Hereweald Stearc: Forman His Naman

by Loki Palmer

What if the Seven Gods of Westeros decided to intervene? HP/HG

"Hereweald Stearc: Forman His Naman"

By Loki Palmer

Author's Note: Harry Potter and all related characters belong to J.K. Rowling. Game of Thrones belongs to Ser George R.R. Martin.

I thought I'd turn this short from my Madhouse Kitchen into its own story. I dedicate it to all my fans, and I hope you will enjoy it!

P.S.,

My condolences to the family of fanfic author MSgt SilverDollar, who passed away June 22, 2015. Why do so many good authors pass away? :( I hope the rest of us can stay strong and write for a long time to come, but, alas, even as they say on Game of Thrones: Valar morghulis.

Chapter 1

Arya looked out towards the Twins and Lord Frey's castle.

"We're so close – I can feel it."

Sandor Clegane nodded. "Aye; we have to cross the bridge to Lord Frey's castle and I can hand you over to your Family. As odd as it may seem for me to say this, young Lady, I am going to miss traveling with you – you have the born heart of a killer." He heard a cold chuckle behind him. "What in the Seven Hells –?"

"You have spoken the truth, Sandor Clegane," said a pale man with black hair. His eyes shone with a dark flame. "Of course, witnessing the death of so many people dear to her have dulled any sense of mercy she might otherwise have towards her enemies, wouldn't you agree? So many people on My list to kill – whenever shall I find the time to kill them all?"

Clegane shivered, but Arya looked Him in the eyes. "How long have You been following us?"

"I have been following you for a long time, Arya. Each night that you have fallen asleep while whispering the names of the people who deserve your wrath, I have listened to you with greatest interest." He looked up. "I will eat My fill this night. You might want to stay back until the carnage is over."

~HEREWEALD STEARC: FORMAN HIS NAMAN~

The doors closed behind Edmure Tully and his bride Roslin. Catelyn Stark then heard the band play a chilling theme, and she recognized it at once. "The Rains of Castamere," she thought. "Robb, we need to get out of here! It's a trap! Gods protect us!"

"Well, Your Grace," said Lord Walder Frey, "I believe I have been remiss in my duties … I have accepted you into my hall, you have eaten of my food, but I forgot to give you and your Queen your gift …"

One of the Frey sons got up from his seat and stabbed Queen Talisa in her womb, but before Robb could move to kill him, a bolt of lightning killed the assassin.

"ENOUGH OF THIS MADNESS!" said the newcomer who had thrown the lightning bolt.

"Who do you think you are?! I am the Lord of the Twins!"

The newcomer's eyes sparked with lightning. "We are the Seven, and I don't think you are one to pull rank on Us, Lord Walder Frey!"

Catelyn's breath hitched; the Seven had heard her prayer!

"May I sit, Lady Stark?" said a woman next to her.

"Go ahead."

"Thank you, dearie, and fret not about your dear son. As for you, Lord Bolton," she said, her fierce gaze burning into him on Catelyn's other side, "you should make up your mind about whom you serve – it will determine whether you live or die!"

Roose Bolton gulped; bringing the Mother's wrath down on him would be a thought most unwise, like facing an angry mother bear.

Lord Frey did not tremble at the stunning revelation. "A man can do as he likes within his own castle, Milord, and His Grace broke an oath he made to me in Your light. Shall I not take vengeance for this?"

"His Grace, Robb Stark, has come under your roof and eaten your food, Lord Frey – and you plan to kill Him and His own, in clear violation of the rules of hospitality?!"

Robb rose to his feet. "Is this true, Lord Frey? You have the boldness to answer my apology with this backstabbing most foul? YOU'VE KILLED MY QUEEN AND MY CHILD!"

Lord Frey shot him an evil grin. "So, what is Your Grace going to do about it – kill me? Most of Your Grace's men are outside, so there are more of my men in here than those who belong to Your Grace."

A wintry chill blew through the room. "Is that so, Lord Frey?" said the pale member of the Seven with a chuckle. "I suggest you look again … but you aren't going to like it ..."

Lord Frey's smug face lost its color. "It can't be – you're dead!"

