GOTxHP

by keiveela

The Antlered Lion-StarLightMassacre Badly injured in the battle at Ashford, Robert Baratheon is forced to marry Cersei Lannister at Casterly Rock to secure the allegiance, and forces, of the Westerlands during the early stages of the rebellion, against the Targaryen rule. The ensuing pregnancy, and birth, of Harian Baratheon, will forever change the history of Westeros.

16. Chapter 16

Harry's fourteenth birthday dawned incredibly bright and warm, there wasn't a cloud in the sky and the day promised to be swelteringly hot, even the occasional breeze was warm and not cooling. The entire city was a hive of activity, already well into the preparations for the tourney and the feast. Harry was going to put his name on the list for archery as he was confident that he had a good chance to win this year and he was looking forward to it.

He went from his own bedchamber to the room right next door, walking in without knocking and he went to slip into the bed with Balon.

"Someone might see you." The sleep roughened voice declared, even as strong arms wrapped around him and held him close.

Harry snorted. "I am here to wake up my sworn shield, no one else will think anything of it, Balon. Stop fretting so much, you'll be bald within the year."

Balon chuckled and reached up to pull him into a short kiss. Their relationship was new, only a month, perhaps a week longer, but as Harry kept insisting he was a lot more mature than anyone else had a right to be and truly it was because mentally he was fifty years old today. Not that Balon knew that, no one could ever know, but Harry was now allowing his true self to come out more and more and he was more like an adult than most of the adults around him. Though he admitted that he found his hormones and emotions a little too much at times. When he had a surge of any emotion he found it difficult to control his immediate reaction. He had been unable to handle his anger in his previous life too. He remembered being fifteen and just angry, shouting at everyone because he couldn't control those emotions. Puberty really was absolute hell.

"Happy name day, Harry." Balon told him, letting Harry rest on his chest even as he reached up to stroke through his jet black hair.

Harry hummed. "Four-and-ten today. Just two more name days, two more years, and I will be a man grown."

"You are going to do wondrous things when you are grown." Balon told him.

"I can hardly wait, Balon." He said, rolling a little so that he could grin up at his older lover. "I want to start now."

"Then do so, who would stop you? You're already taking on the responsibilities of a grown man, if you feel ready for more then take on more. Just be careful and don't push yourself too hard, I don't want you falling sick or regretting the decision. Are you still planning on entering the archery contest?"

Harry nodded happily. "My first competition. I hope I do well."

"You will." Balon insisted. "I helped to train you myself, ever since you were a tiny two year old."

"Who would have ever thought that we would end up here?" Harry snorted.

"I certainly didn't." Balon said uncomfortably. "I assure you that I never once saw you as anything other than my ward, I would never have…"

"Balon." Harry interrupted softly. "I am not accusing you of being perverse. You're not. I've met perverse men before, I've been touched by one, and I've seen them loitering around the poor orphans in flea bottom, just waiting for one of them to stray off alone. You are not among them. You love me, not for my age, but for me, and I love you. You have always been there for me, and truly, outside of my grandfather there is no one I trust more than you."

Harry had been angry when Balon had confessed to him that his grandfather had all but ordered Balon to enter a relationship with him. He hadn't known for weeks later that that conversation had happened and it had come out by accident, but Harry was glad that it had as it meant that he could take control and sit down with his lover and talk about it seriously. Harry had cast a privacy ward around the room, just in case, and he had laid all of his feelings out for Balon, who had done the same. Harry had not, admittedly, taken their positions into consideration, which was an oversight on his part. He did not see Balon as a servant, he saw him as a friend and treated him accordingly. After hearing that his grandfather had all but ordered Balon to do whatever he needed to, just to make Harry happy, he had felt a little sick as it was laid out, by Balon's own words, that just because Harry himself didn't see the power roles, did not mean they weren't at play.

Even weeks later, the two of them were still talking, were still learning, but they were taking those steps together. Balon had needed a push to admit his own feelings, to get over the fear of what others would think if they found out, and Tywin had all but shoved him off a ledge with his orders, but Harry had calmed somewhat from his initial devastation, from his almost grief, and he had made sure to give the power back to Balon, who insisted that his feelings were genuine, not coerced, and they were going slowly still. Harry respected that and he behaved himself impeccably, asking for touches and kisses and not merely taking them, and the two of them were settling together happily, as equals, which was always what Harry had wanted. He hadn't wanted a bed warmer and he had outright refused Balon when he had offered him just his body. He hadn't wanted a body, he didn't want just sex, he wanted a lover, a partner, someone to stand beside him, always. He was overjoyed that he had that now and that they were settling into their new relationship.

Balon hummed this time. "You are a wonderful person and though people belittle you and taunt you for the things that you do and say, you never let it bother you and I have never met anyone like that in my entire life. You never let anything bother you, you are continuously learning and growing yourself as a person, you're remarkable."

Harry grinned and stretched up to kiss Balon again. "Thank you, Balon. Truly, when you say such sweet words is it any surprise that I love you?" He laughed.

"Come on, we'd best get up."

Harry stayed in bed and watched as Balon got up, admiring that strong, broad body as he stripped off his sleeping tunic, baring himself completely to Harry's gaze.

"You'll be on the Kingsguard soon." Harry said distractedly. "In the next six years, I imagine."

"Oh? Who is leaving?" Balon teased as he washed himself off with a bowl of water and a rag.

Harry snorted. "You know who. My father doesn't wish to remain king, which means I will get to overhaul my Kingsguard. Grandfather believes that he will abdicate and let me take the crown in the next four to six years."

"Has your father made any mention of it?"

"No, I wouldn't expect him to, but sometimes I will say something, or suggest it, and he gives me a look. He knows that I've been raised to the position. That I am the better choice. I think that he's waiting until I'm actually a man grown. No one want's a boy on the throne, after all. Grandfather and I believe it might be when I am eight-and-ten or perhaps when I am twenty. Father hates being king, I don't believe that he'll wait to pass the throne to me naturally, there are things he wants to do that he just can't as the king. It is making him miserable, so I am fairly certain that he will abdicate in my favour."

"I would think that that's exactly what he would do. He wouldn't want to tell you before he planned to leave, because he wouldn't want to put such pressures on you early, but I think you would make a wonderful king, even if it happened on the morrow."

Harry smiled softly. "Thank you, Balon. I will of course need you close to me when I am on the throne. You are one of the only people I will trust not to change when I am king. To tell me when I'm wrong or being insufferable."

"You are never insufferable." Balon insisted.

"But if I am, if I change when I have a taste of power, I trust you to tell me."

Balon actually snorted in contempt. "I will never believe that of you." He said as he dressed himself.

Harry laughed. "If I ever did, just smack me upside the head."

"And lose my hand for striking the royal personage? Never."

That had Harry dissolving into peals of laughter and he caught sight of Balon grinning at him, watching him.

"Come on, my Prince. Let us take you to break your fast."

"Where is my gift from you? You are my lover, I demand a name day gift." Harry teased.

Balon snorted, but came closer, bending to kiss the side of Harry's head. "My gift to you will come later. Now, come on."

Harry smiled happily and he took Balon's hand and allowed him to pull him to his feet. Balon was dressed in his armour, sword at his side, and he was preparing to do what he was supposed to. Being Harry's sworn shield.

"Let us go and get Myrcella first." Harry insisted, already going down the corridor in the holdfast heading to what his father dubbed the 'women's quarters'. It was the section of the holdfast where the queen's rooms were located and where Myrcella had her rooms. His sister was an early riser on such days when tourneys and singers were involved so Harry was expecting her to be awake.

Harry knocked softly on his sister's door, just in case, and he waited for any indication that the almost six year old was awake and to open the door. She was awake and she did open the door. She was barely dressed, only decently covered by her smallclothes, and Harry sighed and chuckled.

"Do you need some help, sweet girl?" He asked her fondly.

"Yes, Harian." Myrcella said, pouting with her frustration at being unable to dress herself, and Harry bent to kiss her cheek.

"Come on then. What are you wearing?"

"Mother had the servants lay this out for me, but my handmaidens haven't come yet to dress me."

"It is still early." Harry allowed.

"I couldn't sleep! It's your name day and there's to be a tourney and a feast and singers." Myrcella said excitedly and Harry laughed at his sister.

"Come on then. Let's slip on your shift."

Harry helped Myrcella get the undergarment on and then layered her dress over the top, lacing up her back and her sleeves. He hated the dress style for women in these times, but Myrcella didn't once complain, but then Harry remembered women and girls in jeans and jumpers, which would absolutely not be allowed here, especially not of a princess, but Myrcella knew no different and she didn't seem unhappy with the clothing that she was forced to wear.

"There we go." He said brightly as he finished tying the last of the lacing.

"Thank you, Harian." She said happily, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. She laid a soft kiss on his cheek and grinned back at him, all childish charm.

Harry chuckled. "Put your shoes on and we can go to break our fast. I'm going to enter the archery contest today."

Myrcella gasped and looked at him. "Will you really, Harry?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. I am four-and-ten now. It's only archery though, I won't joust."

There was just too much that could go wrong while jousting and Harry wouldn't risk it. Tilts were drawn by lot and he could pick anyone, even one of his mother's creatures who might do him harm 'by accident'. It wasn't worth the risk, so he would stick with just the archery where he could be better protected and less could go wrong.

His sister nodded at his words and took his hand and Harry led her from her room and to the royal solar, which was up in one of the towers of the holdfast. No one else was awake yet, but the servants, upon seeing them, hurried to serve them their morning meal.

Harry listened to Myrcella chatting nonsense in his ear, about her handmaidens who she considered her friends, about her garden which she liked pretending she tended herself but was actually seen to by a servant. Harry let her talk and encouraged her by humming and nodding to her, but most of his attention was taken up by Balon, who sat beside him for the moment, as he broke his own fast.

