It was the year two-ninety-six AC and Harry, now thirteen but turning fourteen later this year, was growing well and very strong. His exercises were paying off, he was starting to fill out, and he was now including strength exercises in his physical training, including press-ups and squats. He was only thirteen, so he was not doing any of these exercises with weights, it was bad enough he was doing sword training in heavy armour, and had been since he was three years old, but his muscles were coming on nicely and he could now run from one end of King's Landing to the other without needing to stop for a break. His next goal was to run all the way around the outside walls of the city, from the Iron Gate to the King's Gate. Balon didn't really like him doing this, as he had to protect him while they ran together and it was harder to protect a moving target, but they had both gotten used to it and the smallfolk in the city had come to know that when he ran, he was doing exercises and didn't have the time to stop and talk to them as he usually did.
He was almost a man grown, he was now a teenager, an adolescent, and his responsibilities were increasing. He still sat in on small council meetings, but he was still told to just watch and observe. It was from sitting on these meetings that he knew of a band of outlaws harassing smallfolk in the Kingswood, near Felwood, the seat of house Fell, and Bronzegate, the seat of house Buckler. Both Lords Fell and Buckler had written to the capital to request assistance in putting down the outlaws and wiping them out. There was already talk floating around of another Kingswood Brotherhood, the bold outlaws who had even attacked Princess Elia Martell on her way to King's Landing, and the Lord Commander at the time, Ser Gerold Hightower, the legendary White Bull.
Harry sat, trying his hardest to keep silent as Varys offered to do nothing about the outlaws, who were not in the same league of the past Kingswood Brotherhood, and that Lords Fell and Buckler were merely exaggerating the issue, even as Baelish insisted that the crown couldn't afford to send knights in to take out the outlaws, and couldn't fund a war. Renly, newly raised to the small council now that he was a man grown at nineteen, becoming his brother's Master of Laws, just shrugged the problem off, insisting that Lord Fell and Lord Buckler had enough men in their households between them to deal with the problem themselves.
As the ineffectual meeting ended, Harry went right to his father and 'let slip' about the outlaws in the Kingswood, in his ancestral lands, and that his small council had opted to do nothing. It had had the desired effect of rousing his father's blood lust and anger in equal measure. He had called another meeting immediately, one which he had actually attended, and he had told all his lord councillors that they would be going and wiping out the outlaws personally.
This had, sort of, backfired on Harry, as his father told him that he would be coming too. Harry hadn't realised that his father would actually insist on his thirteen-year-old son accompanying him to battle, but upon further thought perhaps he should have. Robert had seen him kill a man at just six years old, he had watched him shoot out deer on numerous hunts from the age of twelve, and he obviously believed that Harry was ready to go into battle.
So, Harry prepared the same as everyone else, getting Balon to help him, while Barristan Selmy tried to talk sense into the king, and his grandfather sent a very sternly worded letter from where he was camped out, where the Goldroad crossed the Blackwater Rush, on his way for a visit to the capital, which Robert steadfastly ignored. He had decided that Harry was going into battle, and no one else would change his mind.
Harry was set to the idea now as well. Balon had earned his knighthood when he was just eleven, in a civil dispute turned battle, for showing bravery and skill despite his young years. It might be that Harry could be knighted on the back of this battle too. He wasn't an official squire, but he was being trained up by all members of the Kingsguard, they all took turns teaching him and instructing him as a knight would do for his squire, and thanks to Balon Harry knew how to buckle a man's armour as he helped his sworn shield get ready for jousts. He also acted as cupbearer to his father, and sometimes his uncles as well. He did all the duties of a squire, just for a multitude of different people and he had been his grandfather's official page for a time when he was just three years old. Harry was very much hoping to be knighted on the back of this battle, but he kept this desire a secret from everyone, even Balon.
"Harian, don't go." A teary Myrcella begged him, running over and latching about his waist.
Harry smiled kindly down at her. She was only five, she didn't really understand, but she knew that he would be in danger and she knew that he might not come back.
"I must, Myrcella. It is the duty of all men to protect the realm and none more so than the royal family. I will come back, I swear it."
"Uncle Jaime says that you are not ready, that you're too young." Myrcella fretted.
Harry wondered what else his uncle had been saying that she had overheard, but he pushed those thoughts aside. He didn't have time to fret over the desperate plotting of his mother and her twin, though he would be on the lookout for an opportunity to murder him and blame it on some outlaws.
"Many boys are too young when they first go into battle, but ofttimes it is not their choice, and they need to go to keep their homes, their families, and their lands safe. I am not going alone, Myrcella. I have Balon, and father, and the Kingsguard. Do not fret so much, little lioness. Pray for me in the Sept and the gods will see me home."
"I shall!" Myrcella promised, her young face ardent. "I will pray every day for you!"
Harry smiled and bent to kiss her forehead, brushing aside golden curls as he did so. He didn't understand why no one saw the differences between him and his younger siblings and he sighed heavily. Now wasn't the time to think about his mother's incestuous relationship, or all three of his siblings coming from that relationship.
Harry said his goodbyes, hugging Myrcella and Tommen and kissing them both before he pulled himself up onto Gryffindor and set off with the column without looking back. Balon fell in beside him and Ser Arys was on his other side. This would be a test of his nerve and courage, he knew. This moment would make or break his character. If he was cowardly or didn't conduct himself well in this battle then it would mar him for the rest of his life. He could not allow that to happen.
He calmed himself and practised deep breathing exercises. He had been in battles before, but that was mostly the problem, as he remembered those past battles, from his previous life, that had traumatised him. He had lost everyone back then, he was not prepared to do the same all over again.
He hardened himself, preparing for what was to come as they pushed their horses to a punishing pace, taking care not to blow them, but still making good time. It usually took less than a week to reach Storm's End from the capital and they were not travelling that far, but they would be battling against outlaws. Men without honour who could, and likely would, spring an attack on them to take them by surprise, who would fight dirty and use cheap tricks to fell a man. Harry would need to be careful, as a mere boy of thirteen, he would be a huge target…and in the most danger.
There were four times as many sentries posted when they made camp for the night than when they had gone hunting and Harry was snuggled up with his father in the centre of the camp, the Kingsguard, and Balon, circling them. It was difficult to sleep, between the hard ground, the night noises, and the thought that at any moment they could be set upon by the outlaws, but Harry cleared his mind and settled down. He had his magic if anything went horrendously wrong.
- X
It had taken them five days to reach the apex between Felwood and Bronzegate, where every man was ordered to always be on his guard and always alert to everything around him. It had taken an additional nine days of searching the area before they had found any sign of the outlaws. These cowards were nothing like the original Brotherhood, who had been fearsome, bold, and not unskilled with a blade. Instead of standing and fighting, the small band they had happened upon had scattered and fled immediately, and only two out of the eight had been run down, the other six had disappeared into the trees and thick bushes, hidden and free to strike back at them.
"They are in this area!" Robert bellowed above all other noise. "I want them all found and hunted down before they can escape and regroup!"
The king's word was acted upon immediately and men rode out in pairs, or small groups to hunt down the fled outlaws. Harry stayed on his father's tail, within the protection of the Kingsguard, Balon tight to his side.
Harry had his bow out, an arrow loosely nocked, but not drawn, his eyes flitting over dark trees, shadows, and bushes, waiting for something to move. He was reaching out with his magic, trying to sense anything that his eyes couldn't see. There was very little natural light in the Kingswood, the trees grew close together, and tall. The canopy above was thick and they could only really see a small way in front of them during the daylight hours. It got dark very quickly in the wood too.
It started with a bad feeling, a sense that he had forgotten something, a warning hum of magic that he needed to look around more closely. Harry's head snapped up as there was a rustling from the leaves in a tree and he realised that he had made a fool's error. He had been looking around, but he hadn't been looking up!
