted. A presence that was not his own pummeling into his thoughts, tearing through his memories, and finding things that he hadn't told a soul. He didn't know for how long the assault lasted but when he felt sweet relief, he took great gasping lungfuls of air. Cold sweat poured down his face, dripping into his beard. He was shivering uncontrollably and could feel his head throbbing like the Mountain had been crushing it in one of his great fists. Agony, that is what Pycelle felt. Agony like he had never experienced before.

"You truly are a self-serving bastard." Harry said harshly, "I wonder if Aerys would have kept you at court had he realized just how far up Tywin Lannister's ass you really were. Then again, he didn't realize that you were born a Lannet, that was well before his time."

"I wonder if you feel any remorse for the gruesome deaths of Elia Martell and her children?" He questioned rhetorically, "After all, had you not convinced the king of Lord Tywin's loyalty they may have lived long enough to see Lord Stark arrive to take control of the siege." He shrugged, "But I suppose that is academic at best, given what Aerys had planned. But fire would have been kinder." He had a thoughtful look in his eye but shook himself.

"I'm sure that was unpleasant for you, but it was highly elucidating for me." Pycelle still didn't have the strength to speak, "Imagine how surprised people would be to learn that the king's children are actually born of incest between the Lannisters." The thought of hurting Robert seemed to appeal to the wizard. He knows now that the king endorsed the attempts on his life.

Harry stood then, "Your aid, unintended as it may have been, was appreciated. But our time here has come to its end." The notched wand in his hand came to point straight at the Grandmaester's chest.

"N…" But his last plea fell on deaf ears as a green jet of light leapt from the tip of the wand and impacted the old man. With that, he knew no more.

AN: Thank you for reading and if you have any questions feel free to ask in a review or a PM.

21. Chapter 21

AN: Try not to be too surprised, but I'm finally back!

As always, thanks to my betas.

The lifeless body was laid before the king and the rest of his court by the High Septon, and four of the silent sisters. Nobody had seen the old man in more than half a day when a serving girl came wailing through the halls about his death. Now two days later the old man was being put to rest.

Cersei looked down at Grandmaester Pycelle with little more than complete apathy. While she disliked the man, she could at least appreciate that he was one of her father's more useful toadies over his many years of service. Robert might never have sat the throne if not for his 'leal' advice to Aerys.

Whether she viewed that particular service of Pycelle's positively or negatively would differ with her mood on any given day and her frustrations with her fool of a husband. But more often than not Cersei preferred being Queen over the alternatives. It is where I was always meant to be after all, even if it should have been a dragon and not a stag. And that Robert is an unwitting cuckold with no trueborn children only makes it more bearable.

She would not mourn Pycelle's passing for his own sake, but she still knew it would leave her family without valuable information in the days before a new Grandmaester could be chosen and brought under Lannister influence.

"So how did he die?" Robert asked tersely. She glanced in his direction, and begrudgingly admitted to herself that he had regained some of the stature and vigor of his younger years ever since meeting with the King-Beyond-the-Wall. His belly had flattened somewhat and his arms thickened once more with muscle as he spent less time each day drinking and whoring. Instead he went to the yard with whichever Kingsguard pleased him and worked at reshaping his rotund body. If nothing else it has made the few times he finds himself in my bed slightly more bearable.

They were surrounded by the entirety of the small council, a number of the Kingsguard, her beloved brother included. Jaime cared less for the man than she did and couldn't even feign interest in the king's current interactions.

The High Septon was no maester but there was no one better equipped, or important enough, to weigh on such matters with the death of Pycelle. He certainly lacked the necessary knowledge to truly diagnose the old man's death. And that was likely why he looked to the king and told him, "His age finally caught up with him, your Grace. He served the realm well, but the Stranger decided it was his time."

Cersei resisted the urge to scoff at that. The man wasn't nearly as feeble as he pretended. He played that part simply because it served his purposes. People were far more likely to ignore a broken old man, after all.

Varys turned to Robert then, his sickly sweet voice grating on her nerves, "Your Grace, the Grandmaester had one of his regular visitors the night he died." The Spider looked to Littlefinger, "She was one of yours if I'm not mistaken." The High Septon looked affronted at the insinuation. Hypocrite. You've probably had the same girl while being buggered by one of the boys in the brothel.

Unfazed by the veiled accusation, Littlefinger just returned the Spider's smile, "It's true, your Grace, but the Grandmaester often indulged himself in one of the ladies from my establishment. She assures me he was alive and well, and as… enthusiastic as he'd ever been during their time together. And nothing about those circumstances changed before her departure."

"Of course." Varys just kept smiling, that smile of his that never seemed to reach the eyes.

"Men of the Grandmaester's age die every day." Stannis interjected irritably, "Whether his heart gave out, or his lungs or his brain. He is dead and there is nothing to say exactly why." There was general agreement to that statement, though an enigmatic smile graced Littlefinger's lips for the briefest of moments. He does quite enjoy playing the game.

"Too true." Robert agreed with his brother. "Enough of this! See to it that the Citadel hears of this and sends us a new Grandmaester. Hopefully, it won't be someone so longwinded this time." He grumbled the last as he started making his way out of the Great Hall. Those gathered began dispersing then, Stannis and Jon Arryn fastest, likely to send the raven as commanded.

Cersei left quickly as well. Father will want to know of these developments.

Jaime fell into step behind her as she made her way back to her quarters, "So the toad finally died? Can't say that I'll miss his incessant droning on? I can't think of a man more longwinded."

"No, but he had his uses, especially to father." Cersei replied absently. Not to mention to me. Jon Arryn has been digging around in things he shouldn't and Pycelle was best equipped to keep me informed. Still, there were other ways of dealing with such things and she had plenty of her own spies if necessary.

Jaime hummed his agreement, "Father will want to know so he might influence the selection of the next Grandmaester, a bit of Lannister gold could have the next man be just as much a lickspittle as the last."

Cersei turned to her brother surprised. He rarely showed a mind for such things. He always preferred playing in the yard to playing the game.

"What? I know better than any how valuablePycelle's loyalty could be." There was bitterness in his voice and a flash of anger behind his eyes. It never did sit well with him what their father did at the end of the Rebellion, and it never would have happened if not for Pycelle's words in Aerys' ear. Foolish man, of course the dragons needed to die, even if they were just children. The only thing worth regretting is the brutality of it. Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch were anything but clean about it.

They were drawn from their conversation by a knock on the door. One of her handmaidens poked her head in, Myhrra or something her name was, Cersei couldn't be bothered to remember, "Your Grace, Lord Baelish is here to see you."

Cersei scrunched up her nose in irritation, but gestured for the girl to have him enter. What song does the mockingbird have to sing today I wonder? She poured herself a goblet of wine as he was shown in.

Littlefinger glanced between Cersei and Jaime as he came to stand in her solar, "Your Grace, Ser Jaime." He bowed slightly, ever remembering his courtesies. Before his betters.

"What do you want?" Cersei questioned bluntly, she had no patience for honeyed words.

"Simply to check on you, your Grace." He answered, even if they both knew it was a lie. "You knew the Grandmaester since you were a young girl, you must be terribly grieved at his passing. It was after all so sudden." Jaime wasn't even able to hide his laugh at that ridiculous statement.

"I am nearly bedridden with my sorrow," Cersei quipped dully, "and if that is all you may leave."

Littlefinger didn't move a muscle just smiled back at the Queen's obvious irritation, "Of course, it's odd his death, wouldn't you agree? He was quite the healthy man despite his age."

"Even seemingly healthy old men can drop dead faster than the toss of a coin," Jaime interjected.

"True, but the Grandmaester did have his fair share of enemies, some he might not even have known about."

That did pique her interest, if only slightly, "And which enemies might that be?"

"Well it's only speculation of course, but a fortnight ago one of my spies informed me that a Norfolk vessel docked in Braavos for a day before departing and heading south. Two days ago the same ship departed from Dragonstone and was seen heading south yet again."

"What of it? The savages have their trading vessels traveling up and down the Narrow Sea from Dorne to Braavos."

"True, your Grace, but it seemed an odd timing and route with the Grandmaester's untimely death. And no Norfolk ships were seen for a week before they started on their usual schedule again. Not to mention the recent correspondence the old man sent to Braavos." Cersei gave him a look that demanded he elaborate. He raised his hands in surrender, "Which I unfortunately know nothing more about, perhaps Varys would be better equipped. He does have so many little birds after all."

"So you're speculating that the Norfolk had a hand in Pycelle's death because a single ship stopped in Braavos and Dragonstone? Seems poor reasoning at best." Jaime sounded far from convinced, "Why would they want to kill the old man?"

"Oh I wouldn't want to make any assumptions of that sort," Littlefinger replied innocently, "Just my stray thoughts on some odd occurrences."

"Another thought came to mind as well. The belongings of the Grandmaester should be recovered so a proper accounting of things can be done by his successor. I believe he's been lending books recently. I know I saw one on the Lord Hand's desk when last I spoke." The smarmy bastard made to stand, "I'll leave you to your grieving, your Grace."

Cersei had some idea what it was that Jon Arryn was investigating, in no small part because of Pycelle. She refused to react to the comment, unsure just how much the grasping little lord actually knew.

"Thank you for your visit, Lord Baelish." Cersei watched him leave before feeling her brother slide up behind her.

"Finally alone." Jaime whispered into her ear as he pulled her toward the bed. She allowed her concerns of Jon Arryn to wash away for the moment as she fell into his arms.

The ship came into dock late at night. Harry landed with a thud on the ironwood planks before they'd even fully moored, leaving Dagan and his crew behind. More than three months on the ship in total and they were finally back. Three months on ship is too fucking long. The trip down to Dorne from Dragonstone had been rough in the Narrow Sea and that spoke nothing of his personal jaunt over to Oldtown.

A cool wind whipped up a drift of snow as he made his way across Newport toward the portal that would take him back to First Forge. The only others awake were guards whose welcoming calls he returned distractedly. Truthfully, Harry had little care for any of it at the moment. Anger sated, for the time being at least, he felt tired deep in his bones and wished for nothing more than the warm embrace of both his bed and Val. But it seemed, like so many times in his life, fate had other plans.

"My lord." Called an accented woman's voice that he didn't recognize. Though she didn't yell, her voice carried clearly over the gusts of wind. Harry resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands. For fucks sake, can't I have even a moment of peace?

"Your safe return is a welcome sight." He noted she was tall, and wore surprisingly little given the chill of the night's air. She stood in the doorway of one of the small homes built only for one. Inside he could see a single flame in the middle of the room. Its light flickered and licked at the air, its rays silhouetting the unknown woman.

"I am no one's lord. And you don't know me, so there is no reason for you to care for my safety or find me a welcome sight." He responded tersely. She didn't respond in kind to his irritation. Instead, she just looked bemused. It does grow tiring to constantly point that out to people. He didn't have the patience for politeness, "Who are you?"

"My name is Melisandre."

"Lovely… and why are you here, Melisandre?" We can't seem to go more than a month without some new arrival from afar these days. It really is enough to drive a man mad.

"To aid in the war against the one true enemy."

Harry quirked one eyebrow, surprised. He certainly hadn't expected thatanswer. More often than not he had to fight tooth and nail to get people to accept the threat they faced, and here was someone willingly offering aid. "Well, fantastic. If you're in this city, Val must've allowed it which is good enough for me… for now at least."

He turned and started toward his home again, calling over his shoulder he told their newest resident, "I'm sure we will discuss things in greater detail soon, but I wish to find my bed. You should do the same."

"Of course," she called back smoothly, "Rest well, my lord." He resisted the urge to turn back and correct her again. Some people just refuse to listen.

Finally finding himself in his own home, he threw off his cloak, shirt and boots and felt the warmth of the furs beneath his feet. He padded softly to his bed, careful not to wake the children. As he crawled into his bed, he pulled Val into his chest and breathed in the welcoming aroma of her hair. She pushed closer unconsciously and he found himself asleep quickly.

He woke the next morning because of two pressing weights on his chest. The twins were babbling too fast for him to make out exactly what they were saying. Val was smiling behind them with Lily against her chest, "Everything you needed to do is taken care of then?" She asked over their excitement.

Harry stretched after a good night's rest. There truly is something to be said for a night of sleep in your own bed with the person you love.

"Finally!" He said good-naturedly, "Happy to be back." He rustled the twins' hair and stood to kiss Val. She kissed him back before nodding her head toward their living area. He could hear the crackle of meat over the fire and looked to see Dalla and Mance waiting there, talking softly among themselves. Trystan and Emer ran by him and out the door, already having eaten and excited to go to their morning lessons. Their enthusiasm brought a small smile to his face.

Mance noticed his attention and stood to shake his hand, "Good to have you back. All went well?"

"The House of Black and White and I have an understanding, the Grandmaester is dead and Marwyn gave his recommendation for his replacement." The travel could have been done faster by a month but going with Dagan seemed the best way of ensuring nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Harry even sent other trading vessels ahead to reestablish the schedule of things before leaving himself.

"He didn't want the position for himself?"

Harry shook his head, "Not even slightly. His interests lie only in the higher mysteries, not in the tending of spoiled shits in King's Landing." Dalla stifled a laugh as she served up the meal from the fire so that they might all break their fast.

"Who will be the new Grandmaester then? Did you manage to use your magic to make where Marin will be making her way south?"

Harry ignored his friend's witticism, "Nymos will take Pycelle's place. He's Dornish by birth and cares little for the opinions of the other Archmaesters. He's also one of the few who's agreeable to Marwyn. With Norren compelled, there should be no more threats coming from the Citadel, unless one of the other Archmaesters takes it upon themselves." And Marwyn all but insured him that the others were too concerned with their own lives and pursuits to worry about Harry and the Norfolk. That more than satisfied his company who took to eating their meals.

"What came of the trip to the Frozen Shore?" Harry asked as he scraped the last of some egg off his plate.

Mance frowned, "The Others took them all. We didn't find a single person alive in either of the villages we visited… And it seemed they hoped we would come. They left corpses hiding in the snow to attack us in the second village."

Harry couldn't say that he was surprised. He expected the worst when he sent his people, "Did you lose anyone?"

"Grigg, Brogg, and Dan," Mance responded unhappily, "The Mormonts and crows lost more though. Qhorin said that one of them was Waymar Royce, the son of Bronze Yohn. You might find yourself another friend south of the Wall there. The Lord-Commander should be willing to send a raven telling his father how he died." It was something worth thinking on if nothing else. He didn't necessarily want to go around Jon Arryn in the Vale if he could avoid it, but the more allies they had against the dead the better.

"What made them decide to attack now?" Harry mused, "They could have made their move anytime."

"If I were to guess, the point was the trap." Mance sounded quite confident for a guess, "It wasn't just the wights waiting for us… there were White Walkers there as well, and I don't think they much cared about the lot of us. I think what they really wanted was you."

Harry's brow knit together, "Have there been any other attacks since?"

"No, but the cold seems to have deepened beyond the Frostbacks and down to the Frozen Shore." So they were expanding their reach and might even be coming after him directly. Well it was bound to happen eventually. They want to wipe us out entirely; I should feel privileged that I'm at the very top of their list.

"All hunters and those at the watchtowers have been warned?"

"They have." Mance confirmed, "And none have reported anything odd of late." But it could happen at any time.

Harry just nodded, before turning to Val, "I'm curious why there's a Red Priestess living in the city? I clearly missed a great deal while I was away."

Val looked as unamused as he felt, "She came to the gates claiming she wanted to help against the Others. I know they're zealots but help is help after all. I figured you should at least meet her before you send her away."

"What has she been doing?" Harry couldn't imagine that the free folk would put up with any of the preaching that the most devout Red Priests were known for.

"She's mostly kept to herself, staring into that fire she keeps in the house we've given her." Val told him, "She'll occasionally speak to some of the people and seems to have taken a bit of interest in the Targaryens. She even discussed a bit about magic with the twins."

"As long as she isn't burning people for her red god, then she can stay for now at least." Harry allowed for the moment. Though it's a headache I'll have to deal with eventually.

He ran a hand through his hair. Not even back half a day. Sometimes I wonder just how I got myself into this. Ah! That's right the saving people thing. He chuckled to himself which drew odd looks from the others. He ignored those looks, unwilling to explain, "Anything else I should know about?"

"Karsi wanted to talk to you, but other than that nothing else comes to mind." Mance itched at his graying beard idly.

"No issues with the Targaryens while I've been away."

"Viserys has been surprisingly well-behaved… even stayed away from his sister. The only thing of any note he's done is speak with the Red Priestess and spent a bit more time with the Thenn." Mance snorted out a laugh, "Considering he almost always has eyes watching him, his good behavior isn't entirely surprising."

"Daenerys spends a great deal of her time in the library and occasionally finds herself dragged around by Arya and the twins." Dalla informed him.

Val smiled slightly at that, "And speaking of Arya, she has taken to Syrio Forrel's teaching very well, the water dancing suits her better than anything we could have taught her. She doesn't leave the yard with nearly as many bruises anymore and can deal out a few of her own too."

Harry chuckled, "Well good, should mean she won't need as many salves." The four of them dispersed then, each to tend their own duties for the day.

Harry left home and was greeted by a cool crisp morning, the sun only just peaking up above the horizon. He set off down the path toward the Hall in search of Karsi. He passed the training yard as he went, and was unsurprised to find Arya there already.

Based on the sweat dripping from her brow, the young lady had been out there for some time. She appeared to be working on her balance, standing on one foot upon a short wooden plinth. He noticed that a small number of others just arriving in the yard joined her. It appears that Syrio has more than one pupil. He couldn't help but notice that all of the others gathering with her were some of the younger sailors who would normally be out at sea on one of the trading vessels. They must have taken an interest in the Bravosi.

Harry approached the young Stark, and shook his head ruefully when he saw that she finally convinced either Munda or Gilly to give her one of their tattoos. It was of a woven, howling direwolf that went from her jawline up to her hairline. Her parents are likely to be furious if they see that, but something tells me she couldn't care less. Oh, well. He could always hide it with a bit of magic if he wanted to avoid Lord Stark's, or more likely Lady Stark's, irritation with her new souvenir of her time with the Norfolk.

"How long have you been out here?" Harry asked.

She shrugged but maintained her balance as she slowly shifted from one foot to the other, "Couple hours."

"Have you slept?"

"Yes." She replied.

"Enough?"

"Enough for me." He chuckled at that. Certainly can't fault her determination.

"Need any more salve?"

Her face split into a wide triumphant grin at that, "Nope." A training sword came from Harry's left side then and poked at Arya's ribs. She deftly avoided the jab and switched to her other foot on the plinth.