Ever since his hormones had started surging when he'd hit puberty a second time around he had been almost drawn to Balon. The innocent love he'd held for him once had changed to a different kind of love, and though it had taken him weeks of talking and asking for affection, and a month of emotional pain and heartbreak that he had suffered through, he and Balon were now a proper couple.

It did feel strange to be in a romantic, sexual relationship with someone when he was only thirteen, he would never have even considered it back in his old life, though he hadn't actually hit puberty until he was fifteen back then because of the abuse and malnutrition he'd suffered through thanks to the Dursleys. But here it was different, everything was different, a boy was considered a fully grown man at just sixteen, which meant that he could own property, get married, have a kid, be a knight and ride off to war. A girl, however, was considered a woman the moment she had her first period, which could be as young as ten or eleven. Of course, not a lot of fathers made their eleven year olds get married, many of them waited until they were at least sixteen, a boy's age of manhood. There were some who had been married off younger. The youngest Harry knew of personally was twelve. The worst wedding he'd heard of was his father's Hand, Lord Jon Arryn. He was so old that he'd raised his father and Eddard Stark as his own sons, he was white haired, was missing half of his teeth, but he had married a fifteen year old Lysa Tully in a pact to draw in the support of the Riverlands during the rebellion. A young, beautiful girl married off to a man as old as her own grandfather. Jon Arryn was now seventy-nine, and Lysa was only thirty. It made Harry shiver in revulsion and he looked to Myrcella sitting beside him. She would never know any such horror, he decided. He would protect her from it with all that he had inside him, which was a considerable amount of willpower and stubbornness.

Tommen came running into the solar, dressed perfectly, and the five year old made a beeline for him. Harry chuckled and threw his arms around his baby brother and kissed his forehead.

"Good morrow to you, Tommen." Harry greeted.

"It's your name day!" Tommen said excitedly.

Harry laughed. "Why is it that you are both so excited for my name day?"

"Father always brings the best singers for your name day." Myrcella told him.

"Father always throws the best name days for you!" Tommen insisted.

"Perhaps it is only because you are both so young." Harry told them. "I never even had a proper name day celebration until I was five."

"That's the same age as me and I've had name days before!" Tommen insisted.

Harry smiled and thought all the way back to those early years. He didn't tell his brother and sister that they had name day celebrations every year because their mother loved them and not him. He wouldn't tell them that their father hadn't noticed him until he was four years old and before that had had nothing but scorn and spite for him, his only legitimate child at the time. They were too young and innocent for such truths. Maybe one day, when they were older and would understand better, he would sit them down and explain everything to them.

"So you are already beating me on name days then, aren't you?" He teased, hefting Tommen up so that he could break his fast. "Now, did mother dress you or your servant?"

"My servant." Tommen told him. "I made sure to thank him, as you said to."

"Good boy." Harry praised.

"Mother said that we shouldn't thank them." Myrcella said softly, almost as if she didn't want to tell him.

"You should always thank others who have done something for you." Harry insisted firmly. "Not to do so would be rude and spiteful."

His younger siblings nodded at his words and Harry smiled to himself. Joffrey was a lost cause, their mother had twisted the young boy against him before he'd even come back from Casterly Rock, and it hadn't helped that Joffrey's way of getting Robert's attention had included killing one of Harry's beloved pets, but he had tried in the beginning. He had tried and failed, but Tommen and Myrcella weren't lost causes and whatever madness afflicted their older brother, it had not passed to either of them. They were sweet, innocent children who baulked at blood and violence, as they rightfully should, and Joffrey had been born a monster and should have been smothered in his cradle.

"When will the tourney start?" Tommen asked excitedly, almost bouncing in place.

"As soon as father is out of bed and has broken his fast, Tommen." Harry told him, helping him to cut up his food with the Valyrian dagger he always wore at his hip, given to him by his father for his seventh name day.

"Nephews! Ah, and my little niece too. Good morrow."

Harry snorted and smiled at their uncle Renly, who, now that he was a man, spent more time here in King's Landing than he did at Storm's End, which was left instead in the care of the castellan, Cortnay Penrose, who was also looking after and raising Edric Storm, Harry's bastard half-brother.

"Renly, how are you this morning?" Harry asked, even as their uncle hugged Tommen and then Myrcella.

"Well enough." Renly answered, hugging him last.

Renly was now nineteen years old, he'd become the Master of Laws on his brother's small council, an honour given to him by Robert merely by the grace of them being brothers. It was an honour that Renly didn't take seriously, like most things in his life, and truthfully, he wasn't suited to the position, or any position for that matter. He'd also been knighted at seventeen, and very shortly afterwards had taken on Loras Tyrell as his squire, something that Harry found mostly curious, as he would have thought that the Tyrells would have fostered Loras to someone of a higher standing, and not to Storm's End to serve the king's youngest brother. It was a puzzle that he was still trying to figure out, trying to understand Olenna's reasoning, because he knew for certain that it was definitely her idea to have Loras fostered out to Renly. Loras who was currently hovering near the doorway, looking slightly unsure of himself.

"Loras." Harry called out, standing to greet him. He hadn't seen the boy, who was the same age as him, in a few turns now, despite that they technically lived in the same keep. "How are you?" He asked with a smile.

"Very well, my Prince." Loras replied, bending his head ever so slightly.

"There's no need for that here, Loras, we are friends. Come, have you eaten?"

"Not yet."

"Then sit, eat with us." Harry invited. "Renly, take better care of your squire. I don't want to have to write to Willas to tell him that you have overworked, underfed and killed his youngest brother."

"Oh, I take care of him well enough." Renly said with a grin that made Loras blush, but there was just something in the tone, something on Renly's face, that made Harry sit up and take notice. Of course, it didn't bother Myrcella or Tommen at all, they were too young to pick up on such cues, but Harry certainly wasn't.

Harry laughed and gave Renly a look that made his uncle pause, perhaps realising that he'd given himself away in front of someone who was intelligent enough to pick up on it. He coughed uncomfortably.

"I mean…I…"

"Don't twist up your tongue, Uncle." Harry said pleasantly. "What you choose to do with your squire is no business of mine. A little young though, don't you think?"

"I know my own mind." Loras said softly, with no hint of embarrassment or shame. "I know what I want and with who."

That made Harry smile. He'd used the exact same argument with Balon. His lover who was sat listening to this. Though, of course, Balon would argue that he was older than Renly, that he was turning twenty-three now in three months, and Renly was still just nineteen, but Harry wouldn't have any of it.

He wondered if this was why Olenna had sent Loras to Renly though. It would, of course, create a better, more intimate relationship between the royal family and the Tyrells if Renly and Loras were lovers. It made him wonder if Loras even liked his uncle at all, or if it was all Tyrell power plays. He'd have to keep a closer eye on them and find out the answer to that. He wouldn't have Renly used in such a way. Not merely because the Tyrells wanted a stronger grip in the royal court.

But, if Renly and Loras truly did love one another, and want to be together, then Harry would do them the favour of turning a blind eye. With his own male lover, he could hardly condemn them for it, though the decision of having Loras squire to Renly in the first place would bug him unrelentingly until he understood the reasoning behind it. Was it even a power play at all? Had Loras just fancied Renly and had begged to be squired to him? No…that didn't make sense either. The Tyrells would not squander an opportunity, or a son, who could be used to get a tighter grip on what they truly wanted…the throne. So why then was Loras squired to Renly? What was their motive behind that?

"Then it doesn't matter. Carry on as you were, you'll get no bother from me." Harry said, smiling at Renly, though he made a mental note to check on things between them from time to time. He wouldn't have Renly heartbroken due to Tyrell manoeuvrings, and if the Tyrells were moving to take a tighter grip at court, Harry wanted to know about it.

"You're the best nephew in all of Westeros." Renly declared and handed him over a bag.

"What about me?" Tommen demanded, looking up from his plate of food.

"You're the best youngest nephew in all of Westeros." Renly told him, just to appease Tommen, who giggled and went back to eating, accepting Renly's words easily.

Harry opened the bag and he had to chuckle as he revealed a new outfit. It was bright, a brilliant green in colour, but had smoky grey accents that were almost black. Renly had always loved fabrics of all kinds and bright, bold colours.

"Thank you, Uncle. I'll wear this tonight for my feast." Harry insisted, standing with the breeches of the outfit to check the length of them. They would be a perfect fit, though on the tight side. The tunic was no less elaborate, and again, a perfect fit for him.

"You look good in green." Renly told him.

"When you wear green your eyes go as green as mine." Harry chuckled. "Though unlike mine, when you wear blue, your eyes turn blue too."

Harry rolled the new tunic back up to put it back into the bag and placed it on the table.

"Where is everyone else? The tourney should be starting soon!" Tommen complained.

"It's still early yet, but perhaps, if you'd like, I could take you and Myrcella out to see the tourney grounds and market stalls?"

He heard no agreement, just a lot of excited screeching from the both of them. He laughed.

"Let me go and find a member of the Kingsguard to accompany us. You know how they fret like mother hens if we go off on our own, especially out into the city." Which Harry knew all too well after he had done just that, only to find the entire of the Kingsguard out hunting for him, fretting all the while that he might have slipped out of the city proper or been abducted or murdered.

Harry left the solar with Balon to find said Kingsguard members, taking his gift from Renly with him, placing the outfit back in his room and giving a gentle stroke to a sleepy Ginny as he did so. He tried not to upset himself by thinking of Hermione. It was over and done with now, there was nothing he could do to change what had happened.

"So your uncle has taken his little squire to bed." Balon mused.

"It was only a matter of time before Renly found someone that he liked. He's very, very picky, you may have noticed."

"I can understand the appeal of little Loras Tyrell, though."

Harry gave Balon a furious glare and his lover seemed to realise exactly what he'd said…and the danger of it.

"I love you, of course, not him! You're a hundred thousand times better than him." Balon insisted quickly.

