A Song of Life & Death
Disclaimer : I don't own anything. Only gain I gain is praise.
Chapter 2 : The Heir
James Charles Peverell was the most powerful man alive. He could fly! He could tame the dragons! Fight against the whole nations, alone and win! Conquer the world! Enslave the gods themselves! Or at least he felt like it. He was the happiest man on the Planetos. That was for sure. He had no doubt about that. How couldn't he be? He was gifted with a newborn son. A healthy beautiful son with ten toes and ten fingers! Nothing could bring him down from the cloud he was on.
"James Charles Peverell! Come down this instance!" His mother shouted from the courtyard. He felt a little guilty inside for sneaking up on the terrace when he was needed elsewhere. But there was no way that he would ever let that show on his face. "Coming mother!" He shouted back and sprinted down.
He stopped to a halt as he was greeted with the Peverell matriarch in the main hall. "What were you doing on the terrace? If you don't remember, let me jog your memory. Your wife has just given birth!" she scolded him, arms on her waist, foot tapping against the floor, twin spots of red appearing on her cheeks.
Now he couldn't very well acknowledge that he had an irresistible desire to jump up and down and dance in joy the moment his wife gave birth to a son. A healthy son! It wouldn't be appropriate for small folks to see their lord acting like a child. So he replied with the first thing that came to his mind. "I know. I know. I was just getting a breath of fresh air. So much excitement you know. And how can I forget? I held him in my arms! Don't you remember?"
But clearly, that was the wrong answer as his beloved mother flushed red, "Breath of… you idiot! If anyone needs a breath of fresh air then it's your poor wife!"
James spluttered, "Of course! Of course! I'll go just now and bring Lily to the courtyard." Trying to move past her and towards the maester's room.
But his mother grabbed his hand to stop him. "Wait a minute! Stop making me run after you! She can't be moved to the courtyard. She needs to rest in the warmth of her room. She has just given birth, James! To the solar now. I need to talk to you." She should have taken him to privacy of the solar right away but he frustrated her so much sometimes.
A new pang of worry blossomed in his heart at hearing her words. His mother only asked to go to solar for two things. First, if it was some important news, mostly dire or secretive. And second. To scold him. Like a child she thought him to be. "What? Why? Did something happen to Lily?" "No" she replied, "It's something you did."
James took a deep breath. He could deal with anything else as long as Lily and his child were safe. "To the solar than." He replied nodding to himself, leading the way to the solar.
His solar was a modest place with a big Weirwood table in the middle, a big Weirwood chair behind it, another small table pushed against the wall, opposite wall contained a bookshelf with few important books. But what he like the most was the life-size poster, showing Godric Gryffindor atop his Griffin slaying the Night King, which adorned the wall behind the main table. His eyes always stopped to admire his hero a moment, no matter how many times he had seen the poster.
He shut the door behind his mother and plopped down in a chair, not bothering to go around and sit in Lord's chair. He believed that there shouldn't be any formalities between family members. Now, what does his mother want to scold him about, "What do you want to talk about mother?"
Dorea Potter Black didn't sit but preferred to stand, her hands folded and a foot tapping on the floor, "So you want to name your son James?"
James relaxed upon hearing that but his guard came right back. His mother was angry!
"No…" he replied slowly. Why all of a sudden it felt so hot? They were in the North for God's sake!
"Then Lily dreamed about the whole thing? Right?" Dorea asked.
"Well no. Not exactly. That is to say that name I suggested was very similar."
"And what was that?" Dorea asked with the patient developed over the years.
"Well, you see, I want to name him James Junior. Like James the second but somewhat modern! It'll be a completely new thing. None would have heard it!" James replied, trying to convince his mother.
"And James third, fourth, fifth, sixth and so on after him, right?" Dorea asked narrowing her eyes.
"Well. Yes. It would be kind of our new family name?" James' voice grew quieter and quieter ending in a question rather than an answer.
Dorea closed her eyes, inhaled deeply and started explaining, "You know how hard your father has worked to establish the Peverell name back to its glory. Everyone called us bastards behind our backs! After many years your father has earned a good reputation for our family. You can't joke about replacing our family name! Especially with your own!"
"That's it mother! I was just joking! I wasn't going to really replace it with James!" He tried to cool her down, "Besides how would it sound? Lord James of the James!"
Dorea relaxed a little at that, she knew her son had a very big head but he wasn't really a buffoon. He just liked to act like one. "I thought you were sulking up there when Lily refused to name him James."
Lily must have put the idea in his mother's head. Little minx. He would get revenge! James shook his head, "Nop. No sulking. Actually, I was jumping around in joy." He replied with a big smile omitting the fact that he had an urge to jump from the roof on a pile of snow on the ground. He didn't think he should give much stress to his mother in her old age.
