Time seemed to fly past the older he got and before he knew it, he was ten years old. He had two younger brothers, the little monster Joffrey and his most recent sibling, the year old Tommen, and his almost two year old little sister, Myrcella, in between them both.
His days were now so packed full of things to do as he grew and aged. He had made it to double digits now and in just six years' time, he would be considered a man grown. His lessons were intensifying with his age, enough that he noticed the difference, but not enough to even remotely challenge him, not now that he was mentally forty-six years old.
He was riding properly, Gryffindor, now six years old, was big and strong. Harry did need someone to help him up and down from the huge destrier, but he didn't let that bother him at all. It was usually Balon, as he was most definitely a man now that he was almost nineteen. He was tall, broad and strong. He was a challenge for the Kingsguard knights, a brilliant archer, and a firm, loyal shadow by Harry's side.
Harry mostly kept to his same routine, lessons with Maester Mellciter, who didn't dare try to tell him that something right was wrong, or vice versa, anymore, not when Harry was so intelligent. He would then do some physical exercise, swimming maybe, horse riding, or even just running and climbing. He would have his noon meal and then he would play games with his father for a while and then he'd go to see the kitchen cats, and his own two, Hermione and Ginny. Hermione was currently pregnant, so he kept her in his room, though Ginny liked escaping through his window and he was sure that she would come back pregnant like Hermione had one day. He still remembered when she had gotten out for the first time and Harry had chased her over the roof, a petrified Ser Preston Greenfield following after him as Harry climbed from his bedroom window after his beloved cat.
After he was done seeing to his cats he would go to the kennels and see Fluffy, his hunting dog, who slobbered all over him and rolled onto his back for belly rubs. Then it would be time to put himself at the mercy of a member of the Kingsguard, who would see to his swordsmanship and arms training.
Thoroughly exhausted, beaten and bruised he would go for a nice long bath while he changed his clothing for the evening meal before he would spend three hours in lessons with Tywin. Only once his grandfather released him could he go and change for bed, practice his magic for an hour or so and then fall into a deep sleep.
He kept to this routine day in, day out, and rarely did it change. Name days were a special occurrence, feasts would only affect the evening part of his routine, and his grandfather usually gave him a bit of a lesson at the table anyway. Visitors rarely disturbed his routine as they usually came for his mother or father anyway, unless it was Renly who came to visit, then his routine was utterly destroyed and he and his very handsome, fifteen year old uncle would run around the castle like they were still babes, causing havoc wherever they went.
Now that Hermione's kittens were due too, he would pop in on her more often just to check on her, to make sure that she had enough shredded chicken and water available. Only today he couldn't find her.
"Balon, do you see her?" He asked, bending to look under his bed, very worried. "She never leaves the rug by the fire, she finds it more comfortable." He fretted.
"She couldn't have gotten out?" Balon asked, even as he helped look.
"No. She's too big with the kittens to reach the windows and I always make sure to shut my door. The servants know to be careful too."
"She isn't here, Harian." Balon said. "She must have gotten out."
Harry stood and raced to his door, pulling it open and he went running through the corridors, calling for her. He had a very bad feeling in his gut and it was driving him mad. Hermione had been the first to die in his previous life too.
He was in tears as he thought this, as he searched the holdfast for her.
"Little Prince, what troubles you?" Ser Barristan asked of him, crouching quickly and catching his arms to hold him still. His blue eyes automatically gave him a once over for a sign of any visible injuries.
"His cat, Hermione, has gone missing, Ser. The pregnant one." Balon informed the knight.
"She never leaves my room." Harry insisted tearfully. "The servants know not to leave the door open. She couldn't have gotten out by herself, she can't move very well or go very far, she's about to have the kittens."
"Let us go and see if any new servants have been tending your room, who might have moved your cat thinking her a stray."
Harry sniffled and took Ser Barristan's mailed hand and allowed the old knight to pull him from the holdfast. They travelled the serpentine steps and were going to the kitchens when they heard the shouting and screaming from inside the Great Hall, where the Iron Throne was located.
Balon didn't need to be told to take his hand as Ser Barristan took off for the hall, his hand on the pommel of his sword. It sounded to Harry like his mother and father shouting at one another again.
He rolled his eyes to Balon and went to follow Ser Barristan, Balon following beside him, holding his hand tight, just in case.
It really was his mother and father shouting at one another, the on duty Kingsguard knights standing around at a loss for what to do, as his mother cradled a screaming Joffrey to her front with both arms.
"…you've knocked out two of his teeth!" His mother raged, a wild, feral look to her face.
"He deserved more! He's a monster." Robert bellowed.
His uncle Stannis was there too, Harry noticed, and the younger man laid a hand on his brother's arm, stilling him from his step forward with his fist raised.
Harry wondered if this was another drunken incident like when his father had broken his arm when he was two, as he watched his father's head and neck go red with anger.
"If you ever hit him like that again I will kill you in your sleep." His mother threatened angrily, which made the Kingsguard bristle.
Harry frowned at the threat, he didn't truly understand what was going on, not until he stepped further forward and he saw the three newborn kittens, wet furred and unmoving on the floor.
He cried out in distress and ran to them, turning them over in his hands and feeling for a pulse, bringing them to his ear to listen for breath. They still had their umbilical cords attached. He used his thumb to press on their little chests, in a steady rhythm, but they were gone and couldn't be brought back.
"Harian." His father said, helpless to see his distress. "I'm sorry."
Harry didn't understand, not at first, and then it clicked that Hermione was pregnant and she had gone missing.
"Hermione?" He asked, afraid to hear the answer, but asking so anyway.
"He opened her with a dagger, to take out the kittens." His father said, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Harry felt like he couldn't breathe. His vision bleared with his tears and he started crying hysterically, cradling his dead kittens. Hermione's kittens. Hermione who was now dead. His mind was blurring between Hermione the cat, and her namesake, the real Hermione, who had been broken on the grounds of Hogwarts during the last battle. His grief swallowed him whole, stealing his rationality and his ability to think. His mind was curiously blank, except for the thought of Hermione.
For long minutes the only thing to be heard in the hall was his desperate cries, but a moment later the anger came, roaring through him like a fire, and his breath hitched, his entire frame shuddered, his mind racing, before he leapt up and ran for his brother, ripping him from his mother's startled grasp and throwing him to the floor so that he could attack him better, slipping his hands around Joffrey's slim throat and squeezing, even as he sat on him, straddling him to get a better purchase.