He drew the bow on reflex, as his eyes sought the shape in the trees, as his magic locked onto them, and before anyone else could react, as they had also heard the rustling and had looked up, Harry had shot his arrow straight through the man who had been prepared to leap into their midst.
He fell among them instead, an arrow straight through his heart, and as an added bonus his body landed on Jaime Lannister, but Harry controlled his laughter and promised that he would revisit his amusement later; they were not out of danger just yet.
"Good lad!" His father crowed. "Excellent shot."
Harry calmed himself, absorbed the praise and allowed it to buoy his heart, but he scanned the surrounding area quickly, this time making sure to look up, into the trees as well.
Gryffindor tossed his head, his ears pricked, but he otherwise didn't react to the scent of the blood. He had been war trained from the moment he'd been brought to the Red Keep, as had Ravenclaw, and all the other horses that had been brought to the Kingswood.
They moved on, the Kingsguard now looking into the trees also, until they heard sounds of fighting. This was the most dangerous time, as they entered into the fray. There were fifteen of the king's men, all of them mounted knights, surrounding a small, ragtag group of outlaws dressed in brown and green. Harry watched as a horse was stabbed in the flank, rearing up and dumping its rider on the floor to be stabbed in the neck.
His father didn't wait to be told, he plunged straight into the fray, but Balon held Harry back and they picked off stragglers who moved too far from the main bulk of the fighting with their bows. This was a good tactic, and a sound way to introduce Harry to battle without him having to dive head first into a close-quarters sword fight. Or at least it was until, with a staggered war cry, more outlaws set upon them from behind.
Harry slipped his body through his bow and drew his sword in an instant. Gryffindor kicked back at the man who ran straight for him and then bit through the shoulder of another man, but Harry was dragged from his horse by a man who had come in from the other side.
Everything narrowed down to the small circle around him. He'd lost Balon in the fighting, his father had been about twenty feet ahead, with the Kingsguard, and now they were separated by a dozen more outlaws.
Muscle memory kicked in, it was just like the final battle all over again, and Harry's memories blended together, to lay Death Eater masks over the dirt-blackened faces of the outlaws. Harry used his magic, nothing too obvious, but he evened the odds in his favour, as he cut down men as he'd been taught, his body moving more fluidly, his swings stronger and more purposeful. It was easy to hack at a body, someone you knew was trying to kill you, and much harder in training when you didn't actually want to hurt or kill your opponent as it was mere practice.
The noise was terrible, shouting and yelling, men begging for their mothers, or for a mercy death. Horses were screaming and kicking out in pain and the iron tang of blood that hung heavy on the air was inescapable. Harry had added to that smell himself, fighting with men twice his size, downing most of them with a cutting curse to the neck, disguising the sudden deaths by plunging his blade into their chests as they suddenly stopped short after feeling the skin of their necks parting, the pain and the sudden inability to breathe stopping their own sword thrusts short.
The outlaws were thinning out. Harry could see king's men in between his small, close combat battles and he saw a white cloak out of the corner of his eye but he didn't receive any help at all; a closer look showed his uncle Jaime, so Harry was not at all surprised that the man moved away from him, not nearer.
Harry was fighting against a particularly skilled outlaw, who was waving a long scythe at him, a weapon that Harry assumed he had robbed from a poor farmer. Harry put his short height to good use, ducking under the long, unwieldy weapon and thrusting with his own longsword.
The fighting was calming down, but Harry didn't take his eyes from the opponent in front of him, doing as he'd been taught, and he saw an opening and he took it, seizing the moment instantly and stabbing his sword straight through an unarmoured belly, yanking it back out and then finishing him off with a swipe to the neck.
"Well fought, Harry."
Harry spun, seeing Balon standing right behind him, protecting his back. Harry assessed him immediately, and though he was bloody, he seemed unharmed.
"Have you been injured?" Harry asked concernedly.
Balon shook his head. "I took a glancing cut to my arm, but it is not anything to fret over. You?"
Harry shook his head. "No. I will be sore on the morrow, with all of this activity, but I wasn't cut."
"All your training has paid off. Well done, you fought bravely and skilfully."
Harry felt himself blushing and he was almost glad that his face was full of blood so that Balon wouldn't see. Almost.
"I saw you downing that last opponent." His father bellowed from across the clearing, striding to him and yanking Harry into a tight hug. His father seemed unharmed as well. "You truly are becoming a man. Your first battle now under your belt."
Harry smiled tiredly.
"I thought the worst when your horse was charging about with an empty saddle." His father confessed.
"Is Gryffindor safe?" Harry asked, looking around for his tall, chestnut red destrier.
"He has been calmed and the squires are seeing to him." His father insisted. "Come, I have a surprise for you."
"Is now the best time for a surprise?" Harry mused aloud.
"Now is the perfect time for this surprise." His father insisted.
Harry was led over to Ser Barristan, who was smiling at him with his sword in his hand. Harry's heart missed a beat, as he realised that he was going to get his wish of a knighthood, while he was only thirteen years old.
"We all saw you fighting with courage and skill." His father told him proudly. "We watched you fell that outlaw in the tree before anyone else could even draw their blades, before many of us had even seen him, and then we watched as you cut down this last outlaw. You did not run from battle, you did not hide until the fighting was done, you took up your sword and you fought. I have never been more proud of you."
"Kneel, my Prince." Ser Barristan bid him, and Harry did so, at the old knight's feet, in the grass that was wet with blood, still bloody himself.
This was more than he could have hoped for, to be knighted in his first battle, at such a young age, and actually on the field of battle too. Balon had still been younger, but that mattered little, as Balon had been knighted in exceptional circumstances, for saving the life of the lord he had been squired to. Not very many boys were knighted before they were men grown, and even then it was usually fifteen, not thirteen. A bare sword touched his right shoulder.
"Prince Harian, of house Baratheon, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains, your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?" Ser Barristan asked him
"I swear." Harry replied.
The sword moved to touch his left shoulder and then it was gone.
"Arise, Ser Harian Baratheon." Barristan bade him and Harry stood, trying to control his goofy grin, but he was so happy.
"Is it supposed to be Prince Harian or Ser Harian now? Or perhaps Prince Ser Harian?" His uncle jested.
"I prefer Ser Prince Harian actually, Uncle." Harry replied, making his father laugh.
They were careful as they headed back to their own camp, they had no idea how many outlaws there had originally been, but the Kingsguard would 'interrogate' the outlaws that they had managed to capture alive and they would get a more accurate number of outlaws. Then it would be an easy task to tally up the dead and see who might not still be hiding in the Kingswood.
They shared wine and stories around their campfire, his father praised him heavily and Harry was riding high on that praise, and on the back of his knighthood too. It was full dark before Harry dragged Balon into his tent.
"So, how does it feel to be a Ser?" Balon asked him, smiling.
"No different, if I am truly honest. None of the events of the last day have sunk in yet." He replied. "Though I am sure once they have I will be proud of myself."
Feeling bold and courageous, Harry sat right next to Balon and snuggled in. In recent months, this closeness discomforted Balon, who always tried to put a bit of distance between them, but tonight he allowed Harry to stay close.
Harry was trying to work out Balon's thoughts. He'd caught some surface thoughts, some emotions that weren't his own, and from that, he knew that Balon thought he was growing really well and strong, that there was a hint of attraction there, or perhaps it was merely admiration, he couldn't tell the difference and whether or not he was 'feeling' attraction because he wanted to. He was having some difficulty in separating his own feelings from those which were actually Balon's. He needed a way to test whether Balon did actually have some sort of attraction to him, because Harry was driving himself mad with his little crush, which wasn't going away even after a year, and he wanted to know, once and for all, if he could make something of it or if he should move on to someone else…if he could find anyone else that was.