Dorea harrumphed, "Okay then. Let's go to your room. Lily will be there. Haven't you seriously thought about names?"
"We have." James replied standing and moving towards the door, "Come. We'll tell you and father together."
A worried frown appeared on Dorea's face, "You and your father are more alike than either of you would care to admit."
"Why?" James asked looking behind to ensure that she was following him.
"I just passed him walking towards your rooms! He can barely walk, even when two servants are supporting him but he was adamant and wouldn't listen to anyone!" Dorea vented her frustration.
"He'll be alright mother. He's made of strong stuff." James tried to placate his mother but he was a little worried himself. His father's health was very poor. His heart was failing him. It was the only reason that his father made James Lord despite him being alive. He was a proud man and he won't let anyone see him in his weakened state. According to him, House Peverell must appear powerful and strong at all times. He was sure his heir having an heir of his own, the next torch bearer of name Peverell, will make him very happy. A few servants they crossed certainly looked happy. Theirs was the one of the few families that were actually liked by their servants.
Soon they reached his room. He knocked to make sure Lily was decent and entered upon hearing her beckoning reply. She was wearing a simple blue gown, sitting propped up on their bed, cooing to their son in her arms, all bundled up in white cloth. He was looking toward his mother curiously. He had jet black air already sticking at odd angles, just like him. His sweet round face, just like him. His nose, his chin, all his features. His son was his replica. That was the reason he joked about naming him James. But his eyes. His eyes were bright shining emerald green. Eyes he fell in love with years ago! Just like his mother's. His heart filled with such joy that he thought he would burst!
He looked at his father and noted happily that he was sitting in a chair looking towards the boy with content. His father's greatest fear was that his grandson would look like a southerner. That was the only real reason he was hesitant in giving his blessings when he first asked him about marrying Lily. Nobody in south believed in the long night and the last hero. Considering them just fanciful ideas of the northerners. Even making fun of them. He had tried hard to prove the existence of Godric Gryffindor, the long night and their ancestry but not much can survive 10,000 years. Thus, his dislike of the southerners.
As James entered Charles turned toward him and smiled. "At last, the proud father comes before me! Where were you wandering? No matter. You are here now. Tell me his name. Don't make an old man wait any longer!"
James smiled and looked at Lily who nodded to him. James took him from Lily and handed him in his grandfather's lap, announcing with proud voice, "Here is your grandson father. Harry James Peverell. The Scion of the Peverells. The Heir of the Gryffindor. The future lord of the Godric's Hollow."
Charles's eyes became moist as he smiles at his grandson, his Northern - Peverell looking grandson, "You will become a big mighty warrior. Just like your old man! And have lots and lots of children!"
Dorea rolled eyes, "Stop it Charles. He's just born, if you don't remember." Even though her eyes were damp. She and mostly everyone thought that Charles wouldn't live to see his grandson.
"Oh, I remember already. When have you let me forget anything? Well, no pressure on you, little one. Just become as smart as that mother of yours and have a few more sons than me and I'll be an extremely happy old man." Charles replied with an amused glint in his eyes.
"Hey, that's not fair. I'm smart too. I made fall in love with me! Remember!" James spluttered indignantly.
As the Peverell family rejoiced and the Godric's Hollow feasted the coming of the newborn baby, many ravens left their little nest, announcing the birth of Harry James Peverell to the world. Not many took note of him, Peverell being a very old but comparatively a small house situated in the far north, a frozen wasteland according to many. But the Gods noted. The Red God in the Far East became interested at the new addition. The Great Other in the Far North became curious. The Old Gods in their Weirwood tries watched, with suspicion and reservation. After all, his wasn't the song of Ice and Fire.
A Song of Life and Death
Rickard Stark sighed as he looked out the window. He was tending to affairs of the North and could use the help of Brandon. His firstborn and heir. But he was off in the Wolfswood again, with his sister. Hunting and riding. That was all they liked to do. Despite his frustration, it brought a smile on his face. Both had what he called 'Wolf's Blood'. Wolves don't like sitting idle but wolves should worry about his pack too. He wished Brandon would take more interest in day to day workings of the Winterfell and the North. He was broken out of his musings by a knock on his door.
"Enter." He replied in a strong voice. The door opened and a giant of a man entered and ambled towards him with a little piece of paper in his hand. He presented the scroll to him, "Hodor!"
Rickard took the scroll asking him, "Thank you, Hodor. Wasn't there anyone else to deliver this?" The boy was soft-hearted and intelligent but he didn't think he should handle important correspondence.
"And where is Luwin?" asked Rickard taking the scroll. A worried frown appeared on his face, "Hodor!" he replied gesturing towards the south wing. Rickard frowned, what could be so important that only Hodor was free?
