Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, A Song of Ice and Fire belongs to G.R.R. Martin, and the Cover Picture belongs to Bethesda. I do not, nor do I pretend to own the aforementioned IPs. Anything else you recognise from anywhere else is also not mine to own.

Warning: I should probably point out that there is a small sex scene at the beginning of this chapter.

~ Chapter 3 - The Royal Entourage ~

"Oh gods!" a nubile woman with dark red hair cried out. She had dark blue eyes, fair skin, with a pair of firm breasts and curves in the right places and freckles dusted her nose and chest.

Harry smirked, pounding into the young woman. His cock was hard as steel as he continued to thrust into her cunt.

"Ah! Harder!" she moaned, feeling the desire burn through her body.

Harry felt his cock swell and knew he was reaching his limit. He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her forward, roughly, repeatedly.

"Fuck!" Harry grunted before closing his eyes and giving one more hard thrust, releasing all of his seed into the woman, he then pulled his now semi-hard cock out and fell on the bed, on his back, breathing heavily.

"Gods, Ros. I haven't had a fuck in about a month. That did me some good," Harry chuckled, as newly named Ros laid on top his chest, softly circling a slender finger.

Ros was a young girl, roughly fifteen years of age, from King's Landing. When he had visited his father the previous year, Harry was taken to one of Robert's favoured whorehouses, to 'finally become a man' as the King had eloquently stated.

However, Harry got more than he bargained for, when he found out that Ros ended up pregnant, and subsequently bore him a daughter, who he named Lya after his mother. Knowing that Ros and Lya wouldn't be safe in the capital, Harry arranged for the pair to be secretly taken North, and secured a job for Ros at an inn in Winterfell.

Though Harry and Ros didn't love each other as a man would his wife, they cared enough for each other, if only for the sake of their daughter, and regularly, if secretly, continued to meet each other. Harry did suspected that his Uncle was aware of Ros and Lya, but the topic never came up, so Harry left it at that.

"You're not the only one. I've had the itch for a while now," she giggled impishly.

Harry snorted, "I'm sure you have."

He rubbed his hand down Ros' arm as she sighed in contentment.

"How is Lya?" Harry asked.

Ros smiled lightly, "She's fine. Keeps me up at night, sometimes, but she's a joy. She's getting bigger every day."

Harry laughed slightly, before his smile dimmed, "I just wish I could be around more to see my daughter grow," he said, regretfully.

"You're around enough," Ros retorted, firmly. She placed a finger on Harry's mouth, when he made to argue, "You got us out of King's Landing, and got me my job at the Inn, so I don't have to whore myself anymore. You've done more than any other man who got a whore pregnant would have done."

"Well, when you put it that way," Harry grinned sheepishly, "I just want you safe, you know?"

He rose, and sat on the edge of the bed. Ros, in turn, got up, and wrapped her arms around Harry from behind, her breasts pressing against his back.

"I know you do, and I love that about you. I know you'll spend as much time as possible with Lya."

Harry chuckled before extracting himself from his lover's embrace, "Anyway, I ought to go. I'm sure my absence will be noticed by now, and I really want to avoid a lecture by my uncle," he stated, getting up to finding his clothes.

Winterfell was bustling with activity as everyone in the castle prepared for the arrival of the Royal Family. Cooks were frantically checking inventory, making sure they had enough for the royal contingent. Wine and ale casks were tapped in preparation for many drinks to be downed for the feasts to come. Maids and servants cleaned the rooms while blacksmiths and carpenter crafted and repaired feasting wares. People made sure their finest clothes were ready for the royal party that would soon arrive.

Up at the rooftop of Winterfell, Harry watched as Bran excitedly pointed at the large caravan of gold that was steadily making their way to the Winterfell Castle.

"Look Harry! Over there, I can see them!" Bran said. Harry chuckled.

"Aye, cousin. C'mon, we better climb down and get ready for them to arrive," Harry said.

Bran nodded and started to make his way down the side of the Winterfell tower. Bran heard a rustling noise and he saw Harry gracefully leap his way down using the beams, posts, and wall to scale his way down. Bran hurried downwards and jumped down by Harry's side in time to face his mother.

"Bran, have you been climbing again?" Catelyn Stark asked, "You know you shouldn't climb the tower!"

Bran looked down at his feet and scuffed his boot on the ground.

