Harry was still adjusting from what had happened to him five months ago now and after writing to Tywin shortly after the event, he was upset that he hadn't heard back from him.
It made him feel like the small, lonely two-year-old who was surrounded by family that didn't care about him. The only person who cared was Balon and it made his crush grow worse. He was well into the throes of puberty now and everything was changing. His body, his emotions, and those damn hormones were surging giving him the famous mercurial temperament that all Baratheons were purportedly known for.
The first time the black rage had descended over him had been when Ser Meryn had tried to stop him from playing with Tommen, on Cersei's orders. The rage had been instantaneous…and powerful. It had come on so suddenly that Harry hadn't had a hope in hell of controlling it and he had yelled so loudly, his voice deepening until he almost sounded like a man. His father had come to investigate the noise and finding his almost thirteen-year-old son yelling at a member of his Kingsguard, the familiar look of Baratheon rage on his face, had actually made him proud.
'Ours is the fury.' He had laughed proudly, clapping Harry on the back. 'What has triggered the Baratheon rage?' He'd asked.
'Ser Meryn seems to think that he can keep me from playing with my brother and sister.' Harry had replied, his tone still dark, his face threatening another fit of rage, but he was calming now that his tirade had been interrupted.
His father's rage had been stoked then. 'I gave no such orders!' He yelled, taking over from where Harry had left off. 'Never stop Harian from doing as he pleases! Never! That goes for all of you.' He had added, turning to stare angrily at the rest of his Kingsguard.
Harry was pleased with the order. Let any of them try to keep him from his brother or sister ever again. He could easily go to Robert then and tell him that his Kingsguard weren't following his orders, then they could be removed for disobedience…removed via beheading that was.
He was surprised when he was training in the yard with Balon and Ser Preston by a dirty, exhausted messenger calling out to him.
"My Prince Harian." He called out tiredly.
Ser Preston stopped the man from approaching him until Harry waved him off. He took the sealed scroll from the travelling tube and he smiled. The lion of Lannister, of Casterly Rock, greeted him. Tywin had sent a messenger to him, rather than a raven.
"My thanks." He said, tipping the man a few coppers he had in his jerkin pocket.
He walked away and Balon followed without needing to be asked. Harry went to Maegor's Holdfast, to his bedchamber, and he allowed Balon inside before closing and bolting the door.
He went to his reading chair and sat down, breaking the perfect seal and reading the comforting, consoling words from Tywin. By the end of the missive, he was smiling.
"Good news?" Balon asked as he watched Harry lower the letter to his lap, an indicator that he had finished reading it.
"My grandfather has prepared a tourney in Lannisport as an excuse to draw me there so that we can speak face to face. My father will never pass up a tourney and my grandfather knows that, so the tourney, hidden under the guise of my name day celebrations, will allow me to speak to my grandfather and perhaps stay with him for a while."
Balon nodded and exhaled. "Your father does like his tourneys, but take care, Harian."
"I doubt such a thing will ever happen again." Harry said, frowning. He studied Balon's face and wondered if he detected maybe a hint of attraction. He shoved those thoughts aside, that was more likely to be wishful thinking on his part.
"I never meant…I didn't mean that, Harian. I meant your mother. She wasn't able to twist…that into her own favour. She might try again, to orchestrate a similar situation just so that she can twist it to her own hands."
Harry sighed and slumped back. That was true. Cersei had tried to manipulate his molestation into something worse, into something perverse, even telling Lady Tanda Stokeworth, one of her companions in the Red Keep, that she thought that Harry had tempted the man on purpose and that he had wanted to be touched.
She hadn't gotten very far in her attempts as the servants' view of things, given to them by Harry himself, had travelled much quicker and much further. A few ladies at court might have believed Cersei's twisted view of what had happened, purely because it was more scandalous and made for better gossip, but many and more knew the truth, thus Cersei's lies and attempted slander campaign against him hadn't really taken hold as she had planned and she had been furious about that.
It wasn't too much to think that she would try something so similar. She was rather unimaginative really, Harry still remembered finding snakes in his bed. She had failed the first time to slander his reputation and character, so another man touching him at a tourney would form a pattern and that would work in her favour, not his.
"Stay right beside me, Balon." He said, looking up at his sworn shield.
Balon nodded in agreement. "I am sure whichever Kingsguard member that is assigned to you will not let you go far either."
"Unless it's one of her creatures." Harry said darkly.
"Mayhaps your grandfather will put some red cloaks on you also."
Harry chewed on his lip. He didn't like having so many people crowding around him, but he couldn't allow that pattern of molestation to form. He would ask his grandfather if he wouldn't spare him a pair of red cloaks.
"The ravens will fly soon." Harry said, looking back at the letter. "We had best prepare, I imagine we'll be riding for Casterly Rock within the next few turns. Grandfather says he's asking father for an extended trip to Casterly Rock. Father doesn't like being there, he doesn't like being surrounded by Lannisters, but even he wouldn't refuse such an invitation, not with a tourney announced."
Balon nodded and sensing that Harry wanted to be alone for a while, he went to his own room and left Harry in his.
He would pack for the trip to Casterly Rock and he would relish the chance to be back in his most favourite place in the world, with his favourite people. He hadn't seen Tywin in more than a year now and truthfully he really missed the man. He missed Tyrion too, his uncle who wasn't allowed to leave Casterly Rock despite being a man grown now at twenty-two.
Harry sighed heavily. His family in this life might be large, but they were seriously fucked up too.
- X
The three week journey to Casterly Rock had been frustrating for him. Cersei had to travel via a wheelhouse, which was large, cumbersome, and slow. Gods forbid that she sat a horse like anyone else would have.
The procession had to stop often and Harry had been forbidden from riding off ahead by his worried father, who cited that the Westerland Mountains weren't safe. Harry knew then that his father was thinking back to his abduction when he'd been seven. That only made him more frustrated. He just wanted to get home to Casterly Rock.
When the Rock finally, finally, came into view, Harry had begged Robert to allow him to ride off ahead and he had agreed if only to stop Harry from pestering him so much, but he had sent Ser Arys and Ser Barristan with him.
Harry had ridden Gryffindor hard, Balon, Barristan, and Arys doing the same to keep him boxed in between them and Harry had arrived a few days ahead of the main column.
He knew that Robert was jealous of his relationship with Tywin and certainly in the last few years he tried to keep them apart. Robert had always wanted people to love him. He was a people pleaser, a social butterfly, and he really didn't like how attached Harry was to Tywin over himself. Harry knew it and he hated it. It only went to prove that Robert Baratheon only thought of himself and his own feelings, and not Harry's. Even after all this time and the many years that Harry had tried to carefully cultivate their relationship, Robert no more cared for him than he had in those early years when he had thrown him across the room and broken his arm. Oh, the man loved him for sure, praised him and his deeds, most particularly his killing of three men while on Pyke, and now his hunting prowess too, and he certainly would never want to see him hurt or killed. But Harry knew the man that Robert was, he knew that he saw Harry as an accessory to himself and not as his own person. He wanted Harry to be himself, but in miniature, and that wasn't who he was. He said things, did things, to encourage this thought, this belief that he was Robert come again as part of the 'bonding' process to keep himself in Robert's good graces, but it was all a lie. Harry was not, nor had he ever been, Robert Baratheon in miniature…if he was anyone at all in this world he was tiny Tywin Lannister.
Harry passed Gryffindor off as soon as he could and he hurried to where Tywin was standing and he threw his arms around the man and hugged him tightly. He could almost feel the amusement at his actions, though you'd never know it to look at Tywin's face.
"I see that you have missed my company."
"A year without you is too long." Harry insisted firmly. "I wanted to ride ahead of the wheelhouse from the start, but father wouldn't allow me until Casterly Rock was in sight."
"As he shouldn't have. You are the crown prince. Anything could have happened to you if you had ridden ahead and left the security of numbers behind you."
