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.


~ Surprises of all kinds ~


"Do you have to go so soon?" Arya asked, as she stood by while Harry checked his saddle.

Deciding that he had stayed too long in the capital, Harry had chartered a ship to take him, Jon, and the rest of usual guard to Dragonstone. Since his tenth nameday, Harry would spend at least one month of the year at the island fortress, entertaining the Lords of Houses Velaryon, House Bar Emmon, House Celtigar and House Sunglass. On the occasion, Harry also entertained the folk from the Houses at Crackclaw Point. All in all, it totalled at around five thousand men loyal to Dragonstone, and to Harry.

"I'm afraid so, Arya. I've tarried too long," Harry gently replied.

The young girl pouted at looked away, causing Harry to smile. Turning to his Uncle, who had just finished his farewells with Jon, Harry gestured Eddard to following him to the side.

"Uncle, as I've said before, be wary of who you trust," Harry began, "I have several men loyal to me in key positions keeping an eye out. They will make themselves known to you, by a specific token that all men loyal to me carry. You know what it looks like."

Eddard frowned in confusion, before the answer dawned upon him. The token that Harry was referring to was a ring that belonged to his father that he gave to Harry on his five-and-tenth nameday. A ring that Harry must have duplicated.

"Of course, nephew. It is much appreciated," Eddard replied.

Harry nodded, and then looked around. He noted that Sansa was nowhere to be seen. When he vocalised his thoughts, Eddard grimaced.

"She's with Prince Joffrey," he explained, "They are having a stroll in the gardens."

Harry blinked, "I thought you didn't agree to the match?"

"At your suggestion, yes," Eddard confirmed, "However, Prince Joffrey is still courting her, and Sansa seems to be receptive of his advances."

"Typical," Harry mumbled under his breath, "Keep a close eye on her, Uncle. I wouldn't put it past my step-mother to use her to spy on you."

Eddard frowned, "Surely she wouldn't stoop so low?"

"You underestimate the levels of deplorability Cersei Lannister is capable of," Harry replied darkly.

Eddard's frowned deepened, but made no comment as the ship was finished in its preparations. Harry then bade both his cousin and uncle farewell, and boarded the ship. It was ship that Harry regularly used whenever he travelled by sea, and was named the Winter Rose in remembrance of his mother. It was crewed solely by men loyal to Harry, hence why he had no reservations of using the ship.

As the ship pulled out of the docks, Harry walked towards the bow of the ship. By his left leg, Fenrir sat on his haunches. At his right side, stood Jon who had a frown on his face.

"What's on your mind?" Harry asked.

"Hm?" Jon snapped of his thoughts.

"I asked what was on your mind. You seemed deep in thought," Harry repeated.

Jon seemed hesitant to answer, but did so anyway, "I've been having…dreams? I don't know, they feel real."

Harry's concerned look turned curious, "Are you having visions?"

"I…I am not sure. They might be, but it's strange."

"Strange? Strange how?"

"It's like I'm watching the events through Ghost's eyes," Jon answered, the disbelief clearly on his face.

"What sort of things are you seen?" Harry asked.

"Just normal things. A few guardsmen patrolling the hallways. Servants going about their jobs. That sort of thing," Jon explained.

Harry looked pensive. From what Jon had said, it sounded an awful lot like Jon was skinchanging. If he were anyone else, Harry would consider the notion ludicrous. However, given the circumstances of his birth, Harry was willing to consider the idea.

"Harry?"

Harry was brought out of his musings, "Sorry, what was that?"

"Do you have an idea of what it is?"

"Well…You need to keep an open mind about this," Harry began, to which Jon nodded, "How much do you remember of Old Nan's stories?"

"What?"

"Answer the question, please," Harry patiently insisted.

"Erm…most of them, why?"

"As absurd as might sound, you might be a skinchanger," Harry explained.

"A what? A skin…A skinchanger?" Jon looked perplexed, "As in…when one enters the mind of an animal? Those are just stories!"

"Not so much," Harry disagreed, "I believe the skill is common amongst the Free Folk."

"Huh," Jon fell silent at that, as the pair stared out into the waters ahead.

Though common was how Harry ought to have put it. Yes, there were skinchangers amongst the Free Folk. However, it wasn't that it was common to be skinchangers, but more than it was common for people to have the potential to be skinchangers. Some just never noticed they had the skills. On his occasional sojourns beyond the Wall, he had come across some of the friendlier Free Folk who had the talent. One such was a female Free Folk named Briar, who had a shadowcat partner. She had explained that it took a great deal of mental fortitude to develop the skill, and it was the easiest with canine partners. As for whether one had the ability, one man in a thousand is born with the potential to be a skinchanger. The meeting had left Harry curious as to whether or not he should try, but the opportunity never rose, nor did any apparent magic from his last life.