"Balon?"
"Hmm, what is it?" Balon asked him, looking down into his face with a little concern, his eyes raking over Harry's body, perhaps wondering if he might not have taken an injury after all.
"I feel strange in the aftermath of the battle." He confessed. "I feel too warm. I'm shaking and I don't know why."
Balon looked at him more closely, blood-spattered still, as there were no baths around and they'd had to content themselves with washing in the stream, which wasn't ideal. Under the blood, Harry's cheeks were flushed red and his eyes were a little glassy.
Balon's heart missed a beat as he recognised the signs.
"Your blood is up." Balon told him uncomfortably. "Your first real battle and you are almost a man. You need a woman."
Harry pulled a face. "I've never liked girls." He insisted.
Balon looked at him then, properly looked at him. "Harian…have you ever seen a pretty girl and wanted her?" He asked.
Harry shook his head. "No. It has happened with a few boys though. Is that strange?"
Balon inhaled sharply and Harry could almost see Balon trying to think of a reply without offending him.
"Harian, do you like…do you like boys?"
Harry frowned. "That's a foolish question, Balon. Of course I like boys. I like you too."
"No. No, Harry, do you find yourself wanting to…lay with other boys?" Balon asked him seriously.
Harry frowned, playing at considering the question.
"Is it alright if I say so?" Harry asked, looking at the entrance to the tent in concern, regardless that he'd already put up a silencing ward.
"Of course. Harian, I have been by your side for ten years, you can tell me anything in confidence."
"I have thought of it before." Harry confessed, giving Balon a faux bashful smile. "I know my uncle Renly is…that he's that way inclined and I believe that I am as well. I have just never noticed girls, and now…all the other boys around the keep, they're all talking about girls and trying to get their attention, but I don't want to. I thought perhaps that it was because I was too young. Or because I was a prince and such behaviour is undignified, but then I saw…I saw a man without his tunic on and…and those feelings came then."
"Who did you see without his tunic?" Balon asked him and Harry believed that he heard the slightest touch of jealousy in his tone…or perhaps that was wishful thinking as well.
Harry nibbled on his lip, then looked up into Balon's eyes. "You." He admitted softly.
Harry watched Balon's expression closely, as it turned to shock, then panic, then want, and finally resignation.
"Harian, I'm your sworn shield." Balon said, his voice rather tenuous.
"I know. I think that is why I like you so much. You've always looked after me, you've always been kind to me and now that I'm older, and we spend so much time together, I…I like your company. I just like you, Balon."
"We can't." Balon said, panicking. "Harian, I am your sworn shield, it's not…it's not right."
"Yes, it is." Harry declared, leaning forward and trying to line his mouth up to Balon's.
"Your blood is high." Balon insisted, moving his head away. "You wouldn't be doing this otherwise. You will regret it on the morrow. I will not let you do anything you will regret."
"I won't regret it." Harry said firmly.
"You will. You are riding high the feelings of your first battle. You will come to understand the difference soon enough."
"I've been feeling this way before the battle, for perhaps a year or more."
Balon looked horrified. "Harian, you cannot have those feelings for me, I am your sworn shield! I am to be raised to the Kingsguard…" Balon cut himself off, a look of almost panic overtaking his expression. "Please tell me that you will not hold that ransom against me?" He asked.
Harry didn't want to admit how much that hurt him. How much Balon's words had cut him deep. He didn't like hearing that Balon cared more for his promised position on the Kingsguard than he did about him.
"I would never do that." Harry said softly. "I thought you knew me better than that."
Harry stood and he left the tent, slipping his hand from Balon's grasp as the older man tried to grab him, and he went outside to his father. He had decided that he'd rather sleep outside with him after all.
"Harian, there you are. Where did you go?"
"I went to go to sleep, but I'm still fired up. I can't settle."
Robert laughed. "Your blood is up."
Harry nodded. "Balon said I need a woman."
Several men laughed, including his father. "Don't we all?" Robert declared loudly. "You are at about that age though. Perhaps a bit young, but most boys don't see a battle until they are men grown."
Harry sat down next to his father, but he was brooding more than anything, as he considered that he might just have ruined his longstanding friendship with Balon. For ten years they had been friends, why did Harry have to form a crush on Balon of all people? Why did he have to ruin such an amazing friendship merely because he had a crush? His infamous luck was coming into play again.
Harry was quiet and morose on the way back to the capital. Balon was also silent, riding by his side, but the twenty-two-year-old couldn't meet Harry's eyes. Harry was thinking hard about how to fix this, and he believed he had a way to snap Balon from his mood, and right now he could only hope that it worked and didn't ruin things irrevocably.
The moment he arrived back in the Red Keep he started covertly spreading rumours that he was looking for another sworn shield. He made absolutely sure not to let anyone see him and he only allowed the 'gossips' to overhear him when he was behind closed doors, allowing them to believe he was speaking to other people when truthfully he was merely speaking to himself, but he would get the rumour mill running, and hopefully, that would shock Balon from his horrible silence when he eventually heard these rumours, that Harry would steadfastly deny all knowledge of when questioned about it.
This little plot was made easier for him when just a day after they arrived back in the capital his father threw him a feast to honour his knighthood. The servants were in full flurry hurrying after the nobles who were already in the capital for a visit, and the rumour was spreading nicely. Harry had heard it being whispered behind his back as he walked by twice already, and if he had heard it already then Balon most definitely had by now. It was just a waiting game, Balon would doubtlessly come and ask him about it because he'd want answers and Harry hoped that it was enough to jolt Balon from his awkward mood.
His mother was furious, of course, both at his early knighthood and the feast to celebrate it. She had been making snide comments since he had arrived back in the capital, which wasn't improving Harry's own mood, and still feeling upset and out of sorts, Harry didn't truly brighten up until he caught sight of his grandfather, fresh from the road judging from the mud-splattered cloak he was wearing, heading for him.
"Grandfather!" He cried out, already smiling widely.
"I am at least glad to see you alive after your father ignored my advice on taking you into this battle."
"I was knighted, Grandfather."
"I have already heard. A huge honour, for one so young."
"Balon was younger."
"He was, but it is no less impressive that you have been knighted at thirteen. I would have preferred you to remain safely in the capital, away from such battles while so young, but the outcome has been very fortuitous for you."
"I conducted myself well, Grandfather. I took all that I had been taught and I implemented it into action. I was not harmed."
Tywin laid a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I am glad. Now, come and speak with me, I would see that you have been keeping up with your lessons."
"I have other things to tell you as well. Things concerning the small council meetings I have been attending."
His grandfather looked interested and he nodded, leading Harry away to a more secluded room. Harry cast a subtle privacy ward, just to be sure.
"What have you heard?"
"I have been observing, as you told me to do, and there are certain things that I've noticed." Harry said softly, making a play at not wanting to be overheard when he knew perfectly well that his privacy ward meant that no one could possibly hear him or his grandfather, no matter if they had been shouting at one another.
"To do with the councillors, I presume?"
Harry nodded. "I have been watching and listening closely, to the things they say and to what they truly mean underneath. Some of them are not true friends of the crown or the realm. Varys, for all that he seems a simpering fool, he's not." Harry said quietly. "He says one thing and means another. He can act like the best of mummers, but…but his eyes tell another story. He plays with his hands, he's always moving them to draw attention to them, to take attention away from his eyes so people do not see what thoughts truly lie there, but I've learned to always look into a man's eyes, so I see the truth. He's dangerous, Grandfather. I'm sure he's trying to destabilise the realm. He coached the small council to do nothing about these outlaws, that they were not worth the notice of the crown and that Lord Buckler and Lord Fell could deal with the outlaws themselves."
