Chapter 4- Pride and Purpose

Harry groaned in contentment as he sunk into the piping hot water. His fingers danced along the edge of the thin copper tub as his muscles warmed and relaxed.

It had been a long journey to King's Landing. He had left the Wall more than a month ago, retracing his steps to reach Winterfell a week later, where he was confronted by Robb who told him of his mother's suspicions that the Lannisters were responsible for Bran's fall. Harry wasn't all that surprised to hear that the Queen and the Kingslayer were the two principal suspects; he didn't like or trust either of the twins, having neither heard nor seen anything good about them. Harry, however, was not entirely sure of their guilt in the matter. Robb had voiced his mother's accusations vehemently, but they had little evidence more than a strand of golden hair that could have been there for a week. If the Lannisters truly were to blame, Harry expected that they would have attempted to silence Bran, for fear that he might eventually remember something, but they had not made any move of the sort. For the remainder of the visit, the lions had been quiet and sincerely empathetic in their treatment towards the Starks.

Harry was more than surprised to learn that Lady Catelyn had left Winterfell and was heading for King's Landing in secret. Harry didn't like the idea of Lady Cat leaving an injured Bran without either his mother or father, but Robb and Maester Luwin seemed to be taking good care of the young boy. Harry had thought that Bran would have remembered something about his incident if he gave him time for his mind to collect itself, but Bran still seemed to have no recollection of how he came to fall. Still, Harry was almost certain that deep within Bran lay the knowledge of who pushed him from the tower, a knowledge that would only be revealed through time. During his brief stay at Winterfell, he spent much time with Bran, who had started to tell him about the odd and seemingly prophetic dreams that he had started having. Before he left the castle again, Harry had spent a long time talking to the boy before Harry gave him a small book for him to write his thoughts and dreams in, in the hopes that he would be able to decipher his dreams.

After spending a few days in Winterfell to rest, he was soon back on the road again, heading south along the Kingsroad. His journey had been long, lonely and exhausting. Each night before he slept, he would practice casting spells with his new wand, training his magic until he was on the point of collapse. The training was brutal; Harry was not one to do things the easy way, and each night he went to bed sore, his magic depleted and his muscles aching. Throughout his journey, he slept under hedges by the side of the road; his head nestled comfortingly into Padfoot's fur.

It had taken a month's hard riding for Harry to reach King's Landing, pushing his mare half to death to get there as soon as possible, as demanded by Lord Stark, but eventually he had reached the capital.

His joints cracked as he stretched in the tub, constantly regulating the temperature of the water with a small heating charm from his wand. He grinned widely at his own casual use of magic. Despite the fact that almost all of the world-shattering magic that he had read and dreamed about was still beyond his ability, he was now more than capable of keeping up basic charms and spells without too much effort. He relaxed in the water, closing his eyes as the dirt from the road washed off of him. He took care not to let himself unwind too much, for fear of falling asleep. Ever since he had made his wand, his dreams of magic and his 'previous life' had become more and more frequent, up to the point where Harry feared sleeping. Each night he exhausted himself before falling asleep in the hopes of having a dreamless rest.

Splashing some warm water on his face, Harry rubbed the dirt off his face, his fingers running through his wet hair, brushing out all the filth that had accumulated in his hair since he left Winterfell.

Out of the silence, a high pitched squeal caused Harry's eyes to snap open violently, catching a glimpse of fiery red hair as it fled from the room.

"Seven Hells, Sansa! Why didn't you knock?" Harry screamed in a less than manly fashion as he pulled himself out of the bath, quickly wrapping a thin, scratchy towel around his waist. Tiny rivulets of water dripped down his chest as he ran his hand through his hair again, this time to move his long black hair out of his eyes.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, Harry!" Her eyes were wide, comically so, as she stared at the still only half-dressed Harry. Her hands quickly rose to her face, covering her eyes, as a dark red blush spread across her face.