Speaking of magic, that was a source of frustration for Harry. He had often bemoaned his lack of any magical skill, as legilimency would have made those pesky Small Council meetings so much easier. Harry had many discussions with Maester Luwin, one of the few maester's to even have a Valyrian steel link on his chain to signify his studies in the arcane. The maester had explained that magic was most prevalent during the heights of the Valyrian Freehold, but most records of the time were lost to the Doom. What little was left was considered heresy by the Faith of the Seven, and as such the topic was left alone. Modern magic was mostly limited to the blood sorcery of the priests of R'hllor.

Not willing to even consider the idea of converting to the red god, Harry was left to ponder on how to possibly regain his magic. Though on the occasion Death communed with him, Harry was assured that his powers would return in time.

"How long till we reach Dragonstone?" Jon asked, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.

"Assuming the weather holds, before nightfall. The island is located at the entrance to Blackwater Bay, so it's not too long a journey," Harry replied.

"Huh, must be convenient?"

"Hm, I suppose so. Though, considering up until now, I've predominantly lived in Winterfell. It's hardly that convenient."

Jon laughed, "And now?"

"Now? I suppose I will have to stay more often at Dragonstone…though I suspect Father will have me in the capital, so that we can both suffer," Harry wryly stated.

The pair shared another laugh. Eventually, the ship reached Dragonstone, and Harry disembarked, with Jon following behind, and the Wolfsguard a little way behind them. Edric had left to handle his duties. Greeting them at the footsteps to the fortress was the castellan, Ser Nathaniel Howe. Nathaniel Howe was the son of Ser Rendon Howe, who was initially a supporter of Robert's Rebellion, but turned out to be a traitor. He had almost successfully arranged the assassination of both Robert and Jon Arryn, if not for the timely intervention of Ser Nathaniel. The elder Howe was promptly executed, while Nathaniel was knighted and granted the position of castellan of Dragonstone; a position he held to the present day.

"My Prince, welcome back to Dragonstone," the castellan greeted.

"Ser Nathaniel, good to see you again," Harry nodded back, "This is Ser Jon Whitehart. He hasn't properly joined the Wolfsguard, but he is kin."

"Of course, well met Ser Whitehart," Ser Nathaniel smiled, "It is a pleasure to meet another in the service of Prince Haraldr."

Jon nodded in greeting, "Aye, well met Ser Howe."

"Have a servant take you to your permanent quarters for whenever you stay here," Harry told Jon, "I'll send for you if I need you before dinner."

Jon nodded and followed a servant down a hallway. Harry then turned to the castellan.

"How are things, Ser Nathaniel? Did you send the ravens, as I asked?" Harry enquired.

"Yes, my Prince. The Lords shall arrive tomorrow at midday, or perhaps the early evening, depending on the weather," Ser Nathaniel replied.

"And the family? Are they well?"

"They are all fine. Deliah married and had a son, and Thomas is taking to his training well. I daresay he could be my successor at some point in the future."

"We need to find you a wife, Ser Nathaniel," Harry said with a teasing grin.

"Not any time soon, I think, my Prince," Ser Nathaniel chuckled good-naturedly.

"Of course. Tell Maester Esbern that I wish to speak with him at his earliest convenience. I will be in my quarters," Harry said, before walking away towards his own quarters.

"Ah, my Prince, before you go-"

"It can wait until I've changed my clothes, Ser Nathaniel," Harry interrupted.

"But my Prince-"

"Later!"

If Harry had bothered to wait and hear out his castellan, he would have seen the knight let loose a deep sigh before mumbling about how 'she' would prefer it to be a surprise. However, Harry was far too into his thoughts regarding how to handle the Wall. Though he was brought out of his musings when he was granted the sight, in Harry's own humble opinion, of the most glorious view in his short life.

Upon his bed lay two beautiful young women. Each naked at the day they were born. Both were of Dornish descent, but each had their own unique look. The one on the right was buxom, with olive skin, dark eyes and long, thick black hair that fell to the middle of her back in ringlets. A sultry smirk was upon her full lips and a lust-filled look in her eyes. The girl on the left was a more slender build however, had rich blonde hair, sky-blue eyes, and fair, almost pale, complexion. A casual observer would only see a sweet and pious persona, yet underneath the veneer was a cunning mind inherited from the Red Viper. In spite of that, at the current moment a small grin adorned her face, with thinly veiled lust.

Harry's mouth went dry as he took in the sight, committing it to memory.

"Well…This is a surprise…Arianne."

The Princess of Dorne's smirk widened, "Hello Beloved. Do forgive me for this…rather inappropriate welcome, but it has been quite some time since we saw each other last."

Harry swallowed, "Yes…I suppose so. I see you brought a…guest."

"Indeed I have. I thought we might…share in the talents my cousin has," Arianne smiled coyly.

"And does your father…or your uncle know you're here?" Harry asked.