"How could you do something so monstrous?!" He demanded, shouting in his brother's surprised, panicked face. "How could you look at her and want to take a dagger to her. To rip out her kittens?"
People were trying to pull him off, but he dragged Joffrey with him, his hands tightening about that pale throat, his grip tight and strong, watching his brother's face turn purple as people tried to shout over him so it all blended into shouts and noise with no words.
"Harian, let go." He heard his father command in his ear, but for once Harry ignored it, lost in thought of his innocent cat being senselessly murdered by his horror of a brother. In thoughts of the original Hermione, broken and dead on the battlefield.
"How dare you go into my chambers and take her just to kill her and her kittens you little shit!" Harry yelled out, ignoring that his hands were slowly being prised from Joffrey's throat. He lurched forward and headbutted him, feeling Joffrey's nose crack and seeing the immediate spurt of blood from both nostrils. "You're dead to me!" He screamed into that blooded face. "Dead to me, Joffrey! We are no longer brothers and if I ever get the chance, I'm going to kill you! I'm going to ram a sword through your belly and rip out your insides and see how you like it!"
Harry was peeled away from Joffrey, kicking and screaming in rage, mindlessly trying to reach the six year old to finish him off, but Balon was bigger than him, stronger than him, and easily held him, talking to him softly, soothing him, trying to calm him down. It worked, after a time, and Harry turned to clutch around Balon's neck, crying on him, finally letting himself grieve, feeling sick with the shock of what he'd found out.
"I want him whipped for what he's done!" He heard his mother demand, her voice harsh and furious.
"I'm not having my son whipped!" His father bellowed back.
"Joffrey is your son too!"
"How did you expect Harian to react?! The boy purposefully took and murdered his pregnant cat! Of course he was going to attack him for it."
"Look what he's done to Joff!"
"It's less than he deserves for what he did to that cat." Robert thundered.
"It was a cat! A mere animal! This is your son!"
"Do you want Joffrey whipped?" Robert demanded darkly. "If you insist Harian be whipped for this, I will order Joffrey whipped for what he did to that cat, for being the cause of this incident."
"Harian insists upon being whipped himself, Your Grace." The smooth voice of his grandfather cut in. Harry hadn't even seen him enter the hall. "He has never used a whipping boy, taking the punishment earned himself on his own body. Perhaps to make the punishment fair, Joffrey's whipping boy should not be used in his stead, in this instance."
Robert swelled. "If Harian is whipped for this, Joffrey will be too. There will be no substitute with a whipping boy, either."
"You're not hitting my child again." Cersei hissed through anger clenched teeth.
"Then Harian will not be whipped either." Robert insisted. "Now get out of my sight and take that hell spawn with you."
Cersei fled the hall, Joffrey pulled along with her and Robert eased down, the air leaving his body. He stared at the doorway for a moment longer, before turning to Harry and striding to him, pulling him into his own arms to comfort him.
"May I ask what happened, Your Grace?" Tywin asked.
"The boy killed Harian's pregnant cat." Robert said darkly. "He thought I would be pleased that he'd taken a dagger to her and cut out her kittens, bringing them to show me." He nodded to the three dead kittens on the stone floor.
"He's a monster!" Harry declared, holding on tight to his father.
"Calm yourself now." His father told him. "What's done is done and there is nothing I can do about it, but I can assure you he'll never do it again."
"I'll kill him if he dares." Harry threatened.
"None of that. He's still your brother."
"He's no brother of mine." Harry said firmly. "I have one brother and one sister. Tommen and Myrcella. I'll even claim Edric before him!"
Robert sighed and petted his back. "You might feel differently once you've calmed down."
"There's no forgiving this. I already loved Hermione more than him and now he's killed her and her kittens. There's something wrong with him, his brain isn't connected up properly. Normal people don't open up pregnant cats to see the kittens inside before they're born. He's not right."
His father said nothing, but the look on his face said that he'd thought the same thing that he had. His grandfather stepped forward.
"Harian, come and speak with me."
Harry nodded and went to his grandfather, even as he wiped his face of tears, accepting the arm around his shoulders and allowing himself to be pulled away, out of the Great Hall and into the courtyard beyond.
"You attacked your brother and threatened to kill him. You know what this means now?"
Harry sighed and sagged in his grandfather's hold. "She's going to try again."
"Yes." His grandfather said simply. "Perhaps now would be the perfect time to ask your father if you can cool off in Casterly Rock, so that you might not have to see your brother."
Harry blinked and considered that. "He would give me anything at the moment, to make up for this. He'll want a quiet home too. He can't have that if me and that monster are always biting at one another."
"It'll only be for a while, your father prefers you here, with him, but a short time away will help to cool tempers and help keep you safer from any immediate retribution."
"I can't wait until I'm a man grown and I can protect myself better."
"You are big and strong now, Harian."
"I'm still only ten, Grandfather. There's more to learn and yet more growing to do."
"Broach the visit later, after the evening meal. Until then, take Balon and practice your archery."
Harry nodded and turned to Balon, a few paces behind him. They split up in the courtyard, as Harry took Balon to the archery targets to set them up and his grandfather went to the rookery, he was going to send a message to his brothers at the Rock about what had happened, perhaps too about their impending visit, Harry was sure.
"Do you want to practice your archery?" Balon asked softly. "Or do you want to go to your room to think?"
Harry knew what that meant too. Did he want to go sit and grieve? He shook his head.
"No, I don't want to be alone and I don't want to think. I want to shoot arrows and pretend the centre marker is Joffrey's head."
Balon didn't chastise him, he was good like that. He didn't try to use the fact that he was much older against him and he didn't treat Harry like a stupid child. He never had done.
"You might yet improve if you have such an incentive." Balon told him and it made Harry smile, even though he didn't want to.
Harry had been tall enough to shoot a bow for the last few years, strengthening the muscles in his arms, chest, and back as he drew the bow himself. He was using properly the bow he had been gifted on his seventh name day too, now that he was finally tall enough to use it.
He loosed his arrow and he struck close to the centre marker. Balon laughed and drew his own bow, firing dead centre. Harry cursed and selected a new arrow. They started up a competition and soon enough Harry was distracted from his anger, and his grief, as he lost himself in the lesson, as Balon instructed him, corrected him, and helped him to aim true and remain consistent.