"Insulting me on my own name day." Harry declared, shaking his head, pretending to be more upset than he was just to torment Balon.

"I never meant to, Harian. I swear it. It is you I love, you who is more beautiful. I only meant that it is typical of Renly to pick someone of great beauty, but little substance. You have both."

Harry considered that. He wouldn't exactly say that Loras was of little substance, but comparing him to his older brothers, and even his fierce little sister, Margaery, Loras was a little…lost seeming. Perhaps now that he had found Renly he would find more purpose.

"I can see what you mean." Harry nodded. "Come, the sooner we can find a member of the Kingsguard, the sooner we can run off some of the excess energy that those two children have. I need to enter my name for the archery list also."

They had barely taken several steps towards the king's bedchamber, where there would be at least two, maybe three members of the Kingsguard, when Balon was almost bowled over by a crying servant girl. Harry caught her arm so that she didn't fall to the floor and looked at the bright red mark on her face.

"Who did this to you?" He asked kindly, even though he already had an idea.

"My Prince, it is of no matter." The girl said hastily, covering the mark with a fall of her hair.

"It is of a matter, who did this to you and why? Answer me."

The girl swallowed hard, fearfully. "Prince Joffrey didn't want to wear the clothes laid out for him by Her Grace, the Queen."

Harry nodded. "Whatever orders he has given you, please discount them and carry on your normal morning. I will deal with him."

The servant looked shocked, then pleased as she bowed and nodded, thanking him, before all but running the other way to escape.

"A small detour, Balon. Wait outside the room, please. It wouldn't do to have it seem that I was threatening him with other people and not just myself."

"I know you will not let it go, you hate anyone hurting others, but please be careful."

"Of that beast? He doesn't even keep to his exercises or his lessons. I'll be perfectly fine."

Harry stormed into his brother's room to see two more helpless girls cowering from his raging brother, who was screaming at them.

"What are you doing?" Harry demanded.

"Get out!" Joffrey screeched at him.

"I go where I please, I am the crown prince. Now, why are you terrorising these girls?"

"I am not wearing these rags!"

Harry looked at the perfectly acceptable clothes, which were of a very high quality, with quality stitching and detailed embroidery. It was red and gold, of course. The one outfit likely cost more than all three of the servant girls' entire wardrobes, especially as the gold accents and embroidery looked to be real gold thread.

"My ladies, please forgive my brute of a brother and leave us. Please go about your normal duties." Harry said kindly, and these two didn't need to be told twice and didn't need any more encouragement than that. They were gone as quickly as they could manage, leaving Harry and Joffrey behind.

"How am I supposed to get dressed?!" Joffrey raged at him.

"Maybe you should have thought of that before abusing your serving staff." Harry said mildly. "There is nothing wrong with the clothes you have been given. Put them on and stop complaining."

"I'm not wearing them!" Joffrey shouted, his face flushing red with anger.

"Yes, you are." Harry told him, striding forward and grabbing a hold of Joffrey, by the shoulder, and picking up the tunic.

"I'm not wearing it!" Joffrey yelled out, fighting and struggling.

Harry reached out and gripped Joffrey's golden blonde curls and yanked on it, stilling his brother and allowing him to force the tunic on his brother, passing the clump of hair to his other hand to get Joffrey's head in the neckline. He gripped tighter when Joffrey tried to aim a kick at him, tipping his brother's head back at a painful angle.

"Put your breeches on, now, or I'm really going to lose my patience with you."

Joffrey opened his mouth to refuse, but Harry slapped him across the face, hard, as his brother had likely done to the poor serving girl who wouldn't have been able to defend herself, even if she knew how to. She'd had to stand there and let this pretentious piece of shit hit her without doing anything to stop him. There was nothing more satisfying than dishing out a dose of like-minded punishment.

"Get them on now, do not make me tell you again." Harry growled.

Joffrey did as Harry asked, sullenly and unhappily. He had never dressed himself before, no doubt. It was disgusting and disgraceful for a boy his age.

"Finish dressing yourself, you utter disgrace." Harry sneered. "If I hear you've accosted the servants, or changed clothes, I will beat you myself, am I clear?"

Harry left Joffrey's room and Balon automatically scanned him for injuries. Harry shook his head, and took a moment to breathe, before he went back down the corridor, towards his own room, then down another corridor to his father's room which was located right in the centre of the holdfast. There were three members of the Kingsguard there this morning, two of them had been there all night, or so he believed.

"Good morrow." He greeted.

"Good morrow to you too, my Prince." Ser Barristan greeted. "And happy fourteenth name day."

Harry grinned. "Thank you, Ser."

"You didn't come here to greet us, nor to disturb your father, not even on your name day. What is it?" His uncle Jaime asked him.

"I want to go to the tourney grounds. I knew that it would be better to ask for a Kingsguard member to accompany me." He grinned.

"I will accompany you, my Prince." Meryn Trant told him.

Harry nodded. He was sure that Trant was one of his mother's creatures and he didn't trust the knight because of it, but he was never alone. He would have Balon with him, and Myrcella and Tommen too, no one in their right mind would attack him when there were so many witnesses and as his grandfather had told him, those in the Kingsguard who were against him or were siding with his mother could not act in the open.

"Thank you, Ser." He said graciously and turned to head back to the solar.

They heard Joffrey shouting and cursing from his room as they reached the main corridor, it sounded as if he were in the throes of a tantrum and throwing things around his room and Ser Meryn looked for a source of the commotion.

"Leave him." Harry said. "He is always shouting and complaining about something, but this morning it is my fault he is shouting. I forced him to wear the clothes laid out for him. Clothes which he declared rags. He was abusing the handmaids, so I stepped in and put a stop to it. He'll calm down or he won't, I couldn't care."

They made it back to the solar and Tommen and Myrcella had finished eating and were waiting impatiently with Renly and Loras.

"Can we go?" Tommen begged.

"Yes, Tommen. Ser Meryn has graciously agreed to accompany us to the tourney grounds."

"You are taking the young Prince and Princess too?" Ser Meryn asked in horror.

"Yes." Harry said shortly. "Uncle, will you join us?"

"I might make my own way down once I have finished eating." Renly insisted.

Harry nodded and he took Myrcella's hand, took Tommen's when he rushed to his other side to do the same, and he led them down from the tower and through the twisting corridors and then out of the holdfast, passing Ser Mandon on the bridge.

"Good morrow, Ser." Harry called out in greeting.

"Good morrow my Princes. Princess." Ser Mandon greeted back, staring at them all with his half-dead eyes. Tommen shivered and averted his gaze, but Harry had long since gotten used to that strange gaze.

The trip was long and with two young children, it was more arduous than anything else, as Harry insisted that they walked and didn't take a carriage. Tommen was already holding onto more baby fat than he ought to have at five, a bit of walking was going to do him good and if nothing else, it pissed off Ser Meryn who didn't like going into the city anyway, much less on foot with three members of the royal family to protect.

They eventually made it to the tourney grounds and Harry watched and smiled as the young faces of his brother and sister lit up like it was Christmas…not that any of them but him knew what Christmas was, but Harry knew and he remembered.

Harry allowed his siblings more freedom than their mother ever would have, as she didn't believe that her perfect children should mix company with lowborn commoners, but Harry actively encouraged it as he took them to the market that was already open and bustling, after he'd put his name down for the archery competition, of course…him and Balon both.

People called out and bowed or curtseyed to the three of them and though Tommen and Myrcella didn't notice this, Harry made it a point to notice, to nod back and smile. He bought his brother and sister toys and dolls, which, though weren't up to the usual quality of the royal toymaker that they had back in the castle, would nonetheless keep them happy.

He bought them peasant food and had a lot of trouble getting Myrcella to actually eat it, as there was no plate or even a fork to eat with and she didn't understand the concept of bringing the food to her mouth with her hands, but Harry had great fun showing her by example. She did eventually eat the snack and Harry dutifully cleaned her face with his handkerchief afterwards when she fussed about it.

"Do you want to play with them?" Harry asked Tommen when they saw several boys playing cats and rats.

Tommen shook his head. "Mother says I shouldn't play with lowborn boys."

"Mother isn't here. I am." Harry said. "Do you want to play? I did when I was your age. It was my first tourney and I spent a lot of the time sitting next to father, watching the games, but also a lot of time in the markets, eating from vendors, watching shows and playing with others. Do you remember, Balon?"

"As if it were yesterday, my Prince." Balon grinned.

"I don't want to play. I want to stay with you."

Harry nodded. "That's fine. Come along, let us see if we can't find an early show for you both."

Their mother had truly sunk her claws into both children, but Harry was determined to ease her grip on the two of them, even just slightly. He was sure that Tommen's fear of older children came from Joffrey's bullying, but he'd yet to catch Joff hurting Tommen in any way. He said hurtful things about everyone all the time, Harry, Myrcella, Tommen, and even little Robert Arryn, though Harry would usually shut him up by humiliating him in public. But Harry had never witnessed him physically hurting their younger siblings, though he was certain that it happened. He'd witnessed the psychological torment he'd put Tommen through two years ago, when he'd skinned that fawn and tried to force Tommen to wear the blooded skin. His fist clenched tight. He should have done more at that time, he should have thoroughly beaten Joffrey to ensure he never harmed Tommen ever again. If he ever caught Joffrey doing as such to his adored brother and sister, then Harry doubted he'd be able to control himself enough to allow Joffrey to live through the experience. Perhaps Joffrey knew that too, which is why Harry had never caught him doing anything to Myrcella or Tommen and he waited until Harry was away from the Red Keep to act.

There was a puppet show just about to start and Harry sat Myrcella and Tommen down on the low benches among the lowborn children watching and he stood back and watched them with a fond smile.

"This does bring back memories." Balon told him and Harry chuckled quietly so that he wouldn't disturb the narrative.