"I just wanted to come home." Harry said softly.
"You are home now." Tywin told him. "Go and freshen yourself up and then meet me in the solar. I would speak to you privately."
Harry nodded, knowing that it was going to be about the molestation. He hoped that Tywin had some better advice than Robert had given to him.
He took Balon for a bath and he smiled as he saw that clothes had already been laid out for him. Black and red. Baratheon and Lannister. That likely wouldn't impress Robert, or make him feel any more secure in their relationship, but Harry didn't care right at this moment. He needed Tywin more than he needed Robert in this situation. In most situations, if he were honest.
The solar was occupied by the immediate Lannister family. Tywin and Tyrion, Kevan and his wife, Dorna. Tygett's widow Darlessa, and his Lannister cousins. Lancel, Willem, Martyn, Tyrek, and Gerion's natural daughter, Joy Hill.
Harry greeted them all fondly, but this too was mostly a lie. The only cousin he could stand was Joy, and for short periods, Tyrek.
"It is good to see you looking so well." Darlessa told him, giving him a hug and a kiss.
Harry smiled at her. "Thank you. I am growing bigger."
"You are becoming a very comely youth to be sure." She complimented, but Harry withdrew from the words and the adults, at least, noticed that immediately.
"It wasn't your fault." Balon stepped forward to tell him, a little awkwardly considering Harry's Lannister family was watching, but his need to comfort him outweighed the awkwardness.
"Are you thinking that what happened to you was your fault?" Tywin asked him and that comment at least clued Harry in that everyone here knew about what had happened.
They would have known before long anyway. Cersei would certainly want to try to spread around her lies here, after failing at King's Landing. It would please some part of her cruel heart to try to turn her Lannister family against him when he clearly loved them so much.
Harry bit his lip and turned away. He would need to do this convincingly and put the blame at his mother's feet. If he could turn the tables and separate her just a little from the other Lannisters then he would hold more sway with her own family than she did. He knew that would rankle her cage too. He was looking forward to it.
"Speak to me, Harian."
"I…I didn't think I did anything to…I certainly didn't want anyone to touch me like…like that!" He insisted quietly. "I was angry at first. Humiliated. I still feel that way sometimes."
"Which proves that you didn't want to be touched in such a way." Kevan told him firmly.
"What has brought on these thoughts that you wanted this sort of touch?" Tywin asked him, watching him closely. His eyes were hard, calculating, he didn't like that Harry was blaming himself.
Harry looked back down to the floor, playing with his fingers.
"Mother said it was my fault." He admitted.
"What did she say?" Tywin asked him, his voice turning hard, cold, and dangerously soft.
Harry wondered how to word it for maximum impact. He would have a few days now to get his side of the story across, which is what he'd wanted, before she came striding in and tried to spread her own version around, and possibly pay someone to do the same at this tourney, to create that pattern she needed to sully his reputation.
"Ser Swann, you are always beside him, what did she say?"
It seemed as if Tywin was in no mood for patience and while Harry gathered his thoughts, Balon was now being called as a witness.
Balon still looked at him before answering and it made Harry want to smile, he gave a small nod instead.
"Her Grace tried to tell her lady companions in the Red Keep that Harian had tempted the man on purpose, by wearing such tight breeches. She tried to say that Harian had done as such on purpose because he wanted to be touched."
"It wasn't true!" Harry said almost beseechingly, allowing his eyes to tear up slightly.
"Come to me." Tywin told him and Harry went to sit next to Tywin and allowed the arm around his back. "No one who knows you would believe such a vicious lie. You are twelve, no boy that young thinks of such things. It was the man who touched you who was perverse, not you."
"What if people believe her?"
Tywin sighed and considered his words. He couldn't lie and say that people wouldn't believe her because they might and it was just the sort of vicious gossip that the people of Westeros loved and would circulate because it was so scandalous. It didn't matter to them if it wasn't true.
"Such lies have always marred the good names of people throughout history. I will not allow the same to happen to you." Tywin told him firmly. "Cersei will not find anyone to listen to her here, you have my word on that. Who has she told back in King's Landing?"
"I don't know." Harry said honestly. "I only know that she told Lady Tanda Stokeworth and Jocelyn Swyft. She could have told all of the ladies in King's Landing for all I know. I only know those two because I heard them whispering about it behind my back."
"Cast them aside." Tywin told him. "Such people are poisonous, Harian. They will fawn all over you when you are king and they will expect you to forget these whisperings. Make sure you do not. Remember those who have gossiping tongues and never allow them to forget what they did to you, or what they said about you. They will regret the words more than you will care for them in time."
Harry nodded and settled himself. He had never expected to be touched in such a way. It had never happened before and in the aftermath of it, he wouldn't forget those who had mocked him or believed Cersei's lies.
- X
In the four days it took the rest of the royal procession to arrive Harry had taken a dozen intense lessons already, Tywin no doubt hoping to distract him and keep him busy, and for the most part, it worked. Harry took lessons in mathematics, economics, warfare and battle siege techniques.
He was given a large book to read, The Reckoning of Time, written by Archmaester Walgram. It was a great work and it was interesting to Harry as it delved into the issues and problems of different cultures, seasons and years of Westeros, most particularly those traditions and cultures of Dorne and the Iron Islands, but also of the North too.
As Tywin had likely deduced, Harry sat quietly, almost absorbing the words and he didn't fret over his molestation, or Cersei's attempts to discredit his character.
He heard that the rest of his family had arrived from the bustling servants, who rushed around to fix fresh clothing and baths for them. Harry didn't care to move from his soft chair, with his book, which three days later he was almost finished with. He could read and 'take in' books at a staggering rate and no doubt Tywin had a large stack of them ready for him to read while he was here in Casterly Rock. Most were educational, with information that he needed to know, or that Tywin believed would be needed for when he took over as king. Others were books more for pure delight than for information. There were also fictional stories, mostly for noble children, and Harry had also read the Seven Pointed Star, which was the equivalent religious text of Westeros. Harry considered that to mostly be a work of complete fiction as well. He vastly preferred informational, educational books than he did stories and fables and he made sure to say as such, but he didn't mind the break now and then to read just for the pleasure of reading. It reminded him of Hermione and he felt his heart swell fondly, but as always it was tinged with the bittersweetness of death. Everything in his second life was tinged with death.
Joffrey was the first through the door, wearing red and gold as he preferred, and he greeted everyone except Harry and Tyrion. Harry didn't care as he didn't even look up from his book. Joffrey was nine now, and only growing more spoilt and cruel. It needed to be stopped, but Robert didn't care for any of them and much preferred his own company with wine and whores, and in Cersei's eyes Joffrey could do no wrong. She was disillusioned to his person, clouded by her hate for Harry and her love for Joffrey…Jaime's first child. She couldn't see the hate in him, the horror, the monster that he could become if he wasn't stopped now. She indulged him more because Robert clearly showed that he had no love for him. Because of that, she allowed Joffrey to get away with murder…as shown by her dismissal of his killing animals. Joffrey had certainly killed a cat and a fawn, both pets of his own brothers, but who knew how many he had actually killed. Who knew when he would make the leap from animals to people, but Harry knew if he wasn't stopped soon and given the discipline he sorely needed, then it would be quicker than anyone could possibly imagine, within the next few years was Harry's guess.
"What are you reading now?" Joffrey asked, seemingly unable to keep silent and leave Harry alone.
"My people call them books." Harry quipped. Both Balon and Tyrion sniggered.
Joffrey flushed. "I can see it's a book!" He snapped, as always he was very quick to anger. "Why are you reading it?"
Harry sighed heavily. "Why does anyone read a book, Joffrey?"
The nine-year-old looked confused. "I don't know. It seems like a waste of time to me."
"That I don't doubt."
"Harian reads because he is intelligent." Tywin cut in firmly. "Leave him be, Joffrey."
"Will you tell me the story of Castamere again, Grandfather?" Joffrey asked.