"The girl is getting better." Syrio said to Harry, "And you need not worry. This stubborn little pupil learned her lesson about overworking herself when she passed out in the snow halfway through her fifth day of training." Arya couldn't stop the blush that rose up in her cheeks.

Harry managed not to laugh at her, for his own sake as much as hers. "Well I'll leave you to it." Arya hopped down from the plinth and followed behind him. He turned a quizzical look down at her.

"I was only out here so early because Briar plans to take Jon and me out into the Haunted Forest today."

"She's not just going to use one of the animals in the city?" Harry questioned.

"She says those animals already know people and… trusts them, I guess. We wouldn't learn as much from that."

They reached the Hall together then, and Arya bee-lined for where Jon sat with Ygritte, "Well good luck." Harry told her departing back. The young girl only waved back.

Harry made his way to the end of the table where Karsi was sitting with Toregg. They noticed him as he approached and made room for him along the bench, "Mance said you wanted to see me."

"We're having issues with the ice river clans." That was surprising. The cannibals mostly left them alone, seemingly knowing when they were out matched. They were less than a thousand in total strength if he were to guess.

"They've taken two hunters in the last moon." Toregg interject, "Even made an attack at one of the watchtowers. Haven't had any hunters out there in a week."

"We think what happened at the Frozen Shore spooked them… forced them to find a new source of food." She finished grimacing.

"What do you want to do?"

"We need to wipe them out. We don't need good people getting eaten by those bastards just because we don't want to do something about it. And they'll only be more meat for the Others and their army if they make another move."

Harry hummed his agreement, "See it done." He made to leave but a thought occurred to him, "What of Varamyr?"

"For all his bluster over the years, he hasn't done much of anything. Just left us alone. Though we had reports that he's moved further east. Seems to want to be further away from the Frostbacks." Toregg took a pull of his ale and belched, "Most of the people Varamyr forced to pay tribute to him have fled to First Forge. He just contents himself with what little he has left."

Harry nodded and stood, "Just keep an eye on him as we have been then I suppose."

Karsi rose with him, "I'll find out who wants to help deal with the cannibals and have them ready by the end of the week. Might try and get some green lads a bit of blood on their blades. Better their first fight be with the bastards along the Milkwater than with the Others." Harry wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment.

Ned and Catelyn watched from above as Robb and Theon instructed Bran in archery, little Rickon was nearby laughing at his brother's failed attempts. It took weeks for the comfortable peace to return between Eddard and his lady wife, she had been furious with him when she learned what happened at First Forge with Arya and the Targaryen girl. She raged and demanded that their daughter return home, but he would not be budged on the matter.

It hadn't helped her mood any that there was a growing discontent within Bran lately. With each letter and tale he heard of Arya and Jon, Ned waited for his son to ask him to go visit the Norfolk.

Another arrow whizzed wide of the target and stuck into the ground a few yards further away. Ned could hear as the older boys were unable to contain their amusement, and Bran hung his head in defeat, "Which of you was a marksman at seven?" All three boys looked up to him, "Keep practicing Bran. Go on." His middle son gave a small smile and nodded up at him.

With Robb whispering advice in his ear, Bran nocked another arrow and loosed it. This time it found the target just on the edge of the cloth target. Not a bullseye by any means but an improvement.

"Lord Stark," Rodrik called from behind them, he nodded at Cat as he came to stand before them, "My lady. Guardsman just rode in from the hills. They've captured a deserter from the Night's Watch."

Ned hesitated a moment, "Get the lads to saddle their horses."

"Do you have to?" His wife questioned.

Ned couldn't say it was something he wanted to do even as it had become more common in the last moon. He knew what the Night's Watch was facing and now many more of them did as well, "He made an oath."

"The law's the law, my lady." Rodrik tried to reason. But it's not just about that anymore is it. It's about the cowardice as well.

"And tell Bran he's coming to." Ned instructed his master of arms, who only nodded dutifully.

His wife on the other hand was indignant, "Ned, seven is too young to see such things."

"He won't be a boy forever," he countered easily, "And winter is coming. And we both know the Others are coming with it." Catelyn looked far from pleased but thought better than to argue.

They set off at midday, twenty in total, Brandon the youngest of the lot by some years. Ned could see that his son was bouncing between nervous and excited.

The black brother had been captured outside one of the small holdfasts in the hills to the northeast of Winterfell. He was bound hand and foot near the wall waiting for Eddard's arrival. He was short for a man grown, about the same height as Robb and missing both ears and a finger from frostbite.

Ned idly recognized him from his last trip to Castle Black. He was one of Benjen's rangers. "Cut him loose and bring him here." Ned commanded. He dropped from his horse. Jory Cassel followed behind him with the great-sword, Ice, in his hands. They came to stand before an ironwood block that had already been set out.

The ragged man was dragged bodily before him, not even fighting his captors. That was because he didn't have any fight left in him, "What's your name?" Ned asked. If you're going to take a man's life, you must be able to hear his name, his reason, and look him in the eye before you swing the sword. He remembered his own father's words.

"Gared," The captive told him. The man was broken, "I was a ranger of the Night's Watch." There was a mad look in his eye, and fear.

"I remember. But now you're a deserter."

"Aye, a deserter. I 'ad the courage to face the wildlings for more than half my life, cannibals and wargs and th' like." He shook involuntarily, "But the things I saw on the Frozen Shore. The dead rose… and those pale blue eyes."

There were tears in Gared's eyes, "I don't have the courage for that m'lord… So I ran, trying to put as much distance between me and those… monsters as I could."

Alysane Mormont told Ned everything that happened on the Frozen Shore. This wasn't even the first man to flee from the Wall since it happened. Four in the last moon. He was surprised it wasn't more, most days.

While Ned felt sympathy for the former ranger, the fact remained, "You've broken your oath, out of cowardice." He paused and made an offer that he could see in the man's countenance wouldn't be taken, "I'll offer you this chance to return to the Wall. That you might honor your oath and protect the realms of men."

Gared took a shuddering breath and glanced down at Ice, "I cann't do it m'lord. Just give me a clean death." The guards didn't even need to force his head down to the stump, "And burn my body."

Ned turned to Jory who offered him the hilt of the great-sword. The shwick of metal rang over the hill and made one of the horses uneasy. Holding Ice before him, Ned spoke, "I, Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, sentence you to die." In one smooth movement, the great-sword rose and fell, slicing through Gared's neck like it never met any resistance. One of the horses spooked. But Ned was proud that it wasn't Bran's. And he didn't look away.

Blood spurted red across the snow. As it petered out and dripped weakly from the headless body, the ironwood block drank the dark red liquid in greedily. Ned heard Theon laugh as he kicked away the head. He shut up quickly when he saw the look directed his way by the older man.

Ned set the guardsman to building a pyre to burn the body. They fell to the task while the men from Winterfell saddled up for the return journey.

Atop his horse, Ned was lost in his own thoughts; only idly aware of the conversation between the boys when Theon and Robb bolted by him, racing toward the bridge ahead. Bran remained behind, looking pensive atop his pony.

Ned nudged his horse along so that he was riding beside his younger boy, "Are you well, Bran?" He asked. The first time you see a man's life taken can weigh heavy.

"Yes, Father," Bran turned to look at him, his Tully blue eyes holding a look of confusion, "Robb says the man died bravely, but he didn't look brave to me."

No, for this man, death wasn't bravery. Some things are worse than death and his fear far outweighed his courage. Despite that, there was still a lesson there for his son to learn, "What do you think?"

His son thought about it. "Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?"

"That is the only time a man can be brave," he told the boy. "Do you understand why I did it?"

"He broke his oath."

He smiled down, "Aye, he was an oathbreaker. No man is more dangerous. He knew his life was forfeit long before our guards ever found him. That deserter would have flinched from no crime, no matter how vile. But you misunderstand me." Bran looked confused, "Do you understand why I was the one who had to do it."

He had no answer at first, before responding uncertainly, "King Robert has a headsman."

"True," Ned agreed, "As did the Targaryens before him. Yet, ours is the older way. We are the blood of the First Men, and we hold to the belief that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you are to take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die."

Bran processed what his father had to say silently. Ned continued. "One day, you will be Robb's bannerman, holding a keep of your own for your brother. When that day comes, you must take no pleasure in the task, but neither must you look away. A ruler who hides behind paid executioners soon forgets what death is." Bran remained silent, weighing his father's words as they continued toward the bridge at a slow trot.

When they caught up with Robb and Theon, the boys were sat atop their horses staring down at the decaying corpse of a once healthy young stag blocking the path. The faint perfume of death hung in the air. Its flesh was torn from its body by dozens if not hundreds of teeth marks. In its wounds and blind eyes maggots crawled. Its dark hair was a glaring contrast to the white snow drifts along the path. It was a truly massive stag, almost as big as his own warhorse.

Robb turned his head to his father, "Looks like a pack must have chased it out of the Wolfswood."

Ned frowned, "So it would seem." Hullen and Harwin dismounted behind him to move the mighty stag. In the end, it took two more men to move it away from the road. Despite the decay it still weighed a great deal. The stag found its final rest along the northern embankment of the little river, where with time it would become nothing more than bone.

Less than two hours later, they found themselves passing through the gates of Winterfell, Ned dismounted and left his horse with the stable master. Without a word to anyone else, he took Ice and made toward the godswood.

He walked through the ancient wood until he found himself at the pool beside the heart tree. He always liked the godswood. In his youth, he heard a great deal of wisdom from his father before the heart tree. But now, there were moments where he thought he could hear the whisper of Lyanna's voice in the rustling of the leaves or Brandon's laugh in the creaking of the trees straining against the wind. And even on those days when the deep silence of the place left him brooding on his own mistakes, it still managed to bring him peace.

The red eyes of the weirwood followed him as he sat on a moss-covered stone at the edge of the pool and removed Ice from its sheath. In the dark waters, he started cleaning the blade.

He lost track of time as the smoky ripples of the Valyrian blade were cleansed of blood, the dark waters only growing darker with each drop.

"Ned," he heard Cat call to him. "Catelyn," He said. His voice was distant even to his own ears as he was pulled from his own thoughts, "Where are the children?"

"Robb went down to the Wintertown," She sat down beside the pool, her cloak billowing around her. He could see her discomfort as the eyes of the weirwood watched her. She never was comfortable among the nameless old gods, "Rickon is pestering Bran even though he's been quiet since he returned."

"He watched a man face justice for the first time today. It leaves a boy with a great deal to think about." Ned reasoned, "The man died well." He ran an oiled leather along the length of Ice, polishing the smoky metal with a dark glow. "I was glad for Bran's sake. You would have been proud of Bran."

"I am always proud of Bran." His wife replied, not unkindly.

"It was the fourth this year." He sighed, "I should just be glad it hasn't been more. Now they know what's coming."

Ned saw dread on her face, as her thoughts drifted to the Others, "We know they are coming and we're making every preparation. The Night's Watch is better equipped and better manned than it has been in years, or so says Ben. And we have our allies beyond the Wall as well. " They both knew it would take a great deal more than that should the Wall fail them, but there was no need to talk of such things now.

"Thank the old gods and new for Harry and his Norfolk for that at least." While Harry Potter might not have been Catelyn's favorite person, she was happy for his aid against the dark things that lurked in the Land of Always Winter.

Ned smiled gently and slid Ice back into its sheath, "You did not come here to tell me of your respect for the Norfolk," That drew a wry smile from her, "I know how little you like this place. What is it, Cat?"

Catelyn took his hand gently, "There was terrible news today, my lord. "I did not wish to trouble you until you had cleansed yourself." She steeled herself and told him bluntly, "I am so sorry, my love. Jon Arryn is dead." The words hit him like a blow to the chest. His eyes found his wife's and he saw only compassion there.

"Is the news certain?"

"It was the king's seal, and the letter is in Robert's hand. I saved it for you. He said Lord Arryn went quickly. The new Grandmaester gave him milk of the poppy. There was little that could be done but to make him comfortable. He didn't linger long in pain."

"That is a small mercy, at least," He said, knowing the grief was plain on his face. "Your sister," He asked, concerned after his wife as well, "And Jon's boy. What of them?"

"They are well and have returned to the Eyrie," Catelyn said. "I wish they would have gone to Riverrun instead. My sister needs the comfort of family and friends.

"Go to her," he urged his wife, "Take the children as well. It could do them good to see some of the world. And that son of hers could use the company. Your sister shouldn't be alone in her grief."

"Would that I could," Catelyn said, "the king is riding to Winterfell… to seek you out. His letter said they would be leaving within a moon. "

"Robert is coming here?" Years ago the news would have brought Ned great joy, and even still he felt the faintest happiness at seeing his foster brother again. But more than that, it filled the pit of his stomach with dread. "Arya will need to be here. And Ben as well." He made no mention of Jon, knowing how his wife would feel on the matter. "Did his message say how many were in his party?" Whatever anger he has felt toward me in these last years because of the Norfolk must have left him with Jon's passing.

She shook her head, "I should think a hundred knights, at the least, with all their retainers. Cersei and the children are coming as well."

"Robert will keep an easy pace for their sakes, which is better for us."

"The queen's brothers are coming as well. " She told him. Fantastic, we'll be surrounded by Lannisters.

"It sounds as though Robert is bringing half his court."

"Where the king goes, the realm follows," she said. Ned squeezed her hand reassuringly, though more for his sake then hers. Damn his royal hide.

Jon trudged through the snow silently as he could. He looked among the trees and along the ground for any sign of life in the area. There was a bow around his shoulders, a quiver of arrows on his back, and a sword on his hip, but he wasn't in the forest to hunt. Behind him, Briar rested her back against an ironwood tree. Her eyes were white, her mind not with her shadowcat but a bird overhead watching out for Arya more than him.

This was the fifth time that the three of them had ventured out into the Haunted Forest together. Arya was beginning to grow impatient with her inability to step into the mind of an animal but Briar only continued to reassure them. "Sometimes it can be easy, other times not."

Dogs were easiest, but Briar didn't want it to be easy. Arya wanted to simply go to the owlery and slip into one of their minds and see it done, but it would be too easy. They were accustomed to humans and it meant they trusted the human enough to let them in without a fight. That explains why not the dogs, I suppose.

For his own part, Jon had managed to reach into the mind of a crow but failed to break it. Suddenly, he felt a tingle in his spine, and couldn't help the feeling that he was being watched. Looking around he saw an eagle staring at him from the bough of an ash tree.

Straightening, Jon stared right at it as he moved closer. He noted the piercing eyes tracked him with surprising intelligence. Jon centered himself, as Briar taught him. But then as he started to reach out with his mind, the bird took to the air. Cursing under his breath, Jon could only shake his head in frustration. Well, onto the next I suppose.

Just then, in the distance, he heard a mighty roar. It was to the south, back where he'd left Briar and Arya. Above him, the birds that had eluded him the last hours soared away. But Jon cared nothing for that. He was already bounding through the trees.

He came to the tree where he'd left Briar. Her shadowcat no longer sat beside her. He saw its paw prints in the snow heading west. He kept running, his heavy breaths misting in the cold air. His legs burned as footfalls crunched the snow beneath him. He didn't know how long he ran for but finally slowed when he found his little sister hiding behind a large ironwood tree looking out into a small clearing. Jon had been in this clearing before, on a hunt with Ygritte.

From the clearing, a cacophony of growls and snapping teeth emanated. Two massive beasts fought within. One was a snow bear that stood more than twice his height. Its white fur stained red from a dozen claw marks. One of its eyes was torn apart, and there was a deep bite mark high on its neck. Its maw dripped wet and red with blood.

Across from the bear was a direwolf he recognized, though it looked worse for wear since last he'd seen it some moons ago. It stood taller than a pony and its gray fur appeared almost black in the places where blood poured from deep gouges. Its right ear was entirely missing, and as it moved back and forth in the clearing with the snow bear, it limped on its front right leg. It appeared as though the two animals were catching their breath for another attack.

Arya sensed his presence then. She turned back to him and gestured with a hand for him to come closer. As the two beasts lunged for each other again, his sister leaned into him to whisper. "The direwolf… She's protecting her pups." She pointed toward a formation of rocks at the edge of the clearing. There Jon could see one little head poking up toward what was happening in the clearing. And listening closely, over all the other noise, the tiny yips of frightened pups could be heard.

There was a great thud then as the two combatants came together again and fell hard into the snow. The weight of them was enough to shake loose the snow from nearby sentinel trees. It fell down onto both his and Arya's backs but they were too focused on the scene before them to pay it any mind.

The direwolf found itself pinned to the ground by one of the snow bear's paws. Blood bubbled up around it as the claws dragged down along the rib cage. There was a low, echoing howl of pain. The sheer size of the bear should have been the end of it but the direwolf didn't give up. Every instinct in its breaking body was to protect its pups.

Sharp teeth sunk deep into the snow bear's wrist forcing it to reel back. Quicker than one would expect given its injuries, the direwolf was back on its feet pressing the snow bear further away, until finally it teetered too far, and dropped hard. A sharp rock beneath the bear pierced deep into its back, pinning it in place.

That's how it finally ended. The snow bear struggling helplessly as the direwolf came around its hulking body with gnashing teeth brought to bear. Those long fangs found the soft tissue of the bear's neck and bit deep and wet. As those teeth pulled, the sound of ripping sinew reached their ears. With a spray of blood and gore, the direwolf ripped apart a chunk of the throat. The snow bear managed to bat the direwolf away with the last of its strength before it twitched in its death throes.

The danger finally passed as far as the mother wolf was concerned. She padded slowly over to where her pups were hidden and fell heavily into the snow, her breathing quick and labored.

She's going to die. The wounds are just too much. The pups would be dead by next morning if they weren't tended to. That eagle will come back and carry them off one by one, or two by two.

Arya made a quick move from behind the tree, but Jon managed to grab her arm. "Careful, little sister, a dying wolf is still dangerous."

"We need to help the pups," she countered, firm in her conviction. Always such a willful thing. He did love that about her.

She pulled free of his hand but heeded his words well. Cautiously this time, she made to approach the direwolf where it lay in the snow. Jon followed behind, taking note of the shadowcat keeping a close eye on them from the tree line on the other side of the clearing.

As Arya came within two meters of the beast, it finally took note of them. It stood shakily, unable to put any weight on its front paw any longer. Despite that, it still managed a deep growl of warning as its hackles rose. Both stopped abruptly and Arya just stared into the piercing yellow eyes that appraised her. The she-wolf barked a loud warning once, and then a second time before suddenly the great beast went silent and still.

Jon cocked his head in confusion but took the opportunity to stand in front of Arya, meaning to put himself between her and the danger. But, he noticed her eyes were only white. Seems she finally did it. He stared at her for scant seconds, a mixture of pride and worry, before Arya's eyes returned to their steel grey.