"It seems a life age ago, when I was just younger than Tommen's age and seeing my first tourney. They're good memories." Harry said with a smile.

"Clutching old Barristan Semly's hand, using an empty skewer as a lance." Balon chuckled.

Harry grinned, remembering it all. "Those were the days." He laughed.

Once the puppet show was over, Harry collected Myrcella and Tommen and led them to the king's gold silk pavilion, right in the middle of the sea of tents and shields set up along the Blackwater Rush. Their father had one set up every year, but he never ended up actually competing. Harry sent Balon inside to sweep the tent, just in case anyone had actually dared to enter it, while Ser Meryn stayed on guard with them outside.

"We'll wait for father here." He said as he led his younger siblings inside once Balon had declared it safe. "It shouldn't be much longer, you know how much he loves tourneys."

Tommen and Myrcella sat on the furred floor once they were allowed inside and they played with their newly bought toys together, they were close because there was not even a year between their ages, a mere ten months, and Harry watched them fondly as he lounged on the chairs, already sipping sweet red wine. Ser Meryn stayed right beside the tent flaps, on guard and watchful, but Balon stayed beside Harry. He was, after all, Harry's sworn shield, no one else's.

They heard their father before they saw him and he strode into the tent like a tornado, loud and jovial. This seemed to frighten Tommen, who cowered, but Harry called out a cheery greeting, and stood to embrace his father, noticing the remaining members of the Kingsguard behind him.

"There's my boy! My big, strong lad. Four-and-ten, how did I ever live to see the day?" He laughed loudly.

Harry laughed with him. "More like that it was me who didn't see my own fourteenth name day! Two poisoning attempts, assassins, abductions, snakes in my bed. How did I ever get to here?"

Robert let out a contemptuous 'pah' and pulled Harry back into a hug. "You are stronger than poisons and smarter than snakes and servants. You'll be a man soon, a fine man. You're everything a man ever wants in a son."

"Well, being almost a man, I've decided that this is the tourney where I enter the archery contest. I'll do you proud."

"You're entering the contest?" Robert asked, his face shining proudly.

"Yes, I put my name down as soon as I arrived this morning."

His father clapped him on the back and hugged him a third time. "You'll show up all these arrogant shits. You've been shooting since you were two, and what's this I heard about you shooting out the eye of a bird?"

Harry forced his automatic grimace into a grin. He hadn't liked that lesson of his grandfather's, who had insisted that it was necessary for him to practice taking down birds just in case he was manning a siege and there were ravens flying. It was usual siege tactics to shoot all ravens flying to break the line of communication.

"I was sat on the wall of the keep, firing at birds as I like to do, and I shot them all down, but one of them…one of them I shot straight through the eye, it had to be a hundred and fifty paces too. Even grandfather was impressed with that shot."

Robert beamed at him and sat down, pouring himself a cup of wine before filling up Harry's cup. It was only then that he seemed to notice his two younger children in the room, playing on the floor.

"Here you are." He said. "Your mother is looking all over the keep for you."

"We came down with Harian, Father." Myrcella said primly. "He took us all over the market and we saw a puppet show. He bought us some toys too."

His father looked at him and Harry shrugged and smiled.

"Kingslayer, go back up to the castle and tell your sister that her missing lion cubs are down here with me."

"Your Grace." Jaime bowed, acknowledging the order, before he turned around on his heel and he left the tent.

"Been having fun with your younger siblings? Your mother is convinced that they were stolen in the night. I told her that no one would want them."

"I have been having fun with them, yes." Harry said, very satisfied. He purposefully ignored Robert's complete disregard for the safety or wellbeing of his younger children. "They woke up early through excitement and they wanted to come down with me when I mentioned that I was coming down to the tourney grounds to add my name to the archery list."

"Your brother is shouting and raving that you hit him and forced him to wear rags."

Harry laughed so hard that he choked on a mouthful of wine and had to take another gulp before he could speak again.

"Of course that little wretch is saying that, but did he mention that he struck one of the girls sent to help him dress? I can bet that he never. He was terrorising two others when I went to sort him out too. The outfit that mother had laid out for him the night before was apparently not good enough and he was demanding another outfit from them. So I saw fit to slap him across the face and force him into the perfectly adequate outfit that had been laid out for him. The spoilt brat." He added, taking another drink of wine.

"Your mother is after your head for it."

Harry scoffed. "What difference does that make? She's been after my head since I was born, Father, and she's yet to take it from me. Let her try, I don't care anymore. I've always been closer to you and as long as you don't care about it, I will give it no more thought."

"Me? Of course I don't care, you know me better. I think you're the only child I actually ever understood." He added, bending forward to whisper to him, but Tommen and Myrcella were back to their games and were not paying attention.

Harry nodded. "I think perhaps it is because I am the eldest, but I have always been more mature and the most like you."

"We even have the same laugh." Robert added with a grin, mentioning the one thing that guests to the capital always remarked on, how Harry and Robert both laughed alike.

Harry chuckled. "I am most like you, but with Renly's height."

Robert laughed heartily at that. "Even then, I think perhaps Renly has you beaten."

Harry groaned. "Why am I the only Baratheon who is short?"

"I would not call you short." Robert told him with a grin. "Just shorter. Then my father, your grandfather, Steffon. Now he was a giant of a man."

"Surely not taller than you?" Harry asked curiously. He had heard very little over the years about his paternal grandparents, Steffon and Cassana Baratheon.

"I reckon that he was." Robert said. "Of course, it's hard to determine now. I was six-and-ten when he and my mother died, a man grown, but I was far from my full height. I did not even reach his shoulders the last I saw him."

"Would he have liked me?"

Robert laughed loudly at that. "Of course, he would have adored you, as I do. He would have kept you up on his shoulders until you were ten. He was always throwing babes into the air and catching them again. Renly loved the game, the higher the better. I remember once my mother screaming at him because Renly's head almost caught the beams in the ceiling. I swear to this day that it might have."

Harry laughed. "That would actually explain a lot."

Robert looked at him for a moment, working out his meaning, and then he threw his head back and roared a laugh. Harry chuckled himself, but cut his gaze to the entrance to the tent when Jaime Lannister strode back in. Their mother was just a step behind him and she fell on Tommen and Myrcella as if they had been prisoners of war for a decade.

"You." She spat, rounding on Harry. "How dare you take them anywhere without permission! How dare you endanger them by bringing them out here in the open!"

Harry cocked an eyebrow. "I don't need anyone's permission to take my siblings anywhere." He said simply. "I'll take them where I like, when I like. And endanger them, truly? You speak as if I booted them off a cliff into Blackwater Bay. They're fine, they had fun. Stop being so overdramatic."

"Your mother has a flair for the overdramatic." Robert insisted.

"I suppose you did not even chastise him for hitting Joffrey this morning either!"

The mentioned Joffrey was standing just behind her, his own sworn shield, Sandor Clegane, an appointment made by their mother, not their father who didn't see the need for a younger son to have a sworn shield, stood beside Joffrey with his customary dog's head helm. Harry had yet to work out how loyal the man was to his mother and to his younger brother and if that meant he was a personal threat to him by extension. He would need to dedicate some time to figure that out, for his own safety.

"The boy deserved it." Robert waved away.

"I see you are still wearing your rags." Harry said to Joffrey with a smirk. "At least you listened to my instructions."

"You struck me across the face!" The ten year old shouted shrilly. There was a bloom of colour rising on his one cheek.

Harry didn't realise that he'd hit Joffrey so hard as to bruise him and wondered if the stupid prick had actually hit himself much harder once he was alone, to make it seem worse. It was unlikely, given that Joffrey hated feeling any sort of pain, for as often as he doled it out, but the bruise would be magnificent in a day or two. Harry would have to check his strength if ever he did such a thing again, he was clearly getting stronger and he could hit harder than he believed he could, it wouldn't do to knock out teeth, fracture a cheekbone, or break a jaw. Not when he didn't mean to.

"I'll slap you again if you don't stop screeching like a bitch in heat." Harry assured his brother, taking another mouthful of wine.

His father almost choked on his own mouthful of wine and started laughing the moment his throat was clear.

"Do not threaten to harm him!" His mother hissed at him.

Harry laughed himself. "Are you going to stop me?" He demanded with a grin. "If I stood up, walked over there and punched him full in the face, what would you do? What could you do?"

His mother had no answer, she couldn't stop him, not in front of Robert, and she knew it, they both did, and Harry could see her seething.

"Exactly." Harry said. "Shut up, woman."

Harry went back to his wine, but his mother snapped her gaze to her husband.

"Are you going to let him speak to me that way?"

Robert Baratheon didn't even look at her. He was pouring more wine and was acting as if she hadn't even addressed him.

"He's like this because of you!" She accused angrily. "He has imitated you!"

"Good." Was the only response, as Robert sipped yet another cup of wine. He would be drunk before mid-morning if he kept up that pace.

"I hope you are happy, that you're proud of the son you've raised."

"I am more proud of him than I can say." Robert declared, looking at his wife finally. "He's the perfect son, a son any man could be proud of, even your own father loves him more than he ever has the others. Take his advice and shut up."

Humiliated and seething, Cersei Lannister gathered herself up, clutching the skirt of her dress.

"Children, come." She ordered as calmly as she could.

She was angered even more when her two youngest looked to Harian for permission to leave and only when he nodded did they stand up to follow her. She had to put a stop to that, right now. That boy would not take her children from her also.

- X

The jousting was over in half a day as only anointed knights could enter the lists to keep the competition from running over and affecting the archery, in which Harry had a paramount interest given that he would be a part of it this time. He'd been scoping the other names on the archery list all day, but he truly feared Balon, who had also put his name down.

He was using his father's pavilion tent to prepare and wait for his turn, as seventy men had signed up for the archery contest at this tourney, and the first rounds were always the longest as each man had a turn to shoot. A lot of them had already been knocked out of the running within the first four rounds, but Harry was still in with a chance.