Tywin nodded and directed Joffrey to sit in front of him. Harry realised that it was a distraction technique and he happily went back to his book while Tywin once again retold the story of the Reyne-Tarbeck rebellion that he had quashed when he had been just eighteen, nineteen years old.
Harry had asked to hear the tale only once, when he was a small boy first at Casterly Rock, and he had asked why every singer who came to Casterly Rock sang the same song. Once had been enough for him and he shared Tywin's thoughts on the matter. It was good to remind people of what house Lannister had done to the Tarbecks, to the Reynes, their enemies, but Tywin had grown tired of the song, The Rains of Castamere, and Harry had never liked it.
'Remember, Harian, that fear is also a form of respect. If your enemies know to fear you, they will hesitate to move against you. A hesitation allows you to move instead. It gives you time to counter them. Never be afraid to use fear as a tool if you need to.'
Harry remembered the long-ago words and it made him smile. He would rather be loved and respected, over feared and respected, but he understood that fear was also a useful tool to use if needed. If people didn't love him and didn't respect him, then fear would always be open to him. He would give them the chance first to respect him on his own merit, but if they didn't, and they moved against him, he would instil that fear in them, and any other who had thoughts to move against him.
Myrcella and Tommen were led in together by a servant and they smiled and came clamouring to him, and of course that ruined any reading he was going to get done, so he marked his page and put the book aside while he fussed over the damp heads of his four-year-old siblings fresh from their baths. They were the same age for the moment, for two more turns when Myrcella would turn five.
"Stop it, Harian, you're messing my curls!" Myrcella complained and Harry chuckled.
He loved their curly hair and lamented that he hadn't taken the curly hair of the Lannisters also. Though not truly as his hand jumped to his own wild hair. Jet black and it never laid flat, the Baratheon wildness…the Potter wildness. He was changed from when he was a Potter, he looked different in certain ways. He was certainly better looking as a Baratheon than he had been as dorky Harry Potter, but how much of that was being brought up as a prince, without the abuse of the Dursleys, without the malnutrition, or the stress and fear of the prophecy and war hanging over his head, he didn't know. But what had stayed absolutely the same was the Potter hair and Lily's eyes. A little piece of his past life, a comfort and constant reminder of his beloved mother and father who had died before he had properly met them. No, he loved the Lannister curls on his siblings, but he took a much greater joy in having the Potter hair still. He would much prefer that link to his father than he would ever want soft curls.
Robert was next through the door and he brought with him his bellows and loud energy and the six remaining members of the Kingsguard. He came to fuss over Harry too, as if they hadn't seen one another for years and not just four days. It was annoying, but Harry endured it, smiling and laughing, once again playing a part to cultivate Robert's approval and love.
"Reading again?!" He demanded, having caught sight of the book beside him. "You read far too much."
"Never enough." Harry contradicted with a grin, but he saw Joffrey listening and he wondered if this is where his hate of books and reading came from…his desperation to gain their father's approval. Their father who had never put any stock into books or learning in general. Robert was certainly the worst candidate for any sort of role model. Joffrey would do better emulating Tywin rather than Robert, as Harry was, but then no one could accuse Joffrey of being clever enough to work that out.
"You'll turn into a wizened old man before your time, you mark my words." Robert told him.
Harry laughed. "If that is the price I have to pay to know everything there is to know, I'll gladly pay it."
"Pah, four days with your grandfather and look what he's done to you."
There were several reactions that Harry wanted to give to that, including derision and scorn, and there was an angry rebuke on the tip of his tongue, but he reminded himself that he had a part to play. The moment he lost the love and protection of Robert, that would be the day that Cersei tried her hardest to replace him with Joffrey, either by having Robert declare Joffrey as his heir or by killing him off and having Joffrey naturally slide in to replace him. He couldn't allow that to happen.
"I am still excited for the tourney." He settled on saying as a compromise and he saw Tywin relax a fraction. He had likely been expecting anger, his Baratheon temperament had become well known, even to Tywin, and with puberty, it was getting worse.
That redirected Robert's thoughts and attention, and they sat for long minutes talking about the upcoming tourney, and Harry particularly fawned over Balon, who would be entering both the jousting and the archery. His sworn shield's ears were going redder the more Harry complimented him.
Cersei was last to enter the solar, and naturally, she gathered her three younger children around her immediately, and only gave him a cursory greeting because she was under the eyes of so many people, all of them her relatives.
Harry already wanted to escape from them. It was too loud, it was too false, and he just wanted to finish his book. He had his own anger problems to deal with and the newly surging hormones of his second time of puberty were not helping matters. He really hated growing up a second time. He had not missed puberty. He tried to calm himself.
It would only be for a few years and then everything would even itself out. That didn't really help him now, however. A few years was a long time when he was living through them. He had foolishly believed that he could control his own hormones, but he hadn't considered exactly how powerful they would be. His lusts were awakening, as clearly demonstrated by his massive crush on Balon, his anger was awakening, and he was finding that just as difficult to control as he had in his previous life, and his mood often fluctuated on a hairpin. He was emotional to the point of irrationality at times and his Baratheon temper meant that he often wanted to resort to violence as a way to rid himself of his anger.
He excused himself to use the privy and Balon followed him and stood over him as Harry sagged against the wall in a quiet corridor.
"Better?" Balon asked him and Harry nodded mutely. "You have never done well with noise."
"It's too much." Harry said in agreement. "I can't suffer it for long before I have to leave. Feasts are different, there is room to move about, things to do, and if I need a moment I can escape to a table under the pretence of eating or drinking. In there, in that solar, it's smaller, more enclosed. The noise seems louder, everyone moving makes me feel trapped. I don't know why I am like this, I just don't like it."
"You have always preferred things to be quieter and you prefer your own company and that of a selected few. It is nothing abnormal or strange. I am the same."
Harry smiled at that and took some breaths, absorbing the quiet of the corridor.
"All of them together are too much. My father is a loud man by nature, my mother's voice grates on me because I know she doesn't care for me and I have come to hate her and her voice. I truly don't mind Myrcella or Tommen, but they're just little children. The only ones I truly like in that room are my grandfather and Tyrion, perhaps Kevan as well, but…I still miss Tygett and Gerion. Their absence is glaring to me at times like this."
Balon gathered him into his arms and Harry wanted to groan as his cheeks heated up. Instead, he hugged Balon back tightly and felt the strong play of muscles under that deceptively loose tunic.
"Do you want to escape to the courtyard? I doubt anyone would miss you for a while. Only your grandfather and he will know why you've done as such and will try to distract your father from missing you."
Harry considered it, but his tenuous grip on his temper made up his mind for him. He could not go back into that solar as he was, his anger wouldn't allow for it. So he nodded and allowed Balon to take him out into one of the secret courtyards of Casterly Rock. There were always archery butts set up, and practice swords for the men-at-arms to practice with, and Harry went for the swords this time. Balon followed his lead and they settled into stances. It was perhaps not so surprising that Harry had gone for swordsmanship when he truly preferred archery, given that his mind had wandered to Tygett. He wondered how Tyrek's apple tree was doing. He made a mental note to go and see for himself while he was here, and perhaps he would visit the crypt as well to talk to Tygett's stone.
Harry truly wished that he was here alone, though. He wished that the rest of his family hadn't come to Casterly Rock with him, he just really needed to be in the company of his grandfather, undisturbed, for some time. This was his home. More than anywhere else in the world, this was his favourite place, and despite how much Robert hated the idea of it, Tywin was Harry's favourite person.
- X
The tourney announced for his name day had garnered an impressive amount of attention and Lannisport was fit to bursting with travellers come for the celebration.