A bright smile broke across her face. Behind Jon, the she-wolf laid back down in the snow turning slightly on her side as her pups approached to sup on cold milk, their fear having left them with the death of the snow bear. The milk they drank was tinged with the blood that dripped down their mother's coat down to her nipples.

The smile faded from Arya's lips quick as it came. "She's afraid. She knows that she's dying. It was… hard … to get more than that." A wolf was harder than a hound, Briar told them. One could befriend a wolf but never truly tame them as they could a dog.

"I think she understands we'll protect her pups." She looked up at him with pleading eyes. "We will keep them safe, won't we?"

Even if Jon wanted to, he doubted he could deny Arya with that look in her eye. "Of course, we'll take them."

There were five little pups in total, two girls and three boys. Same as the Starks. Jon didn't know if he believed in omens, but it seemed appropriate. Of course, he never included himself in that number. He was the bastard, after all. But that simple truth of his life bothered him less and less with each passing day that he spent amongst the free folk. And so, there was no resentment as he saw the joy in Arya's eyes.

Each of the pups was dark, grey, or black. They were whelped recently. They haven't even opened their eyes yet.

Arya and Jon waited for the pups to have their fill of their mother's milk. They continued to take from her even as she stilled completely and the last of her life left her. We'll come back for the bodies, both hers and the snow bears. He didn't know everything of the Others, but from the stories he'd heard from the free folk, they didn't just raise dead men.

The two gathered up the five pups. Arya took two in her arms and swaddled another in her furs. The grey pup kept popping her head up from inside and licking at his sister's nose. I think she's in love already. The other two Jon carried on one arm, careful not to stir them about too much. The two were making their way back to Briar a short time later. They were just at the edge of the clearing when a noise brought Jon up short.

"Jon?" Arya looked back at him confused

"Can't you hear it?" he asked, only to be met with confusion. He looked around in the snow and brush and saw a little ball of white that wasn't snow. "There."

He went back to the dead she-wolf and then moved by her to the other side of the rocks. There he found a sixth little direwolf. The last pup was an albino, and was the only one with open eyes. They were red, a piercing garnet that reminded him of the tears of the weirwood trees. Arya smiled when she saw that it was another pup.

"He must have crawled away from the others," Jon said. The little pup made no noise, no whining like the others. But he did lick at Jon's hand.

"I think he likes you," Arya pointed out.

Jon couldn't stop the smile that came to his face. "So, he does. This one belongs to me."

The occasional turning of pages and whispered words was the only noise in the library of Last Refuge. Daenerys sat at a table alone. Her violet eyes scanned the words of the tome in front of her. Lives of Four Kings by Maester Kaeth.

Since her stay among the Norfolk had become more secure, the young Targaryen had begun devouring every piece of history she could about her family and the Valyrians that came before. Freed of her brother's subjective views regarding her family, she learned of Targaryens both great and terrible, their ambitions and their delusions. And of my father's terrible madness. If there was one thing that each of the histories she'd found on her father agreed upon, it was that he had earned his moniker. She believed Harry when he said much the same, but seeing it in ink, knowing history would remember it, was another thing entirely.

Elsewhere in the room Marin swatted Nairn on the back of the head, pulling her attention from the book. Daenerys huffed out a little chuckle at that. He is always quite the handful when Marin tries to help them with their numbers. She never took part in the lessons, either to aid the other girl or to learn herself, though she would talk with Marin when she wasn't teaching the children. Daenerys appreciated Marin's deep passion for books and knowledge. She's quite the skilled tutor, and incredibly patient. I doubt I could ever manage it. Gareth said much the same.

Daenerys never learned much of the wildlings growing up in the Free Cities, but what little she'd been told was a far cry from what she had come to know of them. They weren't the raping, raiding, drinkers of blood and eaters of man-flesh that the tales would have her believe. But they aren't so far removed from it either. There is still that dangerous edge to the people here. It was amazing to her just how quickly some things could change under the right circumstances.

There was a scratching of benches as the children were dismissed for the day. They made a great ruckus as they left. Daenerys just shook herself from the distraction and paid them little mind as her eyes returned to the book before her. She succeeded in refocusing until a shadow fell across the pages.

Hiding her frustration, Dany looked to the obstruction to find Arya standing in front of her. It was odd to her that she was actually happy to see the younger girl. Oh, how quickly things can change. She'd lived most her life hating the Starks because of their part in the downfall of the Targaryen dynasty. Yet now, she gladly spent time being dragged around by the adventurous youngest Stark girl.

Arya smiled at her as she struggled with her new direwolf. The little she-wolf had been named Nymeria, for a warrior-queen who reluctantly allied with Prince Garin of Chroyane in his war against the dragons of old Valyria. But then she saved her people from the dragon's fire in 10,000 ships. Or less, depending on which maester you read. She was the woman who united Dorne long before Aegon ever came to the Seven Kingdoms. She was a heroine of Arya's, and Daenerys thought it a fitting name for the little pup. Only three days since her eyes had opened and she'd proved to be willful to say the least.

"Come on, we've both spent enough time in this library," Arya insisted, finally getting Nymeria to submit to being held. The wolf's dark golden eyes were now fixed on Daenerys.

"I am in the middle of something, Arya."

"A book, yes, I see. The book will be there later." She reached across the table to close it, but Daenerys managed to pull it away. Despite the younger girl's quickness, she still had short arms.

"And what is it that you want to do that won't be there later?" Daenerys challenged.

That brought the young Stark up short. But she recovered quickly, "There's a deep chill today. So… I thought we could go to the hot spring." Seeing Daenerys' brow furrow, she elaborated, "The one in the cave at the mine."

Daenerys knew of the hot spring that warmed First Forge but had heard nothing of another at the mine. She did have to concede the point. Despite the sun shining bright in the sky and through the windows of the library, she'd been outside long enough to know that there was a chill even with the magic that made the city more comfortable. I do love a nice bath too. The hotter the better.

Nymeria yipped at her softly. Daenerys huffed out her nose, feigning some irritation, before she shut the book. It only served to bring a triumphant gleam to Arya's eye. She had the good sense not to say anything and push her luck though. Dany left the book on the table, knowing that Marin would leave it there so she could return to it when she could.

Scratching at the pup's neck as she stood next to her young friend, Dany waved a hand toward the door, "Shall we then?"

Arya whooped excitedly before taking off. They ran through Newport largely unnoticed, a number of sailors passed them by as they headed toward the docks. She always liked sailors. Even going so far once as telling her brother that she would have liked to live as one someday the last time they traveled to Braavos. He'd twisted her hair so hard she'd cried for that.

Despite living in the same city as Viserys, she saw him only occasionally and spoke to him not at all. She still loved him, or at least thought that she did. She lamented for the days where he would speak softly to her and tell her stories of all kinds, from the Seven Kingdoms to Valyria and their family. So much of it was a lie, intentional or not. It's hard to remember those days with the same fondness. But she still missed the kind boy that gave way to a bitter young man.

As she followed behind Arya, she caught one of those rare glimpses of her brother. He was standing along one of the roads speaking with the red priestess. Both of the Targaryens were well accustomed to the priests of R'hllor from their time in the Free Cities, Volantis most of all. Though, not all of the followers are quite as devout as that woman. And unlike many that she met in the First Daughter of Valyria, Melisandre bore no flaming tattoo across her face. So, she may not be a slave, but she's still a servant.

She'd talked with the red woman sparingly. Their few conversations usually turned toward dragons and the blood of Old Valyria. Daenerys did ask her once how she managed the cold in nothing but a silken dress. The cold bothers me less than most that have lived in the heat of the south, and I wouldn't think of wearing so little against the cold. Melisandre smiled at her enigmatically and told her: "The fires of the One True God provide me with all the warmth I need."

By the time the pair reached the gateway that led from Newport to the mines, they were both panting from the jog. They received a number of odd looks as they passed through. The area on the other end of the gate was empty when they arrived save for the self-sustained carts that carried off the ore from further into the mine to the west. In the distance, the faint sound of pick-axes meeting stone could be heard.

"Come on." Arya told her for the second time that day. She followed in the opposite direction of the ongoing mining. They came to an old shaft that led off even further east on the lowest level of the older section of the mine. "Dalla was the one who told me about this place. She said they stopped digging in this area after they had a cave-in."

Arya placed Nymeria on the ground then and picked up a torch that was left sitting against a rock. She's clearly been here before. Both Daenerys and the direwolf pup followed the young Stark into the dark shaft.

It was a long walk into the darkness. As they drew closer to their destination, the air grew pleasantly warm and moisture beaded on her brow from the humidity. Finally, they heard the sound of bubbling water. "We're here." There were four pools of hot water three connected and one that sat apart. There was a faint light emanating from each one. The light only just crept to the edges of the cave, leaving the walls largely in shadow.

"Ygritte told me that there's another cavern similar to this not far from the Wall. Free Folk legends say that they're the same caves that Gendel and Gorne used to attack the North three thousand years ago." Daenerys knew that Arya admired the feisty older girl. "Supposedly, when Gendel retreated back to the tunnels, they couldn't find their way back out and their descendants still live there in the dark, always hungry."

"Lovely," Daenerys replied pithily.

To all appearances this was just a singular cave, solitary and peaceful. Certainly not the home of some starving mole-people. "It seems a nice place to come if you want to be alone." Daenerys commented.

Arya had already moved to the edge of one of the pools and begun removing her furs. "It is." She looked at her a bit shy then. "The water helped sooth some of the bruises from the yard. And it was a quiet place to come when I was missing my family."

Not entirely expecting that admission, Daenerys pressed a reassuring hand to Arya's shoulder, "Thank you for bringing me then."

Arya just nodded at her, as she freed herself of the last of her clothing. Growing up in the Free Cities away from the influence of the Faith of the Seven, Daenerys had none of the prudishness that some Westerosi developed. Though not Arya, but then the Starks worship the old gods, not to mention her time with the free folk.

A soft hiss pulled Daenerys attention back to Arya, "Careful, it really is hot." Nymeria yipped protectively at her new friend's discomfort causing both girls to laugh. Arya finally managed to ease herself down into the waters and gave a satisfied hum.

Divested of her clothes, Daenerys dipped her toe into the water and found it pleasantly hot. Not the scalding that I adore though. Arya glanced in her direction as she broke the water. She looked surprised. "Doesn't it bother you?"

"I'm a dragon." Daenerys told her. "Fire can't hurt a dragon. What would make you think some hot water could?"

"Stupid," Arya muttered, though in amusement. Daenerys only laughed in response and splashed a bit of water at the girl. Arya huffed in protest but splashed back quickly. The two just acted like a pair of children for a time with Nymeria at the edge of the pool snapping at any bits of water that came her way.

As they settled down in the pool, Daenerys absently stroked the fur of the little she-wolf as Arya scratched her chin. Nymeria leaned into her master's touch more than Daenerys' though. "She loves you already."

Arya gave a small smile. "Briar says that we have a bond… of some sort. I don't really understand what it means yet… but she said I will with time. It's the same for Jon with Ghost she said. Harry is going to talk with my father about the other pups… They think they might be bonded to my siblings." A small well of jealousy came to Dany's heart then but she stamped it down. It isn't Arya's fault that she has a gift any more than its Harry's or Trystan's or Emer's.

Something caught Nymeria's attention at the far wall of the cave and she pranced off to investigate it. Arya tried to call her back but to no avail. "Stubborn," she muttered irritably under her breath as the faint sound of small claws scratching at the wall reached them.

But Daenerys heard her anyway. "That explains the bond then." That earned her a glare, even if Arya knew she was right.

They fell into a companionable silence for a time, each of them just enjoying the soothing warmth of the hot spring's waters. The only sound was the interment pops of bubbling water and the slightest scratching of a small wolf.

The tranquility of the moment fell apart when a large portion of the wall behind them suddenly broke apart, filling the area with a thick clod of dust and causing both girls to begin coughing hard. After several tense moments, the collapsing cave wall finally stilled. While that was happening, Nymeria had come rushing back to the girls,cowering behind them. The little direwolf was covered in a thick layer of dirt, dust, and debris from the whole ordeal. Arya leapt out of the water and picked up the pup, making sure she was okay. Seeing no injury, Arya put her down and found a towel that she'd clearly left there from one of her previous visits.

As the dust settled, the young Stark brought the torch over to the far wall and found a hole that revealed a new expanse of cave. This cave must have become isolated in the cave-in… or maybe from one long before that.

Arya was already getting herself dried and dressed. She had that excited gleam in her eye, sensing a bit of an adventure approaching. "Let's see where it leads!"

Daenerys moved slower, unsure. "Maybe we shouldn't. There could be anything further in."

"I thought you were a dragon," Arya teased. Daenerys scowled and finished dressing. Arya knew exactly what she needed to say to goad her. By the time Dany finished dressing, Arya had already widened the hole more than enough that the two of them could get through.

The new exit opened up to a larger cavern where there were many bubbling pools. Dany counted fifteen in total. The pair cautiously made their way out into what proved to be a large cave system. Nymeria almost blended into the shadows as she sniffed around a pile of rocks further into the new space. She rejoined them in the torchlight as they left the soft light of the springs.

The cave went down after a few hundred yards and then back up. They were surrounded by craggy stalagmites all around them and stalagmites overhead. As they began to ascend, they could see the faint light of day at what appeared to be the mouth of the cave. "Looks like we found another way out."

Nymeria ran out in front of them as they neared the mouth of the cave. There was a small herd of sea lions barking loudly. The pup tried to respond in kind but didn't have the voice for it yet.

They were careful not to get too close, and were paid little mind by the sea lions as they came to stand at the coast. Dany turned to look back into the cavern as she quietly spoke her thoughts. "That shaft was the furthest east of the whole mine. Clearly, it put it right near the coast."

Arya didn't respond. She was out at the edge of the water looking up. Dany quickly moved over to her and looked upwards as well to see what had caught the younger girl's attention. Above them was a sheer cliff face. "Oh, I can see why no one has noticed this before."

"I was hoping we would find something more exciting than just a cave entrance and some sea lions." Arya mused, ignoring her.

"Like what? Cave-dwelling cannibals who haven't seen the light of day in generations and would happily eat the marrow from your bones?"

Arya looked as though she'd swallowed unpleasant medicine. "Point taken." Looking out to the Shivering Sea, there were hints of orange and red from the late day sun.

"We should get back." Daenerys said, and Arya agreed easily. With what they all knew of the Others, no one wanted to be caught in the dark of night with nothing between them.

They traveled back through the cave toward the mine. When they reached the larger cavern, Nymeria went and found that same pile of rocks she'd been digging at. Arya was beginning to lose patience. "Nymeria, come here!" She commanded stamping her foot at her pup.

As Arya continued toward the exit to the new-found cavern, the torchlight reflected off that pile of rocks and there was a brief glint of silver. "Wait!" Dany took the torch from Arya abruptly. Moving to kneel by the wolf, she held the torch aloft and peered at what the wolf had found.

There was a small depression in the stone of the cave, the edges dark as if scorched by fire. Within this small hollow were what appeared to be several rounded stones. Five there were, about the size of a melon, with grooves and raised plates along their sides... like scales. They were covered with the dust and rubble of who knew how many years since this cavern had been sealed off. Arya appeared and took the torch as Dany wiped it away. The silver that caught her eye came from one the color of a clear day sky. Beside it was one of pure black that seemed to almost take in the light. The third was burnt orange with veins of deep red. The fourth was white with swirls of gold and green. And the last looked like tarnished brass.

She took the silver and blue one in her hands and ran her thumb across its surface. Eyes wide, she just barely managed to whisper out two words that echoed off the walls of the cavern with all the awe, wonder, and surprise she felt. "…Dragon…eggs."

AN: I'm not going to promise that you'll see weekly updates, but I am going to put consistent work into my writing again.

Until next time.

22. Chapter 22

AN: It seems I remembered how to write again. And it took less than half as long this time. Still much longer than I would like though.

I hope you all enjoy the new chapter

It was a clear night, and the moon shone brightly overhead as the pair finally made their way back from the hot springs. Initially, Arya wanted to take them back as quickly as possible, her excitement at their discovery almost palpable. But Dany argued against it, "Few people alive have ever even seen a dragon egg. Just one could sell for a price that would see a man live like a king for years." She looked thoughtfully down at the eggs, "We should be careful."

Arya scrunched up her face, "We're among the Norfolk here. You must have noticed by now that they have no interest in coin."

"Of course, I have," Dany snapped at her, surprising the younger girl, "But you shouldn't assume that none of them have ambitions." Then more gently, "There are plenty of people here now who weren't born and raised beyond the Wall." I shudder to think what Viserys would be willing to do to get his hands on one of these eggs if he knew about them.

Arya frowned, thinking on it for a second before giving a single firm nod, "We'll wait then. But we should take them to Harry."

"Why?" We found them. They belong to us now. And they're dragon eggs, the legacy of old Valyria and my family.

"Can you keep them safe if someone else finds out about them? I'm far better with a blade than you are, and I probably couldn't." Arya retorted, matter-of-factly. "He won't steal them from us, but he will be able to keep them from others. He keeps that Other locked up where only he can enter, after all." Dany really couldn't refute that point.

And so, they were agreed. They left their return until quite late, so that as many people as possible might be asleep. They made their way inconspicuously through First Forge, Nymeria loping along dutifully behind Arya. They split the eggs between them to carry them; two by Arya and three by Dany, bundled amongst their furs. No one bothered them, even as they passed a joyous time being had in the Hall, Mance's singing ringing out from the doorway into the street. It was at the gates of the Last Refuge that Arya handed her the other eggs and split off in search of Harry. She was pleased to see that they'd left it late enough that even Marin had left the library for the night.

Dany made her way to an out of the way table off in one of the corners of the library. As she lay the eggs upon the table the lights above illuminated the area for her. There were times where she was caught off guard by the casual magic of this place that Harry built. It really is quite a wonderous thing.

It felt like ages sitting there waiting for Arya's return. Dany's hands found themselves idly wandering over the hidden eggs feeling the slight grooves and indentations without much conscious thought. Even beneath the fur, she thought she could feel a dull warmth in them.

When they finally arrived, Arya looked extremely impatient. But then, they'd agreed to not make it seem to Harry as though there was an emergency. We just needed him to think we needed help. If there was one thing she'd learned about Harry in her time since running into him as a little girl, he couldn't seem to help himself from helping where it was within his ability.

The younger girl was even pulling him along by the hand as they reached her table. Little Nymeria followed behind them, and immediately found herself a comfortable spot beneath the table.