Tywin looked so proud of Harry, but he was contemplating his words also. He was taking the matter seriously, as Harry was.
"Then there is Baelish. He is very difficult to read, very secretive. He hides behind a charming smile and what appears to be an amiable nature, but he is also working to destabilise the realm, for what purpose, I couldn't say. He told the small council that the crown couldn't afford to help Lord Fell and Lord Buckler with this dispute, but the worst thing was that Renly agreed with them both. My uncle is, I'm afraid, ineffectual as a councillor. He is not suited to it, he doesn't care enough."
"Your uncle Stannis?"
Harry nibbled his lip. "Hard, cold, and severe, as always." Harry said. "He said that it was the duty of the crown to uphold the laws and put the lawless brigands to death to keep the king's peace and justice."
"How did the news of this outlaw group reach your father?"
"I told him. My father is very martially orientated. I knew that he would love nothing more than a chance to put down a group of outlaws; they were in his ancestral lands, his favourite hunting grounds, and I know he had been feeling restless lately, so I told him about it, and that the small council had voted to do nothing about it. Of course he rose up and demanded that they would do something about it, as I knew he would. I didn't know that he would take me with him, however."
"Would you still have told him if you had known?"
Harry made a play at considering the question and he remained silent for a while.
"I believe I would have. I was nervous, and scared, going through the woods, but when the battle actually started, it all vanished under my training. I didn't have time to think about being scared or nervous and I knew that the outlaws had to be stopped. It was the just thing to do and Lord Fell and Lord Buckler had written to the crown for help, we would have made enemies of them both if their request had been ignored, as the lords of the small council would have advised."
"You have confirmed to me what I had long suspected. Beware of Varys and Baelish, do not trust them, Harian."
Harry nodded. "I will try to figure out what their motivations are. I want to know why they are trying to destabilise the realm. To what purpose are they working towards?"
"Be careful." Tywin told him seriously. "I would not have you harmed or killed. Keep listening and observing, but do not make it obvious that you know, or suspect, anything."
Harry nodded his understanding. He knew what he had to do and how to do it. He had worked out that Baelish and Varys were working to their own ends, he just didn't know what those ends were, not yet. It was time to practice his legilimency, it was time to find out exactly what Baelish and Varys were planning, and why.
His grandfather left him to go and clean himself up after his travelling and Harry went back to his small feast, interacting with everyone and generally winning himself friends and allies for when he sat the Iron Throne. The older he got, the more people wanted to suck up to him anyway, they all had daughters, or sisters, or any other female relatives, that they wanted to push onto him as a bride, as it would mean that they could have a relative who was the queen, and the future king, if indeed the potential bride gave him a son and not a string of daughters.
Balon caught up with him two hours later and he looked stricken.
"Balon, there you are." Harry greeted as normally as he could. "I've barely seen you all evening."
"May I speak with you, Harian?" He asked and Harry knew just from looking at him, and hearing his uneven tone, that he had heard enough of the rumours, from enough sources, to come and seek him out for answers.
"Of course. I have never stopped you from speaking to me."
"Privately."
Harry narrowed his eyes, frowning. "I…of course."
Balon led the way to a small antechamber and Harry hopped up onto a table to appear relaxed and calm.
"What is wrong, Balon? I hardly see you at all today and then you come out of nowhere like this to drag me off for a talk. I confess myself worried."
"I will come straight to the point then." Balon said, looking equal parts angry, upset and worried himself. "Are you replacing me as your sworn shield?"
Harry had been considering what to say since he'd thought up this plan on the ride back to King's Landing, and he had tried to script it out in his head, but nothing prepared him for the sharp slice of hurt that tore through him at those words and his script flew from his thoughts as he reacted from emotion instead.
"Is that truly all you care about?" Harry heard himself asking. "Your position next to me? Perhaps that was all you ever cared about. Perhaps you have only ever seen me as a means to an end, a way for you to reach your boyhood dream of being raised to the Kingsguard."
Balon's eyes narrowed in bemusement. "You know that isn't true." He declared sharply.
"Do I?" Harry questioned. "I confess that I no longer know what is true or not between us."
"So you are seeking to replace me? There are rumours spreading all over the hall tonight that you require a new sworn shield, and Ser Lyle Crakehall has remarked that he will put his own name forward for the honour. Lords and ladies alike have been coming to me all night and asking what I did to fall from your esteemed favour and I do not even know what to tell them."
Harry swallowed as he considered that he'd hit the nail on the head. Perhaps in truth, Balon didn't even like him that much, and merely put up a front of caring for him because Harry had been promising him a spot on the Kingsguard since he was a mere three-year-old boy. Maybe Balon saw him as a means to an end, and all he wanted was that white cloak and nothing more.
"I am unsure where these rumours started, or why, but you may tell any who asks you the truth, and rest easy, as I am not seeking to replace you, Ser. You have saved my life once, as long as you continue to do so you are still apt at your job and you may keep it."
Balon seemed to realise that something unseen had shifted. He looked even more worried now.
"You have never called me Ser before, not when we are alone, outside of when you are teasing me."
"I never saw the need to before now. I had considered us friends." Harry told him. "Continue to do your job, Ser Swann and your position will be secured, as will your position on the Kingsguard, I assure you I always keep my promises. A Lannister always pays his debts, after all."
"Harry, please…"
"That is Prince Harian to you, Ser Swann." Harry cut in firmly, slipping from the table and heading for the door.
Harry expected Balon to reach out and grab him and his heart broke with every step he took closer to the door as he realised that Balon was not going to try to fix their shattered friendship. Perhaps the assurance that he would still be raised to the Kingsguard was enough for the older man. Harry wanted to be sick.
Harry had just reached the door and his hand touched the bolt to unlock it when he was grabbed and lifted from behind.
"It does not end this way!" Balon's angry voice insisted.
"What are you doing?!" Harry demanded. "Put me down at once!"
Harry was taken back over to the table and dropped back on it, and Balon stood looming over him, holding the tops of his arms to keep him still.
"What is the meaning of this?" Harry hissed from between his teeth, glaring at Balon.
"We have not finished our talk."
"Yes, we have!" Harry said immediately. "I am done speaking to you, now let me go or I'll shout."
"I'm not done speaking to you. It is your turn to sit and listen."
"I will not!" Harry insisted. "Let me go, or…or I'll see that you have a hand removed! Then you won't be able to serve the Kingsguard!"
"I don't care! You will listen to me first."
Harry settled and stared up at Balon above him. Neither of them said anything, they were just staring at one another.
"I'm listening, but you're not saying anything." Harry snapped.
Balon glared at him then and his grip tightened. Harry squirmed uncomfortably and tried to push those hands off.
"Let go, or I really will shout and have you punished!"
"You won't because we are friends!" Balon insisted. "You never make idle threats, if you were going to shout and have me punished then you wouldn't have told me about it and you would have done it already!"
Harry glared up at Balon, making a play at sullenness, because damn it, Balon did know him well. It was impossible not to, considering they had been side by side for ten years.
"We're not friends! All you care about is being on the Kingsguard!"
"That isn't true!" Balon snapped back at him. "I value our friendship. I have always valued our friendship! Seven hells, Harry, we've been through everything together. You were just two years old when I first became your sworn shield. I have already spent half of my life watching over you!"
Balon stopped and he was breathing hard. Harry kept silent, staring at him, wondering what Balon had on his mind, and what he was going to say. He tried to pry with legilimency, but nothing was forthcoming. He wasn't good enough with it yet, and he had little control over it. His own emotions were getting in the way and all he could feel was his own anger and hurt.