His routine was broken already and he refused to go to the royal solar to eat his noon day meal. He instead took Balon to the kitchens to get something to eat, though that only made him upset again, as the kitchen cats were roaming, eating fish heads and other scraps that had been thrown to them, and he couldn't help but stop to pet them. It reminded him of Hermione and he swallowed hard, forcing his tears away. He steeled his heart and locked all of that pain up inside himself. He would release it with his magic later that night. Perhaps he was angry enough to try sending a shade to his brother's room. He hoped it made Joffrey wet the bed and maybe, just maybe, it would prevent him from sleeping enough so that he died of sleep deprivation. It was unlikely, as Grand Maester Pycelle had all sorts of potions and concoctions that could help someone to sleep, but it made Harry feel much better to imagine it.
- X
His father had wanted to think about letting him ride off to Casterly Rock, but it didn't take long for him to decide with his mother's veiled threats, the glaring that Harry was giving to Joffrey, which sometimes included whetting his Valyrian steel dagger while he stared at his brother, and his grandfather's cool logical reasoning for why Harry should leave the capital city for a short while.
Instead of allowing him to go to Casterly Rock, however, Harry was being sent to Highgarden for an overdue visit with Willas Tyrell and his family. Thwarted in his attempt to go to the one place he loved above all others, Harry was nonetheless excited to go to Highgarden for the first time.
He had a very strong retinue going with him, including Ser Preston Greenfield, his honorary Kingsguard knight for this trip, who formed the head of his security, six household knights were also travelling with him and of course, Balon wasn't going to leave his side.
It was two hundred and twenty leagues to Highgarden, it would take a little over two weeks to get there, but Harry was used to such a journey. It took longer than that to get to Casterly Rock after all, and that was over mountains too, and the Roseroad to Highgarden was straight and smooth, and they were not going to be riding as hard as Tywin Lannister pushed them.
The journey actually took them nineteen days, while they got a good ten or eleven hours of riding in each day, they had made good time. Balon had turned nineteen on the road and Harry had surprised him with a new dagger, the pommel carved like a white swan. Balon insisted that he loved it and it made Harry feel good about himself, especially when he saw Balon wearing it at his hip.
Highgarden was stunning truly. Before the city walls had been fields of golden roses, all of them letting off a heady scent and everything was green and beautiful. The city itself was three ringed tiers of white stone and Harry was led through both of the lower tiers, being heralded through the streets as the common people cheered and clapped. He made it to the highest tier, and it was like the Red Keep, as there were gates separating the commoners from the nobility. It was here that the Tyrell family were waiting to greet him.
Harry was happy for Balon to pluck him from Gryffindor's back and set him on his feet. He felt no shame or embarrassment for the needed help in front of the watching Tyrell family, and their attendants, because he was only ten years old. Gryffindor was very, very tall. He was a stallion destrier meant for a full grown man off to battle, after all, but Harry loved him fiercely.
"Welcome, my Prince." Lord Mace Tyrell greeted, actually bowing to him.
Harry blinked. That had never happened to him before. Most people tucked their heads to their chests as he passed, most notably the servants, but no one had ever bowed to him before. Lady Olenna Tyrell seemed to regard her son with utter contempt if her barely concealed sneer was any indication.
Harry remembered his courtesies despite his surprise and he inclined his head respectfully.
"Thank you, Lord Tyrell. I thank you for allowing me to visit, and I thank you on behalf of my father, King Robert."
"Let the Prince freshen up." Lady Olenna sniped at her son.
"Oh, of course, please allow a servant to take you to your rooms. I hope you find them suitable."
Harry smiled graciously. "I'm sure they will be perfect, thank you."
Harry was glad to get away from the stares and the very awkward conversation with Mace Tyrell. Harry still hadn't really forgiven him for forcing Willas to joust too young. It had only gotten worse when Harry had seen Garlan jousting at the last three tourneys…he was too young also, and had started jousting in the lists at the same age as Willas had, at four-and-ten. Harry would outlaw it when he was king. He was going to implement an age ban on all tourneys, making it so that no boy under the age of manhood could enter unless it was a squire's only contest.
"Well…there are rumours that Mace Tyrell is an oafish fool, it seems that the rumours were correct." Balon bent to whisper to him.
Harry laughed, safely knowing that no one but him had heard what Balon had said.
"Indeed. Then I always knew it was the Queen of Thorns who ruled here." Harry whispered back, giving Balon a wink.
Balon chuckled and stood back up tall beside him, keeping step with him effortlessly now after eight years of looking after him and keeping him safe.
Harry was led to a beautiful suite of rooms that had the most glorious view of greenery and flowers in bloom that he'd ever seen. He wished that he had a camera so that he might take a picture and remember this view forever.
"This room is amazing." He declared happily, hanging out of the window, resting his elbows on the little sill on the outside, which was planted with more flowers, all of them in bloom and letting out a wonderfully delicate scent. "I don't think I'll ever want to leave." He laughed.
"This is your room, my Prince." The servant who had brought him here told him. "There are two rooms to either side, for your sworn shield and your Kingsguard knight."
Preston went to inspect both rooms, as he'd done with this one when they'd first arrived. He'd even made sure that there were no ledges or balconies attached to any of the windows, where someone might climb up and sneak in.
"I will leave you to freshen up, my Prince." The servant inclined his head and left the room.
Harry rolled his eyes at Balon. "They're always the same. They make me feel so uncomfortable."
"You're our Crown Prince, Harry. They have to do this to show you the proper respect and yes, I know that you're going to say that respect is earned, and not given freely, because you're a strange boy, but imagine if they didn't show you this respect, and your father heard, or your grandfather? They would be whipped and beaten for insolence."
Harry sighed and nodded. "I know. I understand better now that I am older. I may not like it, but I accept it."
It was more like he'd learnt to live with it and had gotten used to it in the ten years that he'd been in Westeros. He still wasn't overly fond of being singled out for such treatment, but he'd learnt how to acknowledge those who did treat him with such reverence and also how to prevent it from affecting him.
"Come, let us get you washed up and refreshed. No doubt your hosts wish to monopolise your attention."
Harry snorted. "No doubt at all."