Glancing between her and the bundle sitting on the table, Harry crossed his arms with confusion clear on his face, "Arya tells me that you needed help. But unless you need to be dragged from the library at this hour, I can't see what that would possibly be." He stood on the other side of the table from where she sat, looking imposing.

For a moment she wondered if this was what it felt like to be a daughter being questioned by her father. "No, that's not it at all. I only just returned to the library. Arya and I spent most of our afternoon together elsewhere." This only caused Harry further consternation as his brow furrowed. Not wanting to go into the full explanation of the days events she simply lifted the furs hiding their newfound treasure.

The quick movement unsettled the eggs, each of them rocked upon the table. All except the one of burnished brass. It rolled off the table in the direction of Harry, where it was promptly caught. He stared down at it for a moment, less surprised than she would have expected, before looking between her and Arya. "Ah, so this is what you need my help with then." He rubbed a hand along the surface before setting it down, and quietly muttered, "Well, that's a bit different."

Not quietly enough, however, as Arya questioned, "What's different?"

"It's not the first dragon egg I've ever encountered." He supplied to their genuine surprise, "But that was in another time and much different place." Dany couldn't help but realize how little most people truly knew about him and his past in that moment. He or his children would sometimes let little things slip, but outside of his family no one seemed to have a full understanding of him. He probably likes keeping it that way.

"And how is it different?" Dany questioned; genuinely curious what Harry's experience was with the symbol of her house.

Harry still stared down at the eggs, "Hmm you see, the only real dragon egg I ever encountered came from a breed known as a Norwegian Ridgeback. Their eggs were quite smooth, though I believe other dragon breeds had eggs similar in appearance… The Ukrainian Ironbelly's resembled them, if I remember it correctly." He waved his hand, dismissing that train of thought. "Interesting as that might be, I'm more curious to know how the two of you came into possession of five dragon eggs?"

"By accident," Arya interjected, "in the mines, near the hot spring."

"By accident? Near the hot springs?"

"It's true." Dany defended at his incredulous look. She was not expecting him to let out a full-bellied laugh at her declaration. Both girls could only look at him openmouthed. That certainly wasn't the reaction that I was expecting.

"Gods, that sounds like exactly the sort of ridiculous, incredible thing that might have happened to me when I was your age." He wiped at his eye, getting rid of a tear that had formed there. "From what I know of the history of Essos and Westeros, there are people who would kill for what you've stumbled upon by chance." He sighed I shouldn't be too surprised though, the Valyrians did once come to Hardhome. I suppose one of the dragons nested near the hot springs for a time. Though why the rider didn't take the eggs with them I can't say."

"The Valyrians came to Hardhome?" This was news to her. Dany hadn't been anywhere near the lands-beyond-the-Wall when Newport was built on the remnant of the haunted Hardhome.

Harry nodded, his expression sour, "For slaves." Both girls grimaced at that. Living with Free Folk gave a person a particular respect for freedom.

Silence followed for a moment before Arya spoke up again, "You said people would kill for them." She gestured toward the dragon eggs, "That's… what we're worried about."

"Ah, so that's why it was so important that you come and get me."

Dany nodded seriously. She truly didn't believe that it would be good for anyone if certain people among the Free Folk learned about the presence of eggs. The red priestess has brought dragons up more than once with me. And there's no doubt in my mind, my brother would be willing to do terrible things if it meant he could get them. He would see them as a means to finally get closer to the throne.

Harry looked between the two, eyes narrowed. She couldn't be sure. but she imagined his mind went to the same places that hers did.

"So, you want me to hide them for you." They both smiled at him.

"That's exactly what we want."

"I can do that easily enough and would be happy to do it. It's certainly sensible." Harry assured them. "Though I am curious, what do you want to do with them?"

"Do with them?" Arya said confused, "They're ours but, there hasn't been a dragon born in over a century. They're just our amazing discovery."

Harry didn't look convinced, "I've seen a dragon egg hatch before, though I'd wager the dragons of Valyria take a bit more than a hot fire to see it done."

"If it were that simple there would have been dragons born in the ruins of Summerhall." Dany agreed. She'd read about the tragedy on the day of her eldest brother's birth in the library they were sitting in. The castle's maester wrote a letter before his death, though it was only half-legible and blotted, what little could be made out referenced pyromancers and wildfire. And nothing but dragonfire burns as hot as wildfire.

"Questions for another time, I suppose. It's gotten properly late now." He informed them looking out to the darkness outside the window, the point was only emphasized as they heard the direwolf pup beneath the table give out little yips in her sleep. "Gather your treasures." They did as he told them quickly enough. Arya taking care in waking up Nymeria first though.

"The way I mean to hide them will ensure that no one can simply happen upon them," He informed them as they followed along, "So perhaps one of your quarters would be best, so it's somewhere you can easily retrieve them if you want to."

"Daenerys' is closer." Arya pipped up from her left. So that is where they went, their footsteps the only sound in the fortress. When they arrived at Dany's quarters, she let them into the small, yet comfortable room.

Paying neither of the two girls' attention, Harry removed his wand and pointed it toward the stone floor in the middle of her room. It slid open as easily as the door, forming a cubby in which they placed the eggs. With that done it was sealed and Harry turned to Arya, "Take out your blade and cut your hand. Then run your hand along the stone" The younger girl showed little surprise and no hesitation. A moment later and drops of her blood were dripping onto the ground, "Daenerys, you do the same."

"Why?" Dany couldn't help her curiosity.

"There's power in blood. And by using yours for the spell, not even I will be able to retrieve the eggs without incredible force."

Satisfied, Dany took the blade from Arya. She wasn't quite as quick to the task. She'd never felt the sting of cold steel before and was apprehensive. But still she saw it done with little more than a wince.

Once both girls added their blood to the stone, Harry said an incantation in an inhuman language like nothing she'd ever heard before. The sound of it sent a shiver up her spine. But as she looked on, the stone of her floor drank the blood that they'd offered as though it were water to the roots of a great tree.

With another wave of his wand the gashes on both of their hands healed as though they'd never been there before, "You need only offer a drop of blood, a prick of either of your fingers to retrieve them." Harry and Arya left her for the night quickly after that.

Dany felt her eyes grow tired as the excitement of the day finally wore off in the late hour. When her head found its pillow, it took only minutes for the darkness of sleep and dreams to claim her. And that her dreams were filled with wind in her hair and dragons in the sky.

There was a gentle summer snow dusting the ground the morning when they arrived outside of Winterfell in the same clearing that welcomed Harry and his family to the harvest festival. Whines were quickly followed by growls as the ever-growing direwolves took offense to the sensations. This time it wasn't with Val, Mance and the others that Harry was traveling. No, instead, it was the Starks and their new packmates Some of them of them were being delivered south of the wall for the last time, others were just visiting.

There was a faint shout from the walls as they approached, and a young boy could be seen climbing along one of the towers.

"His mother has told him to not to do that half a hundred times." Jon told him lightly. Harry knew that Ned's bastard son looked forward to seeing his siblings, but there was no love lost between him and the Lady of Winterfell.

"Children often don't do what they're told." Harry chuckled in response, "And some of us did far more dangerous things than just climbing towers." He imagined that Professor McGonagall had more than a few extra silver hairs thanks to his six years at Hogwarts.

"It would help mother's case if he wasn't so damned good at it." Arya piped up from beside him.

"Language." Harry reprimanded her, though half-heartedly at best. He saw the disbelieving look on the young girl's face and added, "Your lady mother will be furious if she hears you speaking like that. You wouldn't want to give her cause to stop you from returning to First Forge." Arya paled at that and straightened.

"It won't happen again."

They walked through the gates of Winterfell with little attention paid to them. Though it was clear that was largely because preparations were being made. This wasn't to say they were completely without greeting.

"Arya! Jon!" The happy shouts of their siblings greeted Harry's two wards. Bran and Sansa, the latter much to Arya's surprise, rushed toward the pair excitedly. Their eldest brother followed behind at a more sedate pace, though no less pleased to see them. It was only Lord Eddard's hostage that appeared apathetic to their entrance.

The younger siblings chattered amongst themselves excitedly, and Sansa squealed in delight when she was presented with the direwolf pups. The six excitable balls of fur were bouncing around playfully with their new humans. It seems that we were right; they do seem to have a bond. Save for Arya and Jon, the pups had little interest in interacting with anyone save for their packmates since they were brought back from the Haunted Forest.

Robb embraced his brother before turning towards Harry, "I imagine you've come to do more than gift us with some pups." He smiled happily, even as he reached down and stroked the grey fur of the largest of the pups. "Come, my father is in the Great Hall with Maester Luwin."

The children and their new pups all followed in Harry's wake, happy to show their father the newest additions to Winterfell. At least I had the good sense to warn him that they were coming.

Ned appeared deep in conversation with Maester Luwin. Deep enough, in fact, that he didn't take notice of their presence until Harry cleared his throat, "I thought a lord would do a better job of greeting his guests."

This finally broke Ned from the conversation, his eyes jumping first to Harry than to the happy faces of his children. He looked at each of the pups in turn, stopping for a moment on little Rickon, barely three name-days old, grasping to its fur. He looked at them all, looking every bit the stern father, "You will feed them yourselves," He informed them without preamble, "I will not have the servants wasting their time with this."

"And you will train them as well," Ned said, "These monsters can rip a man's arm from his body as easily as a dog kills a rat. You understand?"

All the children, even Rickon nodded resolutely. Though that wasn't enough for Ned, he turned to Robb, "And you will see to it that your youngest brother's pup is taken care of, no child his age can properly train a beast like that."

"It will be done, father." Robb responded dutifully.

With that out of the way the elder Stark made his way over to his two newly arrived children. He embraced Arya and lifted her tiny body from the ground, "My little wild wolf has grown so big." He spoke the next quietly, almost to himself, "With every passing year, you look more like Lyanna."

Even willful little Arya couldn't find it in herself to protest her father's affection. Jon looked on almost awkwardly, his father loved him but never so openly as he's just shown to his trueborn children. So, he was surprised when Ned pulled him into a similar embrace, though he was too large to be lifted from the ground. "I have missed you Jon, truly. And look at you, a man grown, same as Robb." It was true, going on fourteen namedays old Jon was nearly at height with their father just as his older half-brother.

"Now run along, the lot of you. There are things that Harry and I need to discuss." With more than a year's worth of stories to tell one another, the children left them quickly enough after that.

"It's hard to believe how much they've grown." Ned said absently.

"Isn't it just," Harry chuckled, "I missed the twins sixth nameday while away in Essos."

"I've done that more than once. They aren't always forgiving of it."

"They were happy enough to see me that it barely crossed their minds after my return."

Ned smiled, "You were lucky then." They both turned to look in the direction of the doorway the children left through at the sound of a surprisingly loud bark. They do have big barks for such young pups. But considering how big they'll grow, I suppose it's no surprise.

Ned sighed, "I don't know if I should thank you or curse you for bringing those wolves south of the Wall."

"With time, those pups will grow to be your children's most loyal and fierce protectors. You said it yourself, they are monsters when fully grown and they're connected in ways that you won't ever truly understand."

"Is that meant to be comforting?"

Harry shrugged, "It should at least make you confident that they'll never do your children any harm." Ned could do nothing but concede the point.

"Come, we'll go to my solar." The pair walked through the ancient fortress.

They reached the solar in short order. As they sat, Ned poured the pair a cup of cider. "This conversation could have been had via the mirrors. But with you coming anyway, I thought it best to do it in person. I doubt you're aware of certain developments south of the Wall."

Harry raised an eyebrow in question, "Our traders haven't been anywhere but Braavos or White Harbor recently. So, some gossip from the capital has certainly missed me." Years now I've been contemplating spies, yet even now I know there are very few among the Free Folk who wish to live in the southern cities.

"It is a recent development." He took a steadying breath, "Jon Arryn is dead."

Harry stared across the table for a long second, "I'm sorry to hear it. He seemed a good man. I imagine you're taking the loss quite hard." He was healthy last I met him. But sickness can take anybody's life quickly. Though I wouldn't put it past any in the capital to have done the deed.

There were very few in the Red Keep that Harry imagined wouldn't have ended up in Slytherin were the sorting hat placed on their heads. For ambition alone, if not for their cunning. And the Lannister's certainly would have looked right at home beside Draco.

"Aye, I fostered in the Vale with Jon from the age of eight. He was like a second father to me, helped me become the man I am today." Ned's voice was thick.

"I lost the closest thing I had to a father-figure when I was fifteen years old," Harry said sympathetically, "His name was Sirius. He was my godfather." The word didn't really mean anything to Ned, but that's what he was, "He wasn't perfect, but he loved me dearly. And he died protecting me."

"Sounds like a good man." Ned said solemnly, and they both raised a glass in silent toast to the fathers they'd lost. "That is not all though, Robert is coming with half his household. They should be leaving within a week. It'll take them some time to come north with such a great number."

"I was under the impression that he was angry with you… something to do with new acquaintances."

"Yes, you've certainly been the greatest contention between us in recent years." Ned looked exasperated, "But he is like a brother to me, and death healed rifts between us before." Harry heard some bits of the circumstances at the end of the Rebellion. Of their falling out at the murder of Rhaegar's family and the shared grief that brought them back together in Lyanna's death.

"A king doesn't travel hundreds of miles north just to share his grief. Especially not with half his household."

"No, Cat and I think much the same." Ned looked very tired in that moment, "It can only mean that he intends to name me Hand of the King."

"And what answer will you give him?" Harry looked to him intently now, his eyes piercing into Ned.

"I… don't know."

"You don't know?" Harry scoffed.

"The decision has troubled me greatly." Ned defended himself.

"Why in the hell should it trouble you?" Harry was teetering on the edge of fury, "It seems quite simple to me. You are the Warden of the North, and the North is facing a great threat. You know exactly what happened on the Frozen Shore. How long until that fight is brought to Winterfell?"

Ned's grey eyes darkened with his mood. "A year. A decade. I could be dead in the ground, one with the old gods by the time the Others come south. It could be never. You and your Norfolk certainly seem capable enough."

"We aren't enough! Not nearly enough!" Harry's voice rose, "If I thought we were, if any of us thought that we were, I wouldn't have spent so much of my time brokering agreements from the Wall to Dorne and across the Narrow Sea."

"Agreements that benefit you whether the Others ever attack or not." Ned countered.

"Benefit us? What trade do we do in the Seven Kingdoms that benefits us? The last time a trade was made by the Norfolk that benefitted us, was over half a decade ago in Braavos." Harry scoffed, "We have food and timber in plenty. Our smiths craft some of the best steel in the world. It's those we trade with that benefit. The North most of all. There is nothing we are not capable of producing ourselves given time and effort. Or do you forget about my magic?"

"I forget nothing!" This was the first time Harry could remember Ned shouting in anger, but it quickly left him as he seemed to deflate, "I forget nothing, but years of companionship aren't washed away because of a few years of contention."

"Brother by choice or not, even you cannot pretend that Robert is a good king." Ned held his gaze for just a second before looking away, "He cares for women, wine, and war. What do you think he will do when he learns that Targaryens still reside with me? Leave it be?"

Ned's mind drifted then, to an old memory, "No, he would raise every banner in the Seven Kingdoms to see their heads adorning the walls of the Red Keep."

"And how could you abide that when you know that Daenerys saved your daughter's life? When you know what was done to Rhaegar's family was wrong?"

Ned looked defeated, as if all the arguments in his own mind had been given voice. And all his excuses were found wanting, "I will make an enemy of Robert twice over, and there is no telling what will come of that."

"True, war is coming one way or another. Do you want to leave your son to be the one to fight it? To contend with your Northern lords alone?"

It was then that Harry could see Ned finally concede, "I will refuse. I belong in the North. Misfortune follows every Stark south."

"Obviously, you know my opinion. But for what it's worth, I think it will be for the best." Harry hesitated, "And there is something else important that I think you should know."

"What?" Ned chuckled, "Whenever you have something important to tell me, it seems to shake my entire world. Though I doubt it could be quite so shocking as the existence of the Others.

Harry smiled brightly, "What can I say? I have a flair for the extraordinary. Hell, I once died but it didn't last." He only smiled wider at the look on Ned's face.

"Of course, you have." Ned replied nonplussed, "Now what else do you need to tell me?"

The smile fell from Harry's face, "Ah yes, you see, the king's children aren't the king's…" he received only a blank look in response, "They're the product of incest between Jaime and Cersei."

"What!?" The look of shock on Ned's face was one Harry had never seen.

He hid a chuckle behind a cough, "You weren't this surprised when I told you the Others really existed. This seems mundane in comparison."

Ned scowled, "Your claims about the Others were so fantastical as to be absurd. You just told me the king is a cuckold and that the queen is committing this treason with her own brother. Incredible as that claim might be, they are very human nature. Which makes them far more believable."

Harry raised his hand in surrender, "Fair enough."

"Where did you learn this? How do I even know it's true?"

"I'm wounded you think I would lie to you about something this serious." But Ned clearly wasn't in the mood for Harry's attempts at humor, "Fine, Grandmaester Pycelle."

"When you killed him."

"Aye, when I killed him. I needed to know what he knew, just to be certain there would be no further threats from the Citadel toward my children after his death. In my perusal of his mind, I learned a few things, though this was certainly the most interesting." The fact it was ripped from the Grandmaester's mind perturbed Ned less than Harry would have thought given their previous conversations.

"I have no love for the Lannisters, but what would you have me do with this information?"

"Whatever you please. With the Grandmaester dead there are only two who know the truth of the royal children." Harry stopped and contemplated, "I suppose I could compel the Lannisters to speak the truth, though there is no guarantee that the spell would work the way I wish. The people of this world have showed a surprising resistance to the mind arts in the past."

The whole episode on the coast near Karhold proved that his magic was not faultless, "There is also the potential for a potion, though it has never been tested. It could even be spread as rumor through every port from White Harbor to Oldtown."

Ned looked thoughtful, "Robert would slaughter them. Start a war in an instant for such a thing."

"A war between the Crown and the Westerlands sounds preferable to a conflict between all of the southern kingdoms and the North." It seemed the pragmatic option.

Harry could see this conversation was taking its toll on his companion, "There is still time to decide. Robert won't arrive for months. I just thought you ought to know, to better plan."

There was a long silence between them then, Ned taking in everything that they discussed. Then Harry watched as Ned straightened, looking resolute, "Should you be agreeable to it, Arya, Jon and Bran will all return with you to First Forge."

That caught Harry by surprise, "Bran?"

"He's nearly eight, the same age as I was when I went to the Vale. He will foster with you for now. Perhaps elsewhere in time. Though truthfully, I just want as much of my family safe away from Winterfell when the King arrives." He shook his head, "Robert's fury can be a thing to behold. And I cannot predict what he will do when I refuse him, much less should I tell him everything else."