"Oh Gods, Sansa, why are you here?" Harry spoke frenziedly as he bundled clothes together franticly, eventually finding his cloth jerkin, which he rapidly pulled over his head. "Close your eyes properly!" He barked at Sansa, as he caught her peeking from between her fingers.

"I'm sorry!" She repeated, closing her fingers again. Harry made sure that her eyes were firmly shut before he pulled a pair of trousers on, underneath the towel.

"It's okay." Harry said, a bit breathlessly. "It's alright, I'm not angry, I'm just … I'm just… Oh, why didn't you knock?"

Sansa giggled, before slapping a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. "Oh Gods Harry, I am so, so sorry. It's just that Arya was with her 'dancing master' and I had finished my sewing lessons in the maidenvault with the Septa, when father mentioned that you had arrived in the city, and that you would be leaving soon, so I just thought that I would come and visit you." Sansa babbled quickly in her nervousness.

Harry placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly as his brow furrowed in thought. "Your father let you come here on your own?"

Sansa looked almost scandalised at that. "Of course not! Jeyne's waiting just outside with a pair of guards."

Harry groaned in annoyance. He wasn't overly fond of Jeyne Poole. "Did you have a reason for bringing such an escort?"

Sansa shrugged noncommittally. "Father won't let me leave the Tower of the Hand without at least two men guarding me. He says it's not safe for me to gallivant around King's Landing alone."

Harry grunted. "He's right. King's Landing is a dangerous city, far more so than Winterfell. You must take care here."

Sansa rolled her eyes. "You sound just like my father, Harry. You shouldn't worry, I'll be very careful. I'll take my guards with me everywhere."

"Not just that, Sansa. You can't trust anyone here; not Joffrey, nor the Queen, nor the Lannisters and not even the King. This place," he spat, "is a cess-pool, filled with filth and scum, all willing to eat each other for any glimpse of their own place in the sun."

Sansa almost scoffed. "You're exaggerating, Harry. I will take care, but there's no need for fear mongering."

Harry sighed. It was pointless trying to argue the matter with Sansa. Harry had pressed the case for care and caution many times, and he could do no more. The rest would be up to her.

"How was your journey?" She asked in a small voice.

Harry made a face, setting off Sansa's giggles again. "It was horrible; wet and cold and lonely and boring. I only had Padfoot for company, and you know how bad he is at intelligent conversation."

A deep growl echoed from underneath the bed and Harry froze. He hadn't realised that the wolf was in the room with him. A black paw shot out from under a pile of clothes, scratching at Harry's ankles before retreating back into the cosiness of its lair.

Harry paused, remembering something that Ned had told him when he reached King's Landing.

"I heard about Lady." Harry spoke softly, in an apologetic tone. "I'm truly sorry."

He pulled her into a tight hug, ignoring the fact that his wet hair was dripping water onto her dress. She buried her face into his warm shoulder as he just held her for a minute, whispering comforting words into her ear. When she pulled away, he could see that her eyes were wet, but no tears had fallen.

"It's okay. I miss her a lot." She took a shuddering breath as she steadied herself. "I know that it was my fault that she died. If I hadn't lied and supported the prince…"

Harry cut her off immediately. "No, no, sweet girl. It wasn't your fault. You did what you had to do to preserve good relations with your future husband. It was Joffrey's fault, his and the Queen's. You are not to blame for what happened."

She sniffed heavily. "Father and Jeyne and Septa Mordane keep telling me the same thing, but I know that I'm to blame. Father even thought that I'd blamed him for Lady, and Arya won't even speak to me anymore because she lost Nymeria!"

"It's alright. I'm sure Arya doesn't blame you, she's just angry with the prince!" He pulled her into another hug, in an attempt to console the borderline hysterical girl. "Come here."

"It's just… I feel like I've lost a part of myself. Like I lost my left hand." Her muffled voice sounded from against his chest.

"What do you mean?"

Sansa grew nervous. "I used to have dreams through Lady… We would run together through the grass, and I would watch her hunt through her own eyes. Then she died, and the dreams stopped altogether. For a few brief moments each night, we were one, and now I feel like I've lost that little part of my life."

