READ CHAPTER 1 AGAIN PLEASE
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who reviewed!
Addressing PoV (qwertypous, Guest): You're right, it's quite dodgy. I'll change it I've changed it to third-person.
Dazaniel: woop, thanks!
Guest [stammering annoying kid]: …revised, now that I have a clearer idea of the plotline.
Archie: ;)
Sky66: Thank you! Yes, I will probably find it hard to pair him with Daenerys (or Margaery, to be honest) but that's a long way away for now.
Chapter 1
Initiation
by FireAndSteel
"Stand aside – stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside now!"
"Not Harry! Please no, take me, kill me instead! Please… have mercy… have mercy!"
"AVADA KE-"
She screamed.
Harry jolted up in a flash with a shout of surprise, sweat coating his body. His breathing was ragged and short, and he stared at the end of his bed as he frantically attempted to regain his composure. What in the name of the Gods had that been?
"Are you well?"
One of the other apprentices – the other Northman, he realised – was stood at the edge of his bed, looking concerned.
"Here, have some water." He gladly took the cup, and drank it quickly.
"Thank you." Harry cleared his throat, extending his hand. "Harry Potter."
"Robert Mollen." He took Harry's hand and shook it firmly, grinning. "It's a pleasure to talk, at last. We Northmen get lonely this far down South!"
"That we do. What time of day is it?"
"Barely past sunrise, Harry. How are you?" He didn't seem to have noticed Harry's condition, or if he had, he was hiding it well.
"Very well, you?" Harry furrowed his brow slightly.
"Never been better, friend! Now, tell me, why are you distressed?" So he had noticed, Harry thought.
"It was," Harry coughed, "It was merely a nightmare."
"Ah, say no more. It doesn't matter, actually – we are to have breakfast soon. Join me?"
"I will. Allow me a few moments to change clothes." Harry joked, grateful for Robert's nonchalance.
"Of course!" Robert laughed, leaving the room to give him privacy.
Harry shook his head. At least he'd have someone to talk to during his time here. Without the distraction, though, he thought back to the dream. It had all been sound, apart from… apart from the flash of green light. And the woman… she was his mother. He knew it.
The Potter family was an old family, or so his parents had said. They had been Lily and James Potter, wed at a young age. Other than that, he knew little of their history. He had grown up in Potter Keep, which was less of a keep than a small manor, raised by his parents until he was about four years old. And then… it had happened. They had both disappeared, one night, never to be seen since. People said that the night had felt eerily warm and tingly, but he had a hard time believing that. He remembered being scared, terrified even, of what was happening, as the Umbers sent out men to search for them. He'd been left in the care of Brienne Snow, their good friend, for the remainder of his life at the Keep. She had not been an unpleasant carer, but he could not call her mother any more than she could call him son. His departure from Potter Keep had been warm, however, and he had gladly let her stay there in absence.
Quickly changing into his tunic and trousers, he made his bed and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Robert was waiting for him, smiling widely.
I nodded at him and we began to walk down the stairs.
"So, the Potters? I cannot say I've ever heard of them."
Harry smiled tightly. "We've long since fallen from prominence, but we are sworn to the Umbers."
"An honourable family, the Umbers. Any holdings?"
"A small estate, Potter Keep, deep in the Wolfswood. So, Mollen? A… Winterfell? Guards?" Harry changed the subject swiftly. His family was gone, murdered, and he would rather not talk of them.
Robert grinned proudly, "In the Wolfsw - ? Ah, um, yes. My uncle is a guard of Lord Eddard Stark. I'd be quite jealous, but I've been sent to become a maester, and a maester I shall become!" He declared, winking.
Harry laughed, "I'm sure you will. Which subject?"
"Why, Economics and Warcraft, I believe. If luck will have it, I may manage the family land once I take my vows and forge my chain."
Harry raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Two subjects at once? You must have talent."
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Potter."
Harry smiled, genuinely this time. Robert's good humour was infectious; he could easily get used to this. They arrived at the dining hall with time to spare. There were a few people in the hall, but it was still mostly empty. Together, they chose two seats near the end of the room, where they could get their food quickly.
"Any idea on how we will choose masteries?" Harry asked.
"No idea. I assume we will be called."
Harry and Robert chattered idly as the other apprentices and Maesters trickled in through the door, yawning and laughing.
Once the clock at the forefront of the room struck eight, there was a sudden flurry of movement from the kitchens as women began to bring the food out for the students. It was on plates, unlike yesterday, and Harry was suitably impressed at the plates' contents – his appeared to be a couple of legs of Honeyed Chicken as well as Lemon Cake and honey, to be washed down with simple water. A meal fit for a Lord any day.
"Are we apprentices or nobles?" Harry inquired, jokingly.
"Why not both?" Robert grinned.