Harry was looking forward to seeing Willas again, however, their first and only meeting had been during that awful tourney, with the horror of Willas having his leg crippled by a toppled horse, but they still sent messages back and forth via ravens, and Harry appreciated having someone as intelligent as Willas to speak to. He would also be sure to remind his friend that he'd promised to teach him how to hawk like a Reachman, who were long boastful about their superior way of training the birds.
Harry stripped himself to his smallclothes, washed himself down with the water provided, which was scented with rose oil, of which he really didn't like but would endure gracefully, before he dressed in his splendour.
"There. Do I look better?" He grinned.
"Like a prince." Balon teased.
Ser Preston fell into step behind him and a servant was on the door to lead him to wherever he wanted to go. There was a feast laid on for the first night of his visit and Harry was led down several floors, from the beautiful tower he had been placed in, to a lower building of Highgarden, which housed the Great Hall where all feasts took place.
Harry had a place of honour up at the top table, as was expected for him as the crown prince, but unfortunately, it seemed that Mace had gone too far once more and he had sat Harry beside him, before his own family members. It would have been more fitting to have sat Harry among his sons, but instead, Harry was forced to sit next to Mace and he had to endure his idiocy. At least he had Lady Olenna on Mace's other side and Willas on his own. Not that he got to speak to them often, as Mace didn't stop speaking and boasting about anything and everything, including how he had defeated Harry's father in battle and had wounded him in Ashford, which was coincidentally the only reason Harry was born at all, as Robert Baratheon had made a marriage pact with Tywin Lannister only because he'd been seriously injured and needed the allies…and the medical attention of a trained Maester.
Currently, Mace was trying to get Harry to see the potential beauty in his nine year old daughter, who had been dressed up like a prized pet for his visit. She looked as unhappy as Harry felt about it, but she was dealing with it with a lot of grace. Harry wondered if it was her upbringing, or being told that she could potentially be the next queen if she made a good impression. Even a girl as young as nine could dream of being a queen.
"Lord Mace." Harry said firmly. "I am but ten years old. I have no interest in girls or anything of that sort while so young. I do not notice women as a man would."
"So obvious that even a boy can see through your ploys." Lady Olenna scolded. "Leave the poor Prince be, Mace. He hasn't had a chance to eat a bite since he sat down."
Mace sulked like a child himself and Harry sent a look to Balon, who was sitting at a table very close to the top table so that he could eat as well. Harry rolled his eyes at Balon but went back to his food. Ser Preston had refused to take any place at any table and he refused to eat. He was stood, on guard, right behind Harry. He was a silent, strong, ghostly white sentry with a mailed hand resting threateningly on the pommel of his sword.
"Sorry about him." Willas, now nineteen years old, whispered to him, obviously speaking of his father.
"Do not fret about it, Willas. I am more used to it than you know." Harry replied politely. "How have you been since your last message?"
"Very well. But how have you been? Why this sudden visit when you said that His Grace, King Robert, wasn't letting you out of his sight?"
Harry sighed. "Joffrey, the little monster, he took a dagger to my pregnant cat. Remember I told you about Hermione and Ginny? Well, he cut the kittens from her belly and went to show our father, hoping that he'd be pleased. He wasn't and neither was I when I saw what he'd done. I tried to strangle him and broke his nose. My grandfather wanted to take me to Casterly Rock, but father remembered my request to visit you here, at Highgarden, and allowed me to visit at last."
"You are being temporarily exiled for what your brother did?" Willas' brother, Garlan, asked in shock.
Harry laughed. "Of course not. My father didn't want me to leave, but he was afraid that I would kill Joffrey if I stayed. So when my grandfather suggested separating us for a short while, he readily agreed to send me here, as I had been asking to visit for so long."
"I'm happy that you finally came." Willas said. "I have so much to tell you and show you, things that can't be put in a raven."
Harry nodded and grinned excitedly. He couldn't wait and he hoped that one of the things shown to him was the famous briar labyrinth and of course the birds of prey. He liked being around the birds, as they reminded him of Hedwig and such bittersweet memories were like a taste of honey, soured by lemon. He missed her, and he always would, but he could never have her back.
Harry ate his fill, drank only water, and before he knew it he was in bed, sleeping his first night in Highgarden. Balon was in bed beside him, Harry had not felt confident enough to sleep on his own in a new place. It wasn't cold here either, it was pleasantly warm, enough so that he wasn't shivering under the sheets, but not so much that he was sticky and uncomfortable, but still he cuddled up to Balon. Nothing happened to him that night, or any other night that he slept at Highgarden.
- X
His time at Highgarden was a very novel experience for him. It was just endless fun and games. The Tyrell children attended to their lessons and Harry was allowed to join the boys in their lessons, and with Garlan and Loras in their arms lessons, but the rest of the time, instead of being structured and set out, with more lessons and learning as he would have had at King's Landing or at Casterly Rock, it was just dedicated to freedom, fun, and learning of another sort. A learning through scraped knees, cut palms, falls from trees and silly little accidents while playing games.
All his clothes were covered in grass stains within the first week and the Tyrells had graciously had him fitted for new ones, all of them green, and he knew now why Tyrell children mostly wore green clothes…to hide the grass stains that refused to come out, even with the most vigorous of scrubbing. He was injured at least once or twice a day, small scrapes and pricks by thorns as he ran through the golden rose fields, chasing or being chased by Loras, Margaery, and Garlan. A hawk had caught his arm with a talon while he'd been out hawking with Willas and he'd needed three stitches from Maester Lomys, he'd rolled his ankle slipping down a grassy bank and Garlan had carried him back to his bedchamber, while Harry had laughed off the injury and insisted that he was a bride and Garlan his groom. He'd broken his wrist falling from a tree…Loras had broken his elbow falling from the same tree at the same time when the branch they'd both been sat on had snapped, sending them plummeting back to the ground. Just a lot of small, annoying injuries that were gone as soon as they'd come, maybe some moderate injuries, like the broken bones and swollen ankles, but each one was a lesson to Harry and he learnt from them.
He loved being at Highgarden and he got very close to the Tyrell children, but this he knew was the objective of the older Tyrells. They wanted him to be close to the Tyrell family…and their hope was as clear as day to him. They wanted to match him to the only daughter of the Tyrells, Margaery. They wanted her to be queen, so that their grandson, or great-grandson in Olenna's case, would one day sit the Iron Throne and be king.