"My father cares little for what I do. He spends more time educating my older brother. Uncle Oberyn, however, is fully aware. He was the one who suggested I bring Tyene," Arianne replied airily, "Now, are you going to just stand there, or will you join us?"

"I could always use the assistance in removing my clothes?" Harry suggested with a raised eyebrow.

The girls wore matching grins as they rose from the bed. Both wore an expression of a predator stalking its prey. Reaching the Crown Prince, the pair soon liberated Harry from his clothes, and then Tyene pushed Harry onto the bed.


After resting from the rather strenuous activity, the trio shared a bath together. Despite the temptation, there was no second round. Subsequently, they dressed appropriately for dinner, and made their way to the dining hall.

"Aside from the obvious, why did you come?" Harry asked.

"No real reason," Arianne smiled enigmatically.

"Oh?"

The Princess sighed, "Truthfully, father is becoming impossible to be around. As I am betrothed to you, he cares little else beyond educating Quentyn on ruling. Even Trystane garners more attention from my father, than I do."

"Huh. That must be somewhat depressing? What of your mother?"

Arianne grimaced, "I have neither seen nor heard from her, since she and father had a falling out over Quentyn's fostering."

"I'm sorry," Harry gently apologised.

"Don't be," Arianne smiled, "Ellaria is more of a mother to me."

"Ellaria?"

"Father's current paramour," Tyene supplied, "Also, the mother of my four youngest sisters."

"Ah."

"By the by, Beloved, I have a request."

Harry paused in his walking, "Oh?"

"Uncle Oberyn's squire, Damon Sand…or rather, Ser Damon Sand. He is one of Dorne's finest swordsmen, but he is lacking a purpose," Arianne explained, "I was wondering whether you would take him into your service?"

"As a member of the Wolfsguard?" Harry asked in clarification, as he continued walking to the dining hall.

"In whatever capacity you wish," Arianne airily replied.

"Huh. Fair enough. Is he with you?"

"He is, Beloved," Arianne confirmed, "I chose him as my guard for the journey here."

"Convenient."

"Isn't it just," Arianne smiled beatifically.

Harry rolled his eyes, as they entered the dining hall. Inside, Jon stood by, waiting. Catching sight of the Princess of Dorne, Jon raised an eyebrow in question.

"Ah, Jon, this is my betrothed, Princess Arianne of the House Martell. Arianne, this is my cousin, Ser Jon Whitehart," Harry introduced.

"A pleasure, your Highness," Jon bowed.

"Of course," Arianne smirked, "I'm not familiar with the name?"

"Jon's the natural son of Uncle Eddard," Harry explained, "He's a sworn sword, but once he's old enough, I'll be making him a landed knight."

"Interesting," Arianne purred.

Seeing the glint in his intended's eye, Harry hastened to intervene, "No, Arianne, you will not take him to bed."

Jon spluttered, as Arianne pouted. Tyene giggled at her cousin's expression, while Harry rolled his eyes.

"I…What?" Jon struggled to find the words, "Aren't you betrothed to each other?"

"We are. She's teasing you," Harry deadpanned, and the continued in a lowered tone, "At least, I hope she is."

Arianne smirked, "What was that, Beloved?"

"Nothing, dearest!"

The Princess' smirk widened.

"Speaking of marriage, when are we getting married?" Harry asked.

Arianne raised an eyebrow, "I thought you knew. It's at the beginning of the new year."

"Huh, that only a couple of months away," Harry mused, before shrugging, "Fair enough. Anyway, let's eat. I'm starving."

With that said, the four of them settled down to eat. Simple conversation occurred amongst the group, and soon enough, night came. While Tyene graciously accepted a set of guest quarters, Arianne was stubborn in that she would share a bed with Harry. Not willing to make a fuss of it, Harry easily acquiesced to the demand.


Deep into his sleep, Harry found himself in a vast white space that seemed to go on forever. Harry idily noted that the area gave of the same feel as King's Cross Station did when he met Death. Realising that Death wanted to speak with him, Harry called out;

"I thought you weren't going to contact me like this while I was still alive?"

Death appeared in a flash of coalescent shadow, in stark contrast to the surround area.

"I was content to merely offer a whisper or two, like when you attended to that fallen knight, yes," Death replied, "However, the situation has changed."

Harry frowned, "Changed how?"

"I feel it in the water. I feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air," Death began, "What once was is lost. For none now live, who remember it."

"You aren't making any sense, Death," Harry pressed.

"You already know," Death revealed, "A great stirring occurs in the North."

Harry's eyes widened. It was one thing to suspect something. It was another thing entirely to receive confirmation. Even the idea of the White Walkers was terrifying.

"What can we do? I have no magic. And no records remain of how the Long Night was stopped," Harry started to pace, as his mind raced to find a solution.

"You will regain your magic before long, Master. Do not worry," Death stated.