Behind the Stranger stood an army of dead soldiers. One of the soldiers looked at Robb and Catelyn, whose hearts skipped a beat.

"Father?"

"Ned?"

He smiled at them. "It gives me great pleasure to see you two again, even if it's for a moment."

"Your son has made himself a fine King in the North, Ned," said another beside him.

Robb bowed his head. "Your Grace ..."

"Ah, forget the titles, Your Grace; the dead don't care for them. I was King of the Seven Kingdoms when I was alive, but I no longer hold that title now that I'm dead. So, Lord Stranger, Lord Warrior, tell us: which bodies will feed the crows tonight?"

"Let's start with all the Freys within this castle, excepting Lord Frey. His Grace Lord Stark will take good care of him. After this, the Warrior and Smith will take you outside to protect His Grace's bannermen."

During the short fight within the chamber, the Maiden raised her bow and shot the musicians in the gallery above. Looking at Robb's upturned eyebrow, She said, "It wasn't a question of the music they played, Your Grace – they had crossbows."

~HEREWEALD STEARC: FORMAN HIS NAMAN~

The Smith used his hammer to break open the kennel where the Freys had placed Grey Wind, Robb Stark's direwolf. Nymeria came bounding along, as did the ghost of Lady.

The Warrior raised his sword. "FOR THE KING IN THE NORTH!"

"THE KING IN THE NORTH!" The direwolves howled along with the battle cry of the army as they charged.

It would be a terrible night for the Freys to remember … except there would be no Freys to remember this night, for Robb Stark had executed their Lord …

~HEREWEALD STEARC: FORMAN HIS NAMAN~

"Arya!"

"Mother!" She ran into her arms.

Robb smiled. "House Stark owes you a great debt, Ser Clegane, for your protection of my sister."

"I am no ser, Your Grace; I was Joffrey's bloody Hound until the Battle of the Blackwater, when I told him to go fuck himself."

This brought on a roar of laughter from everyone gathered.

"My Lords, here before you stands the sole person in living memory to insult Joffrey and live to tell the tale!"

"Hear, hear!"

"Well … there was that Imp … but I believe he was shrewder … in truth, he was not so crass in his language as I."

"Aye … perhaps that is so. How would you like to be a knight?"

Amazement shone on his face. "Your Grace?"

"Kneel, Sandor Clegane. This day I, King Robb Stark, the King in the North, charge you in the Name of the Father to be just, in the Name of the Warrior to be courageous, in the Name of the Smith to be strong, in the Name of the Mother to protect the innocent, in the Name of the Crone to be wise, in the Name of the Maiden to rescue those in distress, in the Name of the Stranger to bring death to the guilty: thus I knight you and dub you Ser Sandor Clegane, Knight and Hound of Winterfell. Arise, Ser." He hugged the new knight and patted him on the back. "Welcome to the Wolf Pack."

"Ser Clegane?"

"Yes, little Arya?"

"Now that you are a member of our pack, I have good news: your name is off my list."

"Your list? Oh ..." He remembered the words of that stranger they met; in truth, it was THE Stranger. "Seven hells … Your Grace, your sister is a scary one, she is. She frightens the living daylights out of me."

The Stranger said, "Oh, Arya? I have a present here for you." He threw Polliver down on the ground.

Arya saw her sword Needle and grabbed it from him. "Oh, dear me, Polliver, do you need my help? This is a fine blade you have here … maybe I'll pick my teeth with it …"

With that, she stabbed him in the throat.

Ser Clegane looked at Arya, then at his new lord. Much to a new bout of merry laughter, he said, "I rest my case."

~HEREWEALD STEARC FORMAN HIS NAMAN~

King Jagoff – ahem – Joffrey woke up the next morning to find his mother and Uncle Jaime pinned to the wall. Over their corpses stood a banner, which read:

"BEHOLD YOUR PARENTS – BASTARD KING!"

As anyone caught in such a frightening situation would do, he screamed bloody murder.