His father was sat, cheering him on very loudly, along with nearly all of the smallfolk, Myrcella and Tommen, and his Uncle Renly too, who kept Loras close to his side.

Balon, despite being a competitor in the contest, was doing his duty as well and keeping very close to Harry's side. They had been competing against one another in archery since Harry had been tall enough, and strong enough, to hold and draw the bow by himself. This was much the same, only there was a large purse of coin as a reward. A way for Harry to gather some much-needed gold for himself for when he took the throne and inherited the empty treasury and the accrued debt of his father.

Harry was actually in the final ten, and as a fourteen-year-old, that was a phenomenal achievement. He was the youngest still in the contest by some measure, but he had a huge incentive…seeing his mother's face get increasingly more sour as he hit every mark and got to advance to the next round.

In the final five, Harry only just barely scraped through, when a surprise gust of wind blew his arrow off course and instead of hitting dead centre, it caught the centre marker by just a sliver and it was only that that kept him in the tourney.

He couldn't help the smile when he managed to get into the final three, with a guaranteed prize at the end waiting for him. He calmed himself, he breathed and set his mind to focusing on the task still ahead. He wanted to come first so there was work still to be done.

Balon shot first and he hit dead centre and Harry cheered with the smallfolk for him.

"Of course you'd lay a challenge like that down." Harry chuckled.

"I can't have you winning so easily." Balon replied, giving him a sarcastic bow and moving back ten paces.

Harry chuckled and stepped forward to deafening cheers and screams. He laughed and took the allowed time to centre himself. He notched his arrow but he kept his bow aimed at the ground while he sought his target and felt for the wind.

When he'd locked eyes on the target he lifted the bow, pulled back hard, as far as he could, and he held the arrow for barely half a second before he let it fly, straight into the middle of the centre target. The cheers got louder and he bowed to the crowd as he stepped back ten paces with Balon.

"An excellent shot." Balon complimented.

"The damn wind stayed at bay." Harry grinned. "It was luck more than anything, another gust like my previous shot and that'll be the end. We're too far away from the target to compensate for it anymore."

"That's the beauty of the final rounds." Balon told him, grinning back.

Their opponent also took advantage of the lack of a breeze and he also hit the centre marker and joined them at one hundred paces out.

"Good luck." Harry said to Balon, who winked at him.

Balon shot off centre, but still hit the centre mark and he was allowed to step back ten paces. Harry stepped forward, again to raucous shouts and cheers. He repeated his routine, nocking the arrow and aiming at the floor while he locked onto the target. There was a slight breeze and he pulled back and fired while he knew how much to compensate by. The arrow flew out just wide and the gentle breeze then blew it right back in, hitting the centre marker.

Harry stepped back ten paces to join Balon to shouts and cheers. He could get used to this sort of cheering and attention, he was going to miss it when the competition was over.

Their competitor missed the centre mark and he left the field cursing, despite the fact that he had still won a purse of coin, it was just considerably lighter than the ones for first and second place, and of course, no one would remember the third place ranker.

"Me and you, Balon." Harry grinned.

"Don't think I'll go easy on you, my Prince."

"I wouldn't think of such a thing." Harry chuckled. "If I feel that you've cheated and let me win I'll be very upset with you."

"Duly noted, my Prince, but I have no intentions of just letting you win. I have a reputation as one of the best archers in all of Westeros to uphold."

Harry laughed and slapped Balon on the back as his lover stepped forward to take what could be the winning shot. Balon hit very close to the centre and Harry knew then that he needed a perfect shot to beat him.

He stepped forward to wild cheers and screams, but his mind was all focus and he kept his eyes on the target. He breathed deeply as he nocked the arrow, his fingers feeling the fletching.

The crowds were silent as they watched him, waiting with bated breath for him to make his move. He lifted the bow, pulled back hard and released…at the same moment that someone yelled out a wordless noise.

Startled at the sudden loud sound, his body jerked and turned towards it and as a result, his arrow went wide, missing the target completely, and Harry watched in horror as it happened. Horror and disappointment.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment to take in that bitter disappointment, inhaling deeply, before blowing out a long, noisy breath to calm himself. He heard laughter and he turned to stare at his monster of a brother, who had been the one to yell out and caused him to miss the final shot. Their mother was smirking, but it was Harry's turn to smirk when their father reached down from his platform above and punched Joffrey in the side of the head, sending him flying from his chair. Their mother wasn't laughing about that, and neither was Joffrey. Robert Baratheon's hands were like large hams, and the muscles in his arms meant that there was a great deal of power behind the punch, Harry wasn't surprised to see Joffrey spit out a mouthful of blood, nor that he looked so dazed and confused. He was surprised that the little shit was still conscious at all.

"You must have a retake, my Prince!" The master of ceremony for the archery competition insisted, hurrying over and nervously wringing his hands. "Such a lowly tactic should not decide the final shot of the tourney."

"Retake the shot!" Someone from the crowd of smallfolk shouted.

The cry was taken up by everyone with increasing fervour, but Harry had a better idea. He walked over to Balon, took his wrist and raised it into the air. No one understood, they didn't know why he wouldn't want to take another shot when he could possibly win the entire contest.

"The rules of the competition are clear." He shouted out, his high voice ringing. "One arrow, one shot, per round. No matter the reason I have missed the target. I have lost and I happily take second place, ceding to the superior bowman of the day, Ser Balon Swann."

"You could have made that shot and taken first, if not for that shit of a brother of yours." Balon told him, as the crowds went wild at his announcement and complimented his sportsmanship and chivalry.

"I would have forever been known as the prince who needed to take two shots to win an archery contest. The story would have gotten twisted in the retelling and people would think that I had demanded another go just because I had missed. That little beast will get what's coming to him though. He won't get away with that. Though I think father bruised the other side of his face too."

"What a cowardly tactic. It would have only been worse if he had been the one competing with you."

"As if he could even pull back a bow. He'd need a crossbow and even then probably someone to crank it for him. I'll get him back though, Balon. I promise you."

"Oh, I do not doubt it." Balon said. "He deserves it after that poor showing. How a prince should behave indeed."

"She has always found my behaviour lacking, she always uses the excuse of how a prince should behave to belittle me, yet she is condoning that when it was in front of all these witnesses and other nobles." Harry snorted. "I'll tell you, they'll both get what's coming to them. It's just a shame that grandfather wasn't here to witness it. Though I'll be sure to send him a message to keep him well abreast of what is happening here in his absence."

"He must be frustrated to miss your name day."

"Most like." Harry nodded. "But I am older now and I understand that his responsibilities lie in Casterly Rock, and with uncle Kevan taking an illness and uncle Gerion missing in Essos still, it is his duty to go and see to the needs of Casterly Rock, no matter the timing."

Harry and Balon were approached by the man who was the organiser and referee for the archery contest and he was directing two servants who were each pushing a cart of coins.

"They need to find a better way to do this." Harry chuckled. "All it would take was a man being robbed for his sack of coin."

"That is why you use some of the coin to pay for guards." Balon told him.

Harry snorted. "Good thing we can make use of the Kingsguard."

"I will make great use of it." Balon grinned.

Harry made preparations to send the coin up to his room and he went to his father.

"You should have taken the reshot." Robert Baratheon told him, clapping him on the back in commiseration.

Harry shook his head. "No, Father. I would not have wanted to be known as the two-shot prince. I will win at the next tourney." He insisted with a smile. "Second isn't so bad for my first tourney. I am not too disappointed."

"That little shit will pay for what he did." Robert promised.

"Oh, he will." Harry agreed.

"Come, it is time for your feast." His father insisted and Harry grinned excitedly.

The Kingsguard surrounded them and Balon was walking beside Harry, as was his right, and they made their way back to the city and back to the Red Keep with all the noble guests come to the capital for his name day.

His father was in one carriage, with four Kingsguard members, and Harry was in a second, with Balon and the two other members, Ser Mandon and Ser Arys. Ser Preston was the one who was seeing their large sacks of coin safely to the Red Keep and he would join them at the feast once that task was done. The trundling carriage took too long in Harry's opinion, but it was at least quicker than walking, especially with two young children in tow.

The journey might have been more pleasant, and passed a little more quickly, if the two Kingsguard knights were not there with him and Balon. Harry sighed, what he wouldn't give for a moment alone to snog his victorious lover.

Thankfully, they made it to the Red Keep without issue and Harry went right to his room in the holdfast to change into the outfit gifted to him by his youngest uncle. It looked even better on, and the breeches were tight to his legs and bum, showing off his assets for Balon, and Harry liked the way the silky fabric felt on his skin. He could always count on Renly for a good outfit.

He took a moment to kiss Balon, letting his lover feel the fabric too by running his hands over it, as he resettled himself to deal with so many people all vying for his attention. Harry sighed and separated from Balon a little.

"I wish we could just stay here."

"You are public property tonight." Balon told him. "You must smile and dance with the people come to the capital for your name day."

Harry groaned. "I know, but I still wish I could stay here with you."

Balon gave him a nice smile. "Later, my love."

Harry answered that smile with one of his own. He gave Balon a last kiss and then he left his room, preparing himself for what was to come. He would have to stay for the feast, and for a while afterwards too, but he was still hoping to be back in his room in a few hours. He wanted some time for it to be just him and Balon so that he could celebrate his name day with his lover, as he wanted to.

The two of them made their way back over the serpentine steps and to the Great Hall, where the feast was being held. It could hold a thousand people comfortably and it had almost that many when they entered.

There was a huge table that was overflowing with gifts, but despite being very curious Harry paid them no mind as he immediately started making the rounds of people, greeting them, thanking them for coming, and asking after relatives and households.

"Your uncle Stannis has arrived." Balon bent to whisper to him. "He's brought his wife and daughter."