"Your brother… Bran… has the same kind of dreams with Summer. He says that since his fall he oft has dreams where his mind melded into the mind of his wolf." Sansa looked up at Harry, a surprised look on her face. "But since then, he seems to be dreaming of a three-eyed-crow more and more. Have you dreamt of anything else?"

Sansa shook her head frantically. "Just Lady… Oh Gods, what have I done?"

Harry squeezed her shoulders soothingly. From within his lair, underneath Harry's bed, Padfoot emerged silently, his paws padding softly against the warm stone fur, before he curled himself around Sansa's feet, wrapping her legs in what would be a wolf-hug.

The three of them stood there for a while, silent, as both boy and wolf sought to help the emotional girl. Harry kissed her tenderly on the forehead, his dry lips just brushing her skin for a second. Her dark red blush returned in full force, but her breathing slowly calmed as her heart slowed down in their relaxing grip.

"There. Now, isn't that better?" Harry smiled down at her. "Just relax, sweet girl. You haven't done anything; what little part of you that you've lost will come back to you in time, so do not fret."

Sansa gave him a little watery smile, causing Harry's face to light up with a big grin. Sansa was like a little sister to him; he had been her favourite carer since she was just a small child, he had tucked her in at night, read her stories, looked after her when she was sick. She was his little sister and he hated seeing her hurt.

A sharp knock on the door startled them, causing Harry to let go of Sansa. He pulled the door open to reveal a doe eyed Jeyne Poole, her fingers gripping a slim letter tightly.

"A message for you, Ser Harry, from Lord Stark." Her eyes grew wider as she saw Sansa's wet, red eyes and Harry's half open cloth jerkin. Harry pulled the letter out of her hands with a muted 'thank you' before breaking the wax seal depicting a stylised red hand clutching a crown firmly.

Harry grunted as he read the contents of the letter. "Your father summons me, my Lady. I must go."

Sansa smiled softly. "I'll come with you. I need to return to the Tower of the Hand anyway."

Harry shook his head. "Your father has summoned me to the dungeons of the Red Keep, my Lady. It might be best if we part for a little while and you return to your studies."

It was a small lie, really. Ned had summoned Harry to one of Petyr Baelish's establishments instead. Harry however, would be caught dead before he admitted to Sansa that he was going to meet her father in a whorehouse, regardless of the fact that Ned would never take a whore.

"Very well, Ser Harry. Try not to take too long, Arya has a 'dancing lesson' in an hour and she mentioned to father that she wanted you to come and see her dance." Her tone was a little melancholy at that, not liking the gulf that was growing between her and her sister.

"Maybe we can go together and show our support for Arya?"

Sansa perked up at that. "I'd like that."

After ushering the two girls and their guards out of his quarters, Harry dressed himself properly. Now wearing a light boiled leather jerkin with his sword and a dagger belted onto his waist, he hurried out of his quarters and through the city. He made good time through the city, stopping only to toss a few silver stags at the most heart wrenching of the beggars that lined the streets of King's Landing from the gates of the Red Keep all the way down to Fleabottom.

He announced himself at the gates to the Mockingbird's compound, before he was smoothly let past the gates and into the house itself. In the back of the house, in Littlefinger's quarters sat Lord and Lady Stark, opposite Littlefinger himself.

"Lady Stark! I wasn't expecting to see you here." Harry exclaimed.

"Then where were you expecting to see me?" She teased gently.

"Not here, it would seem." Said Littlefinger in jest.

Harry nodded politely at the Lord's comment before speaking to Lady Catelyn again.

"I had heard from Robb that you had left Winterfell in secret. I wish you had waited for my return, my Lady, then we might have made the journey together."

"I'm sorry Harry. I had to leave quickly if I wanted to reach King's Landing in time."

Harry nodded in acceptance, before turning to Lord Stark, who had been completely ignored in the conversation up to this point.