"I don't only care about being raised to the Kingsguard. That dream became secondary when I met you! I have always just wanted to keep you safe. I want you safe, and happy, Harian. That has not changed. That will never change. I do not see you in any other way, you are my ward, my responsibility to keep safe, nothing else. I'm sorry if this isn't what you want to hear, but that doesn't mean I don't want to be your friend still, or that I won't still keep you safe, because I will."
"Only that isn't true." Harry said.
"It is true!" Balon burst out. "I will always keep you safe and throw myself onto a blade for you if needed!"
"Not that." Harry said. "I've always known that you would do your duty. You do see me in that way, you have thought of it before."
Balon blanched pale. "I have never…"
"Yes, you have. I've seen you looking at me, especially when I change. Tell me the truth, Balon! I deserve that much at least."
Balon looked sick. "I…no, that isn't true."
"You might not want it to be true, but it is." Harry insisted more firmly, more confident now that he knew he was right based on how Balon was acting, how he was hesitating on his words. He hadn't been imagining those looks, he knew now, it hadn't been wishful thinking, or seeing his own desires in Balon's behaviour. He had been right all along. "You know me, truly know me, better than anyone, and you know I wouldn't have acted on anything until I was sure. I am sure about this, Balon. You do think of me that way."
"That isn't true." Balon told him, his tone sharp and angry. "You are young, you are confused…"
"Do not dare try to blame this on my age!" Harry said, getting angry himself. "You know that I have never been one for childishness. I am not confused about how I feel, or what I have seen. You do look at me when I am changing, or training, or bathing. You try to excuse yourself more often to hide those looks, but I have seen them. So what is the true issue? Is it because I am your ward? Because you think me too young? Or are you merely worried about what everyone else might think if they found out?"
"I do not see you that way!" Balon tried to argue. "Whatever you think you have seen…"
Harry scoffed loudly to interrupt. "Stop blaming my age, or trying to tell me I am confused. Neither are valid arguments, Balon. Now, be the friend you claim you are and tell me the truth of it! I deserve the truth from you."
Balon was silent. Harry sat and he waited for Balon to sort through his thoughts.
"I have admired you at times." Balon told him. "It is not…it's not sexual, it is merely an observation. I have watched over you for so long, I have watched you grow into the boy you are today, a newly made knight. You are exceptional, Harian. I have always said it, and you are filling out as well, and gaining a proper body. I do not want to lie with you, but…but if you require it, I will give you my body to help relieve your tensions."
"Why do you always say the wrong thing?!" Harry demanded, the Baratheon rage upon him suddenly and furiously. "How do you still not understand?"
"I…I thought it was my body that you wanted?" Balon asked, confused.
"I don't want just your body. I want you, all of you." Harry insisted hotly. "If you are offering me this merely from a misguided sense of obligation then you have seriously misunderstood my intentions! If you are offering me just your body then I don't want it."
"I thought that that was what you wanted? Me in your bed."
Harry felt like he could strangle Balon at that moment. His fingers actually flexed to do just that, but he stilled his hands. Physical violence never solved any argument.
"No, Balon. I don't want your body, I want a relationship with you! I want you to be my partner and stay by my side always!"
"I will do that without sharing your bed." Balon told him.
"You still don't understand." Harry sighed.
"Then make me understand." Balon insisted.
Harry weighed up Balon's words, wondering if he honestly wanted to know Harry's feelings.
"I have come to love you." Harry said simply. "I love everything about you and I would move that love to all aspects of our lives. I brought it up because I believed that you felt the same. I had seen you looking at me, watching me, and I came to the conclusion that you felt the same way as I felt about you."
"That isn't the case." Balon told him.
Harry felt his heart shattering, especially as he believed that Balon was lying, but he clearly cared more for his position, and about what others would think of him, than he did about Harry and his feelings. He was going to have to let it go and the very thought of needing to do that hurt enough to make tears prickle his eyes.
"You need not worry about your position, I would never have removed you merely for being honest with me. I…I need to go now."
Harry slipped from the table again and he fled to the door.
"Harian, I am sorry." Balon told him.
Harry just nodded as he drew the bolt back and fled the room. He needed some air, and space, lots of space. He went to the godswood and just touched the green, growing things around him. It always cheered him up to see something of nature in the city of stone and shit.
Harry climbed an oak tree and he sat himself in the branches, looking out over the city, to the bay of water beyond. He felt utterly miserable, to have his heart broken in such a way by one he loved so much.
He'd known that the age difference would play a part in this, as Balon clearly thought that this was just some boyish crush that would end sooner rather than later, and would threaten his position when it did end. He didn't understand that Harry was true in his love. He could never know that Harry was truly forty-nine years old and was merely trapped in this thirteen-year-old body that was just going through its first flush of puberty.
He stayed in the oak tree for an hour, perhaps a little less, before he climbed down and went to get himself ready for bed. He took an extra-long bath before slipping into his sleeping tunic. He spied the barber's shears on the side and looked at himself in a mirror of beaten silver.
He took the shears and a fistful of hair and he cropped his hair close to the scalp. He felt like he was in mourning, he should look the part too. His head looked like a stubbly black peach by the time he was finished and Harry actually felt something akin to grief as he looked at himself in the polished mirror.
He went to bed and tucked himself in, welcoming Ginny's attention as he felt like he would never be happy again. His second life was going pear-shaped after he had believed it to be going so well. Then Gerion had gone missing, Tygett was dead, and now he had lost Balon too, regardless that he would still be standing beside him and would be protecting him as always, the pain of having Balon stood there, but not actually there for him, was going to be devastating. It would be easier on himself if he just let Balon go completely and he did take on a new sworn shield, but a promise was a promise. Harry would just have to resign himself to seeing Balon every day and having the man constantly at his back, both as his sworn shield and as his Kingsguard knight later in life when he was king, and he would just have to live with the pain of it and hope that it lessened as the years passed.
- X
Harry woke up earlier than he usually did, his eyes still sore from crying himself to sleep, after a restless and fitful night. He felt hollow this morning, as he went outside to start his physical exercises.
He pushed himself to the limit, throwing his body around as if he were unbreakable. The grazes and bruises he gave himself spoke otherwise.
His body was sore and aching and still, he refused to stop. He couldn't shift the hollow feeling. He didn't want to eat, he didn't want to do anything. He was acting just like a distraught teenage girl, but he couldn't help how he felt. He had never felt so heartbroken before, in this life or his previous.
"Harian, go and break your fast." His grandfather told him.
"I've already eaten, Grandfather." Harry lied.
"Don't lie to me. What have you done to your hair?"
"I wanted a change."
"What has happened to warrant this behaviour?" His grandfather asked him then, looking at him closely.
"Nothing. I just wanted a change and I'm not hungry."
"You're lying again. Do you want a lick of the whip?"
"I don't care." He declared, walking away.
"Do not walk away from me, Harian."
For once in his life, he didn't listen and he carried on walking. He tried to leave the Red Keep, but the gold cloaks refused to let him out without his sworn shield, or a member of the Kingsguard to escort him. This didn't stop Harry, as, within full view of the gold cloaks, Harry climbed the tall outside wall, walked across the top of it, and he climbed down the other side, outside of the Red Keep and into the city proper.
They had already sent for Ser Barristan, or any member of the Kingsguard they could find from white sword tower. It was not done quickly enough and they had to watch as Harry climbed the wall, and they could not open the gate quickly enough to catch up to him to try to keep him safe in the city.
Harry looked like he was one of the smallfolk, as he was wearing his training breeches, a worn tunic and a faded leather jerkin. He was barefooted too. He wasn't bothered by anyone because of his look, even if he was perhaps a little too clean and sweet-smelling to be one of the smallfolk truly.