Harry's gifts had been sent to Casterly Rock by those who wouldn't be attending the actual event and they had started arriving via messengers from all over Westeros, and even some from Essos. There was a cask of Meereenese apricot wine that Harry knew about because it had to be vetted and tasted and the man who had had that duty had complained about the awful, sweet taste of it often enough that Harry had heard about it on the servant grapevine. The servant had not dropped dead, so Harry knew that that cask of wine was going to be given to him, and he was starting to get excited. He wondered what rare books Tywin would have found for him, that Tyrion would gift him. He didn't much care for material things, like clothes or jewellery, but he always appreciated a good blade, a nice pair of boots, but it was the books that always got him the most excited.
The morning of his thirteenth name day started early for him, as he was up before dawn, and he excitedly went to climb all over Balon, prodding him awake, to much protest and grumbles from the aggrieved twenty-one-year-old.
"Balon! It's my name day, wake up! You have to get up now!" Harry insisted, grinning down at the man who had stood beside him for almost the entirety of his life thus far.
"Oh, come on then." Balon relented with a groan, as he sat up and took hold of Harry's skinny waist. He stood and took Harry up with him before he turned and threw him gently onto his still warm bed while he went to dress himself.
Harry watched, feeling his cheeks warm as he watched Balon take off the sleeping tunic, displaying the fit, muscled body he had. He licked his lips, realised what he'd done, then averted his gaze before he gave anything away. He wouldn't act until he was sure Balon felt the same way, though that was difficult to test while he was so young. He might never act on his feelings, especially if he felt that Balon wouldn't be receptive, but damn, these first crushes were embarrassing and awkward!
"What do you want to do before the sun has even crested the horizon?" Balon asked him and Harry turned back to him to see him fully dressed, with his sword buckled around his waist.
"I wanted to take advantage of the peace for a while." Harry said.
Balon nodded and led the way to the solar. Harry was surprised to find Tyrion up and reading.
"May I join you?" Harry asked.
Tyrion blinked and looked up at him through mismatched eyes, one the Lannister green, the other jet black.
"Of course. Why are you up so early?"
"I could ask the same of you. It is my name day, I am obviously up early through excitement."
"A good name day to you as well."
Harry got the feeling that Tyrion was changing the subject on purpose, so he allowed it, and he sat down next to Tyrion.
"What are you reading? Have I read it before?" He asked interestedly.
"Lies of the Ancients." Tyrion told him flashing him the cover. "A work by Archmaester Fomas."
"How are you finding it?" Harry asked, looking at the large, leather-bound book.
"Erroneous." Tyrion said, pulling a face at the book that he was more than halfway through.
Harry groaned. "Another Maester who has too many wrong opinions?"
"Is an opinion ever wrong?"
"Yes." Harry said immediately.
"Truly? If someone holds a different opinion to you, does that automatically make them wrong?"
"No." Harry said.
"So an opinion cannot be wrong."
"It can."
"Explain your reasoning to me." Tyrion encouraged him.
"If you say that grass is green, and I say it is purple, who is right?"
"Ah, I see your reasoning. That is based in fact, however, grass is more green than it is ever purple, it can be seen and I would be right and you wrong. I counter you with your belief in the gods. You are a good, pious man. You believe with all of your heart that the gods exist, that they are watching over everything you do, and judging your every action and thought. I do not believe in the gods. I hold no fear in cursing them or committing blasphemy. Whose opinion is right in this case, the man who believes that the gods are real, or the man who doesn't?"
Harry pondered that. "I see what you're saying, Uncle. In that situation, it's impossible to say who is right or wrong given that there isn't any factual evidence to back up either side."
"So certain opinions cannot be wrong."
Harry nodded his agreement. "I concede to your point, Uncle. Certain opinions can be wrong, others impossible to say which side is right or wrong. Do you think Archmaester Fomas is right or wrong?"
"Read the book for yourself, sweet nephew, and then we will debate about it and find out if he was right or wrong."
Harry nodded and he picked up the book he'd left here the night before. It hadn't been touched and he opened it to the strip of leather he used as a bookmark and he carried on reading.
Balon stayed on guard, stood still and silent behind him. Harry had asked him once if he ever got bored doing this, just standing around watching him read and Balon had told him, rather bashfully, that he liked to pretend he was a member of the Kingsguard in such situations, who would have to stand on guard over their king at all times, no matter what he was doing. It was almost practice to Balon and Harry thought it was cute…he thought almost everything Balon did these days was cute. He was a fucking embarrassment to himself, he really couldn't wait until the puberty years were over with.
A few hours passed in relative silence for them. Until Tywin entered the solar.
"You are both up early." He commented.
"I couldn't sleep, Grandfather. I'm three-and-ten today."
"That you are. A fine man you are becoming too."
"Three years until I am a man grown."
"Truly, you are a man already. Some of the things you say, the things you understand, elude most men four times your age."
"I suppose I took the Lannister intelligence."
Tywin snorted. "You certainly did. Now, are you excited for the tourney?"
"I am more excited to be here with you." Harry said honestly.
"To be sure, you have always loved being here. I had thought you loved tourneys though."
"My father loves them. I just like spending some time bonding with him."
Tywin looked at him closely then, considering him, as he perhaps evaluated something he had only just thought of.
"You are making a play at enjoying the things he does because you are trying to bond with him." He said.
Harry nodded. "Tourneys and hunting are two things I can share with him that I do quite enjoy, but for me, I only really like archery. The joust is…" Harry trailed off and considered what to say. He shrugged a narrow shoulder. "I'm not fond of it. I think it comes from seeing what happened to Willas when I saw my first tourney, for all that it was nine years ago, I never forgot that incident."
"I see." Tywin said looking at him.
"I've said something odd again, haven't I?" Harry asked.
"Not that odd, Harian. I just hadn't realised that you weren't overly fond of tourneys."
"I liked going through the markets more than the actual games, but…but now that has been ruined for me too."
"That will never happen again." Tywin said firmly. "I will make sure of it."
"I am worried about it happening again." Harry admitted.
"Would you feel safer with a pair of red cloaks with you today?"
Harry nodded.
"Doubtless your father will give you a member of the Kingsguard too."
"He could easily give me one of her creatures." Harry pointed out.
Tywin considered that and he agreed. "You will have four red cloaks with you then."
"I don't like having my freedom limited, but in such a circumstance, it's needed."
"What have you heard?" Tywin asked him then, wondering if perhaps he had heard rumours, which was why he was so worried.
"Nothing, it's just a fear I have."
"What fear?"
Harry sighed. "You might not like what I say."
Tywin snorted. "You are my grandson, my future king, and the pride of house Lannister. Say what you need to."
Harry chewed his lip and considered what to say. "She tried to blame me for what happened to me, telling people that I had wanted it, that I had tempted the man to touch me. No one in King's Landing really believed her. Maybe just a few of her lady companions. If it happened again, however, that would form a pattern and that would work more in her favour than mine."
"You think she's going to pay someone to touch you so that she can discredit your character?"
Harry shrugged. "I am worried that she will. I don't know if she has even thought of such a thing, but it's a worry nonetheless."
"Is she that clever?" Tyrion asked, his book lowered to his lap as he listened.
"She wouldn't have thought of it herself, but she didn't have to. That man touched me and now it's in her mind. She failed to besmirch my name and character on the back of that opportunistic situation, and she was angry that her gossip didn't take hold. If she paid someone to do it again now that it is in her mind, she could claim that she was right all along and that I was doing it purposefully."
"I will have ears and eyes everywhere, Harian. If she does do this, I will be sure to ask her why. Just enjoy your day and push these worries aside, it will not happen."
Harry nodded, feeling a little happier.
"Come and break your fast." Tywin told him and Harry slipped from the chair and he turned to Tyrion.
"Hurry and finish that book, Uncle! I want to read it."
Tyrion laughed. "I am almost done, sweet nephew. Let us go and eat."
Harry went to the great hall and there were already people up and eating. They all wished him a happy name day, even as he went to the top table to eat. The only other member of the family who was up was Kevan.
"Good morning, Uncle!" Harry called out cheerily.