Harry frowned. It did answer the question regarding his magic, but he still needed answers regarding the impending threat.

"Death, I need to know how to stop them."

"You will know, when the time is right," Death answered, "I cannot reveal such information prematurely. To do so would risk too much."

Harry yelled in rage, "Enough of the cryptic bullshit!"

"Master, I am not withholding the information to spite you" Death explained, "I physically cannot tell you, lest the consequences turn the situation worse."

Harry deflated almost immediately, "That…sucks."

"I am sorry, Master," Death appeared to be genuinely regretful, hence why Harry let it go.

"So, what should I do?" Harry asked, lost.

"You must go to the Wall. That which you seek, will be there to find," Death enigmatically stated.

Harry frowned. That sounded almost like a warning. Harry wasn't entirely sure what it was that he was seeking, but now that Death mentioned it, some days it felt like Harry was almost…incomplete. As if something instrumental to his very being was missing. Most days, Harry attributed this to the lack of his magic, but with Death's statement, Harry's gut instinct was telling him that this was something more.

"Is there anything else I should know?" Harry asked.

"Yes. Beware the Red God. Its powers a comparable to mine, but limited in scope," Death warned, "Soon its powers will be brought to the mortal plane, and you will need to prepare yourself, my Master."

"That's worrying," Harry commented, "Anything else?"

"The other Gods of this realm are stirring too, it would seem," Death added, "Your arrival into this world has shaken things, somewhat."

"The other Gods? What? Like the Many-Faced God, or the Seven?" Harry asked.

Death let out a rather uncharacteristic snort, "The Many-Faced God is merely an avatar of mine, as is the Stranger of the Seven. The other six are nothing more than words on paper written by mortals.

"I speak of the Old Gods of the North. The true Gods of Westeros," Death revealed, "They have been silent for an age, but your arrival to this world has sparked an awakening. An awakening that has been long in the coming."

"No pressure then," Harry deadpanned, slightly pale.

"Do not worry yourself, Master. The Old Gods know not to put too much expectation upon your shoulders," Death soothed, "They simply ask you do your utmost best to stop the coming Darkness."

"Right. I should, ah, probably wake up now?"

"That would be prudent, my Master."

Shaking his head, Harry closed his eyes, and darkness enveloped him.


Harry's eyes then snapped open. It was still somewhat dark, but the light from the break of dawn shining through gave the room a slight orange glow to it. Turning his head slightly, Harry caught sight of a man in a hooded cloak, sitting in a chair and sipping from a goblet.

Groaning slightly, Harry deftly extracted himself from Arianne's embrace. She mumbled in discomfort, but remained asleep. Harry then put on a tunic, and made his way to the figure.

"You know how much I dislike you appearing like this, Khalen," Harry groused.

"Apologies, my Prince, but I needed to enter unseen," the newly named Khalen replied, "The less people know of my movements, the easier my work is."

"Of course," Harry waved away the explanaition, "Report."

Khalen was of Tyroshi descent, and one of Caius' lieutenants in Harry's spy network. Khalen was based in the Seven Kingdoms, specifically the Vale. As such, he was in charge of the spies in that Kingdom.

"As you wish, my Prince," the spy began, "I have uncovered some information regarding the murder of Jon Arryn."

"So he was murdered," Harry murmured, "Continue."

"It would appear that the Lannister's are not responsible for the murder. However, the late Hand did find something incriminating about the Queen."

"So whoever killed Lord Arryn had the same information, and tried to frame the Lannisters," Harry deduced.

"Just so, my Prince," Khalen agreed, "However, your Uncle is still of the opinion the Lannister's did it, as suggested by the Lady Arynn."

"What? I know Father had vague suspicions of Lannister involvement, but this. How did we miss this?" Harry asked.

"I could not say, my Prince. Lysa Arryn is become exceedingly erratic, as of late. I have Mya looking into it, but I have no further information," Khalen admitted, "I do, however, have some news from Essos."

"Oh? Do share," Harry said.

"It would appear that the wedding of Daenerys Targaryen went smooth enough. She was gifted a pair of dragon eggs, if Master Caius heard correctly," Khalen began, "However, it would appear that the eggs have long since been petrified."

"I see, anything else?"

"Ser Jorah Mormont has managed to swear himself into Viserys Targaryen's service, but from what I understand, he is in actual fact an agent of the Spider," Khalen continued, "We were unfortunately unable to intercept missives to and from Mormont. I believe it is only a moment of time before the King is made aware."

"A pity," Harry quietly stated, "Have an agent permanently posted. Doreah perhaps?"

"I believe Master Caius already took the liberty of doing so, my Prince," Khalen said.

"Excellent. If there is nothing else, you are to immediately return to the Vale," Harry ordered, "I want you to particularly focus on Lysa Arryn. Something isn't right there."

"As you command, my Prince," Khalen bowed, before departing.