~HEREWEALD STEARC: FORMAN HIS NAMAN~

"WHO DID THIS?! MY MOTHER, UNCLE JAIME, SER MERYN, SER BOROS, MY GRANDFATHER TYWIN, SER ILYN PAYNE – THEY ARE ALL DEAD!"

Varys shrugged his shoulders. "I know not, Your Grace, and everything has been going so well. My birds have heard no warning of this attack, but it is most troubling."

Tyrion nodded. "Lord Varys has hit the right word: troubling. Gods know who could be next."

In the air, they heard a chilling tune that any Lannister would recognize, but it had new words:

"So, who are you, the Lion said, that I must bow so low?
Only a beast of a different pelt, it's all the truth I know;
A pelt of cat or a pelt of dog,
Our beasts, they still have teeth,
You must be drunk, have a mind of fog,
To think you could kill Me!
And so He spoke, and so He spoke, that Lord of Casterly;
And now His corpse hangs o'er His hall, for all the world to see;
Yes, now His corpse hangs o'er His hall, for everyone to see!"

Joffrey's face paled. "Uncle, where's Sansa?"

SMACK!

"Does Your Grace think He shall hold her hostage for Your safety? I don't think so!"

"You struck Me! Uncle or no, I will have your head!"

SMACK!

"I regret that someone will have you next on the execution list, nephew, because I am going to miss having you as my personal punching bag." SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Oh, Tyrion, that does look fun," said Sansa behind him. She kicked Joffrey in the crotch and he fell down from the pain.

"Don't stop on our account," said a familiar male voice.

Tyrion spun around and bowed. "Ah, if it isn't the King of the Direwolves himself. Welcome to King's Landing, Your Grace."

Sansa ran into Robb's arms while Joffrey struggled to his feet. "No, I am the king, not this traitor!" His voice was higher than normal.

Arya giggled. "You are the king? Please … it seems to me from your voice, King Jerk, that you lack the proper equipment, or your stones haven't dropped."

"Arya!" said her mother.

"That's the little bitch that beat me up on the kingsroad!" said Joffrey.

"Excuse me a moment, Lady Arya." He turned on his nephew. SMACK! "How many times –" SMACK! "– must I tell you – " SMACK! "– to be polite –" SMACK! "– in the presence of –" SMACK! "– a lady?" SMACK!

"Seven hells, if the Imp keeps this up, I won't have to kill Joffrey," said Robb.

"Should we let him beat Joffrey to death, Robb?"

Robb shrugged.

After Joffrey had gone unconscious, Tyrion turned to look at Arya, his eyes wide with wonder. "This is your sister, Sansa?"

Sansa nodded.

"Gods be good, she is nothing like you. Her mind is quick and sharp as that blade she holds at her hip." He smiled at her. "Lady Arya, I am your brother by law, Lord Tyrion Lannister, and I am glad to make your acquaintance. I think this will be the beginning of a fine friendship; what say you to that?"

"I would like that," she said with a smile.

Catelyn cleared her throat, and as he looked up at her, his smile dropped. "Oh, gods, this is awkward. Lady Stark."

"Lord Tyrion … it seems I owe you an apology. Though you are related to those incestuous siblings, the Kingslayer and the former Queen Regent, you share no part in their crimes. Do you think they wanted to frame you?"

Tyrion shrugged. "It is possible … my Family has tolerated me, but they have not loved me. The gods have judged me innocent of the attack on Bran – in fact, on my way back from the Wall, I stopped by Winterfell and suggested building him a harness so he could at least ride on a horse. As I said to His Grace in Winterfell, I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards and broken things. Did His Grace not tell you?"

Robb hung his head down. "I wanted it to be a surprise for you, Mum."

"If Your Grace had told Lady Stark about the favor I had done Bran, perhaps she would not have arrested me … but we all make mistakes."

Catelyn nodded. "Aye … it seems I misjudged you."

"I assure you, Lady Stark, many have done the same. If I had a gold dragon for every time someone has misjudged me, I would be richer than my late Father."

"Sansa, how has Tyrion treated you as his lady wife?"

"He has been wonderful to me, Mother. He refused a bedding ceremony on my wedding night – threatening Joffrey's manhood in the process –"

"How did he do that?" said Robb.

