A/N: This story will be on a 1 chapter delay starting the next chapter. My supporters will get early access to future chapters before I post them here. Check out my profile if you want to support me or find me on Twitter as EreborMarkus. You can also find me by googling EreborMarkus.
I mentioned in the last chapter that I'll try for 1 chapter a month, but obviously, that has changed. I'm aiming for 1 chapter each week, but no promises.
Also, thanks for all the reviews! I saw a couple of you asking for the pairing, but I haven't decided on it yet. I can say that it won't be including Cersei, Myrcella, or a massive harem. Not that kind of story. But Harry might go the way of Aegon and get himself two wives. Even that is a stretch, though. As for the other questions, I can't really answer them without spoiling the story.
294 AC
King's Landing
It had been a few moons since Harry was finally able to use his magic, and he still hadn't figured out how it had happened. Harry had never felt a bubble that represented his magic in his past life, but he had thought that this new world might have a different system of magic. Obviously, Harry had been wrong about that.
That bubble was clearly a prison that contained the magic a person possessed until it shriveled and died without having a chance to grow. The question Harry now had was how did the skull of a long-dead dragon break open the prison.
A few days after his magic was unlocked, Harry had once again gone down to the cellar full of dragon skulls, but he could no longer feel anything from the bones. If Harry wasn't able to freely use his magic now, he would have thought that the whole thing was a fever dream.
One thing was certain. There was something that was affecting this land. With a mixture of terror and curiosity, Harry realized that everyone from birth was affected by this strange restriction of magic.
"Prince Harys, have you come down to see your brother spar?"
Harry looked at the neatly trimmed Master of Coin and gave a slight nod, "I grew curious about how true his boasts were."
"He's coming along well, my prince. I can't be said to be a proficient swordsman, but I'm sure that Prince Joffrey will soon match your prowess."
Harry had to stop himself by snorting out loud. Anyone who had seen him training in the yard would have known that he's terrible with the sword. However, Harry knew that Petyr Baelish was a man who loved to flatter the people with power.
He just replied with a noncommittal sound and watched Joffrey knock the sword out of the hands of a Lannister knight easily. Harry frowned at the ridiculous spectacle in front of him.
Lord Baelish commented, "It's astonishing how easily the Prince defeats some knights."
Harry glanced at the man before looking back to see a boy his age step into the ring. The sight of the knight being disarmed by Joffrey brought a frown to Harry's face, but what his younger brother was doing now was beyond despicable.
The boy in the ring was clearly afraid to lift his training sword at royalty, but Joffrey was somehow allowed to have sharp steel in this bout. Harry watched his brother swing his sword haphazardly while laughing cruelly as his opponent scrambled to dodge the swipes. Not once did the boy try to parry Joffrey's sword.
Harry's rage grew to new heights when none of the so-called knights stepped in to stop this farce. Right when he decided to take action and stop the fight himself, Harry froze in shock when Joffrey sliced off some of the boy's fingers.
The boy dropped his training sword in shock and fell to the ground while screaming in pain. At that point, a Lannister knight finally stopped the 'fight' and congratulated Joffrey loudly.
"It's a sight to behold, my prince," Lord Baelish said over the cheering in the distance, "Your brother will become a knight on par with the famed Arthur Dayne."
Harry's finger twitched in irritation. He was seconds away from blasting the irritating man into his next life, but somehow, Harry found the will to stop himself.
Instead, he asked, "How often does my brother… win fights like these?"
Harry turned to see a smirk on Lord Baelish's face, "Quite often, my prince. They find the most skilled lad from flea bottom and offer a handsome prize of training with royalty."
Harry's eyes widened in shock. He snapped his head around to see the boy still crying on the ground while all of the knights' attention was focused on a preening Joffrey. If that boy had been a squire, he would have already received help by now… so it was likely that Lord Baelish was right.
"Lord Baelish, send that boy to a Maester and have his bleeding stopped."
Harry could see a look of confusion on the man's face before it questioned, "My Prince? Wouldn't that be a waste of the Maester's time?"