As on cue, the door opened and Ned peeked inside, "I told him to wait for me but I think he was in a hurry to get back to Lyanna." He said coming inside.
"You lot returned already." Rickard replied gesturing him to sit down.
"Well, we had to." He replied seating in a chair opposite to his father, "Brandon took the new horse despite Sir Robert telling him that it was still to wild. Don't know what exactly happened but he lost control. Measter Luwin is tending to him but I think it's just dislocated shoulder."
"You mentioned Lyanna." Rickard asked.
"Idiot didn't want to return early. Lyanna made him so he was shouting at her the whole way. Lyanna hit him on the shoulder and has locked herself in her room." Ned replied.
Rickard raised an eyebrow. "Injured shoulder I guess."
Ned added, "So What? I think its bruised ego that's hurting him the most!"
Rickard sighed, "Don't call your brother idiot." His two eldest were as different as day and night. It was no wonder they keep fighting. But they were still children. And children fight. Though he didn't remember Ned and Lyanna fighting. But everyone loved Lyanna. From servants in kitchens to guards patrolling the winter town.
"My stopping doesn't mean he'll stop being one." Ned replied.
Rickard sighed and looked at the scroll. It bore the sigil of House Peverell. Charles only wrote to him if it was very important and he had to. But now Lord James was the lord of Godric's Hollow. Rickard handed the scroll to Ned, closely watching his reaction.
Ned took the scroll with little curiosity. He used Brandon's & his help whenever he could. But after seeing the Peverell sigil a guarded look came over his face, Rickard noted with curiosity. Ned opened the scroll reading it, "Lord Rickard Stark, by the grace of the Gods I have been blessed with a boy, Harry James Peverell. Both Lily and Harry are healthy. Hope to find you in good health. Yours, James Peverell."
Rickard didn't like to show his feelings but couldn't stop the soft smile that crept on his face. But he didn't expect the surprised look on Ned's face.
"You seem surprised." he asked Ned.
"I didn't think you would be pleased by news from Peverells." Ned replied him hesitantly.
"And why did you think that?" Rickard asked raising an eyebrow.
"I just thought that Peverells are our enemy." Ned replied like it was obvious.
Rickard was surprised by this. Peverells had rebelled against the Starks but that was many centuries ago. Though Gryffindors clashed with Starks many times and Peverells claimed descent from them but that history was ancient. There has been peace between them for centuries now. "And how did you come to that conclusion?" he asked his second born.
"Maester Luwin taught me." he replied but added promptly, "he explained that Peverells claim Godric to be the Last Hero. And as their direct descendent they have claimed dominion over the North & even whole of the Westeros on few occasions. They have rebelled against us in the past."
"Gryffindors tried to unite the Westeros under a single banner, not Peverells." Rickard corrected him. What was Luwin teaching his children? "And last Peverell rebellion was centuries ago. If anything, the Boltons are more likely to rise in rebellion."
"Luwin explained that Charles Peverell has rebuilt the Godric's Hollow. It's smaller but martial, highly defendable. He has gained the King's favour after Duskendale. I know you didn't like his increasing power and influence." Ned explained.
His son had put some thought in it at least. "Not liking him, being wary of him and declaring him enemy are two entirely different things. Charles never gave us any reason for that. He never increased his armed guards or bought weapons in large quantity and he never met with other disgruntled lords." Rickard patiently explained. He couldn't be sure if Charles would have done that if he was still healthy. "And James is now the Lord of Godric's Hollow. He may be years older than you but still young. He is rebellious but not in the way you think." Rickard added with a smirk.
It was true. Ned thought. They had met James for the first time a couple years ago at a tourney. He was a cheerful and boisterous young man. Brandon & James had hit it off right away. Even Lyanna liked him. Though their mood had dampened when they came to know each other's house. Lyanna insisted that James was a good man and whatever his father's planning they shouldn't judge him for it. But it wasn't same anymore. And they soon separated and forget about each other.
"Never judge a book by its cover. Maester Luwin said but he himself judged." Ned replied frowning, "And I believed his judgment."
"You are learning." More than your brother, he thought. Many times he thought that Eddard would be a far better leader than Brandon, his Heir. Rickard replied, "You have time. It'll be years before either you or your brother will need to lead men. I hope." he added with a smile.
"Of course, father." Ned answered with his own smile.
"Come now. Write a reply for me. Birth of a child is always a happy occasion and should be celebrated." Rickard started dictating the letter.
As the Lord of Winterfell thought about teaching his sons different aspects of ruling, little did he know that they would need to lead far sooner than he anticipated, in a war that would ravage the whole of Westeros and his own family.
A Song of Life & Death
Author's Note: Credit to The Last Hero's Heir & A Step into the Unknown. For the idea of Godric being The Last Hero.