"Sorry mother," he said guiltily.

Harry hid his smile as his aunt sighed, "I know you'll do it again. Go on and warn your father."

Bran smiled and ran off to tell his father of the coming caravan. Harry stood at attention as Lady Stark eyed him.

"I blame you for this, always encouraging him to do what he enjoys," Catelyn sighed once more.

Harry simply grinned his typical roguish grin.

"Go along now, little trickster," Catelyn said, waving her nephew off, as Harry laughed with Fenrir bounding after him.

Harry then idly walked through a smaller courtyard, looking at the servants hastening to prepare for the arrival of his father.

"I wonder where that little spitfire is…" Harry murmured, looking for his youngest female cousin.

Speaking of said little wolf, she was running through the crowd, Nymeria beside her, trying to squeeze through the gaps, with a helmet, clearly too big for her, on her head.

Harry smirked as Arya ran into him, whilst Nymeria pounded on Fenrir causing the wolves to start wrestling.

"This is what happens when you do not watch where you are running, miss metal head," Harry said with a teasing smile, pressing his right hand on the helmet on her head, "Uncle Eddard will be mad if he sees you with this," Harry smiled, taking the helmet from his cousin and putting it to the side.

Arya pouted at this, causing Harry's smile to widen.

"Go on, little cousin, your mother is undoubtedly looking for you," Harry chuckled lightly as he watched Arya turn around so fast that he feared her head would snap off as she ran through the crowd. Harry followed at a more sedate pace, a fond smile on his lips.

Of all his cousins, Arya and Jon were his favourite, due in part to the fact the three of them all shared the traditional Stark look; pale skin and dark, black hair. The other Stark siblings had their mother's Tully colouring, of watery blue eyes and auburn hair. The Lord of Winterfell would often comment that Arya was Harry's mother reborn, with the way she behaved. The rambunctiousness often caused Arya to butt heads with her sister and mother, both of whom shared a more traditional outlook on the behaviour of young ladies.

Jon, however had one distinguishing feature, comparable to Harry's emerald eyes. Jon's own eyes were a haunting shade of violet that he inherited from his late mother, Ashara of House Dayne. It often led to Jon receiving second, or even third glances from passers-by, but nothing malicious ever came of it.

Harry was brought out of his daydreaming when a shout came from the gate that his father was approaching. Suddenly the courtyard was a myriad of chaos as everyone made to stand at their designated places. As Crown Prince, it was Harry's duty to greet his father alongside his uncle, so he made sure his sword's scabbard was strapped to his back, and his other sword hanging by his right hip.

Harry quickly made his way to stand beside his uncle, who offered him a small smile as he approached. To his left, his aunt stood, holding Rickon, while the Stark children stood next to their mother, from Robb to Bran. Jon was stationed with Theon a little way at the back, due to his status as a baseborn.

The sudden thunderous noise of hooves brought the courtyard to a hush, as the Royal contingent road in. At the head rode a member of the Kingsguard, with his half-brother Joffrey behind him. Following the second Prince, rode a man with full black armour, and a dog-shaped helm. This was Sandor Clegane, commonly known as the Hound, and was Joffrey's sworn sword. Harry noticed how Joffrey looked at his cousin, Sansa, who blushed ever so slightly. Harry noticed that Robb saw the small interaction between his sister and the prince, eliciting a tiny smile from Harry. The remaining riders took position in the courtyard, while the Royal Carriage stopped in the centre. Behind the carriage road the most powerful man in Westeros.

Robert Baratheon was a tall and heavily built man, with black hair that fell freely down to his shoulders. His face was covered with a neatly trimmed beard that was speckled with grey, his expression stern. Strangely enough the King had a sword strapped to his side, which left Harry confused, considering Robert favoured the warhammer. As he approached, everyone of Winterfell knelt, paying homage to the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. Dismounting his horse, Robert then approached the Starks. Looking up slightly, Harry noted how his father, while still fit and able, had put on a bit of weight around the middle, similar to his uncle. Standing in front of Eddard and Harry, he silently gestured them to rise. Seeing the hand, both Eddard and Harry rose, as the rest folk in the yard made to follow them.

Eddard bowed his head slightly, "Your Grace."

Robert silently regarded his best friend before finally speaking.

"You got fat," he stated, flatly.