Harry shivered at the mention of Selyse. He hadn't seen her since her wedding to his uncle and he hadn't seen their daughter, Shireen, at all. He had, of course, heard of her contracting Greyscale less than a year after her birth, he had sent a beautifully carved, jointed doll, its face meticulously painted to be as realistic as possible, to Shireen when he'd heard. Harry was thankful that she had even survived at all, though she was now horribly disfigured and shunned because of it. He swore he wouldn't do the same. The disease wasn't contagious, or fatal, in infants and his magic would likely protect him even if it was.

"I will see them momentarily. I will let my uncle greet father first." Harry said, taking a moment to be with Balon. The peace wouldn't last, he was always in high demand now that he was almost an adult.

It was when he saw the other children staring in open disgust at Shireen that he stepped forward, however. The girl had hurried towards the other children like a moth to a flame. She must have been desperately lonely over on Dragonstone, but her appearance was always going to upset other children. Even Myrcella hurried away from her, her own cousin.

He'd had enough and he strode forward, breaking the seven-foot circle that had formed around a visibly upset Shireen.

"Lady Shireen." He greeted with a smile. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you after so long."

He took her hand into both of his own and he kissed both of her cheeks, her good one and the dead, flaking, greyish-black one, without any hesitation.

"Prince Harian." She greeted politely.

Harry noticed that she had a quiet, sad voice. She was very lonely and probably oppressed by her miserable mother and father.

"Please, we are cousins, call me Harry, my Lady."

He took her arm through his own, gave everyone nearby a stern glare, and walked Shireen over to the area designated for dancing.

"Would you care to dance with me?"

"I like dancing." Shireen said with a smile. Harry noticed that even her smile was sad.

"Come along then."

Harry held out his hand and took her own. He led the seven-year-old through a dance, talking to her softly and encouraging her to interact with him.

"May I have another dance?" She asked him once the first had ended.

Harry was glad that she had asked. He'd made it a rule over the years to only ever ask one person to dance with him, a rule that all the girls had come to know and they flaunted and boasted if he chose them for his first dance. That he'd asked Shireen for his first dance would have deflated more than a few egos tonight.

"Of course you may." He said, and he led her through another dance.

"Thank you for dancing with me." She said.

"You're my little cousin, of course I would ask you for a dance. Thank you for coming to my name day celebrations."

"I ask every year." Shireen admitted. "But this is the first that father has allowed me to come."

"Well, you are seven now, you are growing up and you are becoming a proper little lady, you need to socialise. I am glad to see you at last."

"Harry, I want to dance with you!" Myrcella interrupted as she hurried over to him.

"Myrcella, you can see that I am dancing with our cousin, Lady Shireen. It is rude to interrupt, you know this."

"But I am your sister and I want to dance with you."

"You'll have to wait your turn." Harry said, twirling Shireen.

Myrcella looked upset, but Harry refused to feel bad about it. He knew that Myrcella knew how to behave, and he knew that she had been taught what was acceptable behaviour and what wasn't. Myrcella knew that interrupting a dance or a conversation was rude.

"I will dance with you later." He told her. "But for now, I am dancing with Lady Shireen."

"Why would you want to dance with her?" Myrcella demanded.

"Do not be rude or mean." Harry said sternly. "She is our cousin and you will be nice to her, Myrcella, or I will not dance with you at all."

Myrcella looked horrified and Harry knew that their mother had poisoned Myrcella against Shireen, perhaps from the moment she had been born. He hadn't noticed and he berated himself for it. He should have known, of course Cersei would have turned Myrcella against Shireen, she was a Baratheon, and that was without bringing the Greyscale into it. The sooner he could get a handle on his legilimency, and use it at will and not sporadically, the better.

"But she has Greyscale!" Myrcella whispered as if Shireen couldn't hear them.

"Myrcella." He said sternly, his tone darkening enough that his sister noticed and got teary. "The Greyscale is not Shireen's fault. She got sick and she was strong enough to survive. She is still our cousin and you should be kind to her."

"Mother says I could catch it if I touched her."

"Don't be foolish now, Myrcella. If that were true then our uncle and good-aunt would also have Greyscale and they don't. Now, if you can't be a nice and kind girl, you will go away and leave me and Shireen to dance in peace."

Myrcella was clearly upset that Harry had chosen Shireen over her, Harry could see it, but she stayed near as Harry finished off a third dance with Shireen.

"I will go for a drink now, Harry." Shireen said with a smile. "Thank you for dancing with me."

"It was my pleasure, Lady Shireen." He said, bowing over her hand and kissing it. "If you desire another dance, just come and ask me. I will gladly dance with you again."

Shireen walked over to a table and Harry turned around to find another dance partner, but Myrcella hurried right up to him.

"I can be kind." She burst out.

"So you should be. If you are mean to others, they will be mean to you. I took my sister for a kind, gracious little lady, not another Joffrey." Harry said, bowing over her hand and falling into position, leading her through a dance.

"I'm not like him!" Myrcella insisted hotly.

"You need to prove it, Myrcella, not just say it. It's contradictory to say something and then to do the opposite. How you treated Shireen, our own cousin, was how Joffrey would have treated her."

"I…I will apologise to her. I don't want to be like Joffrey."

"No one should want to be like Joffrey, but think of how upset and lonely Shireen must be, stuck on Dragonstone with only uncle Stannis and our good-aunt? There are no other children for her to play with. I think Shireen deserves a bit of fun and some kindness."

"I could show her my garden and my dolls!" Myrcella said excitedly.

"I think Shireen would like that very much, she is only a year older than you."

Myrcella didn't even wait for her dance to be over before she was gone, looking for Shireen and finding her almost immediately, in another circle of disgusted looks, all by herself, trying not to notice the looks she was being given. He saw Myrcella speaking excitedly, the almost longing excitement on Shireen's face, and then Myrcella took her cousin's hand and both girls were running off, likely to Myrcella's bedchamber. A Lannister guard, commonly called a red cloak, who had been tasked with looking after Myrcella for the evening, hurried after the two girls.

Harry was invited to dance by several more girls and he treated them all kindly, dancing with them and speaking with them, but of course, most of the conversation came from his side, as the girls mostly just stared at him with wide eyes. He'd learnt to speak so that all the girls had to do was nod or shake their heads. Of course, sometimes he was surprised and one girl would engage him in a very thought-provoking conversation. He remembered those girls more than any other, even the so-called 'most beautiful' ones he found disinteresting unless there was some more substance and intelligence to them underneath the unblemished skin, much to their disappointment.

"My Prince."

Speaking of intelligent girls. Harry was smiling already as he turned to greet Margaery Tyrell.

"Lady Margaery." He took her hand and kissed it. "A pleasure to see you, as always. Thank you for coming."

"I would not miss your name day celebrations, and neither would my brothers. Loras says that you have made him feel very welcome in the capital."

"Of course, he is my uncle's squire and Renly is now the Master of Laws, so their road has led them here to King's Landing. I am glad of the company, truly. Tommen and Myrcella are wonderful, of course, but they are still just little children and Loras is my own age. So I imagine we will be spending more time together soon, when my uncle has no need of him."

"Is Balon still about?" Margaery inquired, even as she twirled through the next step of the dance.

Harry nodded. "Yes, he is still my sworn shield, he will be until I become the king and the Kingsguard take over his duties."

"Will it be soon, do you know?"

Harry shook his head. "It is impossible to tell with my father, but he isn't as suited to it as I am. I have spent my life being taught and raised to be a king. It will be in the next six years, I believe. My father is tired of politics and court. He wants to be Lord Baratheon of Storm's End once more, he always found more comfort in it."

"You will need to take a queen." Margaery said pointedly.

Harry said that Margaery was intelligent, and for a thirteen-year-old she truly was, likely learning from her grandmother, Olenna's, knee. But she was too blunt, too bold. She needed to hide her intentions better and Harry was sure that she would learn to do that one day. It didn't help that he was no fourteen-year-old boy, either. His body was fourteen years old, but he was so much older than that.

"I will, of course, need to take a wife one day." He said carefully, weighing up his words, knowing that they'd be going right back to Olenna's ears. "I will need children to follow on the succession line, but it will not be soon. I will need to do right by the people, and the Kingdoms that I will be ruling first. I will need to settle myself in as king first, before I give the people a queen and little princes and princesses."

The dance ended and Harry bowed over Margaery's hand. He kissed it and then said his goodbyes. He quickly headed up to the top table, where his father and uncle were sitting together. Never a good sign.

"You. Where is Myrcella?"

Harry sighed and turned to his mother, who had all but barked at him.

"I believe she went to play in her bedchamber with Shireen."

"What?!" His mother snapped. "You let her near that diseased creature…?"

"She is a seven-year-old girl!" Harry snapped back angrily. "But more than that she is our cousin and she has the right to friends and family! You should stop teaching Myrcella to be as cruel and heartless as you and let her be herself. Her kind, sweet self. She wants to play with Shireen, you will not disturb them."

"She is my daughter and I will keep her safe…"

"From her seven-year-old cousin?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "She is safe and happy, the both of them are. Sit down and shut up."

"You do not command me!" His mother hissed furiously at him.

"Do as he says!" Robert told her. "You stay here and leave the girls be."

"I will not allow Myrcella to stay…"

"Yes, you will." Harry insisted, as he picked up the wine jug and poured himself a cup.

"Fill me up, boy." His father said, thrusting out his cup.

Harry poured for his father happily and without complaint. He didn't see it as lowering himself, he remembered being treated as a slave by the Dursleys, compared to that, pouring a cup of wine for family was nothing.

"Uncle, would you like wine or would you prefer water?" He asked.

"Water, Harian." Stannis told him.

Harry reached for the water jug and poured for his uncle.

"You make a good servant." His mother scathed, as he knew that she eventually would. Only she would see being called a servant as an insult, Harry saw it as no such thing.

"You'll make a good footstool when I skin you and stuff you like hunted game. You look to be the right height for me too."