He experienced the city in a way he never had before. Normally people stopped when they saw him, they gawked at him or bowed while moving out of his way. Now, without anyone realising he was the crown prince, they shoved past him, jostled him, and shouted at him to move his arse out of their fucking way if he didn't want a clout about the ears. It was refreshing and he felt like a normal person for perhaps the first time since he'd been reborn here in Westeros.
He didn't really do anything, he wanted to experience the city as a normal person, on his own, and that is what he did, at least for a measly five hours. He would have preferred the entire day, but the Kingsguard, all seven of them, had been sent out into the city to find him, he knew this because he'd seen all seven of them at one point over the course of the day, and it had become a game of cat and mouse. He'd see them in their glaring white cloaks and he'd slip off another way, he heard the tromp of their heavy mail armour and he'd go another way…what he hadn't expected and hadn't been on the lookout for was Balon. His sworn shield, who could recognise him from a hundred paces based solely on his gait, came up behind him and had slipped an arm around his chest before he could so much as turn around.
"What in the name of the gods do you think you are doing?" Balon shouted at him, lifting him from his feet and holding him tight. "Do you have any idea how dangerous this was? And what have you achieved for it?"
"Let go of me."
"No. We have all been ordered to carry you back to the Red Keep once you were found, by orders of His Grace, the king."
Harry knew then that he was in trouble, but he refused to allow it to bother him as he was carried back to the Red Keep like the naughty child he was behaving as. He didn't struggle or fight against Balon. It hurt to be so close to him, but Harry would not hurt Balon physically for it.
It was to his grandfather that Harry was taken, and not his father. He was sat at the table in the great hall, that had been moved to sit directly below the Iron Throne, but he stood when Balon carried him in. He had a whip in hand.
"Are you hurt in any way, Harian?" Tywin asked him.
Harry just shook his head. If he had answered properly, he feared his voice would break and give him away.
"Take off your jerkin and tunic."
Harry didn't argue. He had known this was coming, he almost welcomed it, as he did as was asked and he stood, bracing himself against the table, waiting for the lash of the whip along his back.
"So, you knew all along that this would be the result and you did so regardless."
Harry said nothing. He put a silencing charm on himself and once his punishment was over he would heal the worst of the lashes with his magic so that he wouldn't scar.
"Very well, you'll be getting five lashes." His grandfather told him, obviously expecting some sort of reaction as the most lashes Harry had ever felt lick at his skin before this had been two, but he was older now, almost fourteen, he had always known his punishments would get harsher as he grew.
It was the whistle of the whip that alerted him to his grandfather's impatience. A moment later the crack of the leather whip making contact with his skin made Harry jolt forward, his hands fisting on the tabletop. It hurt terribly, but he gritted his teeth through it.
The second lash hurt just as much as the first, but his mind convinced him that it hurt more because he was already hurting. He could feel the welts already raising up and the third lash split the skin and he could feel the hot blood dribbling down his back.
He cried out on the fourth, but no one else would ever know, as he had silenced himself. The blood trickled down faster.
The fifth lash split skin again and Harry knew that he wouldn't be able to lay down comfortably, and when the welts did eventually scab over, they would pull and make it even more uncomfortable.
"You know why you were punished, now tell me why it was needed."
Harry said nothing.
"See him to his bed, Ser." Tywin directed at Balon, who stepped forward to take Harry's arm.
Harry snatched it away and picked up his tunic and forced his shaky limbs into it. He had to steady himself on the tabletop.
"Let me help you." Balon said softly, almost pleading with him.
"You've done enough. I don't need your help!" Harry hissed at him.
Tywin was watching closely and he narrowed shrewd eyes.
"Leave us." He commanded, staring at Balon.
Balon was hesitant, but he left the great hall, leaving Harry with Tywin.
"So, you have had a falling out with your sworn shield." Tywin mused. "I was wondering what would be awful enough to cause this behaviour shift in you. What was the falling out over?"
Harry just scowled at the floor, he couldn't admit to having homosexual feelings for his sworn shield, or for anyone for that matter.
"There are rumours going around that you want a new sworn shield. I admit I brushed them off as lies, until now. Are you looking to replace Balon?"
Harry shook his head. "No. He can keep his position, as it's all he cares about."
"If you think that that is true then you haven't been paying close enough attention." Tywin told him.
Harry looked away and frowned harder.
"You cannot put yourself in danger like you did because you have had an argument with your sworn shield, Harian. I expect better of you."
Harry said nothing, but his back was throbbing and still he was feeling hollow.
"I take it you have sheared your hair because of this argument?"
Harry remained silent.
Tywin sighed. "Very well, but I expect better of you in future. Do not leave the Red Keep again, though I'm sure your uncle Tygett would have been equal parts proud and horrified to hear that you had climbed a wall so tall and escaped the Red Keep."
That made Harry smile a little.
"There, that's better. Go and read, or do something equally quiet and restful. I expect you for your lesson tonight. I do not have long here in the capital and I will not allow you to miss out on your learning just because you are upset."
Harry nodded and he left the Great Hall. Balon was waiting outside the door and he fell into step beside him straight away.
"You didn't wake me when you got up." Balon told him.
"I didn't want to." Harry said simply.
"I am still your sworn shield, and you went out into the city on your own, anything could have happened to you."
"Don't pretend that you care. I don't need a lecture from you." Harry snapped. "I've told you that your position is secured regardless, so you can stop with the act."
"It has never been an act, I do care about you."
"Stop it!" Harry demanded. "Just stop it, you're giving me mixed messages and it's not fair on me! It's fine if you don't feel for me what I feel for you, but stop feeding me little crumbs of hope when you don't want me. It's cruel."
"That wasn't my intention. I do still care for you, just not…not in that way."
Harry ran off, Balon hurrying to keep up with him. But Harry went to his room and shut the door, bolting it so that Balon couldn't get in. The hollow feeling was getting worse, not better.
- X
Harry's back was so sore over the next few days that he could barely dress himself. He stuck to simple tunics and even they chafed on the healing welts over his back. Everyone knew that he had been whipped as punishment, it was all over the Red Keep as the servants had had to clean up the spots of blood from the floor and had cleaned the whip that his grandfather had used on him.
Harry was barely eating, but he spent all day training, then in the evenings he attended his lessons with his grandfather, but he was not the bright, usually intelligent boy that everyone knew. He spent most of his time brooding, giving one-word answers, and trying to escape as soon as he could.
He had been forbidden from training on the fifth day, as it had been observed that he was losing weight, and he had had all his swords and daggers taken from him, but it didn't stop him from tumbling, it only made it worse. His grandfather tried, his father even tried, but Harry was in what was being called his rebellious stage and he didn't want to listen. He was hurting, and he felt hollow inside, and the only thing that even remotely helped was to keep himself busy and distracted. If his body was hurting and aching, his heart didn't feel so bad by comparison.
It came as no surprise to him when nearly a month later he came down with an illness, and couldn't move from his bed, not because he didn't want to, but because he physically couldn't move.
He was unaware of the panic he caused, but he became aware of it when his door was kicked down by the Kingsguard on his father's orders. They found him feverish and too weak to move, stuck in his bed. He wasn't seriously ill, he just hadn't been eating and the first thing that anyone did was to spoon-feed him broth that he didn't want to eat. He was given no choice in the matter. He was too weak to fight them off, and his jaw was held still and he was force-fed until he did get strong enough to fight back, but he no longer wanted to. He was tired. He was a forty-nine-year-old man, he shouldn't be acting like this, but his newly surging hormones were a little more difficult to control than he had ever thought they would be. He, of course, remembered when this had happened back in his previous life. He'd been fifteen, and angry. Well, angry didn't even seem to be the right word to use. He had been raging against the world, against everyone and everything. He hadn't been able to control himself back then and it seemed the same was true for his second life, forty-nine years old or not.
"Harian, how are you feeling?"