"Harry." Ned acknowledged. "How was your journey?"

Harry waved away his niceties. "It was fine, my Lord. Now I must ask, why have you sent for me, and from such a place?"

"You don't like whores, Ser Harry?" Asked Littlefinger quietly, his voice akin to the rustle of soft silk; smooth and enticing. "Whoring is the oldest profession in Westeros, after all."

Harry chose his words carefully; aware that insulting the Master of Coin or his profession would not be a wise move. "I see no problem in men paying for bed-mates, but it is not for me, my Lord. We each have our vices, Lord Baelish, and though it might be so for many men, an abundance of lust is not one of my more pressing faults."

"Then what are?"

Harry smiled poisonously. "I'm afraid you'll have to find out for yourself, my Lord."

Littlefinger's eyes danced with mirth as Harry stepped deftly around his questions. "You have a head for the game, Ser Harry."

"And what game would that be, my Lord?" Harry asked inquisitively.

"The only game that there is, boy. The game of thrones." Baelish's eyes flashed dangerously for the briefest of moments.

"Enough chatter." Said Lord Stark firmly. "I called you here to give counsel in our time of need. We trust you and your judgement."

Harry almost smiled with pride, but he kept his face devoid of expression at the sombre words.

"Why here, though?"

"Lady Catelyn's presence in the city must remain a secret, so naturally she cannot stay in the Tower of the Hand." Littlefinger said languorously.

"Indeed." Ned paused for a moment. "Did Robb tell you of our suspicions?"

"Aye, he did. He mentioned that Lady Cat suspected that the Lannisters were behind Bran's fall. He did also mention that there was little evidence to suggest that it was them, though."

Littlefinger straightened up. "One of my newest… acquisitions was a maid in the service of Winterfell before she came into my employ. She swears on all the Gods that she saw the Queen and the Kingslayer leave the tower that Bran fell from, just after you had carried the boy away."

Harry frowned suspiciously. "What's her name?"

Littlefinger smiled in delight. The boy was entertaining. "Her name's Ros. I can bring her out if you want, though she may be a little indisposed at the moment."

Harry shook his head. He knew who Ros was; he had met her once or twice in the past. More importantly, he remembered pushing past her in his hurry to get Bran to Maester Luwin.

"Is she sure it was them?" He asked.

"Positive."

"Why didn't she tell Lord Stark about it, then? Why did she wait and tell you first?"

Littlefinger's head dipped slightly. "Lord Stark had often expressed his less than fond views on whoring and those professionals who practice it. She worried that she would not be believed, and that the lions would have her head for making such accusations."

Harry hummed in thought for a second. "Do you want my counsel?" He asked the Starks.

"Of course."

"Then I would advise you to do nothing."

Lady Catelyn jumped out of her seat, anger written across her face. "They come into our home as guests, betray our hospitality and leave my son, the boy you care for as a brother, to die on the cold ground, and you tell me to do nothing! Have you taken leave of your senses?"

Lord Baelish looked inquisitive. "I would agree with Lady Catelyn, Ser Harry. To do nothing would be to invite others to try again."

Ned was deep in thought, his brow furrowed unhappily. "Explain yourself, lad."

"My Lord, I have heard tell of a certain sea snake that lives along the Eastern shores of the Narrow Sea. It is known to lie in the sand, as if wounded, for a time. Its enemies will circle round it, and yet it will lie still. Its enemies will take little bites out of it, and yet it will lie still. Then, when its enemies think it finished, it will lunge and devour them whole." Harry grinned viciously. "I am not advocating letting the Lannisters bring us to ruin by our own inaction, but I am saying that if we let their treachery come to light, if we pin them with their own lies, then we have won. Give them just enough rope to hang themselves with, so to speak."

Lady Catelyn still looked unhappy with his explanation, a stormy expression plastered on her face, but Ned and Baelish looked intrigued.