It was all politics and manoeuvring and he hated it so damn much. He was supposedly a ten year old boy. Margaery was nine. He didn't want to be thinking of anything of that sort for years to come. He wanted to let himself be a child, to play and have fun as such a thing had been denied him when he was an actual child. But he was a prince, and he would always be in demand, and these families were all thinking of the future. To when he would need a wife and all of the noble families wanted that wife to be their daughter. It was what they dreamed of, what they were hoping for, when he eventually grew up. They were jockeying one another, each pushing their daughters to befriend him early, so that he might remember them when he was of an age to think of taking a wife.
The Tyrells were more subtle, more clever, about how they were going about things and if he hadn't been forty-six years old mentally, he might have missed it. They were pushing him to be friends with the boys, with Willas, Garlan, and Loras…but Margaery was their sister, and always there with them, always playing and joining in the games, always at the table for meals, always there to speak to him, so he got to know her via association, but without feeling like he was being forced to interact with her like he had with other noble girls who were all but shoved at him and paraded under his nose. It was a very clever tactic, but again, he was old enough mentally to still see it for what it was. A ploy to match him up with Margaery.
He didn't let it spoil his time though. It was subtle enough that he could ignore it and he would like to keep the Tyrells on his side when he was king. So far he hadn't met any other girl that he would consider as a queen. Margaery was it, because Olenna had made her into one. His only other options were Arianne Martell, but there was still time for her to be betrothed or married off, as she was now a woman grown at six-and-ten. Then there was Sansa Stark, who was currently six, and her sister, Arya, who was only three. They four were his only options in the entire world. He sighed, he hated the politicking, because on principle he normally would ignore Margaery because of the actions of her family to match them together, but all of the noble families were doing exactly the same, so unless he ignored them all and chose a common girl…but then he would have to give up the Iron Throne and leave it to Joffrey and he just couldn't do that. If Joffrey were king he might as well just slit his own throat because his brother would order him dead the moment his arse touched the Iron Throne. So out of the jockeying families, and their manoeuvring, Margaery was probably the lesser of evils, because he got on with her the most and he could actually speak to her.
Harry pushed it from his mind as he chased Loras through the briar labyrinth that he now knew how to navigate. He was enjoying this time and freedom, being the child he was meant to be, and with the Tyrells, and at Highgarden too, it was much easier to manage because no one was heaping pressure and expectation onto his shoulders. It helped that there hadn't been any sort of assassination attempt while he was here also.
"Loras!" He called out.
He heard giggling from the next passage over and he saw the cut in the briar's wall up ahead. He cut in, but Loras wasn't there.
Harry ran down the passage, cut to the left through another cut in the briar's wall. A thorn caught his sleeve and tugged, but Harry pulled harder and freed himself without even stopping.
No one else could get into the briar labyrinth at the moment, so Harry knew the only ones inside it were himself, Loras, and Margaery. Ser Preston was stood at the entrance to the maze and Balon was at the exit. No one could get in without their say so and that wouldn't be until Harry and the youngest Tyrells were done with it. This was no small feat, as the briar labyrinth was monstrous, taking up the entire space between the middle and outer wall. It was a defensive mechanism as well as one for entertainment value. The children of Highgarden would play and weave through the maze, but any intruders were slowed considerably as they had to navigate the maze before even reaching the residential areas of Highgarden. It was a brilliant idea, as trying to navigate the maze was treacherous in the day light, the thorns would really do a number on anyone who tried to do so by night and he'd been told stories of intruders being completely stuck in the brambles, unable to move or disentangle themselves.
"Loras?!" A female voice called out from close by and Harry grinned.
He snuck around the maze until he found the cut in the thorny brambles and he slipped through and he saw Margaery peering around curiously. She was in a dress still, but it was a more practical dress, with no long sleeves, no puffy skirt, or fancy embroidery. It was rather simple, but still beautiful, so that she could run and play, without spoiling the dress or getting it caught on the thorns that were everywhere in Highgarden.
Margaery turned around and then screamed to see Harry stood there and he laughed as he picked her up and spun her around. She giggled then.
"Harry!" She complained, even as he set her back on her feet. "You frightened me."
"Apologies, Margaery." He said, grinning. "I seem to have lost Loras."
"I have as well."
Harry wondered then if perhaps this was done by design. He sighed mentally. He couldn't even enjoy a simple game without thinking of the ulterior motives of those around him. What was worse was that he wasn't being paranoid, the people around him did have ulterior motives and he knew it.
This was likely all planned, to have him stuck in the briar labyrinth with Margaery, with Loras nowhere to be found. He tried not to let it bother him, that this had been a setup when all he'd wanted was a simple game to take his mind from his adulthood. So that he could forget and pretend to be a child for a little while. It wasn't often that he got the chance, as it was always on his mind. He was now disappointed.
"Come, Margaery. I bet that he has merely reached the exit before us."
He held out his arm gallantly and he escorted her to the exit, the location of which he now knew very well. He and Margaery chatted together as they walked and she would likely report to her family that this plan had been a success, but Harry remained polite, yet distant. He had decided that this was the best way to treat all the ladies he met, no matter their age or birth status. He didn't care if they were highborn or low, from a great house or a noble one, he would treat them all the same. That way there would be less animosity when he chose his future wife and queen.
Loras was indeed stood with Balon waiting for them and the ten year old grinned at them as he and Margaery exited the labyrinth.
"What took you both so long?!" He chided. "You're both slow!"
"We were supposed to be playing a game, Loras!" Margaery told her brother. "It was not the first one to the exit, so Harian has won, not you."
Margaery and Loras started bickering about what game they had been playing, and who had won, while Harry slipped up beside Balon, who cast him a warm smile.
"You look thoroughly fed up with something." Balon told him.
Harry forced a smile. "Perhaps a little bit." He conceded. "We should go and fetch Ser Preston. I would like to read a little before supper."
Balon nodded and while Loras and Margaery walked off ahead, going back to Highgarden proper, Harry slipped off behind them, without attracting their attention, and he went to get his Kingsguard knight from the entrance to the maze.
"Have you had enough of playing?" Balon asked, watching him sneak off, but keeping quiet until the two Tyrell children were out of earshot. Harry could always count on Balon to have his back.