Harry had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing. Eddard however, merely looked down slightly before raising an eyebrow. A brief moment later, they both laughed before hugging, while Harry grinned.

"No need to stand on ceremony when amongst friends, eh Father?" Harry commented, with his trademark lopsided smirk.

Robert barked out a laugh, as he made to embrace his firstborn, who returned the hug.

"Ha! Too right, my lad, too right. You're a man grown now, no longer the boy you were two years ago," Robert replied, he then moved to greet Catelyn, giving her a hug, and then mussing up Rickon's hair.

Robert then turned to face Eddard, "Nine years! Where have you been? Why haven't I see you?"

"Guarding the North, Your Grace, "Eddard replied, "Winterfell, as always, is yours."

As his father and uncle shared their reunion, Harry focused on the Lannister party that came to Winterfell. Disembarking the carriage were his younger half-brother Tommen and his half-sister Myrcella. Tommen was a chubby boy with longer than average blond hair than ran to his ears, and the typical Lannister green eyes, a duller shade than Harry's own vibrant emerald. Myrcella, however, was a near carbon copy of her mother, but for the raven coloured hair and blue eyes of Robert. She and Joffrey were born a few hours apart, with Joffrey being the elder of the two. Speaking of Joffrey, he took mostly after his mother, with blond hair and green eyes. He had yet to dismount his horse, rather preferring gaze around Winterfell, a slight sneer on his face. Finally, the Queen, Cersei Lannister disembarked, looking around.

Robert then moved to greet the Stark children, while the Queen approached Harry, his uncle and his aunt. Cersei offered her left hand for Eddard to kiss, who did, uttering a quiet 'my Queen' while Catelyn curtsied also saying 'my Queen'.

Harry then lightly grasped the Queen's hand landing a ghost of a kiss on the back.

"Queen Cersei," Harry said. She would never be 'his' Queen, the most respect she would get from him would be the fact that she was his step-mother, "A pleasure to see you once again."

"I'm sure it is, Prince Haraldr. To you as well," the Queen replied, with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Rising, Harry noted that Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer had removed his helmet and looked around, but also noted that the Imp, Tyrion was nowhere to be seen. Harry liked the second son of the Head of House Lannister, finding him intelligent and a person he could have a good conversation with. Tyrion in turn greatly respected Harry, and appreciated that the Crown Prince never brought up Tyrion's rather short stature.

Harry then turned to face Tommen and Myrcella. Harry was never particularly close to Tommen or Joffrey, as both resented the fact that he, Harry, was favoured the most by their father. Instead both sought comfort from their mother. It was Myrcella who was Harry's favoured sibling, and was more or less the apple of Robert's eye.

"Tommen, hello," Harry greeted, with a small smile. When Tommen merely nodded back, Harry moved to greet Myrcella, "Sister, it's been too long."

"Too long indeed, brother," Myrcella returned with a wide smile. She lightly hugged him, which Harry returned. He was about to introduce his cousins, when his father called out.

"Ned take me to the crypts, you as well, Harry. I wish to pay my respects," the King ordered. The Queen looked up and frowned at her husband.

"We've been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait," she said.

"Ned!" Robert said, ignoring his wife. Eddard sent an apologetic look to Cersei, while did Harry did the same to Myrcella, as both hastened to follow the King.

Robert, Eddard and Harry silently strode through the crypts, under Winterfell.

"Tell me about Jon Arryn, father?" Harry asked.

"One minute he was fine, and then he was on his bed, slowly fading away. I loved that man," Robert replied sombrely.

"We all did," Eddard said, his voice tinged with sorrow.

"Aye, but he never had to teach you much, did he? Me though, do you remember me at sixteen? Robert asked, chuckling, "All I wanted to do was crack skulls and fuck girls."

"Isn't that what you still want to do father?" Harry asked, sardonically.

"Ha! Always with the wit, you are!" Robert boomed. He then stopped and his face turned serious.

"I need you Ned. Down in King's Landing, not up here where you're of no damn use to anybody. Lord Eddard Stark, I would name you the Hand of the King," Robert said.

"I'm not worthy of the honour," Eddard said, kneeling.

"I'm not trying to honour you, I need your help. Now more than ever," Robert replied, his expression grave, "Jon wanted to tell me something, something he thought was important. The fool that I was, I said it could wait till I returned from the hunt.