"Your Grace, I slammed a knife into the table and said he would be fucking his own bride with a wooden cock."

Everyone laughed at that. "Now, Sansa, continue."

"Later, when he noted how nervous I was about the marital act, he said he would not join me in bed until I wanted him to join me. I said, 'What if I never want you to join me'? He grinned, raised his wine goblet to me, and said ..."

"...And now my watch begins," he said with the same grin. "It will please you to know I kept my word."

"Now that you remain as the last of the Lannisters, Lord Tyrion, you will need to reproduce," said Robb. "There's no pressure on you, though. In light of your service to Winterfell, and your kind treatment of Sansa, I declare that you are safe. Besides, My Lord, I will need a clever man to be the Hand of the King, and I can think of nobody else more deserving."

Tyrion bowed. "Your Grace, I accept Your offer. What shall we do with Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella?"

"Tommen and Myrcella are innocent of any crimes, but neither shall hold the Iron Throne, as they are both unworthy of it," said Robb.

Arya's eyes lit up with a dark chill as she raised her hand. "As for what to do with Joffrey, I have an idea."

"Let's hear it, Arya," said Tyrion. Arya leaned in and whispered it in his ear. "Is that so? Remind me never to make you angry."

"What is it?" said Robb. "Is it exile to the Wall?"

Tyrion snorted a laugh. "Exile to the Wall for Joffrey? No, Your Grace, it's something worse than that. Besides, Joffrey would not last one night on the Wall without either freezing or suffering a horrific death at the hands of the Night's Watch. As hilarious as witnessing that would be – and I would pay good money to see it – that wasn't Arya's idea."

"What is it?"

"A trial … by combat."

"If he wins," said Catelyn, "he could go free, just like you did, Lord Tyrion! Are we willing to risk that?"

"No, Lady Stark. My nephew shall sit on the Iron Throne no more. If he wins, we send him to the Wall to live out what few of his days remain to him – but I doubt he will win, not against our champion."

"Who is to be our champion?" said Robb. "Ser Clegane?"

"I would relish the opportunity to chop King Jagoff down to size, but I feel someone else would like this honor."

"I will," said Arya. "I owe it to him for calling me a cunt and a bitch."

Catelyn rolled her eyes. "Are you sure about this? It's dangerous, you know."

"Aye, Lady Stark," said Ser Clegane, "but this wolf pup eats Danger for breakfast and washes it down with a side of Death. Come along, wolf pup, and we'll get you some more training."

"If I may send a friend of mine with you, Ser Clegane, I'm sure the two of you will give her all the training she needs."

The Hound looked at Tyrion. "And who, pray tell, would that be, My Lord Hand?"

"Good morning, Tyrion! What did I miss?"

"Ser Bronn, meet Arya Stark. Arya Stark, this is my best friend, Ser Bronn."

Ser Bronn looked down. "Well, ain't you a short little thing –"

SMACK!

"OW! She packs a wallop, I'll grant her that much."

"Arya, whatever you do, please don't break him. In the meantime, Your Grace, let's toss Joffrey into the Red Keep to await trial."

~HEREWEALD STEARC: FORMAN HIS NAMAN~

Out in the land of Dorne, to the south of King's Landing, a message came by way of raven with a box. Prince Oberyn opened the box, and within was a giant severed head.

"Esta cabeza Me parece familiar," (This head looks familiar to Me), said Prince Doran, the Lord of Sunspear and Oberyn's older brother.

Prince Oberyn opened the note and read it to himself. "Esta es la cabeza de la Montaña," (This is the head of the Mountain), he said. "El Extranjero ha vengado Nuestra hermana para Nosostros." (The Stranger has avenged Our sister for Us.)

"¿Hay algo más en este mensaje?" (Is there anything else in that note?)

Prince Oberyn smirked. "Bueno, muchos Lannisteros han muertos … y un nuevo Rey ha venido al Trono de Fer: El Rey Robb Stark. ¿Iré pagar los respetos y la lealtad de Dorne a Su Merced?" (Well, many Lannisters have died … and a new King has come to the Iron Throne: King Robb Stark. Shall I go to pay Dorne's respects and fealty to His Grace?)