His father laughed hard, spilling the wine on his already stained doublet, but his mother fumed, unable to think of a comeback. That was nothing unusual these days either, as Harry was making no effort to hide his true self.

Harry took a drink, draining his cup and he turned back to the crowds, waiting for someone else to ask him to dance, while in the meantime he did the rounds again, talking to people, asking after their health, or the health of ageing relatives, asking after births and such. It was all very basic to the nobility of this land, they had all been taught to do this since they were knee high. He remembered doing this at Stannis' wedding, when he was only four years old, though naturally being older now the people expected much more of him than they had back then.

It was a very long evening and he was glad when the feast was finally announced so that he could sit down and eat for at least two hours without anyone bothering him. He needed to take the weight from his feet for a while, his brand new boots, which he had received as a name day gift that morning, were rubbing at his heels and pinching his toes. He hoped that it didn't take too long to break them in, he had always hated blisters.

He lounged up right next to his father, pushing out his own uncle, who was forced to sit on his other side. But Harry was mostly focusing on his father, and his uncle Renly, who had pushed out his mother and was sitting on Robert's other side, which wasn't traditional custom, but then when had Robert Baratheon ever really kept to traditional custom, or actually cared about it?

The feast was lavish and long. Harry ate and drank deeply, enjoying himself with the family members he cared about; his father and uncle Renly. It was a shame that his grandfather couldn't be here also, but he understood why he couldn't be. His priority lay elsewhere at the moment and truly it needed to. Lord Tywin Lannister could not have it said about him that he couldn't keep his own house in order.

After a several course feast, in which everyone was mostly full and sleepy, Harry stood and gained the attention of all those present.

"I would like to thank you all for coming today, to celebrate my name day with me." He started, being forced to pause by the loud burst of noise and applause and shouts…men were well into their cups by now, including his father. Harry laughed off the noise, waiting for it to stop without making moves to stop it. "Thank you. I can scarce believe that I am already four-and-ten, the years have passed so quickly I have barely noticed them!" He jested.

He played the crowd like a well-worn fiddle, as they laughed at his little joke and hung onto his every word. He had gotten very, very good at this in the last several years. His grandfather would have been very proud of him if he had been here to see and hear.

"I have been so busy learning and being taught, but do not fret good people, thanks to my father I also know how to have fun."

His father's laugh was the loudest this time and it made Harry smile, but it also had the benefit of informing all those in the hall that though they mostly saw him at feasts, tourneys and celebrations, that he was very highly educated also. It wouldn't do for them to forget that.

"I have had my troubles over the years too, I'm sure you all remember the failed Greyjoy Rebellion." He added with a grin. "As it turns out, I was a terrible captive."

Again there were more laughs. His father had spread the tale of him killing three men with a stolen axe when he was a mere babe of six, far and wide, and so had other witnesses who had been there that day, including the Kingsguard, and his grandfather and uncles. Too many men were saying mostly the same thing for it not to be taken as the truth, which it actually was, so Harry was glad of that.

"Due to various assassins over the years, who used the coward's weapon of poison, I might not have been here at all."

There were boos and heckles and shouts of 'No, my Prince!' all around the room and Harry controlled the smile he wanted to let show. Instead, he nodded gravely.

"Indeed, I forget how many times I have been poisoned now, and who knows how many attempts have been subtly made that I do not even know about!" He cried out. "But thankfully, it seems that the gracious Seven have seen fit to make me impervious to poison, thank all the gods."

Again all of this was done purposefully, to show himself as a pious man, when he no more believed in the seven gods, or even the old gods, of Westeros than he had believed there was a god in his old life. Everywhere, in every land, in every universe, it seemed that humans were all the same. They all needed to believe in something bigger than themselves, they needed something, anything to give them faith because their lives were so devastating and miserable that they needed to believe that some cruel god somewhere was testing them and their resolve so that they could wake up every morning and suffer, because surely the gods would favour them and their dedication soon.

Harry didn't knock people for their beliefs, if that was what it took for the smallfolk to get up and live every morning, to keep going day after day, then he would not take away their reason for living, that small shred of hope that they all carried, but it wasn't for him and he still believed that they were fooling themselves. It was not the gods who were punishing them, it was the noble families they toiled for. The smallfolk worked and broke their backs so that the rich could languish in their lavish castles and keeps, with their luxuries, not needing to work a day in their lives. It was all a circumstance of birth. If you were born to the right people, the gods favoured you, but if you were born low, or base, then the gods were testing you until the day you died, often young, as such a life of backbreaking work shortened lives considerably.

"I am still here despite these attempts." Harry said. "And I plan to stay here for quite a time yet."

More cheers and toasting him with their goblets. His grandfather was right, people were like sheep, only a few among them were ever wolves, and many of those wolves tonight would be dressed as sheep, following the motions, but from here he could see the expressions on most people's faces. He could feel surface emotions and hear surface thoughts, and the wolves were glaringly different from the sheep tonight, so much so that he could pinpoint them and he could see several wolves among the sheep just by looking at their actions or expressions from where he stood and he took careful note of them, as his grandfather had taught him to do early on in his personal lessons. He could then watch them, listen in on their conversations and foil any plots they made and work to keep himself safer, all without the wolves being any the wiser.

"Clearly, I am better than the base, unintelligent creatures who would try to see to my end before I am even a man grown."

More laughter and cheers, but Harry caught movement out of the corner of his eye, what he had been waiting for, and he turned to see his mother trying to carefully slip away. He smirked. Obviously, she had not enjoyed being called a base, unintelligent creature.

"Mother, where are you going?" He called out, drawing everyone's attention to her. She stopped in mid-movement, like a startled rabbit. For that was all she was in Harry's considerable shadow…a prey animal.

"I am going to the privy, Harian." She replied as evenly as she could, in a bare whisper. "Too much wine." She insisted as an excuse for her urgent need for the toilet.

Harry nodded. "Of course, but you cannot leave without toasting to my continued good health." He cajoled loudly, to laughs and jeers from those watching.

"Toast the Prince!" Someone called out.

"A toast for the Prince!" The cry was taken up by others.

Backed into a corner, unable to do anything else with so many eyes upon her, but desperately wanting to just turn and leave, his mother took a step back towards her seat and she lifted a goblet.

"To your good health." She said, toasting him with her cup and then drinking.

She put the goblet back down and stormed off and Harry, his objectives now all completed, with the bonus of riling up his mother too, he wrapped up his speech by thanking all his guests again for coming and inviting them to eat and drink their fill before he sat back down to generous, loud applause.

The feast trailed off and singers and harpers started playing and Harry saw Myrcella and Shireen, who had been brought back to the hall for the feast, giggling to one another like old friends. He smiled, happy and pleased that Myrcella was not shunning her own cousin because of their mother's poisonous teachings. Myrcella was much too good to be forced to behave otherwise.

It was late, very late, when he weaved his way from the celebrations, well into his own cups, jovial and generous, but not too far gone to have taken leave of his senses or his self-awareness, he was led to bed by Balon and Ser Mandon.

"That was the best name day." He said, pretending to slur to amuse Balon, who knew he would never have drunk so much as to inhibit himself. It was more for Mandon Moore, who Harry was testing for loyalty, testing maybe if he would go and tell his mother that he was blind drunk and would fall into a deep sleep.

"You, my Prince, are very, very drunk." Balon chuckled.

"It's my name day, I'm allowed to be drunk on my name day." Harry said, making a play at stumbling over his own feet.

Balon caught him and hefted him up into his arms.

"This is undignified for a prince!" Harry complained.

"I believe it would be worse if you fell and smashed in your face." Balon told him. "Do not fret, my Prince, no one is about to see you."

Harry just groaned. "I want my bed."

"We're getting there, my Prince."

Ser Mandon got the door and Balon went to place him on his bed. Harry happily moaned and rolled onto his belly, still in his clothes.

"Are you not going to get undressed, my Prince?" Balon asked.

Harry said nothing.

"My Prince?"

"He is asleep, Ser Swann." Ser Mandon insisted. "As often happens when a boy drinks his first bellyful. He will have a sore head on the morrow, but for now, he needs to sleep it off."

"He did overindulge a little. He is getting older."

"He was never going to be a babe forever." Mandon said. "He is four-and-ten and soon to be a man grown. You have looked after him like a mother duck with her duckling, but now is time to cut him loose. He will need the room to grow."

"I assure you he has plenty of room to grow, Ser and he is doing well by himself, I am merely keeping him safe as he does so, as is my duty as his sworn shield. I will never give up my place by his side, not until he is king and his care will be passed to his Kingsguard."

Harry heard his door shut and he chuckled and rolled back over, getting off his bed and going to his side dresser to splash some water on his face. He stripped off his brand new, fancy feast clothes and got out a loose, comfortable sleeping tunic. He took huge pleasure in easing off his new boots and sitting down, rubbing his sore feet for long minutes.

He would explore all his name day gifts tomorrow, as they were all still in the Great Hall. He would take the time to write thank you notes, a custom he had started as a mere child and had kept up every year since. He would continue it too, as though it took him forever, it put him in a very good light, to be seen as humble and grateful for a gift given to him that many others would merely see as their right, like Joffrey, for instance, who never gave gratitude for anything given to him and often complained about what he had received in front of those who had given it to him. Just like the spoilt brat that he was.

Harry climbed back onto his bed with the book he was currently reading, the one that his grandfather had given him for his name day, and he waited for Balon to come back. And to see if Mandon Moore was his mother's creature. He wondered if she would be angry enough, after his little stunt at the feast, to rush through an attempt to kill him tonight.

He hoped so, he was ready, and he was not drunk, not at all. He was perhaps a little tipsy, but now that he was away from the noise and the fuss, and no more cups were being pressed on him, he was calming down and sobering up. His magic helped a lot in that respect, and now fourteen, he had a greater amount of control over it. He could direct it to his will and he believed that he was a lot more powerful in this world than he had ever been in his old life. He thought that perhaps it stemmed from knowing about his magic at a much earlier age, and how to manipulate and control it at an earlier age too, thanks vastly to his adult memories and knowledge.