Harry scowled at the intrusion and he rolled onto his side, putting his back to his father. He heard the big man sigh, even as he came and sat on his bed, laying a hand on him.
"Talk to me, Harian. What has you feeling this way?" Robert asked him. "I know that it couldn't have been easy to lose Gerion and Tygett, but why fall to pieces over it now?"
Why did everyone always say the wrong thing to him? No one here even understood him. He'd thought that Balon had, as the person who had been at his side the longest and had known him the best, but as it turned out not even Balon understood him, and he kept saying the wrong things to him also.
He felt the crushing loneliness press in on him and he closed his eyes, trying to block out the feelings of depression and despair that threatened to overwhelm him.
His father said nothing else, but neither did he leave. He sat and he rubbed Harry's back, slowly and rhythmically, until Harry's eyes fluttered shut and he drifted off to sleep.
"Your Grace."
Robert looked up at Tywin and he glared. "I want to know what has made my son like this. Who has upset him? It has been more than a turn since this…this collapse and I want him back as he was."
"Perhaps it was too soon to take him into battle." Tywin said blandly. "It is too much of a coincidence that Harian became this way after arriving back in the capital after that battle."
"He…he has killed before." Robert blustered. "He was half his age at the time!"
"He is a very intelligent boy, perhaps he has realised the difference between killing out of desperation, with no other choice, and choosing to kill others when there were other options available, such as him being left in the safety of the Red Keep."
"Do you truly think that that is what is bothering him?" Robert asked, looking at the thirteen-year-old in the bed. He would be turning four-and-ten in just a turn, two years from being a man grown. He had been going from strength to strength, and now he seemed to be going backwards.
"I cannot see what else it could possibly be." Tywin answered, though he knew exactly what it was that was bothering his grandson and he intended to put a stop to it.
He excused himself, as Harian was sleeping, and he hunted down Balon Swann, though he didn't have to go very far to find him, as he was just outside the door.
"Come with me." He ordered sternly.
He led Balon to the small council chambers and he shut the door behind them.
"My Lord, I…"
"No." Tywin said firmly. "You will not speak, you will listen."
Tywin rounded on the young man and stared at him hard.
"Whatever you have done to my grandson, you will fix it."
"My Lord…" Balon started, looking alarmed. "That is…"
"I want no excuses from you. I do not care if it was Harian in the wrong, and you the injured party, he will be king one day. Do you think that you will be able to upset him, or deny him what he wants as easily when he is king? Do you think anyone will care if he does upset you? This will end, now. I don't care how you do it, but you will fix him and his attitude. Am I clear?"
Balon nodded silently and Tywin inclined his head just once.
"Wait for Harian to wake up and then you will put this mess right. He is risking his own life over his distress, over whatever has happened between you both, and I will not let it continue. You do whatever you need to in order to fix this mess. I will not lose that boy because of you and whatever grievance has occurred between you both."
Tywin strode off, leaving behind a panicking Balon Swann, a young twenty-two-year-old who had a lot of thinking and soul searching to do. Did he love Harian Baratheon? With all of his heart. The observant prince had had the right of it, Balon did love him, and he had been staring at him a little more than he knew he should have been, but he knew that whatever feelings Harry had for him would soon pass.
This was just a passing fancy, he knew. Harian would need a wife because he needed heirs, and one day, perhaps even soon, he would take a woman as his wife and leave him behind. But was it fair of him to break Harian's heart now to save his own heart from breaking in the future? He was trying to protect himself, but seeing Harian tear himself apart was killing him inside too, and Lord Tywin was right, it was going to kill Harry as well if he carried on in the same vein. He wasn't eating, he was training all day without rest, he was getting thinner, gaunt, and he looked sick, and now he was so weak that he couldn't even feed himself.
Balon inhaled deeply and resigned himself to speaking to Harian, to telling him the actual truth…and to one day having his heart torn from his chest when Harry took a wife and left him behind. Harian was his prince and he would one day become his king too. No one could tell the king what he could or could not do and Balon knew he would never be able to leave Harry's side. He loved him, he always had, but that love had changed into something more now that Harian was older and growing into a very beautiful and wonderful man.
He eased his way back into Harian's bedchamber, standing guard on the wall beside the door, only inside the room this time. The king had gone, as had the Kingsguard, though Ser Meryn was stood outside the door. He was alone with the sleeping prince and Balon swallowed his hammering heart and went to sit at the prince's bedside to wait for him to wake.
He reached out a hand and touched the gaunt, pale face. It had been terrible to watch Harry shrinking and getting sick, all because of what he'd done to him to uphold a lie. Balon closed his eyes to the guilt. He had done this to Harian merely to save himself from the heartbreak that would come later. He felt wretched for it and he could only hope that he could make up for this grievous mistake.
- X
Harry woke up feeling groggy, but that soon slipped away as he saw Balon sitting beside his bed, his face almost tortured and his eyes closed tight. Harry watched him for a while, laying still, not alerting him that he was awake, and he just watched Balon. He focused hard and got the surface emotions of guilt, love, and pain. He was confused, what was going on?
"Balon." He croaked out, his throat feeling very sore and dry.
Balon's head snapped up and he stared at him for a moment, before reaching out to touch him.
"How are you feeling?"
"Thirsty." Harry replied softly.
Balon reached over for the goblet, filling it with water from a silver jug. He helped Harry to drink and Harry could almost see him steeling his resolve. He wanted to talk about something and Harry had a feeling that he wasn't going to like it.
"We need to speak, Harian." Balon told him, once Harry had indicated that he had drunk enough.
"About what?"
Balon sighed heavily. "I think you know what."
"I believe we've said all that needs to be said on such matters. I cannot bear to hear it again. Just leave me be."
Balon sighed again, even heavier this time, and Harry felt through his legilimency that Balon's guilt increased.
"I wasn't honest with you." Balon told him. "I thought…I thought I was doing the right thing, that I was protecting you by lying to you, but I was only lying to myself."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.
"You're so young. Everyone around you forgets that you are not yet a man grown. You've come on so well in the last two years that people have started treating you like you're already grown. I've had to remind myself that you are still just three-and-ten, and…I thought that by lying to you I would be protecting your boyhood for a while longer."
Harry frowned and blinked at Balon. "What are you saying?" He asked, hardly daring to hope that this was real, that he wasn't dreaming.
"You're more of an adult than half of the men in this city." Balon declared. "I have been with you, by your side, for almost eleven years, Harian. It…it's hard to reconcile such feelings of innocent fondness and love, with feelings that have changed to something else."
"Are you saying that I was right? That when you were looking at me, it was in a sexual manner?" Harry asked, but he'd known all along that he had been right.
Balon blushed darkly. "I…it's difficult for me to admit that I see you in that manner, Harian. I all but raised you from being a babe."
"I saw you as a brother." Harry admitted. "You aren't supposed to have those feelings for brothers, I know. But I cannot help how I feel about you now, Balon. I am not your son and you are not my brother, regardless that you've been with me since I was so very young."
"I know." Balon fell silent for a moment, as he looked away from Harry to stare at the wall across the room before he looked back. "I hate what I've done to you, how much I have hurt you. Seeing you this way has made me feel so guilty because I know I was lying. Seeing you taking those lashes, being hurt and bleeding, all for upholding a lie. Please forgive me."
Harry nodded. "I will, but…does this mean that we can be together? That we can…that we can try at a relationship?"
"It…we may have to tread slowly at first. If we go slowly then I can reconcile my past feelings for you and these new, stronger feelings. You are still young, we have plenty of time."
Harry nodded and he sat up and reached out to hug Balon, who hugged him back, hands on his shoulders and not over the still healing lash marks on his back.
"I've missed you." Harry admitted. "I hated fighting with you. Let us never do it again."