"When I returned, Jon was bedridden with a fever, and half-delirious," Robert continued, "Kept mumbling that the seed was strong, whatever that meant. Not two weeks later, he died in his sleep."

"Are you saying Jon was poisoned, father?" Harry asked, surprised.

"I'm not sure, lad, Grand Maester Pycelle said he wasn't, but he's Lannister, through and through," Robert answered.

"You can't be accusing the Lannisters?" Eddard questioned, aghast at the thought.

"As I said, I don't know. Stannis might, but one some reason or another he left for Storm's End, shortly after I left for here."

Robert let out a deep sigh, "Look, I want you to be the Hand, Ned, and Harry, I want you to come with us to the capital for your sixteenth nameday, before you ride for Dragonstone. If it is the Lannisters making a play for the Iron Throne, then we need to marshal as many loyal men as we can."

"As you wish, father," Harry grudgingly acquiesced. He didn't want to leave his father and uncle alone like that, but respected his father's decision.

"Another thing, Harry. How loyal are the forces stationed at, and the Houses sworn to, Dragonstone?" his father asked.

Harry was momentarily taken aback by the question, but hastened to answer, "Ser Nathaniel continues to serve loyally as my castellan, and I personally meet with the men in service there, on a semi-regular basis. I'm unware if there's any dissent amongst the Lords sworn to Dragonstone, but they seemed fine when I visited six months ago. They have no love of Lannisters, I know that much, however."

"Good, Ned and his family are kin, so they won't rise against you, and I'm sure Cat's family will support you, so you won't want for allies."

"Father, you speak as if civil war is upon us?"

Robert snorted, "I wouldn't be surprised. My gods-damned second wife is constantly trying to push more Lannisters into key positions in court, and she even had the gall to suggest Joffrey would make a better heir than you would. Ha! As if.

"I didn't fight and win a war, only to see the kingdoms fall into another, not even fifteen years afterwards," Robert continued, he then turned to the tomb of Lyanna Stark, his face full of sorrow, "Did you have to bury her in a place like this? She should be on a hill somewhere with the sun and the clouds above her."

"She was my sister. This is where she belongs," Eddard replied.

"She belonged with me. In my dreams, I kill him every night." Robert said.

"It's done, Your Grace. The Targaryens are gone," Eddard said.

"Not all of them," Robert said in anger.

Harry knew what he was talking about. The two remaining Targaryens were in Essos trying to amass an army to take back the throne. He let out a soft sigh. 'Winter is coming,' he thought, darkly.

A long way from the freezing winds of the North, in warm city of Pentos was the vast estate of Illyrio Mopatis. Ostensibly, it was called a manse, but in reality, it was more of a fortress. The walls were lined with Unsullied eunuchs; silent guardsmen whose loyalty was first and foremost to the wealthy magister.

Currently the stronghold played host to the last living children of the Mad King, Aerys II; Viserys and Daenerys. They had lived at the estate for nearly half a year, eating the magisters food, and pampered by his servants. And yet, while the treatment was not unwelcome, Daenerys Stormborn couldn't help but be suspicious of the Pentoshi's motives. At thirteen years old, she was well aware that such gifts did not come freely, especially in the Free Cities.

"Is really this for me?" Dany asked, as she held an elegant gown her brother gave her.

"Yes, sweet sister," Viserys replied, smirking, "A gift from the magister. It will bring out the colour of your eyes, he says."

"It's so beautiful," Dany then whispered.

The smirk on self-styled Viserys III widened further, "Quite. Tonight, you will look like the princess you were born to be."

A princess. Viserys still retained memories of the time he lived a life of luxury. For Dany, the life she and her brother currently lived, was all she ever knew.

"Why does he help us, brother?" Dany couldn't help but ask, "What does he stand to gain?"

A flicker of what Dany assumed to be pride, went through Viserys' eyes, as he smiled, somewhat condescendingly.

"Illyrio is no fool, sister," he replied, "He knows I do not forget the ones who aided me. He knows that when I come to my birth right, I will rewarded him justly.

"Thanks to the Magister's connections, I have found you a husband who will grant me an army to retake Westeros from the Usurper and his bastard son," Viserys went on, "forty thousand men strong. And with the Targaryen Loyalists in the Seven Kingdoms, the time of our return is now!"