"Good morning, Harian. Happy name day."
Harry grinned as he sat himself down and he pulled a bowl of hot porridge towards himself. He drizzled it with honey and grabbed a glass of chilled milk to go with it.
His appetite had grown insurmountably as he approached his teenage years. He was getting bigger, bulkier. His muscles would start coming in soon and then he would truly gain a man's body. He was still a very sturdy boy, not tall and thin like Lancel, or even Joffrey, but he wasn't short either. He was growing very well. He ate his fill and kept to his numerous exercises. His body would be perfectly conditioned by the time he was an adult.
Harry was done and rushing off to explore the market stalls before anyone else had gotten up, taking with him four red cloaks, but no Kingsguard member as they were all either abed or guarding his sleeping father.
Balon stayed right beside him, so close that Harry thought it would be easier if Balon just carried him, but he wouldn't begrudge his sworn shield, he was only complaining because his cheeks were perpetually red and he was blushing so hard that his head was throbbing.
He was enjoying the market though, as he bought some little trinkets, as he usually did at these things, but it was more important that he interacted with the smallfolk, with the people here.
He smiled his best smile, he laughed his best laugh. He was courteous and polite, kind to everyone. It wasn't truly a ploy because he liked being kind and it came naturally to him, but it was a ploy because he had calculated the need for him to do as such, to increase his popularity throughout the Seven Kingdoms, though it was certainly no hardship for him.
His uncle Jaime was the one to come and find him, looking aggrieved that he had been given this task, and he snapped at him that his father was looking for him.
Harry hoped that Jaime wasn't going to be his Kingsguard member for today. That would completely ruin his birthday.
He didn't like having Jaime at his back either and Balon sensed that and took another step closer to him. The red cloaks were amicable and on guard, even as Harry meandered through the market, going to where the tourney grounds had been marked out just outside of Lannisport.
"There you are!" Robert roared out, even as Harry slipped up onto the platform he was sitting on.
"I was exploring the markets." Harry said with a grin.
"Happy name day, three-and-ten today, now, let me look at you."
Robert held Harry between big hands and gave him a once over. "You're getting bigger."
"Every year." Harry grinned.
"Come sit, the joust is ready to begin."
The crowds around the tilt lines were swarming, cheering and yelling as Robert settled himself, grabbed a goblet of wine, and signalled for the joust to begin now that Harry was actually there for his tourney.
The early rounds were a little boring, at least until Balon took to the field. Harry cheered himself hoarse for Balon, and for the members of the Kingsguard that he actually liked.
He and Robert carried on their usual tradition of betting against one another on who would win. Harry had crushed berry juice while Robert drank increasing amounts of wine. He was getting worse in recent years, as he forgot about his promise to not drink so much in front of him, as he desperately tried to drown his memories in alcohol. His memories and his present situation that was. He had never really gotten over the loss of Lyanna Stark, his one true love, nor his memories of Rhaegar Targaryen, the man who had 'stolen' her from him. That was why he blamed all Targaryens for the loss of Lyanna and lost his head if they were so much as mentioned in front of him. He didn't want to remember that time, he didn't want to remember the Targaryens or Lyanna, so he drank, heavily.
Then there was Cersei Lannister, the woman he had been forced, blackmailed almost, to marry. His hated wife, a woman he didn't love and didn't even like. A woman who was hard-willed and stubborn, a woman who wanted to rule herself and picked and pecked at Robert until she found a worm hole to exploit and then burrowed her way in, spreading her poison, harrying him until he had to give in just for a quiet life.
Truly, it wasn't a wonder that he drank so much. Harry wouldn't be able to live like that either. Which was why he really needed to pick his own wife carefully. He couldn't pick anyone too ambitious, but he needed someone strong, someone who could stand beside him and help him to rule. That was an issue for another day, however. He wouldn't need to marry for another few years, at least. He was going to enjoy his time as a 'child' for a little longer, without worrying prematurely about his marriage or future wife.
When the break for the noon meal was called, Harry begged to go back to the markets to explore. As usual, Harry got a purse of coin and Ser Barristan was sent with him as a guard. The four red cloaks that his grandfather had given him also fell into step around him.
"Do you not feel safe here, my Prince?" Barristan asked him, looking at the extra guards curiously.
"It's not that, Ser." Harry replied. "It's just after what happened the last time, I would rather not take that sort of chance. At the last tourney I was slipped a hand, what if the next time it's a dagger? It's better to be safe."
The old knight nodded solemnly, but he took a half step closer to him and matched his stride to Harry's.
Harry tried not to let it bother him that he was pretty much boxed in and he instead allowed the marvels of the market to distract him. He bought more little trinkets, stopped to pet a stray dog and feed it some roasted meat he'd bought for it. He saw a poor girl dressed in a torn, ragged dress selling flowers she'd obviously pulled up from the side of the road and he bought a dozen flowers and paid with two silver stags, refusing any change. He would give the flowers to Myrcella, which meant he needed to find something for Tommen too.
He ate in the markets, as he usually did, and he made sure his six guards had something to eat as well, seeing as they were missing out on their own food to accompany him. After that he was buying useless things, things he didn't really want, just to help the smallfolk of Lannisport, when he was suddenly aware of a scuffle behind him.
He turned quickly to see Ser Barristan and two of the red cloaks wrestling a man away from him, while Balon had immediately stepped in front of him to guard him.
The man was filthy and dressed in rags. He was just the sort of person desperate enough to do anything for a few coins. It seemed that Cersei had done exactly as Harry had feared and she had found someone so desperate for money that they would do anything, even molest a prince, her own son.
The man hadn't seen the red cloaks waiting in the wings. He had seen Balon beside him, Ser Barristan stood on guard to his other side, and he had tried to come at Harry from behind. To touch him and then run…he hadn't seen the red cloaks and it had been them who had apprehended the man before he could even get within five feet of him.
"Take him to my grandfather, please." Harry said to them. "He will want to question him."
The two red cloaks who had hold of the man nodded and they dragged him off, leaving the other two with him, along with Barristan and Balon.
"Are you okay?" Balon asked him.
Harry nodded, staring after the man who would have caused him so much trouble and trauma, just for a fistful of coin. He wondered if he would stand up to Tywin's torture methods. Harry doubted it.
He carried on as if nothing had happened and when the joust was set to resume, Harry hurried back and retook his seat, handing Myrcella the flowers and Tommen a little jointed figure of a knight. He didn't tell Robert what had happened. Not yet.
He noticed immediately that Cersei was giving him looks. Almost as if she were checking if he was still happy and excited, and he played it up a little. She would know from that that her little pet hadn't managed to touch him. What Harry noticed more though was the absence of Tywin and Kevan from the second half of the tilts. They would find out exactly who had given that man money…it would be Cersei or even Jaime. Unless they had been clever like they had that time when he was three and had paid someone else to hire the man.
Balon was knocked out of the joust in the quarter-finals and Harry commiserated with him while the changeover happened. Jaime was still in with a chance, as was Ser Mandon, both representing the Kingsguard. It was a man from the Westerlands, a vassal to house Lannister who had sworn his sword to Lord Tywin, who won the day, however. His name was Sandor Clegane and he was a big, burly, muscled man. That wasn't what had people turning away from him or averting their gazes, however. Sandor's face was terribly burned. It was all slick scars, blackened flesh that was pocked with craters and wet-looking cracks that oozed and at his jaw the scars were so deep that the bone could be seen. His ear was missing on the left side, as were his lips, and the scars went down his throat and up over his forehead, twisting around his eye, which looked to be unaffected. Sandor combed his hair to the left, but when he had removed his helm, Harry had seen that the scars went over his head too, and no hair grew there.
It was Harry's duty to hand the winner of the tourney his prizes, as it was his name day, and he steeled himself for the task. He was no little boy, not truly, and he had seen worse than this man. He would not shy away from him, not in fear, not in disgust.