Balon snorted softly and he slowly raised a hand to stroke through Harry's short, wild, black hair. Cutting it had not done anything to tame it and it had grown in just as thick and wild, and just as black. "I have missed you as well."
"I never really thought that you cared more about being on the Kingsguard than about me, I was just angry."
Balon squeezed him tighter. "I was trying to protect you and your boyhood. I see now that it was futile. I should never have tried to treat you like a child."
"May I kiss you?" Harry asked, breaking their hug to peer up at him with wide eyes.
"We're going slowly, Harian. I mean that, but one kiss."
Balon led them into their first kiss and it was sweet and soft and entirely not enough, but Harry respected Balon's insistence that they go slow. He could go slowly if it meant that he got his wish of a relationship with Balon.
Harry snuggled back into Balon's chest and hugged him tightly.
"Promise that you won't leave me." Harry begged. He wouldn't be able to take the heartbreak of losing Balon again. He wanted him by his side at all times.
"I swear it on the Seven, I will be by your side always."
Harry smiled for the first time in weeks and he held Balon tighter. He felt so happy and he truly hoped that it lasted and that Balon's words were true. It would destroy him to have a taste of this only for it to be ripped away from him.
- X
It took another couple of days after their reconciliation for Harry to recover fully from the damage he had done to himself in his distress.
His father had sat him down and had talked to him about the battle in detail, with help from Barristan Selmy. Harry pretended that it was the battle that had gotten to him, and not his broken heart at being rejected by his sworn shield, who was now his partner and very soon to be his lover too. Balon wanted to go slow, but Harry was being a little tease and he stole hugs and kisses whenever he could.
His father was now congratulating himself on bringing Harry out of his mood, but Balon knew that it was all down to him and their agreement to try their hand at a relationship, the rift between them now smoothed over.
He was his usual bright and happy self and after he had recovered and started to put on a little weight again he'd been allowed to start up his daily routine once more and he'd been given back his sword and his daggers. He might have been a forty-nine-year-old inside this body, but the body he was trapped in was only thirteen and it was very hormonal and emotional. He couldn't help that, he could barely control himself at times. Growing up all over again was just terrible. Utterly terrible.
"Relax your arm." Balon instructed, moving his arm for him.
"Sorry, I got distracted." Harry said, focusing back on the target and picking his spot. He lifted the bow, drew back and released. He grinned as he hit the centre marker.
"You're improving greatly. You'll be a match for me soon enough."
"I'm a match for you now." Harry insisted. "I'm going to enter the archery contest at the tourney for my fourteenth name day."
"You have decided to enter?" Balon asked him.
Harry nodded. "Yes, this is the time to do it and it will take everyone's attention from my…behaviour, of recent turns."
Balon's face flashed a hint of guilt, as it always did when that time was brought up.
"So, I need to be as good as I can be to win the tourney contest." Harry carried on blithely, ignoring Balon's guilt. It would ease off as they settled more into their relationship.
"Your name day is only a turn away, we had best practice."
Harry smiled and he did as suggested, keeping his arm relaxed, and making sure to pick his spot before lifting the bow. He was a very good shot and he credited his razor-sharp reflexes to being a Seeker in his previous life…and his twelve years of tutelage in the skill of archery. He had proven himself a good fighter, a warrior, and now he was a real, acclaimed knight. Harry was glad too that his knighthood had been granted to him by Barristan Selmy and not his father as well. People could say that his father had knighted him just because he was his son, but Barristan Selmy knighting him…that was worth something and Harry was exceptionally pleased with how it had turned out.
He wasn't too fond of 'going slow' with Balon though, as Balon seemingly wished to go the speed of a snail. Harry's body was flushed with newly released hormones and his mind was far from confused or hesitant. He stood aside and let Balon take his shot, but Harry laid a hand on his back, just barely.
"Harian." Balon growled at him.
"I'm not doing anything." Harry insisted, grinning.
Balon snorted a laugh and slipped his arm around Harry's shoulders, making Harry's heart leap into his throat. He cursed himself, and first loves, because this was just embarrassing.
Balon chuckled and stroked a finger over Harry's pink cheek.
"It's very endearing to see that colour to your cheeks and know I am the cause."
"Shut up." Harry insisted, but he was smiling too. "I can't help it."
"I'm not saying it's a bad thing. Quite the opposite." Balon smiled and he bent to kiss Harry's forehead, quickly, and with a surreptitious look around afterwards to see if anyone had seen them.
Harry smiled widely and he hugged Balon tightly.
"Come, I am hungry." He said.
"It is nice to see you regaining your appetite and filling out again. It was frightening to see you losing such weight. It was falling from you, leaving only bones behind. Never do that again."
"I won't if I can help it." Harry assured him.
He helped to pack up the archery equipment, allowing Balon to take off his vambraces as Harry removed his finger guard. They went in search of food and Harry ate like a starving man. He still somehow kept his manners, only the gods knew how, but he ate quickly and endlessly.
He and Balon were now closer than ever and Harry refused to be parted from his sworn shield…and soon to be lover. In fact, the only time that Balon got any time by himself anymore was when Harry was taking his lessons with his grandfather, but even that would be coming to an end as tomorrow Tywin was riding for Casterly Rock. A raven had arrived the day before informing him that Kevan, who was acting castellan while Tywin was in the capital, had come down with a fever and couldn't carry out his duties. Tywin was riding back to see to the needs of Casterly Rock and this, regretfully, meant that he wouldn't be here for Harry's name day. He had given him his gift early as a way to try and make up for the disappointment. A very rare book that was hard to come by that Harry had already started reading.
He was worried about Kevan, however. He'd lost Gerion and Tygett, he didn't think his heart could take losing yet another uncle and that worry was starkly written on his face. He was sure that that was part of the reason why he had received his gift early, to serve as a distraction.
"You will have a lesson with Ser Arys after you have eaten." Balon told him. "So be sure to wear your padding and grab your sword from your room."
Harry nodded, eating an apple. He swallowed his bite. "I remember. At least it is not Ser Boros, otherwise, I would have been very bored during this lesson."
Balon snorted. "I believe that we both would have been. Do not mistake my words, I enjoy training with the Kingsguard, but Ser Boros is another level of incompetent."
"You will replace him." Harry insisted. "I will not keep someone so inept on my Kingsguard. I wouldn't keep him even if he was competent, like Ser Meryn. I will not keep my mother's creatures at my back."
"You are so very clever, I knew that you would never keep them. My little Maester."
Harry laughed and almost inhaled a piece of apple. Balon carefully slapped his back for him.
"I cannot be called little anymore." Harry insisted.
"Well..." Balon teased, looking down at Harry.
Harry gave him a small backhand slap to the arm.
"I am only three-and-ten. I am growing well and I might not be particularly tall considering I have both Lannister and Baratheon genes and both families tend to run tall, but I am growing very strong and sturdy. I am like a tree trunk and not a spindly stick."
"You are growing very well and a more mature boy couldn't be found anywhere in the entire of Westeros." Balon praised.
Harry smiled bashfully. He knew it was because he was almost fifty mentally, but to everyone else, he was merely turning fourteen, still half a boy, and not yet a grown man.
"Stop embarrassing me and come and spar." Harry insisted, swallowing his bashfulness and tossing his apple core into the waste bucket that would be fed to the pigs in the Red Keep. "I would best you yet, Ser!"
"As you say, Ser." Balon teased him back, knowing that Harry liked hearing his new title, and he watched as the smile widened a little at his teasing.
He much preferred Harry when he was laughing and smiling…and eating too. His heart might break in the years to come when Harian took a girl as his wife and queen, but for now, he would enjoy the company, and the attention, of the beautiful boy he could call his own, for as long as he had it.