Dany wanted to ask another question, but knew from prior experience that interrupting Viserys when he began to spin the tale of his dreams. 'Waking the Dragon', Viserys called it, whenever he lost his temper. Her brother then hung the gown before turning to Dany once more.

"Ilyrio will send slaves to bathe you," Viserys informed her, "You need to look your best for when Khal Drogo comes."

Dany's breath hitched at the mention of her would-be husband. She had read about khals. Vicious horse lords, who raped, pillaged and burned without a care. Fortunately for her, Viserys made no notice of her hesitation as he studied Dany carefully.

"Stand straight!" he barked, causing Dany to flinch, "Don't slouch. Let them see you are a woman grown now."

He the gently caressed Dany's face with a serene smile. Without warning however, the smile morphed into a snarl as he harshly gripped Dany's neck.

"You will not fail me, sister," Viserys growled, "If you do, you will not like what will happen. You will get me my army!"

"Ye…Yes, your Grace," Dany choked out.

Viserys promptly let go. He resumed caressing Dany face, and smiled once more, "Good. Years from now, they will write that this night was the night it all began."

With that, Viserys left. Once the door closed, Dany collapsed to her knees. Tears dripped down a cheek, while she silently wept. As she did so, she prayed that someone, anyone, would come save her from this living nightmare.

The festivities were at an all-time high. Wine and ale was drunk while food came out of the kitchen. The people were talking and drinking their troubles away. Robert sat at the head table alongside his second wife, next to Eddard.

Below them men ate, and drank. A fair few left with serving maids to continue their drunken debauchery in a more private setting. Harry sat in between his father and half-brother, mostly engaging in conversation with the King, but occasionally attempting to draw Joffrey into the topic, only to receive a sneer. Sighing, Harry turned to look at the crowd, and frowned slightly. Jon was missing. Earlier his Aunt had told Jon to sit the furthest away from the high table and honoured guests, so as to not offend the Royal Family. Which failed miserably, considering Harry was offended that one of his two most favourite cousins was not present.

"Excuse me, father. I grow…weary of the festivities," Harry said, rising from his chair.

Robert turned to face his son, "Ah, so be it. Find a wench to warm your bed then, boy."

Wrinkling his nose as the crassness of his father's blunt statement, Harry politely excused himself, and left the hall. Once he entered the courtyard, he found Jon slashing away at a wooden training mannequin.

"Is it dead yet?" Harry asked, in a teasing voice.

Jon spun around in surprise, "Harry, what in the seven hells are you doing here?"

"Got bored of the feast. Took offense that Aunt Catelyn sat you away from everyone else. Completely the opposite of what she intended, I s'pose."

Picking up a blunted training sword, Harry stood to guard, "C'mon, lets a have spar."

Shrugging slightly, Jon stood opposite his cousin. Crossing swords for brief while, Harry and Jon engaged in a topic that wasn't new to the either of them.

"So…still bent on joining the Night's Watch?" Harry asked.

"Aye…you know this, what of it?" Jon replied.

"As much as I want the Wall to have men with the quality you do, I still think you could do better, Jon."

Jon looked furious, "There is no better! The Wall is the only place bastards like me can go. The only place when I can make something of myself, something other than Eddard Stark's bastard!"

As he said this, Jon's sword strokes became harder and less disciplined. Harry kept up, hardly breaking a sweat.

"Are you so sure," he returned, "It sounds nothing more than childishness to me. A poor attempt to make your father proud."

Disarming Jon, who overreached in his anger, Harry knocked him over and raised his own blade to Jon's neck.

"Uncle Eddard is proud of you Jon, regardless of your status, and irrespective of what you do. It matters little to him. As long as you're his son, he won't stop being proud of you," Harry informed him gently.

Lowering his sword and offering a hand up, Harry continued, "Jon, if this is truly what you want, then I won't stop you, but there are so many other ways to go about making something of yourself.

"You could be a sellsword in Essos, fighting for the likes of the Golden Company or the Second Sons. You could squire for a knight in the South, hell you could become one for one of the Wolfsguard."

Accepting the hand, Jon pondered the last offer, "A squire? Is that even allowed? I'm a bastard."

"Who gives a shit, cousin? Ser Eyron is a bastard, and he leads my Wolfsguard. Not to mention Edric is my squire. You'd do well at the Wall, of that there is no doubt, but you could do so much more. Be so much more!" Harry stated with conviction, "Accept my offer, and you would no longer be a Snow, but I would grant you a name, and lands in the south."