Harry nodded; he could easily survive with this. Whilst he was not exactly wiry, he was not very strong (and certainly not built for combat), so required little sustenance to maintain his weight.
They both tucked in to their food, nodding at the people who sat near to and in front of them. Before long, the hall hushed to silence as the Grand Maester Pycelle rose to the front of the hall, atop a pedestal in front of the clock.
"Quiet, quiet," the Grand Maester said to the already silent hall. "Yes, thank you. Many of you –" he coughed wheezily "– many of you are new to the Citadel. The… order is a noble calling, as noble as being a knight, it is, it is indeed. The order has been here for thousands of years now, and we are present everywhere in Westeros, everywhere. Beware not, you shall have friends in-in –" he coughed again, shakily grasping a cup of water and drinking, "– you shall have friends wherever you go on the continent and even – even in Essos."
He paused, and Harry shared a glance with those around him. This was the esteemed Grand Maester? He shrugged. Perhaps it was merely an effect of old age.
"I welcome you to the order and… and I will now delegate to Maester Castos." He stepped down from the pedestal, and was immediately supported by a maid, who guided him to the Conclave's table.
A tall, friendly-looking young man stepped up to the pedestal. "Good morn, I am Master Castos." He flashed a grin at the hall. "All who study at the Citadel learn what they wish. For the sake of the Order, however, you must earn the right to forge enough links to your chain – indicating mastery – to wear around your neck before you are considered a true Maester." His face turned serious. "As Grand Maester Pycelle said, becoming a Maester is a noble calling. In some circles, they call us the knights of the mind. It is, however, not a life for everyone. You will be sworn to celibacy, and you will swear to dedicate your life to the order." Shocked glances were exchanged throughout the room. Harry himself was surprised. A life of celibacy? "Your vows will be taken before you forge your first link. Maestery is not something to take lightly, and so, we will allow you to leave at any time you wish before you take your vows. Thank you and I believe Maester Norren would like to talk to you all now."
A sharp silence had engulfed the hall. It was easy to romanticise the life of a Maester as one of influence, power and knowledge, but the drawbacks…
"I'm Maester Norren, Seneschal of the Order of Maesters, apprentices. To sign up for being a Maester in the different areas, you must see the Archmaester. Listen carefully. Archmaester for Warcraft, Castos; Archmaester for Economics, Ryam; Archmaester for history, Ebrose…" The roll continued, with various exclamations by apprentices at points during the list, "And finally, Archmaester for… the Higher Mysteries, Marwyn."
Harry's head shot up from his daydreaming and he looked at the Conclave's table, only to find one man staring at him already, smiling toothily. He quickly looked back at his plate. That was Marwyn? Marwyn the Mage? He didn't know enough to form an opinion just yet, but if the rumours were true… "They say he has explored Asshai himself! Authored a work on its geography and history! By the Old, if he isn't the right Archmaester I don't know who is." he whispered to Robert excitedly.
Robert was surprised. "I do believe that is the most excited I have seen you yet!"
Harry flushed, embarrassed. "We're here for a reason, aren't we?" He gave a weak smile.
"That we are. Maesters Castos and… Ryam, I believe are my Archmaesters."
"Castos seems friendly enough… I wouldn't have put him down for Warcraft, though – he's a bit weedy, isn't he?"
"He is, but so is nearly every Maester."
Harry laughed.
Lessons were set to begin that day. Every Apprentice was expected to study Geography and History in some fashion, even if they did not pursue Maestery in them – it was a relatively easy route, though, so nearly every Maester was able to teach the subjects.
"Are you going to see Castos now?" Harry asked Robert.
"I believe I will, yes. Marwyn for you?"
"Yes, I'm going to try and find him." Harry waved a little and moved off up the stairs. He'd seen the Archmaester go up here some time ago, so he felt it only logical to follow his memory.
On his way, he spent more time admiring the Citadel. It really was majestic in size and stature, if not aesthetics. The walls were brown and dusted, the teachers old and wearied, but the history in this place was tantalising. Hundreds of Maesters had passed through these halls, and stepped where he was now. How many of them could also command supernatural forces, however, was a whole different question.
"Excuse me; do you know where Archmaester Marwyn's office is?" He asked a random passer-by.
He gave Harry a disinterested look, and pointed. "Through this hallway, second left and first door, straight in front of you. Has his name on the top."
Harry thanked him and hurried off to the office. He turned the corner, and it was little surprise to him that it seemed deserted. A lone door stood a little way ahead of him, with the name 'MARWYN' adorned over the top of it on a banner. It was illuminated by torches on either side, and gave a rather distinct expression of being very old. He shrugged to himself and moved to knock.
"Come in, Apprentice Potter." A voice from inside called out loudly, before his hand was even at his chest.
Harry recoiled in shock. What? How had he…?