Ned nodded in acquiescence. "You have a point, Harry. We shall carry on our investigations and when we have solid proof, we'll go to Robert and put the whole damn lot of them on trial. He won't weep to see them gone." His voice dropped an octave, his tone becoming threatening.

"The lions have become arrogant in the long summer."

His eyes were dark, but his expression was cold.

"It's time to remind them that winter is coming."

Lady Cat had to remain at Littlefinger's house with Lord Baelish in order to preserve her secrecy, but Harry and Ned made their way back to the Tower of the Hand, both riding borrowed horses so that they could reach Ned's quarters before Arya's lesson.

"There is another matter I would like to discuss with you, Harry, if we can find somewhere to talk in private."

Harry smirked proudly before waving his right hand in the air, forcing his magic into the weirwood wad that he had strapped to his wrist and hidden underneath his sleeve. It was much more awkward to push his magic out of his wrists compared to when he held his wand in his hand, but it was worth it if it hid his wand from view.

"Muffliato." He muttered under his breath, the word rolling off his tongue with a strange familiarity.

The area around the horses thrummed, almost unnoticeably, with power, as Harry twisted the magic of the spell, anchoring the magic on himself, so that it would follow the two of them round, keeping their conversations secret even as they moved. It was one of the more complex charms that Harry was capable of using, but his month long endurance and spell training on the road had strengthened his core considerably, and now he barely felt the drain on his energy that came from using such a spell.

"You can speak freely, my Lord."

Ned smiled at Harry's careful use of magic. "Very impressive Harry. Have you been practicing long?"

Harry bowed his head to hide his proud, almost smug smile. "Since I left the Wall with a wand, my Lord."

Ned's eyebrows shot up. "A wand? Now that is impressive. From the stories that I heard, wandlore was lost in the Doom of Valyria, more than four centuries ago."

"Aye it was, my Lord. It required much effort and luck for me to create my wand."

Ned pondered a question for a moment. "It's the first wand to be made since the Conquest, maybe the first of its kind to have ever been made in Westeros." He paused, waiting for Harry to verify his musings.

"Aye."

"Then don't you think you should name it? Do wands even have names?"

Harry started for a second. "I don't know, but it sounds like a good idea. I'll try and think of a name for the wand."

Ned smiled proudly at Harry. "Name it something fierce and strong."

"Maybe I should name it after a Stark woman, then." Harry japed, chuckling when Ned's chest rumbled with hoarse laughter.

"That may be too fierce for you to handle, Harry."

Harry hummed. "Aye, I think you're right."

The two rode in a companionable silence before Harry remembered that Ned had wanted to speak to him.

"You wanted to discuss another matter, my Lord? A private matter?"

Ned thanked Harry for reminding him, before a troubled expression graced his face. "Recently, Robert has become obsessed with the two remaining Targaryen children; Viserys and his sister Daenerys. The daughter has just married some Dothraki horse lord, thousands of leagues away and now Robert fears for his throne from the child of the horse and the dragon."

Harry's heart stopped for a split second as he recalled the oath he had made to the aged Maester Aemon Targaryen on the Wall. He had promised to do everything in his power to protect the remaining members of House Targaryen, a promise that he had hoped that he wouldn't have to deal with for many years to come.

"I fear that Robert may have them killed, as Tywin Lannister had Rhaenys and Aegon killed during the rebellion." Ned sighed heavily. "The man that was willing to argue that a young girl, only a few years older than Sansa, can be a threat that needs to be removed is not the man that I followed into battle all those years ago."

Cold fear ran through Harry as he thought about his oath. As Maester Aemon had predicted, Harry could keep his honour and help the Targaryens, forsaking his family, or he could ignore his oath, let the girl die, keeping his loyalty to his family but ignoring his honour, and his duty to the old Maester of Castle Black. Harry had always strived to be an honourable man, but when it came down to upholding his honour or protecting his family, there was never any question; Harry would go with his family every time.

"What would you have me do, my Lord?" Harry questioned, silently begging that his choice would be taken out of his hands, that it would be made for him by Lord Stark.