For the next few minutes, Harry sat in silence, contemplating the new information. The update on Daenerys Targaryen was useful. Since the siblings had reappeared at Illyrio Mopatis' manse, Harry had kept as close an eye as possible on them, ostensibly on Viserys, but in truth on Danerys. The last son of the Mad King didn't really concern Harry, not since Viserys started showing signs of the Madness. However, Harry was more concerned with ensuring the survival of House Targaryen, if only through the only daughter of Aerys II. Harry wasn't sure why, but his instincts were telling him to keep the girl safe, and if there was one thing Harry trusted it was his instincts.

"Do you normally have such heavy thoughts upon this early, Beloved?" the sultry voice of Arianne asked from behind him, as Harry was wrapped in the arms of his betrothed.

"Not normally, no. Just some new information," Harry said, smiling slightly. He leaned back and gazed into the eyes of his future queen. Arianne, in turn, leaned down, her hair flowing downwards. Harry then reached up and, with the back of his hand, stroked Arianne's cheek. The Princess smiled and leaned into the touch, closing her eyes and sighing in content.

"Some new information, you say?" she asked, reopening her eyes.

"Aye," Harry replied, "I've been keeping tabs on the last of the Targaryens. Not to mention, the death of Jon Arryn appears to be more complex that I originally thought."

If Harry had paid more attention, he would have noticed an odd gleam in Arianne's eyes at the mention of the last of the Targaryens. As he was rubbing his eyes, he failed to see as such, and continued talking.

"Daenerys Targaryen has married Khal Drogo," he continued, "And it would seem that Lysa Arryn is somehow involved with the death of her husband."

Arianne raised an eyebrow, intrigued, "I see. Nevertheless, Beloved, it is early morning and you must get ready to entertain the Lords. I also request that you swear Ser Damon into your service before long."

"Of course," Harry said, "Come. I'm sure you would want to bathe together?"

"You know me well, Beloved," Arianne giggled.

Several hours, and a swearing of a knight later, and the Lords sworn to Dragonstone had arrived. Unfortunately, the bad weather meant that the Lords didn't arrive until the late evening, which meant that Harry would have to entertain the lords at dinner. He stood in a balcony overlooking the port, as ships bearing the Lords sailed in. What surprised him though was the presence of ships Harry knew belonged to the Royal Navy, and therefore technically owing their loyalty to Stannis Baratheon. The most significant of the ships were three War Galleys that made their berth in the main docks; the Prince Aemon, the Princess Rhaenys, and the Queen Alysanne. The three ships were what few remained of the Targaryen Naval Fleet, which Stannis took when he was ordered to rebuild the Royal Navy. Alongside the three were the ships, Pride of Driftmark, Red Claw, and Swordfish. These belonged to Houses Velaryon, Celtigar and Bar Emmon respectively. Further down the port, Harry saw a wide array of War Galley's, fishing boats, and cogs.

'If my eyes don't deceive me, I'm looking at the better part of the Royal fleet,' Harry mused, 'But what are they doing here, and not in the Stormlands?'

Harry was then brought out of his thoughts when Jon arrived.

"Harry, the Lords have disembarked and are waiting in the dining hall. They await your presence," he stated.

Harry nodded, "I will make my way there now. Please have Arianne come, so that we enter together."

Soon enough, Arianne met with Harry wearing a gown of rich emerald silk. Harry wore a finer version of his usual black outfit, with green trimmings. As the pair approached the doors to the dining hall, a servant caught sight of them, and made to inform the announcer.

"Presenting, His Royal Highness, Prince Haraldr of the House Baratheon and his betrothed Princess Arianne of the House Martell," the man announced, silencing any small talk in the hall.

The Lords present stood in respect as the Crown Prince and his intended, moved to the head of the table.

"My Lords, welcome. Please be seated," Harry greeted, as he took his own seat, with Arianne sitting to his left.

The Lords then sat down, while Harry gestured for the servants to bring the food. It was of moderate quality, but had enough lavishness that the Lords would not be offended. Eventually the feasts was done, and the entertainment over.

"My Lords, I thank you for coming," Harry began, "However, there is much to be done, and I would have your full attention."

The Lords present, along with a few knights and heirs, sat up straight in their seats. Harry smiled slightly.

"First of all, I have some questions that I hope you can answer," he started, "I noticed that a good part of the Royal Navy is present. Could someone explain why?"

It was Lord Monford Velaryon who answered, "Your Highness, we, the Lords sworn to Dragonstone, were made aware of a priestess of a foreign god entering the confidence of Lady Selyse. It soon became apparent that this 'red woman' started whispering honeyed words in the ear of Lord Stannis."

"We began suspecting that Stannis had plans for seizing the Iron Throne from you, Your Highness," Lord Ardrian Celtigar took over, "In light of that information, plans were made to place men loyal to you to on war galleys."