Harry had to hide his distaste for the expected question. The nobles of this world barely saw the commoners as people. While Harry was known to be a kindhearted person, his obsession with magic led him to interact only with the people in the Red Keep. Thus, he had never shown an inclination to interact with the smallfolk, so Lord Baelish must have assumed that Harry felt the same disdain.
That would have to change. Harry knew that he was the Crown Prince, but he never really gave that title much thought other than the privilege it brought him, mainly, the access to all the books he needed. If Joffrey was the example the smallfolk had of the royal children, Harry needed to repair that image fast.
While the history of this world made it seem that only the opinion of the nobles mattered to royalty, Harry had memories of his past world. A world that showed the power the lower class held if roused for the right purpose.
"No, Lord Baelish, it wouldn't be a waste. My brother caused the injury, so it's only right that a Maester in the Red Keep tends to it."
Lord Baelish bowed slightly and said, "At once, my prince. I'll ensure that it is done personally."
Harry narrowed his eyes at the man and said, "Bring him to me after, Lord Baelish. I have a couple questions for him to answer."
After another bow, Lord Baelish walked toward the still-sobbing boy and guided him into the keep. Harry stared after them before looking back at Joffrey, who was surrounded by Lannister knights. This had to change, and soon.
There was only one person that could control Joffrey, and that was his mother, Cersei. The problem that was glaring for Harry was that his mother would never think of reprimanding her favorite child.
He looked at Joffrey one last time before heading back to his room. Talking to his mother would be an option, but Harry would use it only if there was nothing else he could do.
Harry frowned as he struggled to summon a book towards him. He knew that his magic was growing stronger by the day, and all that was necessary was time. Still, Harry's memories of his past life made him impatient. He yearned for the day when spells could be cast with ease.
However, there were two problems with that wish. One was fixable, and the other had no solution that Harry could see so far. Harry's magic was weak, but as mentioned before, all that was needed was time to fix that issue. The more significant problem was finding a focus. Harry wasn't sure about how to craft a wand in the first place, let alone have knowledge of what materials to use. He had basically given up on hoping to gain a wand in this life. That wasn't to say that Harry would be useless without one, but his magic would be far more challenging to use.
A knock on his door made Harry stop practicing his magic immediately. He put the book back on the shelf and sat at his desk before calling out, "Enter."
A guard opened his door with the boy from the training yard standing behind him with teary eyes.
"Lord Baelish asked us to lead this boy to you, my prince."
Harry saw a peculiar look on the guard's face as he replied, "Let him through."
The guard stepped aside, and the boy shuffled into the room. With one last look at the boy and Harry, the guard closed the door. It wasn't lost on Harry about what the guard was thinking. The unofficial whore-master of King's Landing sending a boy to the prince's room would look suspicious to anyone, but Harry had bigger concerns to be worried about.
There was an uncomfortable silence while Harry stared at the boy's hand. It had been covered with cloth by the Maester, but the bright red spots on the fabric still showed that the bleeding hadn't completely stopped.
"I watched you spar against my brother," Harry said, finally breaking the silence.
The already pale face of the boy whitened even further as he backed away a little. While Harry would usually try to reassure the boy, he felt a flare of something familiar as the boy backed away. This commoner had magic, a tiny amount of it, but still, he had it.
"I swear I didn't do anything, milord! I didn't even lift the sword. I swear it!"
Harry's eyes softened a bit, "I'm not accusing you of anything… What's your name?"
"Jarden, milord."
Harry smiled, "Jarden, I saw what my brother did. I wanted to hear from you if this was the first time you were brought to spar with him."
Jarden nodded his head rapidly, "Yes, milord. The other boys that came before me were said to have become squires of knights. I was the one chosen this time."
"I see," Harry said while hiding a look of displeasure, "And the boys before you, have you ever seen any of them again?"
"No, milord. But the knights tell us that they are away on squire duties…. When will a knight choose me, milord?"
