Chapter 5: Hadrian the Rough


There were times—not many, mind you, but a few—when Joffrey was glad he had an elder brother. As a fretful serving wench filled his wine goblet once more from an ornate flagon, it struck him that this might be one of them. His elder brother Hadrian settled back in his chair with casual ease as he sat between Joffrey and their father, on their father's left side. The sweet, fruity taste of summer-wine filled his mouth and brought a smile to his lips.

However, Joffrey kept the scowl from his face. The Great Hall of Winterfell left much to be desired in terms of décor.

The hall was hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of roasted meats and freshly baked breads. Its boring grey stone walls were thankfully covered in the banners of great houses. White, gold, crimson: the direwolf of Stark, the Baratheon's crowned stag, the lion of Lannister. A singer was playing the high harp and reciting a ballad, but Joffrey hardly cared for the babbling of long winters survived by ancient savages. And the people of Winterfell knew nothing of etiquette as they clattered their dull pewter plates and cups over the low mutter of a hundred drunken conversations. It was all noise, and the only saving grace to chaos his fourth cup of wine procured for him by Hadrian despite his mother's protests.

It was the fourth hour of the welcoming feast laid out for them, the royal family. Or rather, more so for Joffrey's father, Robert Baratheon, the king. Joffrey and his siblings were seated with their royal family and the host family, the Starks. Joffrey glanced down the raised platform where Tommen and Myrcella were engaged in silly antics with the younger Stark girl while the older Stark girl raised her nose to their foolishness. Good, at least one of the savages had a little modesty.

Looking back up at his own table, Joff watched as his father boomed with laughter at something the Lord Stark had recounted from their younger days. When his father's hand slammed the table, it shook as though it would give way. He did this a few more times with a wine glass almost teetering over if not for the quick hands of Hadrian reaching across the table. Joffrey would never understand how his brother did that, or why. Servants needed something to do with their idle time. Why not allow them to clean the messes of their king? It was an honor befitting their status!

Nursing his fourth glass, Joff wanted nothing more than to drink as much as he had a thrist for. He was a prince! He didn't want to be a drunk like his father, but still he wanted his fill of what the Starks had to offer. It was his birthright! However, his mother would only permit a single glass of wine, no more in honor of the occasion hosted by the Lord and Lady Stark.

Each child a glass of wine, but no more than that.

At least, until tonight with Hadrian sitting next to him.

Or rather, with him sitting next to Hadrian.

Joffrey fought hard not to scowl at that. If his mother had her way, he would be at the table below the platform he now sat atop with his father, mother, and elder brother. His mother treated him like a child, and while normally Joffrey didn't care much about that fact, it was embarrassing to be treated such in the presence of barbarians like the Stark family.

Hadrian's other family, as his mother so liked to remind everyone. If she had it her way, Hadrian would be with the Starks forever and never again set foot in King's Landing. Even Joffrey could see that now that he was aged enough to understand the withering looks his mother cast Joffrey's elder sibling. Hadrian, however, never seemed to care much. Joffrey's mother was an afterthought to him, but Joff was just glad his brother still paid his mother—their queen—the due respect of her titles as the king's wife and queen of the realm. And since Hadrian did pay her respect, Joffrey could normally tolerate whenever his elder brother got fed up with his mother. It wasn't often, but it happened enough for their uncle, Tyrion, to snicker about. It was usually just simple things, like squeezing his mother's hand a little too hard, or subtly wording a barb against her that made Joffrey's queen-mother rage about for days afterward.

And things like tonight also made Hadrian's roguish ways tolerable. How Hadrian had argued for Joffrey to start getting a few more privileges now that he was older. Freedoms like sitting with the adults at the adult table, and having a few more glasses of wine at a party. Hadrian said it would better prepare him for when he had to start doing it with people who weren't family, but Joff's mother had scowled at that quip. She didn't consider the Stark savages as their family, and nor did Joffrey.

However, Joffrey would never let Hadrian know that little fact after tonight.

Hadrian always considered the Starks family, even though their Lannister ties were family for much longer in Hadrian's life and were geologically closer than the northern stronghold of Winterfell. Still, Hadrian loved the Starks, and Joffrey could only continue to question his affection for the brutes of the North. The Starks were hardy people, rough around the edges and solemn beyond sanity. Joffrey despised them and their harsh snowy lands of barren winter. There were almost no plants, no animals, nothing beauty about it under than when he had first travelled north at a young age for one of Hadrian's namedays. It had been so white and pure that Joffrey had thought it heavenly. Then he rode for hours through the cold and hated it as he did from that point on. Every time he was forced to come north he missed flowers and bright sunlight that warmed his skin a little more with each passing second. He missed the fresh bay air from his towered room in the castle back home as it rose over the stench of the common rabble.