Jon considered this before looking at his older cousin, straight in the eye, murmuring, "It would be a lot better than swearing of marriage and women for the rest of my life."

"Ha! I've seen the way you looked at my sister, Jon," Harry said laughing, as he lifted his right arm.

Jon blushed at being called out but grabbed Harry's arm in a firm grip, "I swear, on the Old Gods and New, to be your loyal sword, now and forever more."

"Good. Tomorrow, I'll see to asking Ser Eyron or one of the others to formally accept you as a squire. Father and Uncle Eddard will be informed too. I have no doubt you'll be knighted within a year or two, Jon. You're just about the best swordsman of our age, behind me anyway."

Jon smiled, happy that his fortune was turning around. Before he could thank his cousin, behind them someone was clapping.

"Something interesting just happened, I see," a deep gravelly voice called out to the two cousins. Turning around to face the newcomer, they both grinned.

"Uncle Benjen!" Harry and Jon called out in unison.

The First Ranger of the Night's Watch approached his nephews, embracing them in greeting.

Benjen Stark, the youngest of the Stark siblings, had always had a desire to join the Watch, considering that he didn't stand to inherit anything, both before and after the Rebellion. He was dressed in the customary warm, black furs of the Watch, and had a neatly trimmed beard and shoulder length hair. He finished off the look with a longsword strapped to his waist.

Still chuckling he regarding the sons of his brother and sister respectively.

"I rode all day, not wanting to leave you all to the tender mercies of the Lannisters,"he explained, "Why are you both out here?"

"Lady Stark thought it an insult if I were to sit with the Royal Family. Like always," Jon said, bitterness coating his tone. Benjen sighed with a nod.

"And I grew weary of the feast. Too…fancy for my liking," Harry informed his uncle.

Benjen smiled slightly, then turned to face Jon.

"According to what I just heard, though. It seems like you won't be a Snow for much longer, Jon. Something to look forward to, hm?" Jon allowed a small smile himself, before nodding, "Well, I best get inside, and rescue Ned from his guests."

Patting the duo on the shoulder, he turned and walked off into the great hall.

"So, your uncle is in the Night's Watch, I see."

The cousins turned around to see a short man strut towards them, sipping on a flask of what Harry assumed to be wine. The man turned to stare at them before looking off into the hall where the feast was happening.

"I've always wanted to see the Wall."

"Uncle Tyrion?" Harry asked. He hadn't seen the man in nearly five years.

"Ah, hello my Prince," the now named Tyrion greeted.

Harry and Tyrion weren't even related by blood, but the dwarf was just about the only Lannister Harry respected. Enough so that he would address him by the familial term. In return, Harry was one of the few people Tyrion trusted without reserve, and genuinely liked.

"What're you doing there?" Jon asked.

"Preparing for a night with your family," the man replied as he took another sip from his flask, "You must be Lord Stark's bastard."

Jon grit his teeth and made to walk away.

"Did I offend you, sorry," Tyrion apologized, "You are the bastard, though."

Harry shot Tyrion a warning look as Jon replied, "Lord Eddard Stark is my father."

"And Lady Stark is not your mother. Judging by your eyes, I'd say a Dayne was your mother. That would make you the bastard."

Jon looked away, has Harry frowned. Tyrion walked up to the pair.

"Let me give you some advice, bastard," Tyrion began, "Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not. Where it like armour, and it can never be used to hurt you."

Tyrion then walked away, but Jon tried to get the last word in, "What the hell do you know about being a bastard?"

The Lannister dwarf turned back to face Jon, and in that brief moment, he seemed to stand taller than any other man Jon and Harry had seen, "All dwarves are bastard in their father's eyes."

Taking a sip from his flask, Tyrion walked in the general direction of the great hall.

"Quite the odd fellow, isn't he?" Jon said lightly. Harry chuckled.

"You meet odder people," Harry quipped, "I guess we'll finish up now. Father will no doubt want to go on a hunt, and I promised Bran I would help him with his archery."

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow, Harry," Jon said before heading towards his quarters.

It the Lord and Lady's quarters, Catelyn had just laid down and snuggled warmly into her husband's arms. As she laid on Eddard's chest, listening to his heart beat, Eddard began speaking.