Harry nodded. "I do enjoy myself here, and I like Loras and Margaery, but I do prefer Willas' company if I am being honest. Garlan too. I have always preferred being with older boys than ones my own age or younger."
"That is true enough, you are not fond of your Lannister cousins either."
Harry nodded. "Lancel is just a babe in a lanky body, Willem and Martyn are not so bad, yet they are sore losers, and Tyrek is overly concerned about how he looks for how young he is. I've never known a boy to love his own hair quite so much."
Balon snorted a laugh. "You certainly have the right of it. Then you have been different from the beginning. You're a very mature boy, I just hate to see you so old before your time."
"I do not mind. If I am honest I do prefer reading to playing. I prefer debating and discussion more than I do playing with toys or other children. I'm not sure if it was because of my early years that I am matured beyond my years, or if it is not the mantle of crown prince that hangs over me constantly, knowing that I will be king after my father, but I am who I am. I am not upset or disappointed in myself, I just merely like different activities to other children, but that doesn't mean I don't still have fun in my own way."
Balon smiled and ruffled his hair, which was standing in every which way, as wild as Harry was himself, thanks in part to being snagged and snatched at by the briars of the labyrinth he had been running and playing in for the better part of two hours.
"Ah, there is Ser Preston." Harry exclaimed.
The white knight had seen them as well and he immediately strode over and his eyes automatically scanned Harry from head to foot.
"Are you done in the labyrinth, my Prince?" He asked.
Harry nodded. "Yes, Ser. I am done with playing for the day. I wish to go to my bedchamber and read for a while."
Preston nodded and fell into step behind Harry, who easily navigated the streets of Highgarden by himself. The locals all knew him by sight, and not merely because of the Kingsguard knight at his back, and they called out to him and waved and Harry smiled his friendliest smile, waving to them, greeting them and wishing them well, with pleasant days, as gallant and gracious as he could possibly be.
He had known even before he'd come to Highgarden that this would be a very good chance for him to impress the people of Highgarden. They would be loyal to their liege lord because they had no other choice if it came to war between him and the Reach for whatever reason, but he wanted to make a good impression upon them regardless. Perhaps they would like him more, or find it more difficult to go to war with him if they knew him, had seen him, and he had been kind and gracious. So he tried his best, always, to smile and make small talk with them, asking after them and their families, or their businesses. He made sure that as many people as possible saw him buying a simple apple from a market stall, refusing change and eating it as he walked. He bought toys for Tommen and Myrcella to take back with him to King's Landing, he bought fruit tarts from bakers, sweets from vendors, and had even bought a bowl of plump strawberries as big as his hand that he'd shared with Balon.
He knew how much chivalry was held in incredibly high esteem here in the Reach, so he made sure to be extra chivalrous at all times, so that he came across better to the people of Highgarden.
Harry made it to the castle and to the guest tower that had been given to him for his stay and he found the book he was currently reading, given to him by Maester Lomys when Harry had asked for reading material, once the books he'd brought with him from King's Landing had been exhausted. The book was on flowers and herbology, which gave Harry a pang every time he opened the book, but it was very interesting to him all the same. Seeing the same weeds and plants that he'd once known was…comforting in its own way. He knew how to make potions with them and he knew their properties and uses from his Herbology and Potions lessons at Hogwarts. There were differences, of course, some plants were entirely new and unknown to him, others had a similar name but looked entirely different, but it was the plants that were the same that made him smile. The weeds and flowers he'd known and once tended that sparked a joy in him, thus he would sit and pore over the book that others might find tedious or boring.
He was supposed to be ten years old after all, but when it came to reading and learning he was not content to act his age. He was happier to sit and read the books, listen to instruction and his teachers, instead of trying to act like the age he was supposed to be. His ruse had limits and jeopardising his own knowledge and learning was definitely the biggest limit. He would occasionally play dumb, or pretend not to know something so that it was explained to him, but that was only to keep himself safer and to keep the ruse going that he was a real child.
Ser Preston and Balon were having a mock battle behind him, as Harry read in the chair. He would occasionally look up to smile at them both, especially if one of them cheered with their triumph, while the other groaned and demanded a rematch. This was just what Harry had needed, some time to himself, to unwind and relax in his own company. It was exhausting to keep up the pretence for hours at a time, he needed this time and space to himself to refocus and destress. It was telling really how much he looked forward to being on his own, just doing his own thing. He tried to never let it show, as it wasn't really a childish trait, so it was safer to hide it, but sometimes it was impossible to hide and he did get a little 'stroppy'. It was less stroppy though and more social exhaustion.
He was sent to sit in a chair in a corner for his 'tantrums' as punishment by the older Tyrells, or rarer by Maester Lomys, but he enjoyed this little forced solitude, as it was exactly what he needed as his bad mood was caused by too much social interaction in one go, or several hours of keeping up the pretence that he was a ten year old child. Several minutes in the chair, or even half an hour, and he felt better, calmer, and he joined back in the games with the younger Tyrells, and even their cousins and distant relations, who had turned up several turns ago, after realising that the crown prince was at Highgarden and remaining there for some time.
Megga, Elinor, and Alla Tyrell, all cousins of the main branch had come for a visit, along with Desmera Redwyne, who was Olenna's granddaughter through her youngest daughter, Mina, and a great-niece through her nephew, Paxter. All three Tyrell girls had been born in the year two-eighty-six AC, making them all of an age with him, as all of them were near enough six years old. Desmera, however, had been born in the same year as Margaery, in two-eighty-three, making her just a bare year younger than Harry, at nine. Harry tried to keep to their brothers as much as possible, but they liked to surround him and force his attention onto them. It seemed more innocent coming from the three younger girls, though they had likely been told to interact with him by their hopeful parents, exactly the same as what had happened with his Lannisport Lannister relatives. It was more knowing from the older girls, which frustrated him, but it was the same everywhere he went. Even his own cousins tried to monopolise his attention, to keep it on themselves and away from others.
At supper time Harry put his book down and he was bathed in rose water, scented with rose oils and dressed up for the evening meal. He was prepared now for what was to come. He didn't particularly like being fought over, like he was a bone to dogs, but he would endure it as he always did.
"Harry, there you are." Margaery called out, smiling at him.
"I went to read in my room after going to collect Ser Preston from the entrance to the labyrinth." Harry said, smiling back.