"Congratulations, Ser." He said, smiling his best smile. "You jousted very well."
"I am no Ser." The man snapped back, his voice raspy and deep.
"My apologies. I am still learning. How do you prefer to be known?"
"The Hound." He answered shortly.
Harry smiled happily, making eye contact, ignoring how the burned side of the mouth twitched oddly, as he handed over the winner's purse.
"Congratulations on your win, Hound." He said. "You rode well and deserve being named champion."
"My Prince." The man accepted the purse and bowed. "Your Grace." He added, bowing to his father, before turning and stomping off.
Harry chuckled quietly. "I liked him." Harry told his father.
Robert snorted and reached out for more wine, even as Sandor, the Hound, threw the flower crown into the crowd without presenting it to anyone and the tilt lines and tents were taken down and prepared for the archery.
"You would like him."
"I always did prefer straight talkers to false flatterers."
Robert looked at him and considered that. Robert nodded. "I can see that, we are alike in that regard."
"We are in most things." Harry pointed out, even though it was a lie.
"Have you had a woman yet?"
Harry blinked at the out of the blue question.
"Had you at three-and-ten?"
Robert chuckled then. "No, not quite so soon. I was just wondering if you had bested me in that as well. You have in most other things that I am good at, such as hunting, hawking, and killing a man. I was four-and-ten when I had my first. I will not expect you to be so far off either. I have seen your Baratheon temper, I have seen that awaken within you, your lusts won't be too far behind."
"I'm noticing those things more and more." Harry said, being a little ambiguous. He was noticing men, or rather Balon, more than he was noticing any women, but those lusts were stirring within him, awakening like some great beast.
Robert threw his head back and laughed, hard. He clapped Harry on the back.
"It won't be long now, Harry." He said, giving him a knowing look. "If you need any help, ask me, and I will take you to your first brothel."
Robert had said that last bit a little too loud, as Harry saw the Kingsguard snap to attention and Harry caught the slight look of panic on Ser Barristan's face. Harry probed a little with his rapidly improving legilimency skills, to see if he could find the root of that panic. He settled when he 'read' that Barristan thought that Robert was pushing Harry to visit whores before he was even ready to do so. The old man believed him much too young to start visiting brothels…or to have anyone speaking of them to him.
"I'm sure I can find someone to bed me." Harry laughed.
Robert threw his head back and let out that roar of a laugh that drew all attention to him.
"To be sure, you don't need any help there, you are a very comely boy. You're all Baratheon." Robert said proudly. "When you decide to take anyone to bed, they would be honoured."
Harry chuckled at that, he couldn't help it. He didn't think anyone would be 'honoured' to endure his boyish fumbling, but he supposed being a prince, the crown prince at that, that any girl he chose to lie with would forever hold it over his head. That's why he would never take that chance…that and there was no equivalent of condoms here and he refused to follow his father completely and leave a string of natural babies behind him. Or suffer the indignity of contracting any of the sexual diseases swimming in the brothels and whorehouses.
The archery field was finally ready and Harry could ignore the offer of taking him to a brothel. Harry cheered on Balon, shouting, screaming and jumping around. He was so proud when Balon came first.
"Well done, Balon!" Harry congratulated. "I knew you could do it!"
"I thought I would miss that last shot." Balon said, but he couldn't take the grin from his face. He was eyeing up a pretty girl who had been cheering for him as well, and he was being very obvious about it, and the surge of jealousy almost blacked out Harry's vision.
"Balon!" He interrupted, tugging on that muscled, sweaty arm, trying to get his attention.
Balon turned to face him, looking down at him. "What is it, are you well?"
Harry nodded. "I'm well, but you were ignoring me." Harry accused.
"Of course I wasn't." Balon said, smiling at him, but he lifted his head to look at the pretty girl again and Harry wanted to strangle him there and then. He knew what was going to happen and he was powerless to stop it. He had no right to stop it, but that didn't make Harry feel any better.
He knew that Balon had slept with others before, and there had been a long ago jibe from a gold cloak that had suggested that Balon had been less than discreet with a kitchen pot boy, but it had never interfered with his duties as a sworn shield, and it had certainly never bothered Harry until now. Until he had formed his stupid crush. Maybe he should go to a brothel tonight after all.
He took a breath and cast those thoughts out. It would be a poor revenge. Balon wouldn't care about it and Harry would either end up with a disease or a bastard child and at thirteen that would show terribly on him.
He took a breath and he slid his arm from Balon's and stood back a little, and he watched, his heart throbbing with pain, as Balon moved away from him and towards the girl. He couldn't enjoy anything after that, and he was rather sullen. But he was angry and hurt, even as he was placed in the protection of the Kingsguard for the rest of the night.
It started raining just as he started heading back to Casterly Rock with Ser Arys. He hoped wherever Balon was with that girl, in some tent or a bush, that they got drenched.
Harry took the dozen books he'd been gifted to his room and he bolted himself in, ignoring that Ser Arys would remain on his door for half the night.
He sat in his chair and he immersed himself in the books. He wanted to read at least half of them before they left Casterly Rock and now that the tourney was over it wouldn't take long before Robert started getting jumpy around all these Lannisters.
- X
It was worse than Harry had expected. Without Harry there to distract him, drunk and riding high the joy of the tourney, Robert had slept with a serving woman…a plain, common, serving woman. The rumours were all over Casterly Rock already and Cersei was raging mad about the disrespect, in her own home no less.
Balon was back to being by his side the next morning, but he was sporting a bite mark on his neck that stoked Harry's rage into almost violence.
Worse than that, Harry had woken up feeling lethargic and queasy. He'd come down with some sort of simple illness, but it was making him snappy, ill-tempered, and achy.
The tension in the air didn't help, the constant shouting and arguing didn't help, and having Balon so close to him didn't help. He felt betrayed, despite the fact that Balon couldn't possibly know that Harry had feelings for him. It was ridiculous and irrational, yet Harry was still angry all the same.
It culminated at noon when everyone was forced together to eat. Sandor Clegane was there, which was making Myrcella twitchy and Tommen was whimpering. It was then that Harry found out that Cersei had been impressed by the man and had named him as Joffrey's sworn shield. That decision was causing more strife and more anger and it made Harry feel even worse.
"It's redundant!" Robert scoffed. "He's a second son, he's not my heir or the crown prince. There's no need for him to have a sworn shield."
"He's still your son!" Cersei snapped, still furious and humiliated that everyone knew that her husband had slept with a mere serving woman.
Harry's head throbbed as the argument went on over his head and he prodded at his lunch. His hands started trembling and his breathing was coming sharp and shallow. It was almost as if he were having a panic attack. Everything felt too close to him, including the very air he was struggling to breathe.
"Harian is the only son worth anything!" Robert's shout broke through the arguing and Harry's head dropped further towards his plate. He didn't care for Joffrey, but Tommen and Myrcella were sat at the table too. They were still just babies, just four years old. It wasn't fair to them. His own anger spiked higher and his fist clenched tighter around his fork. He felt like he was going to snap, or maybe explode.
"Harian, are you well?"
That was Tywin wading in and Harry felt the pain in his head go to almost crushing levels. There was fussing around him then and he was touched. He stood up quickly to move away, to give himself some space…too quickly. He didn't notice anything else, as his eyes rolled into his head and he passed out.
Tywin had noticed Harian's sweaty face and he watched as Balon Swann caught the thirteen-year-old before he could hit the floor.
"Is it poison?!" Robert demanded, as he all but shoved Ser Swann off of his feet as he took his son into his own arms.
"Your Grace, we should get him to his room and have Maester Creylen see to him."
Tywin was watching Cersei and Jaime, however, but they looked just as confused by the sudden events as everyone else. His heart calmed a little with the reassurance that they weren't to blame.
Maester Creylen was at least very quick to attend to the prince, but Tywin was more assured when, shortly after being examined, Harian woke up and tried to push everyone away from him.