"Nothing, as of yet, but I want you to be ready to move at a moment's notice."

Harry was confused. "Move? Move where?"

"If Robert orders the assassination of the Targaryen children, I want you ready to travel to Essos in secret and inform them that King Robert has put a price on their heads."

"My Lord!" Harry exclaimed. "King Robert won't take kindly to that. He'll see it as treason of the worst kind."

"That's why you'll travel in secret until you cross the Narrow Sea. Robert will never have to know."

"Is it worth the risk, my Lord? If another House finds out that you were willing to go against the wishes of King Robert, just for some Targaryen children, there'll be hell to pay. Your House will be ruined."

"It is most certainly worth the risk." Ned wore a bleak expression on his face, his stormy eyes looking through Harry. "I was there, Harry, at the Sack of King's Landing. I was the one to break down the door to the throne room to find the Mad King's corpse lying on the floor, as Jaime fucking Lannister sat on the Iron Throne picking his nails. I saw them bring in the corpses of Rhaenys and Aegon. They had covered them in sheets of Lannister crimson to hide the blood stains, but when I brought my fingers to touch the cloth, they came away red. The Mountain had dashed little Aegon's head against the wall, while tiny little Rhaenys had been stabbed half-a-hundred times as Clegane's men raped and murdered her family."

Ned took a shuddering breath to steady his shaking hands.

"I will not be a part of murder again, Harry. Even if I pay for it with my life, I'll do all that I can to make sure that Daenerys and Viserys aren't butchered like their brother's children were. The Robert I knew and loved wouldn't kill children out of fear! He knows that the Dothraki will never, not in a thousand lifetimes, cross the Narrow Sea, and if they did, we would smash them against the stone walls of our castles. His hatred of the Targaryens has gone on for long enough. It is time to make amends."

Harry was shaken by the raw emotion that he heard in Ned's voice. Bouts of passion were few and far between from Eddard Stark, making them all the more powerful in their rarity. The only time he had heard one in recent memory was when Bran had woken up after his fall.

"Will you do as I command, Ser Harry?" His voice was solemn, almost cold.

"My Lord, I am your sworn shield, under oath to protect and honour your will. But more than that, you've been like a second father to me, you've opened up your home and your family to me. If it is your wish, I would gladly go to Essos and protect the last of the dragons."

Relief washed over Ned soothingly. "Thank you, Harry. I'll make sure that you are greatly rewarded for your service."

Harry bowed as best he could from the saddle. "Duty is its own reward, Lord Stark. Just do me a favour… make sure to think of something convincing to tell Sansa and Arya when I leave. Maybe tell Sansa that I've gone to Skagos to bring her a unicorn for her wedding present."

Ned chuckled lightly.

"She'll believe that. You always were her favourite."

AN: Some might say that having Ned send Harry to warn the Targaryens is out of character, and would never happen, however this is the man who went to Cersei and told her outright that he was going to have her arrested, all so that she could get her children out of the city. Ned also resigned because Robert decided to assassinate Daenerys and Viserys (who he saw as children, innocent of their fathers crimes)so I think that it's not too far a stretch to imagine that he would send someone like Harry to Essos if he could.

I think Ned's order and Aemon's oath are sufficient enough motivation for Harry to cross the Narrow Sea to meet Dany. Although they will be meeting sometime in the next few chapters, I won't hurry the pairing. I have my own ideas for a slightly slower, more realistic (for that period in time) pairing.

This is the first chapter where Harry starts to use his magic properly. There would be little point to making this story a crossover if I didn't implement some aspects of Harry Potter, which means that he will get better with a wand as the story progresses (though he will definitely not be overpowered).

In a few reviews, people have asked about Bran. If it wasn't made clear in the chapter, Bran still doesn't remember who pushed him. Even though his coma wasn't very long, he still underwent grave trauma to the head.

The title of this chapter comes from the words of House Buckwell of the Antlers, which is one of the minor houses from the Crownlands.

R&R.

Thanks,

Penhaligon