'Marwyn the Mage isn't just a nickname, I guess.' Harry thought. Straightening up, and clasping the door knob firmly, he opened the door and strode in.
"Good morn, Archmaester."
"And you, Potter."
There was a moment of awkward silence as the two sized each other up. Marwyn was a little man, with a young face and brown hair, even though he was pushing fifty years of age. His eyes were small, calculating, and quick, and were running up and down Harry like he was piece of meat. Harry forced himself to look away, on to the room itself. What immediately caught his eye was a collection of trinkets and instruments distributed on tables throughout the room. A telescope, some sort of sextant, a peculiarly coloured mirror, several unlit candles… it was all considerably odd.
"Take a seat." Harry was quick to comply, facing the Archmaester across the desk.
"You are the only apprentice who has chosen to study the Higher Mysteries in the past twenty years. Why?" the Archmaester questioned, almost accusingly.
"It's an… intriguing branch of –"
"Don't feed me that shit, boy! Why are you studying Magic?" Marwyn asked, impatiently.
Harry was taken aback, before he leaned forward, bemused and confused. "Because I… I am worried for the future?"
Marwyn stood up and snorted, turning his back on Harry. "Right, and I'm a fucking prophet who's going to help you. You will tell me the truth, boy, or you will find no teacher in me."
"Do I need to have a special interest in the subject?" Harry questioned hotly.
"Didn't I already tell you to stop feeding me shit? I'm the Archmaester of that subject, in the happenstance that you missed that. The only apprentices I take are worthy ones – you're not shaping up very well, let me tell you."
Harry's eyes narrowed in anger. "Oh? What can you teach me, anyway?" He said. The Citadel seemed to be hostile to the subject; he wouldn't be surprised if Marwyn was unable to teach him about Higher Mysteries. The Archmaester saw right through him, though, and pounced.
Marwyn turned and looked at him mockingly, clapping slowly. "A master manipulator, you are, trying to relieve me of my secrets. Maesters, look at this wondrous, weedy little stick of a boy, a mystery how he is not already seated on the Iron Throne itse-"
Harry shot up, seething in anger. "I will not sit here and be mocked by you, Archmaester!"
Marwyn quieted down and laughed. "And there we have it. Look at the candles."
Harry did, and his eyes widened at how he'd been played. Every single candle in the room was lit, with a bright burning blue flame.
He groaned, sitting down again and putting his head in his hands. "Obsidian?" Obsidian candles could only be lit under the presence of powerful magic, or more recently, dragons.
"Of course." was the smug answer.
"How did you know?"
"What do you mean, 'how did I know'? It practically rolls off of you!"
"It?"
"Your… power, for the sake of simplicity."
"Why are you the only one to recognise it so far?"
"I am a well-travelled man, Potter. I spent long in enough in the lands of Asshai to know what… power… is, when I see it. I daresay most others, even those of Asshai, feel either nothing or simply a sense of eeriness around you."
"You're just bursting to be talkative now, aren't you?"
"...fuck you, Potter. We need to get lesson plans made."
"And thus, I met the people of the Lhazareen. They are a nomadic people, often residing in camps in Lhazar, southwest of Vaes Dothrak as well as in the Sea itself. The Dothraki call them the 'Lamb Men' and raid them whenever they have a chance. Their women are raped, lambs slaughtered – they worship one, after all – and those they do not kill, they sell into slavery. Not a great life for them, so I helped by teaching some of them how to make medicines and the Common Tongue."
Harry nodded approvingly. He had been in the office for hours now, and it was approaching dinner time
"Enough of that for today. Tomorrow, we're starting on the supposed Children of the Forest and the composition of Westeros."
"You mean… you're teaching me History and Geography?" Harry said slowly.
"Ah, yes, I forgot to mention – I will be taking you in as a personal student, through some old hodgepodge rule in the Conclave. I get to teach you everything!"
Harry looked at him in mock horror.
"But… but…"
"Spit it out, you blockhead! Do you really want one of my colleagues to teach you? They'll feed you a bigger sack of shit than you can fit in a stable. Regardless, the other students with a Magic Maestery don't even think it exists."
Harry rolled his eyes, and dropped the act. "No. Any privileges?"
Marwyn raised his lips in an almost-smile, and tapped his nose. "You'll find out soon enough, boy."
Chapter 2 is complete!
I didn't have a lot to work off for Marwyn, so I kind of reinvented him; he's meant to be gruff and insulting, after all, so I guess it works.
I'm quite sorry, but writing about Harry in the Citadel is pretty boring (it's just not the same without magic :D), so next chapter will have a medium-long-ish timeskip. Sorry if you wanted to follow Harry for his last few weeks in the Citadel.
At this point in time:
- The Seven Kingdoms are at peace
- The Starks remain in Winterfell, and the Baratheons in King's Landing
- Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen are both in the care of Ilyrio Mopatis in Pentos