"What happened?" Harry demanded, glaring at them all, the dark Baratheon rage making his Lannister eyes dark and stormy.
"It seems that you collapsed, my Prince. How are you feeling?" The Maester asked.
"Everyone out, now!"
Tywin stayed put, as did King Robert and Maester Creylen, but he chided everyone else out of the room, and he watched as Harian relaxed a little as his room emptied. He'd always said that his room felt like his sanctuary, so Tywin didn't blame him for the need to have it calmer, emptier.
"Harian, what happened?" Tywin asked him.
Harry shook his head. "I wasn't feeling well. Not since last night. The pain in my head got so bad that I just…"
"Passed out." He answered when Harian trailed off and Harry nodded.
"What illness is this?" Robert demanded of Maester Creylen. "Will he recover?"
"I already have!" The young boy snapped.
"Harian, calm yourself, we are merely worried." Tywin told him, a warning edge to his tone that Harry knew well. He took a breath and winced.
"Headache?" Maester Creylen asked.
Harry nodded mutely, staring at the wall.
"Sweating, shivers, body aches, and nausea too." Harry admitted.
"Since last night you say?"
Harry nodded again.
"You likely have a chill. I will give you something to take away the aches and pains. You need to rest."
"How did he catch it?" Robert asked.
"How does any child catch an illness, Your Grace? Children and illnesses go hand in hand. It is impossible to say how Prince Harian caught this illness, perhaps from the crowds at the tourney? But it is not life-threatening. He will recover in a few days. Until then he needs to rest."
"Will you be okay here?" Robert asked him.
Harry nodded. "I need to rest for a few days, but I already feel fine."
Robert touched his head, cupping that massive hand around Harry's skull and he pressed their foreheads together.
"Don't worry me like that again."
Harry snorted. "I can't help getting sick. I vastly prefer it to being poisoned."
"You're sure it's not poison?" Robert asked Creylen.
"Very sure, Your Grace. He has a chill, that is all."
"Let me rest." Harry all but begged.
Maester Creylen bowed to him and then left hurriedly, and Robert looked at him awkwardly for a moment longer, before leaving to probably drown this newest bad memory with copious amounts of wine. Harry hoped he didn't sleep with another serving woman.
Harry was left with just Tywin and they looked at one another silently for a moment.
"Are you truly feeling well or do you feel ill?"
"I feel fine. A little achy, and my head hurts, but other than that, I feel the same as usual."
"Do you want your books closer to you?" Tywin asked.
Harry smiled for the first time that day and he nodded.
"The right pile, Grandfather. I've read the ones on the left." Harry instructed.
"You have read those three large, heavy books overnight?" Tywin asked of him. "Did you sleep at all last night?"
"How could I when I have so many new books?" He asked.
Tywin made a soft sound of amusement, the closest he ever got to a laugh, and he moved the large pile over to Harry.
"It is no wonder that you fell sick without proper sleep and rest. Take better care of yourself and not just your mind."
"My mind is the most important part of me."
"All of you is important, that is why you take arms lessons and keep to your exercises."
Harry nodded, but he already knew that. He knew exactly how important it was to train and maintain his body.
"I will leave you to read, but make sure you stay in your bed. Do you want Balon here with you?"
"No, I'd like to be alone for a while, Grandfather."
Tywin nodded and he left Harry to himself, leaving the room and closing the door behind him, so no one slipped in as Balon was likely worried and fretful. Harry just wished it was in the way that he wanted it. Perhaps after this event now he would make his feelings known to Balon. That way if Balon did lie with others afterwards, Harry would feel justified in hitting him for it.
- X
It took four days before Harry left his bedchamber in Casterly Rock and in that time Myrcella, Tommen, Joy, Martyn, Willem, and Tyrek had all gotten the same chill. It was nothing serious, but it delayed Robert's plans to head straight back to King's Landing, which Harry actually liked, as though he preferred to be at Casterly Rock alone, he would certainly rather be here with all of his family rather than back in King's Landing with them.
He had finished all of the books given to him for his name day and only after he had finished them did he emerge again. He found out that they were to remain at Casterly Rock for another week, and now that he was better he immediately started having his lessons with Tywin again.
Balon was once again a shadow at his back and Harry had buried his feelings of betrayal and upset over the issue. It had been irrational anyway, he knew that, though it still didn't help the hurt he felt. He put it behind him though and distracted himself with archery and arms lessons with Ser Broom.
Joffrey had kept his sworn shield, Sandor Clegane and Harry felt rather sorry for the man. He certainly wouldn't have liked to shadow Joffrey all day every day. He didn't take his lessons, he only liked swords for killing animals and threatening people and he barely knew how to use one, and he was a spiteful bully too.
Harry sighed, perhaps having someone to temper him a little would actually make Joffrey a better person? He could only hope, as he didn't think Sandor 'I'm no Ser!' Clegane would put up with any shit, especially not from Joffrey.
Tyrion had finished Lies of the Ancients and had given the book to Harry to read, and Harry had devoured it greedily. He was prepared to agree with Tyrion that the best word to describe the book would be erroneous. It was downright slanderous towards the Starks and the Night's Watch at the Wall, and Harry was happy to disregard almost everything that the book claimed to be true and based in fact. Harry certainly believed that the fabled 'Others' were real, and he believed the first-hand account of those who had seen them, mostly men of the Night's Watch, and Starks of the North. He didn't believe for a moment that all of those personal accounts, spanning hundreds of years, and all describing roughly the same thing, had been done merely to give the men at the Wall, or the Starks, a more heroic tale to tell.
Harry and Tyrion had had a long discussion and debate over the contents of the book, Tywin sitting close to overhear, and though both Harry and Tyrion agreed that the Others had once existed thousands of years ago, they agreed that they were likely extinct now, as they hadn't been seen in eight thousand years.
They had also agreed that the claims about the origins of Valyria, and the men of The Reach and The Westerlands were complete rubbish. Harry no longer wondered why this particular book was so ill-regarded, and he considered that Archmaester Fomas was completely deluded and liked his own voice far too much.
Eventually, the time came to head back to King's Landing and Harry sighed heavily, sad to be saying goodbye to his home. Cersei and Robert were still arguing over the serving woman, but Cersei had gotten her revenge by all but forcing her husband to accept her cousins as his squires.
Harry was horrified to find out that Lancel and Tyrek would be coming back with them to King's Landing, and he felt his head throb with the spike of anger that it caused. Tyrek wasn't so bad, not after they had formed a bond after Tygett's death, but Lancel…fucking Lancel, his most hated cousin. That was the last thing he wanted truly, two of his cousins living in the capital, in the Red Keep with him. Harry hoped that he could avoid them for the most part. He had never had any patience for his Lannister cousins.
It took three weeks down the Goldroad before they arrived back in the city, and Harry was tired, dirty, and in need of a bath.
"Come on, Balon. I want to be clean."
Balon nodded and followed him to a bathing chamber, where a hot bath had already been drawn in preparation for the arriving royals.
They shared the water, which didn't help Harry's little crush to be seeing Balon naked, but they were both too tired to take separate baths.
"Will you rest in your room after this?" Balon asked him.
Harry nodded. "I will. A small nap will do me good. You are free to do as you wish, I will bolt my door."
Balon nodded. "I will be next door, taking my own nap." Balon chuckled.
Harry didn't linger, his heart couldn't take it. Instead, he scrubbed himself, washed himself off, and then dressed in a sleeping tunic and went to his bed. He really needed to release some magic.
He made sure the door was bolted and then he climbed into his warm bed. The servants had kept a pan of hot coals in his sheets until he had gotten out of the bath. He rubbed his legs over the warmed sheets and sighed happily, letting his aching body relax and rest. He would enjoy his nap and then hopefully he would be able to slip back into life in the capital.
- X
Cersei slammed closed the door to her bedchamber behind herself and she tried to unclench her hands. Between them, Robert and Harian were ruining her.