"And the rest of your family?"

Ned rubbed at his eyes, "Sansa is betrothed to Trystane Martell, perhaps it's time that she sees where she will spend much of her life. She is a sweet girl, but her dreams are still filled with tourneys, knights, and princes. Perhaps seeing a bit of the world, and the boy she's meant to marry, will change that."

"Rickon is too young to foster yet, and his mother won't be parted from him. But Cat hasn't seen her father in many years, and I'm sure he would be happy to see one of his grandchildren." Harry didn't think this would be the result of their conversation. But then he knows Robert and what he's capable of far better than I do.

"And that leaves Robb?"

"Aye, just Robb…" Ned hesitated, "He will go to Karhold. Rickard has wanted a match between Alys and Robb since they were children, I think it's time I entertain the thought. A northern bride for a northern lord, my father and his maester would have despised the thought." He frowned, "But his southern ambitions did no good for either of my siblings."

"None of your family will be in Winterfell when the King arrives then?" Harry pressed, "That is your decision. Surely the King will be suspicious."

"I don't think he will." Ned said confidently, "With the exception of Rickon, they're all an appropriate age to foster and create connections away from Winterfell. I need only remind him of his time in the Vale. And I certainly don't intend to tell him they've all left only since the news of his journey."

"And the Spider's little birds, they will tell him the truth of it."

Ned nodded his agreement, "It's very possible, but by the time he returns to King's Landing, he will already be furious with me and maybe with others. If Varys learns of this ruse and tells Robert, it will only add fuel to the fire."

"You are set on this, then."

"Are you against it?"

"Not at all, but when we entered this room, you were half-prepared to become Robert's Hand." Harry couldn't help but point it out; even he was pleased with the outcome.

"The North is my home. I am its Lord. It is my duty to protect it and my family." Whatever indecision plagued Ned's mind when they began was gone, "With everything we've discussed, everything you've told me, this is the best way I see that I can do that." Harry could tell that was going to be Ned's final word on the matter.

With a silent agreement, the meeting was over. The two men walked together and came to stand at a balcony overlooking Winterfell's courtyard. They both watched as the younger Starks enjoyed their afternoon. Arya showed Bran and Rickon what she'd learned from Syrio Forel and her many other teachers while beyond the Wall. Robb and Sansa were in deep conversation with Jon, seemingly about the direwolves as Ghost and his two siblings played between them. They were having fun, and the two fathers only looked down happily. There's no telling how long it will last. Let them enjoy it while they can.

The journey took longer than either she or her brother expected. They'd visited at the homes of mainly minor houses or stayed in taverns where they could manage. And we steered well clear of the Twins, thank the Seven. Margaery had no interest in hearing the absurd marriage proposals of Walder Frey for either her brother or her.

They'd traveled from Highgarden on horse, for half the journey at least. They'd taken a ship from Maidenpool to White Harbor. Where we received quite the frosty reception from the Manderlys when we arrived. It was understandable to some extent. They were once lords in the Reach, the most influential. And while it had been the Peakes and Gardeners that exiled them, they had little love for any Reachmen.

They were eight in total; Margaery, Willas, and six of their most skilled household guard. That both her mother and father insisted upon. Their lord father had been confused by their request to travel to the North, just to discuss trade with Lord Stark. It was presented to their father as Willas' idea, and he hadn't seemed amenable to the idea. "It could be done just as easily with a raven." Her father had argued. And he was right of course.

But it seemed to her that Willas and their grandmother planned for his refusal, "Willas is your heir. It would do him good to see more of the kingdom and negotiate with northerners. They are a different sort, Mace."

"And given my injury. I wish to be seen, and not as weak." Margaery almost scoffed. Willas gave little thought to his bad leg.

"And Margaery…"

"Simply wishes to accompany her brother on his travels. You've no need to worry. They will be safe." Truth be told, Margaery didn't think it was her grandmother's best argument. But she had years of experience in brow-beating her son. So, with little extra effort he did eventually concede.

Even now, traveling along the Kingsroad mere miles away from Winterfell, Margaery struggled to fully understand her grandmother's purpose in this journey. Even though she did finally give me a far more reasonable explanation.

Normally, Margaery took her grandmother at her word, but something about Olenna's explanation had struck her as odd. So, she'd done her own investigating and found that the lost revenue to the Reach and its merchants were a mere pittance. And how could it be anything else. Magic or not, a single city cannot out produce the whole of the Reach. Not to mention that her whole life, her grandmother desired to see her crowned queen.

Unfortunately, the knowledge that her grandmother embellished, if not outright lied to her, had not led her to reject the older woman's plan. Instead, it had piqued her interest.

Margaery even confronted her about it, "You don't want me to become the wife of some nobody beyond the Wall."

Olenna snorted, "Of course not."

She only shook her head in surprise, "Why lie to me? When you were trying to convince me to go."

"It made you curious, didn't it? You wouldn't be questioning me now otherwise." Her grandmother reached over and squeezed her hand, "It should also remind you that anyone can lie to you, even those you trust the most."

"So, what is your real purpose in this."

"Tyrion Lannister, Oberyn Martell, and Eddard Stark have all visited the King-Beyond-the-Wall. There is nothing but rumors of their visits. My spies in the capital tell me this Harry Potter, met with the King and his counsel. The nature of that visit has been far harder to find information about though."

Her grandmother looked incredibly irritated. She wasn't a woman accustomed to being uninformed, "I have tried bribing men and women, boys and girls, who might go to these cities. Most refused, they had no interest in the bitter cold of the North. One went… and I never received word. Yet more rumors tell me that not even Varys has managed to get one of his little birds among the Norfolk."

"You mean for us to spy then?"

"I wouldn't call it spying." Olenna chuckled as Margaery couldn't resist the urge to roll her eyes, "You would be gathering information. There are no two people I trust more than you and your brother with this. You are both intelligent, observant and it seems it takes exceptional guests to garner his attention."

"But why do you care? And nothing about our merchants either, I'm sure you're aware that half-truth hasn't swayed me either."

Her grandmother smiled, "You looked into it then, good." Margaery just waited expectantly, "He is an unknown player on the board of the great game. A player like that could mean ruin if we don't come to understand some measure of his motivations."

Finally understanding the truth of her grandmother's machinations, Margaery relented and agreed to this journey. She played to my curiosity and my pride. The shiver that ran down her spine as a cool wind cut through the trees of Wolfswood to the west and bit beneath her furs made her question that decision yet again. Damn her for it. I could be in the sunny warmth of Highgarden, the aroma of a hundred flowers all around.

Her brother wasn't so conflicted. Willas anticipated their arrival in Winterfell, but he was truly enthused with what waited for them beyond the Wall. He's more interested in learning about the owls the Norfolk breed than anything else. He does so love his own hawks dearly after all.

He was looking around at the great expanse of land that was the North to the east, "It is beautiful in its own way, is it not?"

Margaery didn't see it, though that probably had more to do with her mood than the land itself, "It is barren, brother. Just grey and white save for the forest, and that just looks imposing and impenetrable."

"Exactly, it's imposing. All hard rocks and rolling hills, and the vastest forest in all of Westeros. It is a harsh beauty, but beauty nonetheless." He looked at her then, a slight smile upon his face. She didn't like it.

"You and the Starks can have it, and I will take the beauty of Highgarden and the Reach." She was tired and snippy. She liked riding well enough but, had never done it for so long on so many consecutive days. Better I take it out on Willas than Lord Stark and his family. It would do her no good to be seen as discourteous, even in Winterfell. Though maybe theses northerners would appreciate a bit of bite. Harsh lands make for harsh people after all.

"We need to get you a warm meal and soft bed." He teased her. And the scowl she gave in return only made him chuckle.

They crested another hill then, and Winterfell in all its might came into view. The ancient castle reflected the land around it to Margaery's mind. Imposing and impenetrable. And maybe it was the idea that she would soon be sat beside a hearth again, but she admitted there was a beauty to it. The great fortress sitting on the edge of the expansive forest behind. The dark leaves of the trees behind made it stand out more.

They rode through the winter town to little attention some twenty minutes later. There was little more than glances and quiet whispers to greet them. It was a nice enough town. It certainly doesn't reek like the hovels of King's Landing. There were rows and rows of neat houses made of strong timber and undressed stone. The streets that ran through it were cobbled, though that looked brand new. There was an inn that they passed, The Smoking Log, wherein they could hear the din of laughter and conversation. And the smell of hot stew. The smell was enough to send her stomach grumbling. Then, just before the southern gate, there was a bustling market square where goods and food were being sold. It was here that they received the most attention. Merchant's seeing their fine cloaks and thinking they might peddle some of their wares.

It was busier than either of them would have imagined. Supposedly, the winter town only swelled to great number during a gathering of the northern lords or when the smallfolk clamored for its safety in the cold of winter. And yet now, in the shadow of Winterfell, it appeared to be at least half occupied.

Winterfell had two massive walls the first standing at least eighty feet high, while the other was even taller, a hundred or more if Margaery were to wager. There were guard turrets along the outer wall and at least thirty watch turrets along the crenelated inner wall. Still one fewer wall than Highgarden. There was a wide moat between the two walls. The great main gates had a gatehouse made of two massive crenelated bulwarks, flanking an arched gate. And finally, there was the drawbridge that opened onto the winter town's market square.

They and their guards crossed the drawbridge and approached the inner gate where they were stopped by a guard.

"What business do you have in Winterfell." Lord Stark wasn't receiving the smallfolk to hear their grievances today, that much was clear.

"I am Lord Willas Tyrell, heir of Highgarden. My father sent me to speak with Lord Stark." The guards above talked quietly before one of them made their way down. They waited and watched as the remaining guard chomped absently on an apple.

It was many minutes later that the gate made a great noise as it opened to reveal Winterfell's courtyard. The stables were to their left as they came into the courtyard. Their mounts were taken from them by a stable hand and given grain and water by the master of horses, Hullen.

They were approached then by a stocky, clean-shaven guard. Not the Lady of Winterfell, or even any of her children as she would have expected. "Come, I'll take you to Lord Stark. Your guards will be shown to rooms." He was blunt. Northerners do seem to like getting to the point.

It was quiet within the walls of Winterfell. And blessedly warmer than without. Thank the gods whoever built this castle, whether it was Brandon the Builder or not, decided to do it above hot springs. For that reason, the quiet surprised her more than the warmth. Only the ting of the blacksmith in the forge and guardsmen training in some further part of the castles complex met her ears. And none of that changed as they made their way toward the lord's solar.

There were five Stark children as far as she knew. And an Iron Islands hostage as well. Five children and a lady mother, and not even one anywhere to be seen or heard. Much less there to greet them. Perhaps they are at their lessons.

That thought rang hollow to Margaery though. She and Willas were still the children of the Lord Paramount of the Reach, they expected to be greeted by at least one of the Starks, whether the lady or the heir they cared not. And yet, it was only this nameless guard to take them before Lord Stark. At least he is kind enough to go slow for Willas' sake.

They were announced at the door by the guard, "Lord Willas and Lady Margaery."

"Thank you, Harwin." Lord Stark looked a proper northerner sitting behind his desk in his solar, reading over some missive. Long-faced, trimmed-bearded, with grey eyes and greying hair. Margaery would call him neither handsome nor ugly.

The older man passed a parchment across the table toward Willas, "I received a raven from your lord father just a week ago informing me of your journey. Had he not told me you were already on your way, probably even near, I would have responded and told him to keep you home." They were expected, at least to some extent, and still that had been their welcome. What is going on?

"Lord Stark…" Willas started, only to be interrupted.

"There is nothing that we need to discuss that couldn't have been done with a raven." Eddard told them both firmly.

"True, my Lord, but that would have been done with my father. As his heir, I wish to take on more responsibility." Margaery found that quite funny. As though Willas isn't already involved in much of the Reach's dealings thanks to grandmother. Her brother was one of very few men their grandmother didn't consider an oaf. "And I admit, I wished to see more of the realm. Since my injury, I've spent more of my life than I would have preferred in the Reach. And opportunities to come to the North are few and far between."

It certainly not the whole truth, but there was more than a nugget of it there in Willas' case. A servant came in then bearing ale, bread, meat, and cheese. The Tyrells both took some small portion of the food and drink.

Eddard softened at Willas' words if only slightly, "True as that might be, you could have picked a better time. You have been on the road, surely you heard Jon Arryn is dead."

They'd heard of the Hand's sudden death. A month later and no other word or rumor of the event had reached them, neither in White Harbor nor on the road. Not that any news could have reached us on the road.

"But something tells me you're not aware of the King's trip."

"He is coming to Winterfell." Margaery finally interjected, sharing a quick look with Willas. That wasn't something they expected, though it wasn't surprising either. Ned Stark is Robert's oldest and greatest friend after all.

"Yes, though he will not be here for some time. Half the court is coming with him, and they only left the capital a week ago. I wouldn't be surprised if they're still in Stokeworth." Eddard tilted his head, "You may even encounter them on your return." Unlikely, we hope to return by ship from the Norfolk. Better for them if they could avoid the King and his retinue. I have no desire to explain our presence this far north, much less even further north. It was hard enough to ingratiate themselves to the royal family after the War, and it was no secret that Robert had no love for the Norfolk. Their spies easily learned that much.

"Perhaps." Willas answered simply, "But we don't intend for Winterfell to be the end of our journey." Margaery wasn't sure why her brother divulged that piece of information. But I suppose Lord Stark would find out one way or another, why hide it from him?

The information did bring some realization to Eddard's eyes, "You wish to visit the cities beyond the Wall then."

"They are intriguing to say the least. Their interactions in the Reach have been reserved to Oldtown, and even those have only been small. Half of what they're capable of sounds like nothing more than sailors' drunken boasts." Clearly there was some magic behind the Norfolk and their leader, but some of the stories they'd heard were completely outlandish. It was that magic that most intrigued Margaery. And I do wonder if finding the truth of it is grandmother's greatest interest.

Willas snorted out a laugh, "But if the North is anything to judge them by, then there is good reason to develop a closer relationship with them."

Ned nodded his head absently, "I can't deny they have been useful." He looked between them, "You two have had a long journey. The North can be a daunting place to travel even for northerners." He gestured toward the door, "Go, rest. We can discuss what business interests you on the morrow."

Her brother turned to the door, but Margaery had something she wished to ask, "Lord Stark, I hoped to meet your lady wife and children yet have seen none of them."

Ned regarded her stonily, "My wife is visiting her family in the Riverlands with our youngest, Rickon. You likely only just missed her on the road."

It wasn't unheard of, her own mother visited the Hightowers in Oldtown with some regularity, "And your other children? I'd be happy for your daughters' company."

"They are away fostering, Lady Margaery." All of them? "All of my children. Should you stop in Karhold you might even meet, Robb. And no doubt, you'll meet some of them when you reach First Forge."

"Well, I look forward to meeting them in future then." He looked away from her then, back to the papers on his desk. She took the dismissal and joined her brother outside the solar. The guard outside escorted them to their rooms.

It was only when they were alone that Margaery voiced her thoughts, "The King is coming north and only one Stark will be here to greet him when he arrives. How curious."

He was running, running as fast as his legs could take him. He could smell her, even as she hid, rushing away in the shadows of the early morning light. His sibling was quick, and quiet but he would catch her. She was quiet, but he was silent. His paws making no sound, no noise escaping from his maw as he found her. Swift and silent he approached, tackling his sister to the ground. Their brother yipped at them from nearby, but only watched.

Jon awoke with a start. He'd been warned this might happen. The wolf dreams. This was the first time. Ghost and his siblings were still young, barely a moon old. He hadn't expected it so soon when they were still developing a bond. I wonder if the others are having them too. The direwolf's thoughts were foreign to him, the instincts primal. He wondered if that would change with time. The three direwolves would chase each other through the streets of First Forge or of Newport, though often it would be just two when he saw them Nymeria and Ghost or Nymeria and Summer.

He rose, relieved himself and washed his face in a small basin of his room. Ten minutes later he was exiting that same room. There waiting across from him was Ygritte, just as she was most mornings of late. She smiled when she saw him. It made him smile back. He always thought her pretty, but especially so when she smiled. "Mornin' Jon Snow, thought I was goin' to have to barge in their and wake you myself."

He looked to the sky, the sun only just then fully crossing the horizon and raised an eyebrow in challenge, "My apologies for my fifteen extra minutes of beauty sleep." She laughed unabashedly. That was unsurprising as everything about her was bold and fierce.

Jarl and Sigorn both kept urging him to steal her. "It's what she wants!" They told him more than once, in a dozen different ways and more often than he cared for. Truthfully though, he found it hard to argue with them. She spent more time with him than any other man. Just two days earlier she'd threatened to slit the throat of a man named Brogg when he touched her without her permission. He'd taken the threat seriously and left her alone since. There were none who knew her who thought she made idle threats, and she was skilled enough to follow through.

"Your pretty enough as it is." She placed a sympathetic hand on his arm, "I thought it was southern ladies that need their beauty sleep. But you sleep later than your lady sister."

Jon snorted, "The sun rises later than Arya most mornings. And don't let her hear you call her a lady. Your shins won't like the repercussions."

"The pair o' you have been here plenty long enough to know better." She sent him a teasing smile, "Unlike you I know some things." When they'd first met that refrain of hers caused him no end of frustration. Now it only sounded endearing coming from her.

The hand on his arm tightened and she pulled him along, "Come, we're going hunting." It was true but they were two entirely different sorts of hunts. She was joining in the hunt for deer as she often did. Why wouldn't she? She's one of the finest archers I've ever seen.

On the other hand, he was joining Karsi and Toregg in their ongoing search for the ice-river clans that had caused them problems. A moon and still no sign of them. Perhaps that simply means they know the caves and roots of their rivers and valley's better than we possibly could. He didn't join up with them every day, but Karsi said it would be good to wet his blade for the first time. So, often as not since their return from Winterfell he found himself trudging through the snow and searching the caves supposedly held by the ice-river clans. Nothing has been found, and that has them more worried than anything.

They were concerned that the Others had added more dead to the army. But there had been no signs of them either. So they continued the search.

When Jon and Ygritte reached the Hall to break their fast, half of those meant to hunt were already gathered. Harry and Karsi were talking among themselves. The pair parted then, Ygritte going to sit with Rowan who would be joining her during her hunt.

Jon went and sat across from Karsi. The two stopped and looked at him as he grabbed some bacon, "Morning." He never would have been so bold to do this to his lord father, but he knew full well by now, this wasn't Winterfell. Lady Catelyn wasn't around the corner waiting to scold him for his inappropriate behavior.