"Por supuesto, Mi hermano. Que los Siete bendigan tu viaje." (Of course, My brother. May the Seven bless your journey.)

~HEREWEALD STEARC: FORMAN HIS NAMAN~

"May the Father grant His Grace a sense of justice, and the Mother grant a merciful heart. May the Smith grant His Grace strength, and the Warrior grant courage. May the Crone grant His Grace wisdom, and the Maiden grant a heart to protect the innocent. Last but not least, may the Stranger grant His Grace a long life. All hail King Robb Stark, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Protector of the Realm! Long live the King!"

"LONG LIVE THE KING!"

~HEREWEALD STEARC: FORMAN HIS NAMAN~

Out at Dragonstone, there came a knocking to the royal chambers.

"Enter," said Stannis Baratheon. "What news, Ser Davos?"

"A message all the way from King's Landing, Your Grace. Many of the Lannisters have died, and Joffrey has lost the Iron Throne to Robb Stark."

"Now would be a perfect time to strike if I had the ships."

"That will take some time to build up a second fleet, Your Grace, not to mention the manpower for that fleet – wait, what is that noise?"

One fierce burst of dragon's fire later from three dragons saw the last remnant of the Baratheon dynasty burn up in ashes.

~HEREWEALD STEARC: FORMAN HIS NAMAN~

Tyrion was preparing himself for bed when he heard, "Tyrion?"

"Yes, Sansa?"

"Now that my brother has the throne, and Joffrey is as good as dead after Arya finishes him, I was thinking … would you like to join me in my bed?"

"Are you sure? Just because we may sleep in the same bed doesn't mean we have to shag. We could cuddle, if you prefer. That's up to you."

"I'm sure."

Some hours later, Tyrion sprang out of bed and ran to his desk. "I have a brilliant idea for a song," he said, grabbing a quill, ink, and parchment. He wrote for a time. "Would you like to read it?"

She held her hands out for the parchment, and Tyrion handed it to her. She laughed as she read it and he grinned.

~HEREWEALD STEARC: FORMAN HIS NAMAN~

"All rise for His Grace, King Robb of House Stark, the First of his Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Protector of the Realm," said the royal herald. "With His Grace is the Hand of the King, Lord Tyrion of House Lannister."

"Bring in the former King," said King Robb.

"Now entering is Joffrey, Bastard of House Lannister, former Lord of the Seven Kingdoms," said the royal herald. Joffrey shot him a sullen glare, but said nothing.

King Robb said, "Joffrey, in your former role as King, you stand accused of crimes against House Stark and against your own people. Among such crimes are the decapitation of My Father, Lord Eddard Stark, the repeated humiliation and beating of My sister Sansa, and treating the peasants as if they are beneath you. For the sole crime of My Father's head, I would claim your head as well, but I have decided to be merciful and to sentence you instead to a trial by combat. If you win, I will send you to the Wall to live whatever few miserable days remain to you. If you lose, you're dead."

Joffrey nodded; the time in the dungeons of the Red Keep had humbled him. "That sounds fair. Who is to be Your Grace's champion, if Your Grace has decided not to face me?"

"You will be facing me," said a female voice.

"Now entering is His Grace's champion, Lady Arya of House Stark."

The audience would have laughed at this absurdity – a small girl like her taking on a fierce fighter like Joffrey – but one look at the chill in Arya's eyes silenced them.

Tyrion stood. "Your Grace, My Lords and Ladies, and others assembled here: before we witness Joffrey's trial by combat, I thought we might enjoy some merriment. So, without further ado: let's sing!"

The music started [tune: "The Phony King of England" from "Robin Hood"] and Tyrion sang:

"Oh, men will sing of the Direwolf King a long, long time from now,
And how He brought King's Justice down upon Joff's prideful brow!
King Joffrey, through Ser Ilyn Payne, He called for Ned Stark's head,
When the peasants threw cow shit at Him, He wanted the peasants dead!
With a prideful head that's fit to burst,
We're sure to call Him King Joff the Worst:
King Joffrey, the Jagoff of King's Landing!"