"And where did these men come from?" Harry asked.

"The men presented themselves to us, with documents bearing your seal," Velaryon explained.

'Hm, this sounds Caius is involved,' Harry thought to himself, 'I will have to confirm with him later.'

"I see," Harry said out loud, "Then you have my gratitude for your loyalty, my Lords. What of the remaining ships?"

"They left for the Stormlands, Your Highness," Lord Duram Bar Emmon answered, "The Fury, Lord Steffon, and Stag of the Sea included."

"Those are the newer ships, correct?"

"Yes, Your Highness," Velaryon replied.

"Hm. This brings me to my next topic," Harry continued, "I believe that the Lannisters might be planning to place my half-brother on the throne."

"But you are the heir?" Lord Guncer Sunglass yelled out, aghast.

"Well done for pointing out the obvious, Lord Sunglass," Harry dryly stated, "But the court is filled with Lannisters, thanks to the manipulations of my dear step-mother.

"Father, hardly notices, and without Jon Arryn at court to assist him, I fear that War might come soon," Harry finished.

"But surely your Lord Uncle would be able to help your Lord Father?" Velaryon asked.

"Uncle Eddard has no patience of the Game, nor for politics in general," Harry replied, "We need to make preparations, and discreetly."

"Of course, Your Highness. We are yours to command," Celtigar declared.

Harry smiled, "Good. Between you, how many men can you field?"

The Lords of the Narrow Sea exchanged looks before Lord Velaryon spoke for them, "Near enough five thousand, your Highness."

"I see. Not enough for an assault on King's Landing," Harry mused, stroking his chin, "However, with the number of ships we have, we could effectively blockade Blackwater Bay."

"If Stannis does end up planning to usurp the throne from you, You Highness, he could employ sellsails to bolster his own fleet," Bar Emmon pointed out.

"I am aware," Harry calmly stated, "I have spies keeping an ear to the ground."

Seeing no one else was forthcoming, Harry brought the meeting to a close, "If nothing more is to be said, then I once again thank you for coming, and offer you rooms for the night."

Murmurs of gratitude swept through the Lords, as they got up from their seats, and made for the offered rooms. Only Harry, Arianne and Jon remained.

"You two were oddly quiet," Harry commented, offhandedly.

Arianne stretched, "You seemed to have everything well in hand, Beloved. I had nothing to add. I could not promise Dornish support without speaking to my father. If anything, Uncle Oberyn would join, just so he would gain vengeance for Aunt Elia."

"Hm. Fair enough. And you Jon, nothing to say?"

Jon frowned slightly, "I am still not fully aware of southern politics, my Prince. I couldn't offer you anything of note, without proper knowledge of the situation."

"An honest answer, if any," Harry sighed. He then turned to face his cousin, "Prepare for our depature to White Harbour."

"Business in the North, Beloved?" Arianne asked, as Jon got up to follow the order.

"Aye. I need to speak to the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch," Harry informed her, "Do you wish to come?"

Arianne frowned it thought before answering, "It's not like I'll be missed at Sunspear. Can Tyene come?"

"Of course."

"Then indeed I will. I've always wanted to see the North," Arianne revealed.

Harry half-smiled, "You probably change your mind, when we reach the Wall."


Arianne, as predicted, did change her mind. Two weeks later, and the Dornish princess did nothing but complain about the weather.

"It's too damn cold!" she groaned, shivering as she pulled her furs closer around her.

Harry laughed, "This is mild, Arianne. Wait until winter comes. Then you'll feel the cold."

"You Starks would know all about winter coming, wouldn't you," Arianne sniped, "It's in your words and all."

Reaching Castle Black, the party were met by Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, and First Ranger Benjen Stark.

"Welcome back to the Wall, your Highness," Mormont greeted.

Harry nodded back to both men, before dismount his horse. Handling the reins to a stable boy, Harry turned to face the Old Bear.

"What news of Rayer?" he bluntly asked.

Mormont raised an eyebrow at the question, and exchanged looks with Benjen.

"You'll want to see this," Benjen grimly stated.

Nonplussed, Harry followed his Uncle and the Lord Commander, Arianne and Jon a few steps behind, while Tyene went with the Wolfsguard to take in the sights.

"I went on a Ranging, as you asked, nephew," Benjen began, "While the Lord Commander is sceptical of the White Walkers, he agreed that parleying with Rayder might be better than complete destruction of the Night's Watch.

"I didn't quite get as far as Rayder, but I did meet with a few of the Free Folk, who had some stories to tell," the First Ranger continued, "Didn't end half as well as it started though.


Beyond the Wall, some days ago...


It had been nearly a week or so since Benjen had left on a Raging, and so far he had little luck finding Rayder and his ilk. As his group huddled around the fire, Benjen heard the crunching of snow coming from the bushes at the edges of the clearing in which he and his men had made camp. Whoever was there they were not the stealthiest of folk and Benjen turned from the fire and stood up, turning to face the trees.