"Morning." Karsi acknowledged him before returning to their conversation, "Only a few more times. We've lost no one else since we've started. We can pull back further from the Frostfangs instead of riskin' it's the Others."

"Good," Harry agreed, "Thirteen died the last time they caught is in a trap. And the longer this goes on the more it feels that is what this is."

"We're have all o' your precautions with us. We're takin' no risks." Karsi assured him.

"Are you going to join us this time?" Jon asked Harry.

"No, I think not. Dagon has some business he wishes to discuss with me that sounded important. And I trust Karsi and Toregg to handle this." Jon was disappointed to hear it. There were those among the Norfolk, mainly Tormund, who told tales wherein Harry had a shocking understanding of the environment around him. Jon imagined it was some magic that might have made the process simpler. Though Harry would know better than me, and I can't imagine he would refuse too help just to spite us.

The ice-river clans lived amongst the valleys and crags of a southern arm of the Milkwater south of the Fist and the Skirling Pass. Or at least they should live here. In their weeks of searching, they'd found naught save for some footprints in the snow that never seemed to lead to the living.

It was past midday now, but the sun that shone clear in the morning was now blotted out by heavy clouds. A gentle snow came down born by light winds. Jon searched with nine others. Though, he only truly knew two of them, the spearwife, Myrtle, gaunt and grey-haired and a man named Leathers, at least forty years of age with sons and grandsons of his own.

The older man was a savage in the yard. Jon could attest to that. He'd had the bruises to prove it, though he'd given as good as he got. They'd beaten each other to exhaustion on more than one occasion. He carried two axes, one hanging on each of his hips. One of them he carried since his youth made of stone sharpened and bound to a shaft of ironwood. The other was gleaming dragonsteel and was the one he used these days. Before I came here, I never would have thought a wildling could be sentimental.

Being tested by the likes of Leathers in the yard had only made him better though. What is it that Syrio keeps telling Arya? Every hurt is a lesson, and every lesson makes you better. Jon could attest to that, as could his brother, Robb. I'd always been the better sword, and my time with the Norfolk only widened the gap. Though Robb had only gotten better with the lance in his absence as well. He'd ended up on his ass in most of their tilts during their visit to Winterfell.

They were running out of nooks, crannies, and caves to search through amongst the jagged rock of the Frostfangs. There's a reason why Karsi is ready to be done with this. It feels like a waste of time at this point.

"You should steal that girl, the one kissed by fire." Leathers told him. Jon fought the urge to groan. If he reacted it would only lead to more of this. So, he didn't dignify it with an answer. Even now I can't be free of this conversation.

That didn't deter the wizened raider though, "One o' my grandsons, Miggs, taken a liking to her. Wants to steal her for himself."

"She'll cut his throat." Jon responded without thinking, drawing a snort from Myrtle to his left.

Leathers laughed, "She might. Probably would even. She wouldn't have to if you just stole her though. Since Harry, no one steals another's woman." The entire concept of stealing a woman had changed greatly in the last decade from what Jon understood. Most make it sound like it's just an end to courting.

"Perhaps 'e prefers boys. 'e is pretty enough. Would explain why 'e keeps waiting." Myrtle was openly laughing at him.

"Miggs will be 'appy to hear it." He shoved at Jon's shoulder good-naturedly. The truth was he liked Ygritte well enough, certainly well enough to 'steal' her. But years ago he'd promised himself he would father no bastards. But there are no bastards among the Free Folk, or they all are. Either way, it's a word that means nothing to them. They care only about what you can do, not who your mother or father was.

That line of conversation blessedly stopped as they came upon another cave, though there was something distinctly different about this one. Strewn about its mouth there were rocks, roots and handfuls of mud as though the entrance had been sealed pnce but recently clawed open. The tunnel of the cave inclined initially before running downward quite steeply and then evening out.

Leathers pulled an axe from his hip and everybody with them followed suit, readying their own weapons. Jon's own dragonsteel blade reflected a faint red. The new pommel, made for him by Falyn, was of a white direwolf with red eyes. Myrtle lit a torch she carried with her for the caves and the ten of them made their way inside.

There was an eeriness to this cave that Jon never felt before. As though something ancient and alive lingered in the deep darkness. "Careful." Leathers warned.

"We should leave." Jon told them. He wasn't craven but this didn't feel right.

"No. We look." But he didn't sound convinced.

Still the group walked deeper into the cave. The torch illuminated the path and the walls of the cave. Roots, as at the mouth, ran down along the cave's walls, like veins. But they were dead, as no trees grew above the entrance. He could not say how long they walked, time felt wrong in this place, but the cave grew wider and taller as they walked. It was when Jon heard rushing water that he saw there were carvings, almost indistinguishable due to their age, in the wall of the cave. Finally, the tunnel opened into a cavern. On the far side of the cavern, some hundred feet in front of them, there was a sheer drop down to the water below.

At the precipice, in the center there was the dead gnarled remnant of a weirwood. At the base of that stump there was a fire and some twenty people gathered around it. They weren't seen and Myrtle extinguished her torch.

"Seems we finally found some cannibals." Myrtle whispered.

"But were we meant to." Jon reasoned, "I would've expected more than twenty of them. We should kill them and leave this place quickly."

"Yes. Eight shields to the front. Two archers behind. They loose while we approach."

It was simple enough. Four of the clansmen were dead before they turned to fight. They looked weak and emaciated. When the stone axes met the shields, they were cut down. Jon's sword bit deep into the shoulder of a big man with sharpened teeth. It cut through furs and bone, breaking the clavicle with a spurt of blood that stained his blade an even deeper red. The man went limp and fell, dead. It was over almost as quickly as it started.

As they piled the bodies into the fire, Jon noticed the other bones near the weirwood. Some were recent, picked clean of meat by gnashing teeth. Had they eaten their own? Leathers saw it too, if the concern on his face was anything to go by. There were older bones as well, much older. They looked like the bones of children huddled and moss-covered. The eyes of the skulls larger than any persons he'd ever met. Then the weirwood itself, even dead, had a face. But it did not appear as though it was carved. Instead, the great tree grew around the face, as though it was a part of it.

Their work done they beat a hasty retreat, only to come up short just before the mouth of the cave. I said we should leave. Some fifty feet from the mouth of the cave east halfway to the river was a throng of blue-eyed dangers. There were hundreds at least. Probably the rest of the river clans.

Leathers grabbed at his furs and pulled a black disk from within. "Touch it. We must go." But the portkey didn't work. And all of them could only look down at it in horror.

Looking out among the thrall, there was one that stood out, sat atop a pale decaying horse. Its face was gaunt, cheeks hollowed out with blue eyes, like sapphire. Its hair was white, and it carried a spear made of unnatural ice. But it lacked the ethereal beauty of the Other he'd seen before. All the same, he caught its eye and it smiled.

AN: I considered explaining some things, especially from the last scene. But I think I'd rather just leave it all up to speculation for now. Love it or hate it, I imagine it'll make for some interesting comments.

To all of my readers who enjoy 'The Last Lion of House Reyne' as well. I still have every intention of continuing that too, hard as that is to believe almost six years later.

Thanks for reading. Until next time.

23. Chapter 23

AN: I doubt anyone was expecting a new chapter this soon, but here it is anyways. Please nobody put the release of my last three chapters on a graph. It would be an exponential decay and I would probably need to post the next chapter in thirty minutes... and that isn't happening haha.

Happy reading.

"They cannot catch you?" Harry and Dagon stood near the docks. The waters of the Shivering Sea batted against the side of Dagon's ship, The Northern Knife.

"It cuts through water easier than one of your blades cuts through flesh," he'd heard Dagon boast to Torwynd in the Hall one night. It was one of the southern and Essosi practices that had been happily adopted by the Norfolk captains. All captains come to love their ships.

It was past midday now. The clouds darkened the sky, and it only grew darker as the sun behind drew closer to the horizon. Harry meant to speak to Dagon sooner, but other matters delayed him every time he tried to make his way to the captain.

"They can't," Dagon agreed. There'd been a problem of late. Seemingly, their ships were being followed. Once, they went as far as Skane. Every captain experienced it at least once, but the pursuing ships could not keep the pace. "But that's only in a straight line. If they catch us unawares, flank us. Who knows what will happen. We try not to be predictable, but…"

Harry nodded. "Has it been the same ship?"

"Not every time but I have seen the same ship more than once. It started before we stopped trading after… the poisoning. Didn't think much of it, but it's persisted."

"Who do you think it is?"

"Pirates, Slavers," he said the word with great disdain. "Once near the Stepstones coming back from Oldtown, I thought it was one of the Ironborn reavers."

"I'm not sure what I can do to help. I can't be on every ship, much less know when this will become a real issue." He understood the concern but there was nothing he could do to solve this problem.

"I don't expect you to. We solved plenty of our own problems before you came," he smirked. "Though they tend to be of a completely different sort these days."

"As I've been told," he said good-naturedly.

"We captains have decided fewer ships will depart at a time. The crew sizes can double. They won't be needed for the sailing of the ship, you know that. But if it comes to a fight, we'll need more people." Dagon thought for a moment. "There is something else that we're considering as well. It would send a message. That's why I thought you should know, you've enough enemies as it is, and this could add to them."

"Well, thank you. I doprefer forewarning if we're going to have new enemies." They laughed. But Dagon stopped abruptly when something behind Harry caught his eye. He turned only to see Osha running through the lane between two storehouses looking frantic.

"Harry! You 'ave to come now!" she grabbed at his arm, pulling him away from the docks.

"What's going on?"

"Karsi sent me t' get you."she said between deep breaths. "It was a trap. The ice-river clans, they're no more'n thrall for the Others now. I don't know any more'n that." Harry's face fell. We prepared for that.

Dagon looked at him wide-eyed, "That does sound like the sort of problem you might be needed to fix."

Osha's news sent him straight into action. He disapparated on the spot, Osha still gripping him tightly, and they appeared on the banks the ice-river clans once called home. "Take me to Karsi." Severely disoriented, she took a moment to compose herself before setting off.

They ran, the cold air burning their lungs as they went. But neither willing to stop until they reached their destination. It must have been half an hour, but in the panic it felt quicker. They came to the crest of one of the Frostfangs' foothills where Karsi and the hunting party waited, looking nervously toward something in the valley. He could guess what it was.

At the base of the next hill to the west, just before the earth climbed ever upward to the heights of the Frostfangs, there was a great mass of the dead. They all formed a half circle around the entrance of a cave though none drew within fifty feet of the mouth itself. He saw no ice spiders, nor any of the Others though it was hard to tell from that distance.

Karsi looked relieved when she saw him, "Thank the gods, you're here. I've no fuckin' idea what to do."

"Who's in the cave?"

"Leathers, Myrtle, Jon, Hallim, Pate, Freyna, Chells, Robin, Erik, and Qorl." Karsi was one of the best of their leaders, she always knew who went where, and made sure they came back alive if it was within her power. "But we're only forty, we must be outnumbered forty to one."

"At least," Harry agreed, though his blitheness didn't please her. "Why have they not used their portkey?"

"Fuck if I know," she sounded as frustrated as he felt. "Taken from them, lost in the cave, or maybe it jus' isn't working. I've no idea if they were chased t' that cave or trapped inside when they were coming out. What I do know is that we need t' get them out."

"Of course, we do, and we need to do it quickly." It would be hard. They were massively outnumbered, but they couldn't wait for reinforcements if the Others were bringing their own. Seems I'm the reinforcements.

"What're you thinkin'?" Karsi questioned. He looked across the valley, one more time.

"There must be a reason they won't go any closer." It made some sense, but Karsi seemed to think differently.

"Or it's as much a trap for us as it was for them."

"Then they'll be under attack as soon as we make our move. They'll have to fight same as we will." She conceded the point. "But it looks to me as if theycan'tgo any closer, not that they won't."

"You think whatever is keeping them out is keeping our people in?" Osha asked.

"I do but it makes only one difference. If their portkey is gone, we need to fight so that they can reach us. If it is being stopped by the same thing that appears to be stopping the thrall, they just need to get far enough away from the cave."

"That's quite a big difference."

He nodded. "Either way, we're going to need to start with a distraction and then we're going to have to be right in the middle. You can form a tight circular shield wall in the middle. It should stop you from being flanked."

"No," Karsi was irritated, "We can just be swarmed."

"I'll be in the middle, that won't be possible. Do you have a better idea?"

"Could you not deal with them all from a distance?" she was afraid, and rightfully so. But Harry didn't believe that he alone would be enough to solve this problem.

"Maybe, they would come after me."

"How many? A hundred at a time? Could you not destroy them as they came?" Karsi questioned, "And then when their numbers are thinned…"

"It's worth a try," Toregg finally spoke up. "Puts us all at less risk if it works." Well, everyone except me, but I've never been one for leading from the back. Still, I don't think it will be that easy.

"No time like the present," he straightened and left without a word. His apparition took him fifty yards from the northern side of the gathered dead. The Elder Wand leapt to his hand, a dim blue light already emanating from the tip. Brandishing it forward, fire poured out in a torrent toward the dead.

The heat around him started melting the snow just in front of him. It was great enough that steam started filling the air.

The flame engulfed twenty of the dead men in a second. It set their furs and flesh alight. It all blackened and burned as they fell to the ground and their true deaths. Even as some of their number fell before them, the dead did not turn. They seemed entirely unperturbed by this change. Another ten succumbed to the fire before Harry understood their apathy. From beneath the snow and slush at his feet, hands gripped for him pulling and tearing at his furs but finding no luck against the basilisk hide onto which it'd been stitched.

Still, their interruption caused the fires to cease. There were three pale riders sat atop decaying horses, only then did they turn toward him. But Harry paid them no mind, as around him bodies rose from the snow. He severed the hands attached to his clothing and apparated away. This time to the southern side of the dead.

The ground beneath Harry solidified in a ring extending out thirty feet with him at its center. But even as that ring formed, there were already dead rising at its edge. But as the corpses made to cross it, the ring's edge went ablaze catching several of the dead. Harry felt like he was back in the cave in his sixth year.

Again, flame erupted from the tip of his wand. And yet more of the dead were caught in the inferno he created. Ten, twenty, thirty, but the thrall of the Others were not inferi. They did not cower away from the fire, instead they threw themselves at it driven by the malevolent will of their creators. Charred corpses passed through and created a defense for the one behind, giving it safe passage through the fire. Or at least safe enough that they did not burn to their second death.

Instead, just their furs caught, and Harry found himself charged by the dead. Only one in five passed through but their onslaught was relentless, without fear or fatigue. And so, by their sheer will he was forced to retreat again.

With a pop he reappeared on the foothill. "It appears that there are more of them beneath the snow." He told the Norfolk casually.

Toregg snorted out a laugh. "We saw." Half of them were just staring at him. Even after years together in the city, many who joined the Norfolk cities later hadn't seen him perform combat magic of any kind.

Harry frowned. "Not a bad idea, but they clearly had plans of their own." It was only getting darker, and the snow was coming down more steadily. It was bordering on the edge of a snowstorm now. And there's no way of knowing if it's natural or if the Others are coming with more.

Karsi noticed it too, "We go with your plan."

"As soon as they're safe, we leave." Harry instructed.

A new portkey was made from a length of rope. It would take all forty of the hunting party into the center of the dead after Harry made his own entrance. Once the attention of the horde was on them, it should give their trapped comrades time and opportunity to join them or make their escape.

Another pop, and another apparition, but this time he found himself in the middle of the dead. They were all around him, close enough that they could have grabbed him, but they didn't react quickly enough. They were thrown away, toppling into one another, in a blink from when he arrived. Seems I finally surprised them. All those bright blue eyes snapped to him as one, even as the ground beneath the area he cleared solidified to stone. I won't risk that there are even more beneath them

All of this happened in just seconds. As it needed to, he'd made a timed portkey for the others, and after its activation he was surrounded by a circular shield wall. Fire erupted in front of them.

There was stillness, brief and palpable. The pale riders screamed, and the dead moved as one. They charged toward the fire and blades with great speed and reckless abandon. Whatever fear the Norfolk felt, they held firm.

From over the top of the shield wall, ten dragon glass spheres were heaved out into the throng of bodies. They traveled a good thirty feet away and exploded. The dead nearest the fire were instantly destroyed, their bodies torn apart from the force, the fire that followed caught even more in its wake.

The stone beneath Harry raised high enough that he could see over the shield wall. All around, the surface of the snow was being broken as even more dead filled the valley. Hundreds more, at least. They could have attacked the hunters at any time, before they even entered that cave. What was it Mance said? "What they really wanted was you." Looks to me like he was right. Harry noticed that no dead rose within the ring that had been formed near the cave.

His analysis of the situation ended abruptly as an ice spear sped toward his head at incredible speed. He shifted to avoid it, but it was close enough that he felt the rush of air as it passed. The spear sailed along toward the cave's entrance where it shattered like glass against some invisible barrier. Another spear shot through the air, this time lower. It passed through the fire unimpeded and slammed into Jarl's shield. It splintered, throwing wooden fragments into the air. Jarl screamed as there was an audible snap, his left arm now mangled and shattered. He fell, unmoving against the raised pillar. Harry expected a third spear, but it never came.

Instead, the dead tried to press that small advantage. They pushed toward the breach in the shield wall, but the gap closed almost as quickly as it formed. Three of the dead made it through the breach. A woman missing its left arm slashed at Karsi's back, but Toregg turned and cut it down, the flames that caught it as it came through the wall did the rest. Osha wasn't as lucky, a child that came through bit deep into her calf. She screamed but didn't let it deter her. Her spear found the thrall's head and went straight through, fire enveloped it. A flick of his wrist and the last of the dead that breached fell.

What they were doing was working. The focus of the dead was entirely upon Harry and those with him, not on the cave or those trapped inside. The bodies were beginning to pile up around the edge of their shield wall. High enough that some of the dead were trying to throw themselves over the top. Harry put a stop to that, banishing the piled thrall away with great enough force it knocked over many of the oncoming attackers.

It was then that Harry saw Leathers and Jon and the others sprinting away from the cave, weapons in hand, dragonglass spheres ready to be tossed into the fray. I don't need you to fight! I need you to leave! He hoped they would try the portkey they already had again but he wasn't that lucky.

They were halfway to joining the battle when Harry apparated to them. They came up short in front of him. He tossed them a length of rope, that was caught by Leathers, "You're leaving!"

"We…" Hallim started.

"Now!" Leathers immediately followed his command, trying to ensure that all the others had the rope in hand. They would be gone in seconds, so Harry paid it no mind, instead meaning to return his focus to the battle being waged. He didn't get the chance. He felt it coming before it arrived and moved to the side, he retained his footing but only just. He just hoped that those behind him would already be gone.