The crowd sang back:

"King Joffrey, the Jagoff of King's Landing!"

Tyrion sang again:

"He sits alone on the Iron Throne claiming He's the rightful King,
And not the Bastard of His Mom and Uncle Ser Jaime!"

Sansa sang:

"He shits in fear, so I do hear, when things don't go His way,
And then He whines for Mom … throws a temper tantrum …
You see, His plans have gone astray …"

Tyrion sang:

"While He knows Himself as Joff the First,
The Gods, They will call Him Joff the Cursed,
A pox on the Bastard of King's Landing!"

The crowd sang back:

"A pox on the Bastard of King's Landing!"

During the musical interlude, Tyrion danced with Sansa, then Arya took a turn dancing with him, laughing all the while. He then sang:

"Now the King Jerk has fallen down off of the Iron Throne,
King Robb, we sing, Your justice bring, claim the Kingdoms for Your own!
Joff's tyranny is gone, we see, thanks to the Direwolf pack,
We cannot wait to see the match, and see the proud bitch crack!
Long before he'll know what to do …
Little Arya will beat him black and blue …
The twitchy, bitchy Joffrey of King's Landing!"

By the end of the song, Joffrey's red face was huffing and puffing.

"Are you ready to die?" said Arya.

"I'm ready to make good on my promise to gut you, little bitch."

"BEGIN!"

Joffrey took a wild swing, but Arya dodged it. "You are an angry little beast, do you know that?" Another wild swing missed her. "Your anger clouds your mind from connecting your swings. If I may be so curious, how long has it been since your last shag?" A third swing missed. "Oh, a third swing and a miss, Jagoff; you're terrible at this! My turn …"

She swung at his crotch, but he parried it away. "Good; at least you know what to protect." She tried a couple more times, but he parried both times. "You're better at defense than at offense, but I wonder: you say you like delivering pain, right? How about receiving it?" She swung and chopped off an ear. He fell to the ground in pain.

"Do you yield, Joffrey? Can you get up?"

He swung at her legs, but she jumped. Before he could swing again, she stamped on his hand, breaking it as he screamed and dropped his sword.

"Enough," said King Robb. "Joffrey, the Gods have found you guilty of your crimes. May They have mercy on your soul."

Ser Clegane and Ser Bronn picked Joffrey up and deposited his head on the chopping block while King Robb withdrew the Stark greatsword Ice from its scabbard. "I, King Robb, First of His Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Protector of the Realm, sentence you, Joffrey of House Lannister, to die. Do you have any last words?"

"You will pay. You will all pay!"

To a great cheer from the crowd, Joffrey lost his head.

~HEREWEALD STEARC: FORMAN HIS NAMAN~

Many years into the future, a young man was sitting in his room when he heard the whispers of voices.

"Any idea where He could be in this house, Your Grace?" said a male voice.

"Your Grace?" he thought. "What would a member of the royal family be doing here?"

Harry's eyes widened as he heard Hermione's voice say, "I do remember Ron telling me about locks and a cat-flap on his door … ah, this must be it. Go ahead, Ser Wulfstan."

Ser Wulfstan knocked. "I recommend that Your Grace stand clear of the doorway – we're coming in. Ān, tweġen, þrīe!"

A swing of the sword and a shoulder push later, Harry's bedroom door was open. Hermione ran through the open doorway and hugged Harry for all he was worth.

"Hermione, while I have no complaints that you've come to visit – what are you doing here? And who are these two men with you?"

The two men entered and kneeled. "Ser Wulfstan and Ser Wulfsiġe of the Kingsguard, if it please Your Grace," they said.

"That's the third time I've heard that address this whole night. Hermione, would you care to give me an explanation?"

She shook her head. "As much as I may like to explain, Harry, it would be best to wait until we are somewhere safer."

"We are sworn to protect you –"

"– The both of you."

"– We shall explain more –"

" – When we've arrived –"

"– In King's Landing," said Ser Wulfstan and Ser Wulfsiġe.

"Hermione, do these remind you of any Terrible Twins we know?"