"You read so much."
Harry inclined his head. "I like to read. I like to know things."
"Come and sit with me and Loras." She offered, but Harry shook his head. He was not in the mood to be smothered by the other girls, or to interact with children.
"I wish to speak to Willas." He told her. "I have not had the chance today to catch up."
"Do you not like us?" Margaery asked.
Harry bristled at what he considered emotional blackmail, but he calmed himself. It was doubtful that Margaery was doing such a thing on purpose, it was purely childish reaction.
"It is not that I dislike you, or Loras, Margaery." Harry said softly. "But you must remember that it was Willas I have been sending ravens to for the last several years, it is Willas whom I am good friends with. I like you and Loras, and Garlan too, well enough, but it is Willas who is my good friend, and him whom I would like to see and speak to the most while I am here."
Harry left Margaery then and she turned away, likely to go and tell Olenna what he'd said, and he instead went up to sit beside Willas, Balon sitting to his other side so that no one could interrupt them.
- X
Olenna watched Prince Harian closely, always, while he was at Highgarden and she had the chance to observe the boy who would one day be king.
She was surprised to find that he was not a bad lad. He was sweet, kind, very polite and courteous. He knew how to dance, and how to play the fiddle and the high harp. He spoke High Valyrian and the Bastard Valyrian which was common in the Free Cities of Essos. It was as if he had been raised perfect on the surface, but it was underneath that glittering surface that she had wanted to see. To dig out his insides and see if he was the same all the way through, or rotted and spoiled at the core.
She had noticed early on that the boy was cautious, observant. She watched him as he took note of everything and everyone. It was then that she realised the boy might be something more than average. She had gotten Willas to test her theory, by asking Prince Harian some questions about rather difficult subjects while she had sat within earshot of them both, to hear the answers first hand.
She had been greatly impressed by the intelligence she had found, and slightly dismayed as well. Here was a boy who would grow to be a formidable man. One who could not easily be tricked or fooled, one who would not be led around by anyone else. Olenna had seen that the boy was a natural leader, and she cursed what she perceived to be the cause of it…Tywin Lannister. That man had had the care of his grandson for eight years now and she could see that he had not been idle in that care.
The prince was often seen reading large volumes. He had swept through his books brought from the capital within a turn of arriving at Highgarden and he had asked for permission to access the library at Highgarden. A request that was, naturally, granted to the young boy who pestered Maester Lomys about everything, wanting answers to his rather sophisticated questions, often engaging in debate and running rings around men five times his age.
The things that he chose to read also surprised her, as he did not seem to have a particular theme that he liked to stick to. Instead, he jumped from history to myths, from that to children's tales about legendary members of the Tyrell family, and he was currently reading about herblore according to Maester Lomys. His subject matter did not make any sort of sense to her, other than the prince's own declaration that he wanted to know everything. He clearly meant it, as she had tasked Maester Lomys to give him the most tedious book in their library about the subject the prince asked for. He had asked for herblore and Maester Lomys had done as instructed and had given the boy an obscenely large, very ponderous tome, a book that the ten year old was getting through steadily, a book he was apparently retaining all information from, as Maester Lomys questioned and debated with the young prince about chapters he had already read and he reported back to her that Prince Harian was absorbing all knowledge from what he was reading, that the boy could answer the most difficult of questions asked of him easily, and that he could debate a topic with such pointed grace that he could win around others just by speaking to them.
That showed an intelligence she had not expected from a boy of his age. It would be almost impossible for anyone to enforce their will unto him, which was not truly what she had wanted for Margaery, but as long as she was the queen, that was what mattered the most. Prince Harian was not a horrible, evil little boy as she had expected coming from a union of Baratheon and Lannister. He was sweet and kind. He treated all ladies the same, regardless of their birth, which was rare, and he was always full of smiles. It helped also that he was growing into a very comely youth.
"Why did Harry not want to come over?" Desmera asked Margaery.
Olenna looked at where the prince was, sat up with Willas when she had told Margaery to bring him to their table, so that she might observe him more.
"He did not want to come." Margaery told her cousin.
"Why not?" Megga asked sadly, sending forlorn eyes at the Prince.
"He told me that Willas is his good friend and the reason that he is here in Highgarden. He assured me that he likes us all well enough, but he wishes to spend some time with my oldest brother."
Olenna narrowed her eyes, even as Willas, Harian, and his sworn shield, Balon Swann, all started laughing together.
Harian Baratheon truly was not one to be led around and he could extract himself from almost every situation he did not want to be in.
It would be nigh on impossible to control him. Not unless he truly loved Margaery, and thus far Olenna was not convinced that he did, but, as the boy himself had told her oaf of a son at his welcoming feast, he was a boy of ten and he did not notice girls as a man would. She would have to wait until he did have those sorts of feelings and urges. Then she would see if his head could be turned and if he was like most men, who could be led around by their cocks by a beautiful girl like Margaery.
"Grandmother says that he will pick a girl from a great house, so he will not want you."
"Loras, dear, will you fetch your poor grandmother a drink for her parched throat?" She interceded immediately, as Loras, that poor, tractable little boy, believed that he was helping his sister, as Desmera wondered aloud if the Prince might take her as his wife.
Loras went to fetch her a cup of wine, while the girls all sulked over Loras' announcement.
"Is it true, Grandmother?" Desmera asked her.
"There is no telling who Prince Harian might be married to when he is grown." She replied gently. "It would be prudent to remember that it is not only his choice, but that of the king, and his lord grandfather also."
"So the king could marry him to anyone?" Megga asked, perking up again.
"He could, but it is very unlikely that he would not consider political ties, and it is doubtless that Tywin Lannister is considering only political allies in such a matter."
"So he will only be joined to the great houses?" Desmera despaired.
"That is the most likely outcome, dear, but remember that I am just a poor, old woman. Who knows how men's minds work?"
"There are lots of Tyrells he can choose from." Elinor said excitedly.
"There are." Olenna agreed with the sweet six year old, though she hoped desperately that if the boy chose any Tyrell, that it was her strong, intelligent Margaery. Her protégée, the granddaughter she had raised and instructed to become a queen, and the only female Tyrell to be born in the 'main' branch of the family.
"Who else could he choose?" Alla asked, the six year old frowning. "There are Lannisters he could pick."