"Wait here. I'll go meet with whoever's out there!" he whispered to one man.

"Is that wise?" the man whispered back.

"If they wanted us dead they would've stuck a dozen arrows in us by now," Benjen said.

"Is it wildlings?" one of the others asked.

"Aye, most likely," Benjen nodded, "Wait here, I'll be back."

Leaving the clearing, Benjen entered the bush, and sure enough, he came across a group of five members of the Free Folk. He noted that they were pulling a sledge behind them, but from his current position, Benjen couldn't quite see what was on the sledge.

"Crow," one of the women greeted with a nod.

"I am Benjen Stark," he returned with a nod of his own.

"Briar. Don't often get friendly crows," the newly named Briar noted.

"Don't often get friendly Free Folk," he fired back to which Briar managed a half-smile.

Benjen then managed to catch sight of what was on the sledges, and blanched. On the sledges were the bodies of Ser Waymar Royce and Will. He turned and looked straight into the eyes of Briar, a question clearly written on his face.

"We found 'em like this, a few days past," Briar explained, "Normally we'd burn 'em, but I figured you Crows would want to see 'em first."

"One of you lot did kill them?" Benjen asked, bemused.

"If you mean one of the Free Folk, then nah, we didn't," Briar denied, "We found 'em, like I said."

Benjen fell silent at this revelation. If the Free Folk didn't kill them, then what did? The wounds inflicted on the bodies suggested weapons, not claws, so it couldn't have been beasts. Frowning, he asked those pulling the sledged to bring them to the clearing.

Once they approached the fire, wary glances were exchanged between the Black Brothers and the Free Folk.

"You're brave lighting this fire," Briar comment, gesturing to the camp fire.

"How so?" Benjen frowned.

"Fire can attract all sorts," she ominously stated.

"I'm sure with all of us, we can fight off an ambush," Benjen dismissed.

"I ain't talking Free Folk," she warned, to which Benjen frowned.

"What then?"

"Walkers."

"What?" Benjen whispered, paling.

"Aye. I'd wager that it was 'em Walkers that did your fellow Crows in," she said causing Benjen to involuntarily shiver.

"Have you seen one?" he asked.

Briar snorted, "If I had, I wouldn't be here talking to you, now would I?"

"Where can I find Mance Rayder, then?" he asked, changing the topic, "Perhaps he's seen the Walkers."

"What makes you say that?" she asked, "He's further North, if ya must know."

"He wouldn't have gathered all of the Free Folk for no reason," Benjen replied darkly.

Briar barked a laugh, "Maybe your right, Crow. Whatever, I've done what I came for. My group an' I'll be off."

Benjen nodded, and gestured for his Brothers to take the sledges and head back to Castle Black.


Harry frowned in concern, "Where are these bodies?"

"This way," the Lord Commander said, gesturing for the Crown Prince to follow.

Eventually, the group made it to the storerooms, Harry saw the two corpses laid down on a bench each. It wasn't the pale skin tone that caught Harry's attention, however.

"That is disturbing," he grimly stated.

"What is?" Jon asked.

"The smell," Harry replied.

Arianne sniffed and raised an eyebrow, "What smell?"

"…Exactly," Harry then turned to face the Lord Commander who had a frown on his face, "Lord Commander you need to burn these bodies, immediately."

"Beloved, what's wrong," Arianne pressed, catching Harry's arm.

"The smell, or rather lack of it," Harry answered, "Dead bodies rot and give off a putrid odour. Why is there none here?"

Looks of confusion passed the rest of the group, until Jon realised what Harry was trying to get across.

"His Highness, is right, there should be a smell. Even the corpses of that stag and direwolf, some months back smelled of rot," Jon said.

"Lord Commander, I know the Night's Watch answers to no one but themselves, but I insists you burn the bodies," Harry implored.

Mormont breathed in deeply, and exhaled, "I have heard your counsel, your Highness, but my mind is made. Maester Aemon will inspect the bodies as soon as he's able."

Harry swallowed a scathing remark, and scowled.

"As you wish, Lord Commander," the Prince curtly acquiesced, "May be impose on a set of quarters, while my party stays here?"

"Of course, your Highness," Mormont replied, "May I ask how long you intend on staying here?"

"A few days at most. I will be required to stay in the capital more often than not, now."

The Lord Commander nodded, and left the room.

Harry kicked a nearby stool in frustration, causing Jon and Arianne to flinch in surprise.

"The utter fool!" he snarled, "He's making a huge mistake."

"Beloved, ours not the duty of the Watch," Arianne soothed, "The Lord Commander's mistake is not yours."

Harry signed in consternation, as he rubbed his forehead.

"Whatever," he said, "Let's make do of whatever accommodations they provide with us, and go from there."