She grinned. "They are not Fred and George, Harry – though the similarity is uncanny."

"They are at King's Landing, Your Grace – along with Maester Remus," said Ser Wulfstan.

"We'll explain later," said Ser Wulfsiġe.

"One question," said Harry. "What is a Maester?"

"A Maester, Your Grace," said Ser Wulfstan, "is a term for a scholar who has studied at the Citadel and has decided to devote his services – medical expertise, teaching, and others – to the Crown, to one of the Great Houses, or even to the Night's Watch."

Harry nodded. "That makes sense. How about we go on our way?"

The group joined hands and disappeared …

~HEREWEALD STEARC: FORMAN HIS NAMAN~

It was night when they arrived, so the knights led them up to the royal bedchamber and wished them a good night.

He woke up the next morning to see Remus Lupin looking at him. "Had a nice rest, Your Grace?"

Harry grinned. "It's the best sleep I've had in ages, thank you … Remus … that feels odd calling you that, you know?"

"That's fine, Your Grace."

"There it is again – that royal title. Since when did I become a king?"

"Your Grace's ancestor was a king … and I don't mean Godric Gryffindor, who was a king, but someone more ancient than that."

"Who was it?"

"King Robb, First of His Name, of House Stark of Winterfell."

He could see the shock in the young king's eyes. "Hwæt in þāra Seofon Hellum?!" (What in the Seven Hells?!)

"I must say, Your Grace's Westerosi is exemplary, if I may say so."

Harry felt Hermione rubbing his shoulders. "Is My Lord upset?"

"No, Hermione, I'm just shocked. Þā Seofon blēdsien þē; handa þīn felaþ gōdan on bæce mīn …" (The Seven bless you; your hands feel good on my back …)

"Would Your Grace care to know Hermione's ancestry?"

"Go ahead; enlighten me."

"Her Grace's ancestors of the same time period were Tyrion Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, and his wife Sansa, one of King Robb's sisters. There are many generations between their generation and ours, Your Grace, so there are no needs to worry about anything like the accursed act of …" he coughed, "… incest."

"Wē þancien þā Seofon. Ān heortebeatan … hwā sind þā Seofon?" (May we thank the Seven. One heartbeat … who are the Seven?)

"The Seven are the deities of Westeros, Your Grace's kingdom. They are the Father, the Mother, the Warrior, the Crone, the Smith, the Maiden, and, last but not least – the Stranger. It was They who stopped the massacre of the Starks at the Twins and ensured Robb's victory over the Lannisters. Recognizing the kindness that Tyrion showed to Bran – one of His Grace's two younger brothers – and to Sansa, the King repaid the kindness by sparing the dwarf's life and naming him as Hand of the King … a Prime Minister of the Kingdom, if you will. In addition, Your Grace has the Small Council to lighten the load."

"Out of curiosity, who was Robb Stark's queen?"

"After the sad death of His first Queen, Queen Talisa of Volantis, King Robb married Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons, in gratitude for her dragons helping the Night's Watch to win the War of the White Walkers."

"Who were the White Walkers, and who is the Night's Watch?"

"They were monstrous creatures who would invade from the cold North. Their last invasion was a long, long time ago. The Night's Watch is a celibate fraternity of men dedicated to one sole task: to guard the realms of men. Their service is for life from the moment they take their holy vow. They serve at the Wall, at the northern boundary of the Kingdom."

"This is a lot to understand."

"I know it is, Your Grace, but be of good cheer. You will understand in time."

~HEREWEALD STEARC: FORMAN HIS NAMAN~

"May the Seven bless Harry Potter of House Stark, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, and Protector of the Realm and Her Grace, Queen Hermione Granger. Long may they reign!"

The crowd cheered.

Author's Note: Ah, a good start to another story, I hope. There are a number of interesting coincidences I've seen between Game of Thrones and other series – yes, I know "Nymphadora Tonks" plays a role in Game of Thrones – but, among such coincidences, I think it's interesting that Lord Petyr "Littlefinger" Baelish and Remus Lupin look very similar to each other. Read and review!

Smiles and laughter,

Loki Palmer