That was Olenna's worry, that Tywin would match the boy to a daughter of his cousins, to his late wife's nieces, to give the ruling power more to the Lannister family, over the Baratheons. For all that Prince Harian was a Baratheon, he was a Lannister too, and from what she had seen he was more a Lannister than a Baratheon. No doubt that was also Tywin's doing.
"The Starks have two girls." Margaery pointed out. "Sansa and Arya."
"The prince has never even seen them!" Megga burst out. "He won't pick them."
Olenna sighed, and named the girl a sweet, but stupid, summer child. That was her other worry, because she knew that Robert Baratheon and Eddard Stark were the greatest of friends, foster brothers raised together, and she was worried that if King Robert got his way, then his son and heir would be married to a Stark, regardless of what anyone else said or suggested.
It would come down to Robert Baratheon's will against Tywin Lannister's will, and truly, after what she had seen, it would come down to Harian's will as well.
She looked up at the sweet child sitting with boys twice his own age, interacting with them, no doubt talking horseflesh, or hawks, as they shared that common interest with one another. She would ask Willas when they had a moment to themselves what they had been talking about.
Sometimes Prince Harian spoke and acted like the ten year old he was meant to be, and other times he could speak like a man grown, he could problem solve like a man grown, better than some men she had met in truth, as she thought disparagingly of her son, Mace. Sometimes his eyes looked soft and young and full of all childish innocence and naïvety, yet other times they looked as ancient as her own. Sad, lost, haunted, and as wary as she had ever seen another person. Then he would blink and smile and she was left wondering if she had not imagined such a thing, yet it had happened too many times for her to dismiss her own observations. She found herself wondering if that was a result of all the abductions and failed assassination plots against him. Truthfully, the poor boy was lucky to still be alive after all he had been through in such a short, young life.
"You are forgetting the Martells." Garlan told the girls as he passed them, overhearing the topic of discussion as he handed Olenna a cup of wine. He had taken it from Loras, who had rejoined the girls at the table, sat next to his sister, the both of them looking as close as twins.
"Arianne Martell is too old for the prince!" Desmera denied immediately.
"It doesn't matter how old she is." Garlan pointed out.
Her grandson made a very good point. Doran and Oberyn were very strained with the current royal family, with both Baratheon and Lannister. A good way to bring them back into the respective fold was to marry Arianne and Harian together, and the Princess Martell was now six-and-ten, a woman grown, yet very tellingly, she was not married. She was not even betrothed despite numerous propositions. It was almost as if the Martells were waiting for the offer.
"There are still more Tyrells." Alla insisted. "Harry likes us all."
Olenna hoped that he did because she wanted Margaery to be the queen, for Margaery's sweet sons to be in line for the Iron Throne. She had invested far too much time into Margaery for her to miss out on being the queen, yet…she looked up to the table, where Harian was nodding along to something Willas was explaining, a queer look on his young face as he all but absorbed Willas' words. It was unusual, how much that young boy could understand, it was not what she had been expecting, and it made everything much more difficult for her. Only time would tell what would happen in years to come, she would have to wait until he was closer to being grown, when his cock started ruling his thoughts and then she would see if he wasn't more receptive to Margaery…then she could see if he could not be led around and become more agreeable to her plans for him.
- X
Harry got to stay at Highgarden for nine months, his father didn't stop sending him ravens throughout that time, but in the end, Robert missed him so much that he asked him to come home and Harry agreed with his father's message, he'd been gone for too long. Harry also didn't think it a coincidence that it was now the seventh moon of the year…his eleventh name day was coming up in a few weeks and his father clearly wanted him back in the capital before then. So, he took the small message with him, handed to him by Maester Lomys, to the family solar, where everyone was breaking their fast, and he looked to Balon and Ser Preston Greenfield and he sighed.
"Father wishes for me to go home." He announced sadly. "He misses me and says I've had enough fun without him. We are to head back to King's Landing."
"I will see to your belongings, my Prince." Ser Preston said immediately, moving off, leaving Harry with Balon and the Tyrells.
"Must you go?" Margaery asked him. "We've been having so much fun with you here."
"I'm afraid I must, my Lady." Harry said formally. "I am surprised that my father allowed me nine turns, I was expecting to perhaps remain for a single turn before he asked me back, but he knew I wanted to come, so he must have left me as long as he felt that he could."
"It has been a pleasure to have you, my Prince." Lady Alerie told him. "If ever you wish to join us again at Highgarden, you will be most welcome."
Harry nodded. "Thank you, my Lady. I have enjoyed my time here greatly and I will remember it very fondly."
It was like feeding breadcrumbs to birds, as he ducked his head and made a show of looking saddened, only to look up through his lashes to see the older Tyrells, Mace and Alerie, looking at one another all accomplished and satisfied. He could see straight through their ploys, but there was nothing he could do about it, as out of all the ladies of the noble houses, Margaery was the only one who showed the qualities he was looking for in a wife and a queen. His only other options were Arianne Martell, or one of the two Stark girls, Sansa or Arya, and he would argue that Arya was too young, she would be only four years old currently.
Ser Preston was very, very eager to get back to the capital, not even an hour later he came to collect him, telling him that the horses had been saddled and the cart had been loaded with their packed chests and they were ready to leave.
Harry said goodbye to the Tyrells, promising Willas, who he had gotten very close to over the past nine months, that he would write to him as soon as he got back to King's Landing.
On the Roseroad, just before they lost sight of Highgarden, Harry turned on Gryffindor's back and he looked back at it for one last time, smiling sadly. He was sad to say goodbye, but damn would it be good to be back where he belonged, with his father. He'd missed Myrcella and Tommen too. He'd missed his lessons with his grandfather, though it had been amazing to have such freedom for fun and games, even if sometimes it had led to him being cut or injured.
It took a little over two weeks to ride back to King's Landing, and they smelt the capital city before they saw it, but Harry couldn't help but smile as he did see the Red Keep, sitting highest of all atop Aegon's Hill. It was good to be back and it was time to delve back into his own little spy network, to listen and learn while he was so young and people mostly ignored him. Though he had noticed recently, before he'd left the capital, that people were taking more notice of him and now just weeks from his eleventh name day people would be more careful of him, which meant he'd need to get even sneakier in eavesdropping. He was up to the challenge and he would relish it. It was good to be back.