It took close to an hour before Balon slipped back into his room. Harry was tired by that time, but willing to force himself to stay awake for his lover.

"Finally, a bit of peace and some time to have you alone." Balon sighed, as he took off his boots and crawled right onto the bed with him, coming to snuggle right up to him.

"It has been a very busy day and we had such an early start." Harry allowed, closing his book and putting it to the side of himself so that he could focus his all on Balon. "Unfortunately, I'm a prince, so I belong to everyone, to the people. But here, now, I belong to you."

That made Balon smile and Harry rolled to put himself on top of his older lover. Balon placed his arm over his shoulders and around his back and cuddled him close. Harry loved these stolen moments.

"I never gave you your gift."

"You are my gift." Harry insisted.

Balon took a kiss and Harry readily gave it, reaching up a hand to stroke along Balon's strong jaw.

"Here." Balon said, reaching into his tunic and pulling out something flat, wrapped in cloth.

Harry sat up and put it on the bed before him, unwrapping it carefully while Balon watched nervously. Harry gasped when he unwrapped a necklace with a small pendant on it. It was beautiful, subtle, made of gold with carefully carved lines of a rippled metal…Valyrian steel. There was a Lannister lion carved onto the front of it with the distinctive crowned stag antlers of House Baratheon protruding from its head and the letters H and B underneath.

He laughed as he saw it. He knew that it stood for Harian and Balon, but people would just assume that it was his initials.

"I made that comment once when I was a child." He said, referring to the antlered lion.

"I remembered and it has stuck in my mind all these years." Balon told him, less nervous now that he'd seen that his gift was well received. "You are a good blend of both houses, the looks and courage of the Baratheons, the intelligence and cunning of the Lannisters. It fits you."

Harry smiled and handed the necklace to Balon and turned so that his lover could put it on for him.

"You must have saved for a year to buy this." Harry complained. "I would have been just as happy with copper or pewter!"

"You are worth all the precious metals. Gold suits you and the carving veined with Valyrian steel…well, since you were a tiny boy of two you have always been fascinated with it. I still remember you asking me if I thought you would ever grow big enough to wield a Valyrian steel greatsword."

Harry nodded and picked up the pendant to play with it as it lay cold on his skin.

"I love it, Balon. Thank you."

"The winnings of the archery contest came in very handy to pay for this. I'm very pleased that I was able to win that contest so that I could afford this for you."

Harry smiled and turned back around to snog Balon.

"I will only take it off when I need to." Harry promised. "It is the best gift I've received."

"You haven't even looked at half of what you have received." Balon laughed. "It is all still in the hall."

"I don't need to look at any of it to know that this is my favourite one." Harry said with a smile.

Balon pulled Harry back into another passionate kiss and even when they were forced to break apart because of the need to breathe, their lips lingered upon one another's, unwilling to be separated for any small moment.

Harry stared into Balon's eyes from a bare inch away and he smiled to himself. Balon felt the smile through his lips upon Harry's own and he answered with a matching smile.

"I love you, you know." Harry declared.

"I know. I could not have failed to know after how you went about 'convincing' me to see you as a lover and not as my ward."

"Can I not be both?" Harry grinned.

Balon laughed. "You have become both. Come here."

"Is the door bolted?" Harry asked, even as he climbed onto Balon's lap.

"It is bolted and everyone is still at the feast. They will be some time yet."

Harry hummed distractedly as he rubbed himself against Balon, in a slow, teasing rhythm, stroking over Balon's lap with his own while tilting his head to capture his lover's lips in a kiss.

"You completely undo me." Balon panted breathlessly as he gripped at Harry's waist and turned them both, putting Harry's back to the feather mattress and squashing him with his own body.

The next several moments were a desperate struggle to remove clothes while being unwilling to part their mouths in order to adequately do so. They broke apart laughing when Balon's breeches got stuck on his ankle.

Balon cursed and set to freeing his legs, but Harry had the impatience of youth thrumming through his body and he refused to wait patiently. He sat up, his hands touching and caressing bare skin, feeling the hard muscle underneath, while his lips pressed kisses and his teeth nibbled lightly over Balon's neck, his chin, up to his ear.

Balon cursed again and Harry heard seams tearing as his lover literally ripped off his clothes and impatiently threw them away from the bed, before turning back to focus on him, snatching him up again into his arms, naked skin pressing to naked skin and Harry's back once again found the mattress.

He spread his legs to cradle Balon's body as close to his own as he could, their mouths locked together once more as their arms grasped around one another's necks and held tight and close.

Harry's hands wandered, stroking over the muscles in Balon's broad shoulders and back, before slipping back up, over his neck and into his thick, dark hair.

"I love touching you." Harry said, stroking light fingers over Balon's scalp.

"I was about to say the same." Balon laughed, two large hands sweeping over the length of Harry's body.

Balon played with Harry, touching him, kissing him, and Harry was a gasping, panting mess, his legs wrapped around Balon's hips to try and get what he wanted most, his arms wrapped around Balon's neck, hands fisting in that black hair as they kissed, continuously and passionately, barely breaking apart for breath, which made them both very lightheaded as the sounds of their breathless pleasure mixed with the rustle of the bed sheets as they writhed together.

"Lay still. Lay still." Balon coached him, pinning down Harry's shoulders and moving to separate them, breathing heavily and gulping in air.

"Balon, I want…I want…"

"I know what you want, just lay still a moment so that I can prepare you."

Harry tried his best to lay still, as his lover wanted, but he kept reaching out to touch Balon, which was distracting the older man from his objective of preparing him.

"Harian, lie still." Balon commanded, reaching up to grab at Harry's wrist, kissing his hand before pinning it up by his head.

"I can't. I'm sorry, but I need you." Harry said desperately.

"If you stay still then I can look after you quicker."

Harry tried to stay still, but his hips wiggled, his legs shifted on the sheets, and he was staring in rapt fascination as Balon dipped his fingers into a vial of oil. His anticipation increased and his breath hitched as he watched. Balon heard him and gave him a smug smile.

Harry loved the feeling of fingers pressing into his body. He had always loved the feeling of being taken and his body responded more now than it had in his other life, when he had been a Potter and not a Baratheon. He assumed that it was to do with his better physical state, he was not malnourished in this life for one, and his body was perfectly toned, so much so that even the slightest glide of a hand made him shudder in reaction.

"You're beautiful." Balon told him.

Harry opened his eyes to look up at his lover, knowing how much Balon loved his eyes, especially when he was lost to his pleasure.

"Don't tease me tonight." He begged.

Balon laughed. "As you wish, my love, but only because it is your name day."

Harry was very happy to hear that he wouldn't be teased, Balon was a demon for teasing him, touching him until Harry felt fit to explode, kissing every inch of his body until he was babbling and close to orgasm. He did not want such endless teasing tonight and he was happy that Balon was indulging his wishes, even if it was only because it was his name day.

The first slip of Balon inside him caught Harry's breath and he locked his legs around his lover's hips to keep him in place, wrapping his arms around Balon's neck to pull him down and into a kiss.

Balon waited for him to settle, just staying inside him, until Harry was able to open his eyes, his breathing calmed a little, to nod his consent.

Balon always started out slowly, calmly, but it drove Harry mad as he wriggled and writhed on the bed, gripping tightly at Balon, his legs wrapped around his lover as he moved within him.

"You promised no teasing." Harry panted.

"I'm not teasing you, Harry, I'm making sure that I won't harm you. It is not the same thing." Balon answered, though he sounded as strained as Harry felt.

"I won't be harmed, now move faster!" He insisted, a note of demand to his voice.

Balon chuckled, but he planted his forearms on the mattress and thrust himself harder, faster, and he watched happily as it took his lover's breath away, caught him on a moan, and made all his muscles clench. Harian knocked his breath away by squeezing tightly with his legs wrapped around his chest, and it made him laugh on a breathless gasp.

"Easy there, lover. Are you trying to break my ribs?"

"Trying…make you…move faster!" Harry moaned, throwing his head back and thrusting his hips up.

Balon chuckled and he lowered his head to touch Harry's, pressing a kiss to his lips. Harry kissed him back, but Balon was not feeling very patient himself, as he pressed in and pulled himself from Harry's body.

He held Harry tightly, trying to keep him still mostly, as he wriggled and writhed like a snake, one of his small hands was gripping into his hair and tugging, but Balon had gotten used to this treatment, as Harry lost himself in his pleasure.

He pushed them closer to their release, closer to their pleasure, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from Harry, pinned underneath him. It was always half of his own pleasure to see Harry so well satisfied and brought to his own release.

Harry shook in his arms as he came down from his orgasm and Balon, having reached his own completion, held him tightly, their damp bodies pressed together. Balon moved to kiss Harry, who hummed happily and kissed him back.

"That was wonderful, thank you, my love." Harry said with a smile, snuggling into him.

Balon hummed. "Happy name day, Harian. My beautiful antlered lion."

Harry snorted a laugh and kissed his neck before putting his face into it, settling himself to sleep.

"It has been a good day, overall." He mumbled, his voice muffled.

"I am glad that you've enjoyed yourself."

Harry hummed. "You've worn me out now."

"Good, you could use the extra sleep after such a day."

Harry laughed, but they both settled themselves down. Harry enjoyed this time, secreted away in his room with Balon, wrapped around him and being held and listening to the strong heartbeat, which was only just slowing down from the furious thumping of their vigorous activities.

He was never more happy in his new life than when Balon had agreed to give their love a chance. He was thankful every day for it and he snuggled in closer to Balon just absorbing his presence. He wouldn't let anyone take this away from him, he wouldn't let anyone take Balon away from him. Not now. Not ever.