The party soon left, and night fell upon the Wall. Harry took residence of the King's Tower with Arianne, as did Jon and Tyene. The Wolfsguard, including the newly inducted Ser Damon, were housed in the common barracks, as was Edric and other such squires.

Harry, however, woke to the sound of scratching on wood. Opening his eyes, Harry saw Fenrir standing upon his hind legs, trying to open the door to Harry's quarters.

"Fen," he grumbled, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes, "What's going on?"

Arianne mumbled in her sleep in discomfort, leading Harry to carefully extract himself from his betrothed's embrace, without waking her.

Putting on some clothes, he walked up to his companion, "What is it Fen?"

Fenrir whined, a bared his fangs in a snarl. The direwolf continued glaring at the door, which had deep gouges from Fenrir's claws.

"Is someone out there?" Harry whispered with a frown.

Taking his sword, Harry opened the door as quietly as possible. Entering the hallway, he was met with the sight of his cousin, who had his own direwolf beside him.

"Ghost wake you?" Harry asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"Aye, wouldn't stop clawing at the door," Jon answered.

The two men and their direwolves soon entered the courtyard. Silence was they were met with. Not too surprising, given this is was well into the night, but one thing stuck out as not normal to Jon.

"Where are the guards?" he asked, "There should be a few posted, even at night."

Harry cast a wary look around. He then saw a hooded figure in the centre of the courtyard.

"You there, name yourself," Harry ordered.

The figure was silent, but slowly made his way to Harry and Jon. This prompted Fenrir and Ghosts hackles to rise, as Fenrir growled.

"Fen, easy," Harry commanded, but then caught sight of the face of the hooded figure. A gust of wind blew through the yard, blowing the hood down, revealing the face of Ser Waymar Royce.

"What the bloody hell!" Jon yelled, as he raised his sword. Jon then slashed at Royce's arm, and successfully managed to dismember the corpse. Unfortunately, this sudden dismemberment didn't seem to affect Royce, who then wrapped his other hand around Jon's neck. While this happened, Fenrir and Ghost each took a leg and began mauling it, in an effort to force the corpse to release Jon, but fallen Black Brother failed to notice.

Harry, who had temporarily frozen his fear, regained his bearings and discarded his sword, realising the futility of using a blade. He instead decided to what he insisted the Lord Commander do; burn them. Unfortunately, the only flames he could see, was the open brazier a little way off. Realising that his hesitation would get Jon killed, Harry stuck his hand into the brazier, headless of the harm, and pulled out a burning, oily log. Running at the corpse, he smacked the burning log across its head, forcing it to release Jon, who fell to the floor gasping for air.

Harry then, unclasped his cloak and wrapped it around the log and corpse, causing the cloak to catch fire. All the while, the corpse let out an ungodly shriek and thrashed about, which woke up the rest of the castle.

'Please, let it burn. Let it burn. Come on Death, don't abandon me now,' Harry prayed.

Soon enough, the shrieks subsided and the thrashing ceased. However, the courtyard soon filled up with members of the Night's Watch, along with those of Harry's party.

Jon, who had caught his breath, immediately snapped his head to Harry, remembering how his cousin had saved his life.

"Harry, your arm!" he shouted in alarm.

Harry blinked. It was only then that he realised there was an absence of pain. Looking down at his arm, he drew in a sharp breath of surprise. While the sleeve of his shirt had burned away, his arm was curiously unmarked by the fires. If anything, all he felt was a tingly feeling from the warmth.

"What in the name of the gods," Harry whispered, as he flexed and moved his fingers.

He then looked up to the crowd, who had looks of various reactions and emotions. Jon was surprised, his eyes wide. The Wolfsguard looked shocked, as did Tyene and Edric. The Black Brothers were murmuring amongst themselves, whispers of 'Targaryen' passing between them. The Lord Commander had an unreadable expression, but it was the look on Arianne's face that confused Harry the most. The Princess of Dorne looked resigned, yet somewhat pleased.

As it was, all Harry could think was that, this revelation changed things, and Harry could decide whether it was for the better.


Author's Notes: Well, sorry for the cliffhanger, but this was always intended. I mean, the title sort of gives it away. Hopefully, I won't lose readers who dislike the twist.

Now, to answer some reviews:

Not killing the mountain: That's a plot point, sorry.

Why is Jon on the character's list?: He's more or less Harry's best friend, and thus a main character.


Next update: Again it will mostly likely be two-three weeks, depending on a couple of things. Sorry to those who will be eagerly waiting.


Updates (If any)

23/2/16, 17:13 local time - Changed the scene where Harry says he and Arianne are in an open relationship to Arianne teasing Jon instead.

04/3/16, 20:26 local time - Removed the lemon scene. It wasn't serving any purpose var increasing word count. If anyone is interested, I might put it up on AO3