Harry looked into the naive eyes of the boy in front of him. Jarden looked to be a street urchin that believed the blatant lies of these 'knights.' Unsurprisingly, He seemed to be almost unbothered about his missing fingers in the face of being a squire. But, from what Jarden told about the boys who were picked before him, it was unlikely that he would have lived past this day if Harry hadn't ordered Lord Baelish to help him.
Harry tapped his finger slowly on his desk before saying, "I suggest you forget about these knights, Jarden, and tell the others like you to do the same. They lied to you."
Jarden's already teary eyes reddened even more, "Then I have to go back to flea bottom?"
Harry stared at him in a bit of pity. He was already giving Jarden some coin for the trauma he experienced, but there wasn't much more he could do. As Harry nodded his head, he felt that flare of magic again from Jarden.
That actually made Harry rethink a little. He wanted to try this before, but the only people he had seen with magic were children of nobility. Harry couldn't really test this on people that young... and people that would be missed. Jarden was neither of those.
However, Harry still hesitated before saying, "There is something that could let you live a better life… but it might be dangerous."
Jarden didn't think twice, "I don't care, milord! I'll do it!"
Harry slowly nodded and stood up, "Follow me."
As they walked out of his room, Harry felt guilty for giving the desperate boy a task that might take his life. However, there weren't many other options for Harry. It wasn't like there were choices for him in the Black Cells. Children weren't jailed often, and when they were, they likely wouldn't have magic locked in them.
They soon arrived at the entrance to the cellar with the dragon skulls. Jarden watched nervously as Harry picked up a lamp and entered the pitch-black room.
Harry looked up and saw that Jarden was still fidgeting at the top of the steps and asked, "Did you change your mind?"
Jarden gathered his courage and followed. Harry led him to the same skull that had changed his life and looked at Jarden's stunned face.
"Touch the skull."
"Milord?" Jarden asked with a confused face.
Harry tilted his head towards the dragon skull wordlessly. He watched Jarden walk up to it in confusion before placing an uninjured hand on it. Harry looked carefully at the reaction that Jarden would have. He remembered the pure hatred that poured into him from the dragon and the cruciatus-like pain he experienced. However, Harry was a little confused when Jarden only winced a little before he quickly removed his hand.
"What did you feel?" Harry asked curiously.
"It felt smooth, milord."
Harry blinked and clarified, "Not the bone. Did you feel any pain?"
Jarden thought about it and said, "My arm hurt for a bit."
Harry sighed in disappointment and nodded in acceptance. It might have been too much to hope, but he would still keep Jarden close just in case.
When they left the cellar, Harry called a guard and said to Jarden, "You'll be staying at the inn near the castle," he pointed at the guard, "He'll lead you there now. I'll call on you soon."
Harry was thanked profusely by Jarden before he left. However, his questions still didn't have any answers. Harry now wondered if Jarden's magic was too weak to be affected by that skull.
After some time, Harry put it out of his mind as he headed to the dining hall. It wasn't something that could be solved quickly anyway.
Harry watched with thinly veiled disgust as he watched his father grope a busty serving maid. He wasn't a fool to think that Robert would ever be faithful to his wife, but Harry noticed over the years that he didn't even bother to hide that fact.
"Robert! How many times have I told you to keep your whores out of sight? I won't have my children around this!"
There was the expected complaint from his mother. Harry saw the burning hatred in her eyes whenever she looked at his father. It was so blatant that Harry almost couldn't believe that Myrcella and Tommen were actually conceived. Then again, Cersei was a beautiful woman, and Robert clearly had a weakness for them.
"Bah! Stop bothering me, woman! It's not like they haven't seen this before!"
Cersei's face flushed red with rage before she whipped her head around to dote on Joffrey.
Harry looked at his silent youngest siblings and gave them a small smile before rolling his eyes towards the typical spectacle. It only got a nervous smile from them, but Harry would take what he could get right now.
"You! Tell Lord Hand that the King's asking for him."
Harry looked away from his siblings to his shouting father. Apparently, he had gone from his groping mood to being ecstatic over seemingly nothing.
Not being able to help his curiosity, Harry asked, "What are you planning, father?"