Of course, it couldn't be that simple. Half of them were gone, Myrtle, Hallim, Pate, Qorl, and Jon remained, their grips on the portkey getting knocked free before they could escape. All five of them had been thrown to the snow by the charging horse of one of the riders. The other horsemen were coming, he could sense it. And he imagined that the thrall would be following behind.

Pate died to a sword of crystal-clear ice shoved through the back of his skull from the horseman above. Harry reacted, fire consuming the horse beneath the rider in a second. What he did next came on old instinct. He sent a banishing charm at the rider. He was astonished when it went airborne only to land heavily in the snow. These are not the common thrall of the Others, but they aren't truly one of them either.

But there was no reprieve, the other horsemen arrived in that moment. They slashed at them with icy swords. Harry apparated behind them, his comrades weren't so fortunate. Jon deflected the blow aimed for him, but Myrtle lost her arm up to the elbow from the attack. A spear erupted from Qorl's chest from behind, he dropped dead as the third of the riders charged back toward them.

The Elder Wand was at Harry's throat, and when he spoke his voice rang out all through the valley, "Retreat!" The rest of the hunting party still faced a few of the thrall, but they were no longer the focus of the battle. That was Harry alone.

He watched as the others disappeared from their spot, ten at a time. Only a few more and they're all safe. The thrall sped toward them; their numbers significantly thinned from when they started. A scream from behind pulled Harry's attention away from the advancing dead. There was an icy blade shoved through Jon's left hand. Fighting through that pain, Jon swung his dragonsteel sword and met no resistance. His enemy died in a shower of shattering ice. His blade disappearing along with him.

Jon ignored the pain. He didn't have the time to worry about it. He intercepted another of the pale riders as it tried to make its way toward him. Hallim fought the other, doing his best to protect both himself and Myrtle, though whatever strength he had was failing him. He had his own wound at the shoulder. There was no blood though, the frozen weapons enough to seal the wounds.

More flames erupted between the dead and those fighting nearer the cave. Harry cared little about them at this point, he just needed enough time to get the rest of them out of there. Around him, three conjured bears came from the snow and began attacking the last two pale riders, giving both Jon and Hallim a reprieve. It was enough for Harry to summon the three surviving hunters to him.

The conjurations didn't last though. They barely gave Harry an opportunity. His magic fell apart at the touch of their blades no differently than common steel. Harry gripped Myrtle tightly, and commanded the other two. "Hold tightly!" Jon's good hand wrapped firmly around his elbow, Hallim did the same to his other side.

With a thud, a spear pierced the basilisk hide that covered Harry's leg. It struggled to do it, but four inches of the blade lodged deep in the flesh and muscle of his left thigh. The pain was excruciating, the cold of it burned like frostbite. A grunt of pain was the only sign that he paid his new injury any mind though. With a pop, they disappeared from the spot.

Unfortunately, an unwanted traveler came along as well, its contact with Harry allowing it to pass through the wards. The group of five landed hard upon the ground near the watchtower.

Jon and Myrtle both retched, terribly disoriented. It was the first time that any of them apparated. Even Harry's tenacious foe took a moment to reorient itself, but it didn't last nearly long enough.

His enemy grabbed the spear in his thigh, trying to drive it in even deeper. In that same moment, Hallim pulled against Harry's arm, knocking the Elder Wand from his hand. His blue-eyed assailant shifted its focus immediately, grabbing the wand where it dropped.

Wandlessly, Harry pushed at the horrible thrall. It shot backward with great force into the wall of the watchtower just five yards behind before slumping to the ground. With a pained grunt, Harry pulled the spear from his leg. He tried to summon his wand back, but with inhuman strength, the thrall managed to keep its hold on it. With that failure, he drew his sword and pursued.

Dragonsteel met ice with a loud clang. Behind them, there was a shuffling as Jon rose, sword in hand trying to come to Harry's aid. It was for naught though. The warrior in front of them showed no fear, but did look desperate. With an unearthly, shrill crack, the Elder Wand snapped between white fingers. It didn't even have the time to show any satisfaction at its act before Harry's blade pierced through its chest. It died just as its brethren did on the battlefield earlier.

From the remains of his fallen foe, Harry pulled the remnants of the Elder Wand. He didn't know what to feel in that moment, looking down at his wand, the wand of his headmaster, and all the others that came before them for more than a thousand years. I'll have to make a new one.

The adrenaline of battle seeped from his body. His leg throbbed painfully as he started limping. Another scar for the collection. Jon and Harry helped Hallim and Myrtle up, and they all headed to the watchtower and took the gate back to First Forge. Each of them was worse for wear, but at least alive.

Harry felt a sense of relief as they arrived back home, injured and bruised, Val, Tormund and half a dozen others waited for them. Gilly stood there ready with healing salves. Ygritte and Arya both hurried toward Jon while Karsi, her hair sweat soaked despite the cold, approached him. "We lost four, in the end. Jarl didn't make it." So, four from her group, and two from Leathers'. We lost four to save eight in the end.

Val looked relieved at his appearance, but it was quickly replaced with irritation. Tormund slapped his hand down hard on Harry's shoulder, "You should'a taken more people with you."

"There wasn't time."

Val snorted derisively. "You had time to plan better than you did."

He rubbed at his shoulder, confident that would be another bruise, "Maybe, but I couldn't know that." They both looked like they were ready to continue the conversation but stopped. His exhaustion was enough to convince them to let it go.

"Let's get you healed," she shook her head at him. "Or at least try."

Harry winced as Val applied the healing salve to his thigh. The skin no longer looked frostbitten and was largely healed, but there was a thin scar that wouldn't ever go away. She wasn't gentle about it, still irritated with him for running off without telling anyone. Or planning. Even after all these years, I can't seem to stop my 'saving people thing'. He did try, and sometimes even succeeded but he wasn't going to leave those hunters in danger.

He grabbed her hand before she could pull away, "Thank you, love." She tried to maintain her stony expression, but there was a smile pulling at the edge of her lips. That only caused him to smile widely.

Val shook her head, amused. "You're welcome. And you're lucky I love you."

"I know," he pecked her on the lips. Their attention was pulled to their waddling toddler as Lily came to them with a happy giggle.

Val picked her up, but turned to him. "What will you do today?"

He sighed. "I'm going into the Haunted Forest to find one of the weirwood trees." In the city, he had access to ironwood, ash, fir, chestnut, and pine. But they didn't harvest the timber of weirwoods, so he would need to retrieve it. There were others that he would like to trade for that could potentially be used: willow, yew, spruce. The biggest problem was that not any old twig could become a wand. And there are no bowtruckles hiding in the trees to tell me if they are quality enough for wand wood.

He suspected that the magical quality of weirwood should make it a more suitable material for a new wand, "I need some of the wood. I expect to spend much of the day experimenting." Val hummed. It wasn't widely known that his wand was destroyed, though some people were aware. He could still perform magic, but it wasn't nearly as controlled. And the more intricate magics were beyond him until he made himself a new one.

"And you?"

"I'm going to spend some time in the yard. I have some frustration I need to work off." She smiled cheekily at him. "Then I need to go see Dalla. She wanted to talk."

"Give her my best." With that he stood and gave both Lily and Val a kiss on the cheek, "I'll see you later, love."

It was around midday, the sky calm and clear. There had been a silence around the city for the past two days. Everyone acutely aware of the fact the Others made another overt move against them. Hunters were more cautious than ever, even in the bright light of day when they usually felt safer.

Harry passed the home that Jon used. He hesitated as Ygritte exited looking disheveled and… pleased. She came up short when she saw him, though the smile on her face stayed in place. "Mornin'"

"Afternoon," Harry corrected her. She looked up to the sky, seemingly surprised. "Long morning?"

"And night," Ygritte added.

"Finally got tired of Jon's hesitance then?"

"No."

Harry had a hard time keeping a straight face. He did appreciate the young woman's bluntness. "He took the initiative then."

"He did," she told him, clearly pleased.

Harry laughed at that as the door opened again. Jon joined them on the street, looking between the two of them. "Harry," he greeted, absently flexing his left hand.

"Jon," he greeted the younger man, who blushed slightly at Harry's appraisal. He spared Jon any teasing though, quite sure he would get plenty of it from others at some point. "You both have a great day, or at least what's left of it." Well, I mostly didn't tease at least.

Ygritte was entirely undeterred by it though. "Still plenty o' daylight left, Harry. I've heard you woke plenty late the day after you were stolen by Val."

"True," Harry smiled dreamily at the memory. With that, they parted ways. I suppose near death can spur a person into action. Or maybe Jon's blood was just up after battle. Whatever the case, Jon clearly didn't have the same objections that day that he had three days prior.

Harry walked through the Haunted Forest, surrounded by ironwoods, oaks, and chestnuts, wild white roses growing at the base of the latter. Tyl was his only companion, flying overhead. He'd considered flying himself but the weirwoods were harder to see from above in the great expanses of massive trees.

Shortly, he came to a group of weirwoods, there were three crows among their branches looking down on him intently. There were four weirwoods and he took a bough from each of them. As he touched the last, he saw the briefest glimpse of a place he hadn't visited in years. It appears Brynden would like a word. He tied, shrunk, and pocketed the wood he acquired.

Harry looked around the forest, and hesitated. Val was already frustrated enough with him for running off without a word once in the last week. This should be quicker though and safer. He thought to call down Tyl but he had no parchment, ink, or quill with him. And conjuration is definitely intricate magic. His goal that day was to acquire weirwood samples, it wouldn't hurt to retrieve one more. And I know where I can get one more, might as well stop for a little chat as well.

Apparition was one of the few difficult magics that Harry fully mastered without a wand, so with a pop he found himself standing on clean snow and hastened toward the great weirwood. He entered the cave and found one of the Children waiting for him.

Leaf stood there, expecting him. "He's waiting for you." She walked by his side as he made his way down into the massive cave system.

"Last time I was here, you said there were some sixty of your people still within this hill… yet you're the only one I've met. Do I scare the others?"

"No, but I'm the only one who can speak to you." At his questioning gaze, she explained, "I am the youngest of those who remain, and I alone walked the world of men."

"You did?" Harry asked, surprised. "South of the wall people think of you as nothing more than legends lost to time."

"Even if I was seen, none would have thought me as anything more than a small animal." She explained, "I spent over a hundred years watching, listening and learning."

"And what did you learn?"

"How to speak the common tongue for one." She smiled up at him, "But more than that I learned that men... they are the children."

"Sorry?" They reached Bloodraven's cavern and stood on the far side of the bridge that led to him.

"They lost so much totime. Things both great and small. And for all their books and scrolls, they seem to learn nothing from their own history. So, they stumble through existence blindly, like small children." Leaf explained dispassionately.

"We do our best," Harry said simply.

"Some do. You certainly try to." Harry couldn't tell if that was a backhanded compliment or not. She turned and looked to the last greenseer, "You should speak to him."

Harry turned and made his way across the bridge, Brynden's one red eye found him. "It's been years, hasn't it? And so much has changed."

"What's changed?" Harry asked. He still remembered full well the warnings he'd been given years before. The grey rat, the dragons from the east, the snakes from the south, the stag and the wolf. All of it had implications for Harry and his allies. But it doesn't do to dwell on prophecies and visions. It can be enough to drive anyone mad.

"Everything." Brynden responded, unhelpfully. "You are an instrument of change, in matters both great and small. I told you once that I could see things that might be." Harry remembered. "And since you've come, whole new threads have come into being and many more disappeared altogether."

"For the better, I hope."

"Perhaps… One in particular, I didn't expect," Brynden admitted, and he seemed perturbed.

"Are you going to tell me what it was?" Harry asked, curious. Even if he tells me, it'll probably be another riddle.

Brynden regarded him for a moment, and gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. "It doesn't matter now. It won't ever be, and I won't fret it when there is nothing to be done to change it."

"As far as you can see," Harry retorted. "Which I think you and I can both agree isn't infallible."

"No, not where you're involved."

"So, I take it you didn't bring me here for another warning then." Harry prompted, now truly confused as to what necessitated his presence, "It seems it'd be useless at this point."

"You have little regard for vision and prophecy?" It wasn't an accusation, but he sounded intrigued, "Even when at least some of what I told you came to pass."

"I've been the subject of prophecies in my life before. A Dark Lord murdered my parents because he thought I was the child of a prophecy that predicted his end. So, I know that they're dangerous." Harry conceded, "His fixation and fear of that prophecy led to his own death. So, I took heed of your warnings, but I certainly didn't live my life in fear of every word that came from your mouth."

"And a great deal changed because of it, or maybe not. Perhaps, things would have changed around you regardless."

"I've always had a habit of making trouble." Harry smiled.

"So, it would seem. I'd wager you've caused many people headaches in your years here." Brynden chuckled hollowly, the sound odd from years of disuse, "But you're only half right, I mean to warn you but not of things to come."

"Then what?"

"The trap laid for you by the enemy."

That gained Harry's interest, "You knew of it? And you didn't think to warn me?"

Brynden scowled. "I don't see all that's happening in all places. As you said, I'm not infallible. And there are few ways that I might've warned you anyway, you spent a good deal of your time in the south recently." Harry nodded his acceptance of that explanation, "You're curious, I'm sure, how they managed to counter your magic?"

"Of course, I don't want it to happen again," he could understand his struggles in the Land of Always Winter. We were invaders in a foreign land, essentially their stronghold. It was like trying to assault Hogwarts only worse. But that did nothing to explain what exactly happened in the cave.

"The cave they lured your people to, that they forced the river clans to take refuge in, it was sealed millennia ago. It served as a tomb for some of the Children and one of their greenseers. Before that it was much like this, almost a place of worship to them, and their power lingered there. They perished in the war with the First Men." His red eye fixed on Harry, "The Others didn't stop your magic, the Children did. Just like here, only their magic holds sway in the deep places of the earth. Even your foreign magic cannot overcome it, it would seem."

"So, that's why they couldn't enter either." This would require caution in future. "But how did they know it would work?"

"They probably didn't." Brynden sounded quite certain of that, "But you've captured one of their own and that has surely infuriated them. You're an annoyance, a prick in their side, and I think they're willing to take a chance if it means killing you."

"It's been so long since I had a genocidal maniac fixated on killing me," He snorted out a laugh. "I almost forgot what it feels like."

"They will be relentless," Brynden warned.

"I'm aware, trust me. I have the scar to prove it." He scowled. "And a broken wand for it as well. But they would've been relentless regardless, I don't think they were planning on giving anyone winter flowers and singing songs."

The greenseer ignored his cheek, "I imagine when they realized they wouldn't kill you, they thought to deprive you of your weapon." Brynden narrowed his eyes. "You don't seem overly concerned with it."

Harry frowned, he was furious at having lost his wand but it wasn't something he could change, "It'll be taken care of, there's a reason I was seeking out weirwoods today." Harry looked at the roots around Brynden, "I would take a branch of this one as well, if you and the Children allow it."

"I see no problem with it."

There was silence between them. For a moment, the only sound came from the rushing water far below. Then, a question came to Harry's mind, "The creature that broke my wand. It wasn't one of the Others. It was too human, rode a horse not an ice spider, and it was affected by my magic. But it was far greater than the other dead."

"They aren't dead, but they are thrall." Brynden explained, "Humans corrupted at or near birth by the magic of the Others. You met the father of some of them years ago, when you first arrived here."

"They're Craster's sons?"

"Yes, some of them, children sacrificed to a cold god. Craster wasn't the only one north of the Wall who believed such things. You might consider them the lesser commanders on the battlefield, capable of directing the dead."

"I would've thought I was important enough to demand the presence of one of the Others."

"Or dangerous enough that they decided on caution."

Harry conceded the point. "I'll tell my people to be careful in the future. Especially where caves are involved. I won't let them trap us in the same situation again."

"Wise. Though I doubt that will be the last of their schemes."

"I have no doubt. But I won't be caught in the same trap twice." Harry departed then, glad for the information he received on this little excursion. It'd answered questions that had niggled at the back of his mind in the days since the battle. When he reached the top of the cave Leaf waited for him again. She held a branch of the weirwood tree out to him with her small, clawed hands.

"Decided to eavesdrop?"

"I listened," she corrected. "He wouldn't have kept anything said between you a secret anyway. It's easier to hear it all the first time."

"Next time, just stay. No need to hide."

"I'll consider it. But I'm used to hiding." He accepted the offered branch and walked away from the tree a good twenty yards before disappearing with a pop back to First Forge.

The sea foamed against the sides of the Northern Knife as it cut through the waves. Dagon and his crew were traveling back north from Sunspear and Oldtown before that. The latter was the only city where they made port that he disliked, at least some of the time.

Every Norfolk that stepped foot in the oldest city in Westeros suffered the preaching of overzealous septons and septas about their blasphemy. Most left them alone, but it seemed every time they arrived in Oldtown at least one of the white-robed bastards would recite the Seven-Pointed Star at them or tell the crowd to 'Beware the heathens.' It gave him a headache and made him want to drink. And the readily available Arbor Gold only made the headaches worse.

And then there were the acolytes of the Citadel. Some were interesting enough, but others thought far too highly of themselves because they were making a chain around their necks. The bad sort are the ones that think they know something about life because they've read about it in a book. Dagon could only chuckle in memory of how Gareth used to be the same.

Sunspear was easier. No one cared one wit whether he and his sailors worshipped the gods of the forest or the seven who were one. They only cared about their goods.

They were west of Bloodstone, nearly past the whole of the Stepstones. Sailors shared tales more readily than any other men he'd met and he'd heard more than one about the island to their east.

It served as the seat of a king, or a would-be king anyway. Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince, made a home there when he declared himself the King of the Stepstone and the Narrow Seas. He, along with Corlys Velaryon, conquered all but two of the islands of the Stepstones. But it didn't last. The Triarchy of Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh launched a counterattack led by Racallio Ryndoon. They say Daemon didn't have the patience for defending, much less ruling, his meager holdings.

Racallio was a foul-mouthed, gluttonous drunkard beloved by his men, so beloved that they made him king for a couple years. A pirate-king who people still read poems of and sing songs about over a century later. Kings have gotten less.

But Dagon had more pressing matters to concern himself with than the stories of Bloodstone he'd heard in the ports and taverns of Westeros.

"They're still following," Marra told him. She was a younger girl, no more than four and ten with braided dark hair and small pale green eyes, thin lips, and a crooked nose. There was a scar on her freckled cheek from a brawl with her brothers when she was five. She'd only been on his ship for six months, the callouses on her hand not yet fully developed for sailing. She was a tenacious thing more than a head shorter than him.