"What do you think Cat?" he asked, "I belong here with you, but at the same time Robert would only ask me if he had no one else to turn to. He knows well enough, that I am no politician."

"It is the highest honour the King could grant anyone," Catelyn stated firmly, "Besides, who else could take the role? His brother? Tywin Lannister?"

"If he ever considered his brother, he would never have journeyed here, even to see his son," Eddard retorted, with a snort, "And I highly doubt Robert would ever consider Tywin Lannister."

"If you refuse him, you'll need to need to offer something as an apology," Catelyn warned, "Perhaps wedding Sansa to Prince Joffrey?"

"No. Harry was firm when I proposed the match myself, and I trust my nephew's judgement. He is not one to allow pettiness to cloud his thoughts over such a significant matter as Sansa's potential suitor," Eddard stated.

Catelyn frowned, as she shifted slightly. Before she could reply to her husband, however, there was a knock at the door.

Eddard called for their visitor, as he released his hold on Catelyn, who got out of bed and made to open the door. Standing in the hallway was Maester Luwin.

"I am sorry my lord, my lady," he apologised, bowing to then, "A rider came, during the feast. It's from your sister, my lady."

"From the Eyrie?" she said in confusion as she examined the seal, "Why would she be there, and not the Capital?"

"What does she say?" Eddard asked her, rising from the bed.

Catelyn didn't answer right away. Her eyes carefully scanning each line again. Her sister had written the letter in a code that their shared in their youth, and what she wrote was alarming. She looking up seeing the confused look of the master and her husband. Snapping out of her wayward thoughts, she marched up to the fire and tossed the letter into it.

"Cat?" Eddard asked again, concern and frustration colouring in his voice.

"She says Jon Arryn was murdered," she told him, her eyes darting between him and the Maester.

"What?!" Eddard said at once.

"She has fled the Capitol! She says she doesn't try anyone there, as Stannis has left for Storm's End."

Eddard paled. This was worrying. Who in the name of the Gods would want to kill Jon Arryn? And more importantly, why?

"Who?" he managed then and Catelyn glanced uneasily between him and the Maester again.

"The Lannister's," she told him quietly and Maester Luwin's eyes widened.

"By the Gods, Robert warned me about this," Eddard said, bringing a hand to his face.

"She's certain Ned!" she insisted.

"I don't doubt you, nor your sister, but I can't just go to the King and accuse the Lannisters, based on hearsay."

"If this is true then the King could be in danger," Luwin then said, giving the Lord Stark a look. Eddard nodded slightly at what Maester Luwin was implying.

"Ned," Catelyn said at once, seeing the look, "That does not mean you need to go! If they killed the last Hand, what's stopping them from killing you?"

"My Lady…Lord Stark may be the only man who can save the King," Luwin implored.

"And put himself in danger as well?! Ned, Brandon went to South, your father and sister too. None of them came back. Please. Don't go…" she almost begged him.

"Would you leave us, please, Maester Luwin?" Eddard finally spoke.

"Of course my Lord, my Lady," he bowed to both of the, before existing their quarters.

Eddard turned slowly to face his wife and she could see his decision in his eyes. Catelyn shook her head slightly.

"Can I say nothing?" she questioned him softly.

"I'm going Cat…the children will come too," he told her.

"Ned…"

"All but Robb…a Stark must always remain at Winterfell," he went on.

"Even Rickon?!"

"I suppose he is a little young…" Eddard conceded.

"He needs to be with me," she insisted.

"Very well, but Bran and the girls are coming with me."

Author's Notes: Well, Happy New Year to you all, I hope you had a great holiday. I just want to say a massive thank you to all those of you who followed or favourited this story. It give me great confidence. And thank you to those who reviewed as well.

You'll also notice a few changes to Chapter 2, which I made at the suggestion of a review from Harrie.

For those of you who haven't realised, this Ros, is a combination of Ros from the show, and Mhaegan, who was the mother of Robert's youngest bastard Barra. I wanted to try something different, so I thought 'Why not make Harry a father?' and went with it.

If you have any questions, don't hesitate to leave them in a review, or PM me.

Hopefully, I'll see you next week, but I am unsure, as Exams are coming up for me.

Updates (If any)

17/4/16, 15:07 local time - Added the scene with Dany and Viserys. No particular reason, but it seemed appropriate with Robert's statement about the Last Targaryens