Robert looked at the only son that took after him with a wide grin, "A tourney! For your nameday boy! The biggest one since that dragoncunt crowned my beloved Lyanna in Harrenhall!"
Cercei narrowed her eyes in anger at hearing that woman's name again. Still, she admitted that this was something that she would gladly approve of. Her eldest son deserved something grand for his big day.
However, the same son she was thinking about had very different thoughts from his parents. Harry interjected, "Not to be the bearer of reality, but we're broke, father. The crown is already in a massive amount of debt from what I heard in the small council meetings. How would this tourney be paid for?"
In the middle of Harry's rant, Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, had walked into the room. Robert saw him and complained, "What did you teach him, Jon! My heir is worrying about counting coppers."
"Because he's sensible, your grace," Jon said dryly, "What is this tourney that Prince Harys is speaking of?"
"A tourney greater than the one in Harrenhall for his nameday! We have to pick his future bride soon, so why not do it in a way that all the Lords remember for the rest of their lives?"
Instead of rejecting his father excited ramblings like Harry expected. Lord Arryn actually gave it some thought.
"It might be a good idea," Lord Arryn finally said after a few minutes, "But we will need help with funding, your grace. Even if we make money from this tourney, our empty treasury won't be able to pay for it upfront."
"Not to worry," Cersei said while looking at Harry with a smile, "I'm sure my father will help with the bill since this is for his grandson."
"Then it's done!" Robert roared happily, "Send out the invitations to all the lords. Ned won't be able to avoid coming down here any longer."
Harry sighed as his father left the room, his mother doing the same soon after with the youngest children. He knew that marriage would happen early in this world, but he didn't expect it to happen so soon. Harry wasn't sure why a tourney was needed when the most obvious bride for him would be from the Reach.
The North had a close friendship with the crown, and the Vale and the Riverlands came with that friendship. The Westerlands and Stormlands belonged to his family. Dorne could be written off altogether with his father deposing the last dynasty. The only choice left was the Reach, and the Tyrells conveniently had a daughter his age.
Unless his father completely lost his wits, Margaery Tyrell would be the future queen. Then again, when did Robert ever have his senses?
Harry saw that Joffrey was about to get up from the table, so he called out to stop him, "Joffrey, wait."
Joffrey stared at his older brother with a hint of dislike, "What did you want, Harys?"
Harry frowned at the attitude. He knew that Joffrey was a cruel little shit, but Harry had never tried to connect deeply with his younger siblings. Joffrey was technically still a child, so it was far too soon to give up on him… even though Joffrey might have indirectly claimed the lives of many smallfolk. At least, that's what Harry was hoping. If Joffrey knew about what happened to those boys…
"I was watching you train at the yard today."
Joffrey looked at Harry with angry eyes and spat, "So? Want me to teach you how to be a good warrior like father? Are the books you love so much tiring you, brother?"
"Remember who you're talking to, little brother," Harry said with a sharp tone, "I don't care for your petty insults. I only want to know where you're finding the boys your train with."
Harry wanted to cringe at losing his temper at an angry child. He was about to apologize, but luckily Harry wasn't able to.
"Ha!" Joffrey crowed, "I knew you were a sword-swallower! Tell you what, brother, I can give you the commoner trash after I'm done playing with them. It'll save me the effort of hearing their cries when I kill th… ARGH!"
Joffrey found himself clutching at his broken nose as he stumbled to the floor. Harry furiously looked down at the piece of filth that he had to call brother.
Out of all the possibilities Harry had imagined, none of them included Joffrey personally murdering the boys. It wasn't even an option that came up in his mind peripherally. Harry could barely hold himself back from pummeling the monster into the stone floor.
"You-You hit me! Me! How dare you!"
Harry ignored Joffrey's pained wailing and called for the guards, "Take my brother to his rooms and keep him in there."
The guards hesitated before one of them said, "My prince… we can't…."
Harry closed his eyes in frustration and growled out, "Then bring the Kingsguard here."
As the guards rushed out to avoid the brewing conflict between the princes, Harry glowered at the still wailing Joffrey.
He had a psychopath for a brother.