The humiliation, the disrespect at hearing that her husband, as hated as he was, had slept with a mere serving woman at Casterly Rock, the seat of her family and her childhood home, was unbearable. She wanted to kill him, she had wanted as such then and there the moment that she had heard the news and she felt that perhaps if they hadn't been under her father's nose at the time, she might have done just that.
Tywin Lannister was no fool and due to the dire warning that he had given her before they had left Casterly Rock she had felt unable to act, despite how much she dearly wanted to.
She hadn't known that her father had ordered four red cloaks to guard Harian in the markets. It had been them who had stopped the man she had paid to touch that wretched boy. It was supposed to be simple. He was supposed to check for the Kingsguard knight and Balon Swann, touch the boy, and then run. She had not thought it such a difficult task and she had not believed he'd be caught or she would have used a scapegoat to pay the man to touch Harian. She closed her eyes and paced in tight circuits before heading to where the servants had left a flagon of wine and a goblet on her table.
Under torture, the man had sung a sweet tale about how the queen had paid him to touch her son and Tywin Lannister didn't believe her protestations of innocence. She had figured that it had worked once before, when that servant had accused her of forcing him to put snakes in Harian's bed. She had declared her innocence and spun a quick, clever tale of blackmail and marital loyalty and Robert had lapped it up and she had gotten away with it.
Robert hadn't been the one to torture this man, however. He hadn't even been told about the incident and he had known nothing about it. Her father had done the torturing, had asked just the right questions, and he refused to believe that she was innocent.
Her mouth went dry and she took a hasty gulp of wine as she remembered his words to her.
'Harian is the future of this house, Cersei. You have done your duty and bared a child to carry on the Lannister legacy. I will not allow these schemes to continue. If anything happens to him, I will come to you for answers and I promise you, you will not like what punishment I will mete out.'
She hated the very thought that her own father cared more for Harian than he did about her. Than he did for her favoured children. Everything had always been about Harian and she hated it. She hated him. She hated that vile spawn she had borne in her womb. She drained the goblet she held in several large, hard swallows before refilling it.
She remembered Maggy's long-ago words, they echoed tauntingly in her head and her grip clenched on the goblet, pleased that it was silver and not glass as she feared it would have shattered in her hand.
'Will the king and I have children?' Her own, younger, voice echoed in her head unbidden and the croaking answer still haunted her. 'Oh, aye. Eight-and-ten for him, and five for you. The king of death whom you will never love and will plague your mind for the rest of your days, one you will never lay eyes on, and three you will hold more dear than anything else in this world. Gold shall be their crowns and gold their shrouds and when your tears have drowned you, the king of death will reveal himself to you with a final smile.'
Cersei shivered, her body suddenly cold. She could never have foreseen what those words would mean. She had still had thoughts of Prince Rhaegar in her mind when asking those haunting questions and she had not understood the answers given to her. The wine tasted of ashes in her mouth.
The king of death could only be Harian. Once she was pregnant with him, knowing that it was Robert who would be her king and it was his child that she carried, with thoughts in her mind of taking moon tea to cleanse herself…she had believed that this was the babe she would never see. After his birth, she hadn't wanted to look upon him, but she had eventually laid eyes on him and she knew then that this babe was the king of death, the one she would never love because he had been Robert's. She'd hoped that Maggy's words would mean that she would kill this unloved, hated child and that it was her kinslaying that would rest heavy on her mind and plague her for the rest of her life. She had accepted that consequence and still she had tried to kill Harian, but he wouldn't die, no matter what she did. She had tried several times and he kept surviving. Over and over she tried and failed to kill the king of death.
She was worried now that Maggy's words meant that Harian was going to kill her other three children. It was why she tried to keep them apart as much as possible. Gold shall be their shrouds.
Cersei's throat constricted for a moment, as she imagined the gold funeral shrouds over her three children. Her hand clenched hard on the goblet, she couldn't allow that to happen. She had to find a way to kill Harian before he killed Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella…and before he got a chance to humiliate her further, as Maggy's words alluded.
Harian was older now than she had ever imagined him to live. She had tried when he wasn't born, when he was a newborn, when he was three, when he was eight, and he was still alive despite it all.
She prayed that 'king of death' didn't mean that he couldn't be killed. That he wouldn't keep surviving her attempts to be rid of him. She couldn't bear the thought that he would live to kill her little golden lion cubs and her mind tore itself apart whenever he went near them, wondering, fearing, if the day had come and she would lose one of them to him. She had tried to teach the younger ones to fear him, to stay away from him, but they loved him, they idolised him, and she couldn't turn them away from him despite all of her efforts.
It would have been easier if he had stayed at Casterly Rock, she realised. He had when Joff had been young and those two hated one another. Her mind flashed back to when Harian had almost killed Joffrey, underneath the shadow of the Iron Throne, and she had panicked that that was the day that Harian would take the first of her children from her as she watched Joffrey's face turn a dark shade of purple as Harian strangled him. It had been three years ago and still, the memory of it haunted her, taunted her with the possibilities of what Harian could, and would, do to her children.
She could have lost Joffrey that day and the thought choked her. Harian's anger had been so fierce that it had taken three men to pull him off of Joff and he had given a parting headbutt that had broken Joffrey's nose and speckled his little face with blood. He had been six years old, almost killed by his older brother, and Robert hadn't done anything to punish Harian for that incident. That had scared her, and it still did, as she realised that Robert would never do anything against Harian. It was up to her to protect her little cubs from the king of death.
She still had hope. Maggy had told her that 'gold shall be their crowns' and she knew that this meant that Joffrey would be the king, that Myrcella and Tommen would remain her little prince and princess. The gold crowns had come before the gold shrouds, there was hope, she just had to remove Harian before he could do harm to her younger children, before he could take them away from her.
All she had ever wanted was almost at her fingertips. She could make Maggy's future benefit her. She could keep Joffrey on the throne as king. She could protect Tommen and Myrcella, the only obstacle was Harian. She would try again and this time…this time he wouldn't be walking away from her attempts. She would make him pay for haunting her and her children. She had found the perfect poison. One so strong that not even the king of death could walk away from it. It would take time to create, it was expensive and it would take time to reach her in Westeros, but it would be worth it to finally be rid of him. She only needed to have the poison in hand and one opening, one opportunity, even if it took a few years more. She had been assured that no one could survive The Strangler.
Her mind calmed a little and wandered to the fifth child that Maggy had told her that she would have. A child she would never lay eyes on. She swirled the wine in her goblet before drinking, pondering, draining the cup in her hand. This, she believed, was most likely to be another of Robert's children, the second babe he would sire upon her, as disgusting as the very thought of bedding her hated husband made her feel. Perhaps she would manage to abort this one after she had failed with Harian. If she aborted Robert's second child, as she had planned for Harian, then she would never meet her fifth babe, never lay eyes on them, and Maggy's words would ring true. No matter the bitter taste that thought left on her tongue as she hadn't wanted any of Maggy's poisoned words to come true.
A little more settled, Cersei poured a new goblet of wine and sat on her bed, sipping it this time.
With her father now on the lookout for Harian, knowing that she had been the one who had paid that scum to touch Harian at Casterly Rock, she would have to tread even more carefully. She would lie in wait for a few years, always on the lookout for an opportunity, but she would not plot anything else for a while. She had her grand plan already set in play. She wouldn't give them any cause to cast suspicion her way, she would wait for them to lax their guard, to take their eyes from her, and then she would strike. Though, no matter when she got her opportunity she was determined that Harian would never become the king of Westeros. She would never allow it, even if she had to murder him on the morning of the coronation, he would never be crowned a true king. He would only ever be the king of death to her. She had the time to act. A little while longer. As soon as The Strangler was in her hand all she needed was one opportunity, one moment, and he would be no more. She would finally be free of him and the deathly shadow he cast.