"Good." The ship behind started following around the Grey Gallows. It was a galley with blue sails. A new one.

But it didn't change the plan. Normally the pursuing ship would be unable to keep pace with them. They would try fruitlessly, turning round within minutes of the pursuit. But this time was different, they were letting them stay just close enough. They wanted to be followed this time. And they wanted them to think that they could be caught. A storm hit the open waters south of Dorne three days prior. They must think we're hobbled by some damage.

For hours, the ship pursued them along the eastern coast of Westeros. And with each passing hour they let that ship get closer. Good, they're persistent.

They neared the southern side of the island of Tarth, passing a well-hidden alcove within the rocks. Waiting within was another of the Norfolk vessels The Free Daughter. It'd been one of the first ships built by Harry and the shipwrights. The bow of the ship had been reinforced though. Instead of just wood, it was now wrapped in steel and looked intimidating beneath its owl figurehead. They'd never had need of such a thing before. Time to see it work.

"Increase speed. Turn to port." The crew moved to action. And within moments they were pulling away from the other vessel. This movement broke the line of sight between the two ships.

Captained by a man named Krim, the crew atop The Free Daughter moved to action. Their anchor pulled and their sails unfurled within moments. But they didn't move just yet.

"Hard to starboard and come about." The crew moved to his command. But as they came about, they slowed again waiting for the other ship to come into view again.

The wait was brief. It was at that moment The Free Daughter moved, getting up to ramming speed in seconds. The pursuing ship tried to turn but it was much too late. The crash of the two ships reverberated along the sea, and all around the alcove where it happened. It left the enemy vessel quaking, its port hull damaged beyond repair, and the crew of the ship thrown about on its deck. They were taking on water, but they didn't intend just to sink the ship.

The Northern Knife came along the starboard side, "Ropes." They threw grappling hooks that dug deep into the wood of the other vessel. From the hold more men and women than ever would have been needed to sail one of their ships revealed themselves. They'd taken half the amount of goods that they normally would to make room for the extra fighters.

None of his sailors were pirates, and while most had some experience fighting in their old life many were out of practice. So, Dagon brought as many good fighting men as he could, not to mention archers. Even if they aren't used to fighting on sea, it's better than nothing.

Arrows rained down onto the decks of the blue-sailed ship, pained groans and screams the only responses.

The other ship was pulled up by the ropes between both the Norfolk ships. "Planks!" With that they were charging on to the deck of the enemy vessel.

They alighted with steel drawn; cutlasses made for them by the blacksmiths in the last two weeks. He knew well enough from his time with other sailors to know that they were better suited to fighting on deck.

Chaos awaited them. The other crew was in disarray. They'd been so thrilled at the thought of claiming their prize they hadn't considered that it was all a trap.

Dagon parried a blow that came from his left. He didn't have to swing his own blade as Marra came from behind and cut the man in the back of the neck. He slashed his blade at another man to his right, it cut through tanned, wind-burnt skin. The man dropped dead, his blood staining the wood around him as it poured from his body.

The clangor of blades and screams rang along the deck, people on both sides fighting and dying in the skirmish. But the odds were always in their favor, and far more of their enemies died than did Norfolk. Dagon watched as one man jumped overboard, swimming toward the shore of Tarth as fast as he could manage. He wasn't the only one either.

The battle felt longer than it probably was, within minutes they overwhelmed their enemies. The fight left them, and they laid down their arms. Dagon turned to one of them. "Where's your captain?"

The man was tall, skin the shade of teak with black hair and black eyes. His clothing was thread-bare and stained. He spoke the common tongue with an accent Dagon didn't recognize, "Below." He'd never met a Summer Islander but, this damn met the description he'd heard.

Marra scoffed from behind him, "He hid and left you here to fight. Not much of a captain."

Another of the sailors spoke up. He looked odd, different than any man Dagon ever met. He was short and heavy, broad-chested, and broad-shouldered with a sloping brow, and small sunken eyes. What skin was visible was pale, but he could see little of it because of wiry hair. It thickly covered both his arms and chest and could be seen protruding from his pant legs as well, "Not our captain. Our master. Chrogar." This one was Ibbenese.

"We were cargo." A third man interjected, he looked Westerosi, with pale skin, blue eyes, and a scraggly, unkempt beard. He sounded like he was from the Stormlands. "He forced us up from the hold to fight, when he saw that you'd turned to attack. He's below with ten of his men."

"Why fight?"

"Some of us didn't. But some of us can't swim." The Islander pointed overboard where there were still men swimming to the shore. Three he could see were floundering for their lives. Seems they can't swim either and they still risked it.

"In the heat of battle, would you have known the difference?" the Westerosi asked. They wouldn't have, he knew. "When you killed the last of the captain's men, we laid down our arms."

Krim approached him then, "The door t' the hold is barred. Can't ge' through it so far."

"Well, keep trying. I want to have a word with this captain." It took about ten minutes, and in that time the situation on the deck was calm. The surrendered slaves, or at least would-be slaves, caused no trouble. Some even talking amiably with members of his crew.

But others looked anxious. "There are women and children still below." The Ibben informed Dagon.

A light rain started on the deck as the door gave way. They thundered down into the hold but came up short. Along the walls of the ship, women were chained and shackled unable to move more than a foot left or right.

The captain and his men stood in the middle of the room. Of the eleven men arrayed before them, one was quite clearly the captain. The man must have been Tyroshi, garishly dressed in bright red, with jewels and beads tied into his beard. "No closer!" His blade rested against the throat of a young woman. Her head was forced back by the grip on her dirty blonde hair and there were tears in her green eyes.

Each of his other ten men had blades drawn on another prisoner. One of them was a boy of no more than five.

It was enough to make Dagon's blood boil, but he controlled himself. Bastards. I'm going to gut every one of them before the day is over. The Free Folk could be monstrous in their time, Dagon knew it well. They raped and murdered and some of them did worse than that. But not all were bad people and Harry changed much of it. But at their worst, they had no tolerance for slavery.

"You will escort me and my men to the deck. We will take a boat to shore. You will not pursue." The Tyroshi made his demands confidently. Seemingly self-assured that this situation, despite how terrible it looked for him, was going to go his way.

"Will we?" Dagon asked. "I don't think you're in a position to make demands."

"We'll kill them!" the girl whimpered as he pulled harder on her hair.

He didn't want to see any of the women or children dead, but Chrogar didn't need to know that. "Go ahead, kill them. I'm not here for them." He stared him down. "I'm only here for you. You thought you were hunting us today, but we were hunting you."

"Clearly. But what do you want?"

"These past few months, I've grown tired of being pursued. All our captains have. So, I decided to send a message that we aren't going to tolerate it any longer." Dagon smiled, hoping to ease the tension of the situation. "I think we've managed that today. So, perhaps you can leave here with your life, if you tell me what I need to know."

"Excellent!" Chrogar took that news well, "What can I tell you?"

"Why chase us? What do you want?"

The Tyroshi laughed. "Your ships are faster than even the swan ships in a stiff wind. There isn't a slaver alive who wouldn't want one intact. No ship would be safe from us. And it might not have been just one ship, rumor has it the Undying of Qarth are claiming they could recreate your ships given time."

It seemed that when you got the man going, he didn't stop. He loved the sound of his own voice. "And supposedly, there are masters from Volantis to Qarth willing to pay good gold for one of you Norfolk as slaves. I don't see the appeal but…" Dagon could sense the rising anger of the men and women around him, "

Dagon frowned. "So, it's solely greed that has you pestering us."

"Much of what happens in the world is because of greed, my friend," Chrogar was relaxing, as were the men around him. "And hopeless as it seemed, the payoff made it worth trying. I doubt this message you're sending will be enough to stop it either."

"We'll see," Dagon said icily.

"Shall we be done with this then? I'm sure you wish to return home." Chrogar tried persuading him.

"I do. My people will escort you to a boat. But the slaves stay."

"If I leave with my life, I won't lament having lost my cargo or my ship." Some of his men looked less pleased with this decision but they accepted and laid down their arms. The blades of all the sailors moved from the women and children then, some weren't gentle. He could see a line of blood dripping from an older woman's throat.

"You should visit Tyrosh. I hear you Norfolk have never been there. It's a wonderful city." He continued blustering even as they were led through the ship. Dagon resisted the urge to shove his blade through his throat, "You might find me at one of the pleasure houses there, and we'll share a drink."

They came to the deck, a boat waiting to be dropped down into the sea for them. They would never set foot on it though. The men they'd taken as slaves waited for them, weapons in hand again. They died screaming, all Chrogar's charm and bluster did nothing to stop the blades that sunk deep into his chest and throat and face.

When it was done Dagon spoke, "Free the other slaves."

"What will we do with them?" Marra asked him.

"Take them to their homes if they want. If not, we'll see them off somewhere safe."

What took place next took time. They piled the bodies of the dead on the deck. At the helm and mast pole, two owl banners were hung so whoever happened upon the damaged vessel would know whose work it'd been. The damage to the hull was repaired well enough that it could sail.

They sailed south again then, and left the ship filled with the dead on the shores of Bloodstone. Dagon was confident that the wreckage would be found, and that word would spread. Sailors do love to tell stories.

The Wall was every bit as impressive as she imagined. Though not quite as high as the Hightower. Margaery had been within the seat of House Hightower a few times in her life while visiting her mother's family. While not quite as tall, the Wall was astonishing as it ran on for hundreds of miles to the east and west.

She stood at the top, looking out over the great expanse of the Haunted Forest below. Four guards were with her, one to either side and two behind her. They'd arrived at Castle Black earlier that very morning. And they didn't know when exactly they'd carry on further north. They knew there could be risks traveling beyond the Wall, and needed leave from the Lord Commander, which was why Willas had been in conversation with the man since their arrival.

The wind blew and bit deep, through fur and cloth, sending a shiver down her spine. How does anybody live in this place. It's summer and the cold is dreadful. Margaery turned away from the edge of the Wall, her guards following behind her and made her way back to the lift. The great lift lurched its way down to the ground.

There was training going on in the yard, Ser Alliser Thorne oversaw it. But she paid it little mind, instead walking toward the Commander's Tower. It was blessedly warmer within. The castle itself wasn't in disrepair as she'd expected. When they'd visited at Last Hearth, the boisterous Greatjon told them much of the North and even of the Watch. It'd been in decline for years, and while they weren't well garrisoned, and only three of the castles were in use, they were in good condition. That's only because of the Norfolk from what I've been told.

That intrigued her. Margaery's understanding was that the Night's Watch and wildlings had been enemies for thousands of years, but things had clearly changed.

She climbed the stairs of the tower toward the Commander's solar. Her guard opened the door for her. Jeor leaned over his table, looking at her brother intently. "I understand why you're skeptical. I was too. But you'll see for yourself soon enough." His eyes found her at the door, "Lady Margaery, we're just finishing up."

Willas looked contemplative but smiled when he looked to her, "Come Margaery, we'll be leaving for First Forge sooner than expected." She raised one curious eyebrow. There wasn't enough daylight for them to reach the northern city even if they galloped the whole way.

"My steward should have retrieved Benjen by now. He'll be waiting for you at the gates." Mormont dismissed them.

"What's going on?" Margaery asked as they descended the stairs.

"I'm not sure I know, Marg." He looked as confused as she felt. "But Mormont told me traveling, even by horse, from here to First Forge was far too dangerous for southerners unaccustomed to the lands beyond the Wall. I thought for sure he was going to refuse us leave to travel."

"If that's the case we could make our way to Eastwatch and find a ship."

"Apparently it won't be a problem."

They arrived at the gates to find them open. The gates guard the tunnel through the Wall, which was long, twisting and narrow. When they came to the first of three inner gates within the tunnel, they were met by Benjen Stark, he was gaunter than his brother and slightly taller. But she could easily see the resemblance.

"Come." He was succinct. They, along with all their guards, passed beneath a murder hole. Each of the other two inner gates had one of their own as well. Finally, they came to the outer door of the tunnel. Made of solid oak, it was about nine inches thick.

Once on the other side, Benjen stopped and held up a black disc. It had runes etched on its surface. It wasn't overly big, no more than ten inches in diameter, "Place your hands on this, might be a bit difficult. I doubt he made this one with this many people in mind." None of them were sure what he was talking about, but no one questioned him, each finding purchase on the disc.

"This'll be unpleasant, but you'll prefer it to spending hours on horseback in the cold." He did something on the disk that she didn't really follow before she felt a hook behind her navel that pulled. In the next moment they were no longer in the shadow of the Wall. He wasn't lying that was horribly unpleasant.

Both Tyrells and their guards looked around in wide-eyed astonishment. Hundreds of miles in just a moment. They were on the outskirts of what she would consider a good-sized town. Behind her were fields of crops. Of course, she was aware that they somehow cultivated crops in this frozen place. But seeing it was an entirely different thing. Already she could confirm certain things to her grandmother upon her return to Highgarden.

She wouldn't call the place they were walking into a city. It wasn't close in size to any in the south. But its streets are better made than most, and it's much cleaner. The homes were uniform and well built. Somewhere else in the city, there was the ting of blacksmithing that carried to them. It seems a busy place.

It was only as they reached a large building, a townhall of some sort that she realized how much more pleasant the weather seemed in the town. Benjen went inside and bid them wait for him. The Norfolk that passed them paid them little mind, the most they got was an interested glance. A tall man with red hair and a clean-kept beard, paid her more mind than any of the guards. But she was used to the attention of men, she was aware she was considered beautiful and used that fact when necessary.

When Benjen exited the building minutes later, he wasn't alone. A beautiful woman clad all in white with braided blonde hair accompanied him. If Margaery were to guess, she couldn't be older than her mid-twenties.

"More southerners, seems we can't go half a year without one of you showing up at our door lately." This woman had an air of authority about her, "Benjen tells me you're here to see Harry."

"We are." Margaery confirmed.

"I could've guessed that. He always seems to be what people are looking for." She looked both her and her brother up and down, stopping only briefly on Willas' leg, "You're in luck. He's here. Might as well take you now. Your guards can wait inside if they like because you won't need them." The guards looked defiant but calmed with a gesture from Margaery.

The other woman looked to Benjen, "Feel free to go and find your niece and nephews."

With that the First Ranger left them, and they followed in the wake of the woman. Willas spoke up politely, "What's your name, my lady?"

"Val." The now named woman sounded amused. "And no need to call me 'my lady.' I'm not yours, lad." Willas smiled at that as they came to a series of archways, but none of them led into any building. Instead, they were each made of white stone, an odd bluish liquid filled them.

Val stepped through without pause. The same couldn't be said of the Tyrells. Both ambivalent after their previous traveling, Willas stopped and stared after her and didn't make to move until Margaery spoke up, "You first, brother." She winked at him when he shot a scowl her way.

Unlike their arrival in First Forge, there was no unpleasant sensation but when they stepped out, they'd certainly traveled. They were near a massive fortress beside a port. The other of their settlements.

Val must have expected their hesitation, she stood waiting by the archway. "It takes some getting used to," she informed them before she was away again. Looking around, most people were simply going about their day. One young man with a distinctive look did catch her eye. The silver-blonde hair and purple eyes marked him as descended from Valyria, and he wore clothing all in black in red. Surely that isn't the Beggar Prince. Now that would surprise her grandmother when she heard.

They entered the stone fortress and were led past the library to an out of the way room. Within a dark-haired man with startling green eyes stood over a table covered in various hunks of wood, vials, and materials that she didn't recognize. Some of the wood was charred as though it'd been caught in an intense fire. So, this is the Witch-King-Beyond-the-Wall. Margaery thought him handsome and younger in appearance than she'd expected. But then he's capable of great sorcery, and stories say Shiera Seastar kept herself young well past what was natural with sorceries.

Frustrated with whatever he was doing, he threw down a piece of wood. He ran a hand through his hair before his attention turned to them. "Margaery and Willas Tyrell, I'm guessing."

"Yes? And you're Harry Potter." Willas responded uncertain, "We didn't think we were expected."

"Ned told me you were coming," he stood, eyes flitting between them. "But he didn't tell me why. Honestly, I'm used to southerners showing up at our doorstep at this point. It's saved me some trouble having to seek people out at times."

"There are matters that our lord father thinks would be beneficial in discussing between your people and the Reach." Margaery piped in.

"Oh, I'm sure there are." He walked around the table, "And might as well get to it sooner rather than later." She suspected they weren't talking about the same things at this point.

He walked to Val and gave her a kiss. Ah, so she's his woman then. "There's something I think I should show them."

"I'll leave you to it. I have no desire to see it anymore often than necessary." Margaery shared a look with her brother. But they had no opportunity to think on it further as Harry walked briskly out the door, and they followed behind.

Willas struggled to keep the pace and when Harry noticed this, he slowed his pace, "I seem to remember Oberyn Martell mentioned you received that injury in a joust with him."

"I did." Willas confirmed. He warred with himself about what he wanted to say next, but visibly resolved himself, "I admit, interesting as I find you Norfolk, part of my decision to come here was selfish." One thing they'd learned about the Norfolk and particularly the man they were with from the different stories they'd been told was they preferred the straightforward approach. The trio stopped and the siblings watched fascinated as an expanse of wall fell away to reveal a corridor behind.

Getting passed his stunned silence, her brother continued, "I heard tales of what you did for both Shireen Baratheon and Doran Martell… I won't lie and say that in coming here I didn't hope something might be done for me as well." Margaery could only turn sympathetic eyes toward her brother. She knew nothing of this personal motivation for this journey, but it didn't surprise her either.

When they reached the end of the corridor there was no door. Harry turned to look at her brother, appraising his leg. He sounded amused when he spoke, "At this rate, I'll be the personal healer for every noble in the Seven Kingdoms. But all the same, I'll see if there isn't something I can do."

The wall in front of them fell away yet again. And what was inside sent an involuntary chill of fear down her spine. Cold blue eyes stared at them from an inhuman, beautiful face. Something about that gaze pulled all the warmth from her bones despite the pleasantness of the castle. His magic is real. Why wouldn't the Others be too?

AN: So, I wanted to make a quick remark about the situation with the Others. The idea of there being the true Others and the Craster's sons is something I thought of before they ever portrayed it in the show. The design of the White Walkers never had the ethereal, inhuman beauty I imagined from the book description, so I wanted to incorporate that into the story.

With regards to Dagon's scene, I don't pretend to be an expert on naval terms or combat. I wrote that after some research into the terms and then just what felt right in the course of the battle. So, if you are and there are any egregious errors, feel free to let me know.

I'm considering cross posting this to ao3 because I know some people prefer that site. And I also feel that the comment and response system is a little bit better, since you don't have to send a PM to respond, and conversations can be had between reviewers because of it.

Until next time.