Joffrey loved his Lannister family best. His father's brothers—Joff's own uncles, Renly and Stannis, were… okay… in small dosages. Stannis had the personality of driftwood, and Renly had a little too much personality for his own good. Stannis was too serious, and Renly didn't take things seriously enough. And Joffrey didn't even want to get started on his crazy aunt Selyse, a dour old cow of a woman who managed to make even Joffrey's uncle Stannis, her husband, look interesting and tame. Then there was his cousin Shireen, who while a very nice person, was exceedingly weak-willed and ugly because of her Grayscale affliction.

Joffrey's real family—the Lannisters—were nothing but the most appealing and rich. Powerful and strong. Cunning and ambitious. Physically breathtaking and mentally unchallenged.

Or at least, that was his mother's opinion. One that he was beginning to understand with the Starks and the North so forcefully in front of his vision. He had sated his curiosity about the Northern people when they made their entrance. The procession had been boring to say the least, more so than any other place south of the Neck whenever Joffrey was required to go somewhere outside King's Landing.

His mother had been escorted in first, her arm held loftily by Lord Eddard Stark. The savages had whispered earnestly about her beautiful. A jeweled tiara gleamed amidst her long golden hair, its emeralds deeper than her green eyes, but a perfect match for the green of Hadrian's own eyes. Lord Stark helped her up the steps to the dais and led her to her seat, but Joffrey smirked as he noticed how his queen-mother never so much as looked at the man. Even at fourteen, Joff could see through her smile.

Next had come his king-father himself, with Lady Stark on his arm. His father was a great disappointment to Joffrey. The peerless Robert Baratheon, demon of the Trident, the fiercest warrior of the realm, a giant among princes. Joffrey only saw a formerly great man going to seed as he sweat through his silks and went red under his beard. His father was a man half in his cups, half in the past, and half ignorance as he denied his mother's family positions at court because other people in the seven kingdoms "deserved" them. Joffrey scoffed at the notion. The seven kingdoms barely deserved to be called such a thing if they were united under one ruler.

If Joffrey were king, there would only be the Baratheon royal kingdom, and only his family would profit from what he ruled over. After all, kingdoms were built upon great houses. Lineages. Heritages. Families. Only the Baratheon and Lannister names mattered, and only they would reap the rewards of the seven kingdom joined as one under the greatest king to ever grace Westeros with his birth: Joffrey Baratheon.

That was… if Joffrey were king…

Sadly, such an empire would never come to fruition because of his being born second in the king's line of succession.

All because of stupid Hadrian… a kingdom that would have stood for a thousand generations under the Baratheon crowned stag…

Joffrey drained the last of his wine quickly as those thoughts came and fled his mind. He would come to be a fine advisor to his brother Hadrian whenever he ascended the throne. With that he could potentially and hopefully save his vision of the future from complete ruin. Maybe with his help it would still come true, and history would remember him as the architect of such a masterful design. Myabe the Baratheon king line would stay just as long, or even outlast that of the former Targaryen dragons.

"You seem to be in thought, little brother." Hadrian had a voice that could cut through any noise without needing to shake the room like their father's booming tone. "Do cups make you more thoughtful? Better than what it does to father, at least."

Hadrian had worn his golden circlet, a simple and humble choice. It held no jewels, only an intricate design in the metal that looked like a thousand racing stags on the charge; all flowing toward the center of his forehead where two great stags met in a fierce lock of horns.

A simple and humble choice.

A stupid one, Joffrey thought while eyeing the crummy thing.

Joffrey's circlet was thicker and shinier, lined with so many emeralds and sapphires that one could not tell exactly where the jewels began or ended.

And that was just the way Joff liked his jewels and his jewelry.

His golden choker was expensive too, well nestled into his high velvet collar. The choker as well-polished by some servant back at the Red Keep, and for once Joffrey wouldn't have to kick the girl for touching his possessions without his expressed permission.

"Another cup of the Freezefear wine for my prince brother. And a cup of the Frostmere whiskey for myself." Hadrian said above the raucous clatter of the great hall. Joffrey busied himself with giving the Winterfell great hall bored and disdainful looks, daring any lesser beings to question his thirst.

"I think my son has had enough for the evening," Joffrey's mother, the queen, interjected, but Hadrian waved her off as he normally did.

"Nonsense! My brother needs a taste for wine. I'll not have him confuse mead and ale in presence when we sup with great houses. Good uncle Tyrion and father have taught me a thing or two, and hopefully Joffrey can learn just as much."

"My son will learn nothing from that—" his mother cut her spiteful words short, and Joffrey saw how much it amused Hadrian to get under her skin.

However, instead of continuing the spat as Joffrey would have thought of his mother, she decidedly turned her attention to uncle Jamie, and began having a quick and hushed conversation. Whatever was said left uncle Jamie smiling and Joffrey's mother fuming. Joff's father didn't even say a word, but his eye caught everything as he tipped his chalice to Joffrey and Hadrian from where he sat at the head of the table.

As a fretful serving wench refilled his golden goblet, Joffrey honored her with a small smile, gleeful as the girl went flush with heat for him. He didn't care much for women the way his father did, but it did give him some pleasure to know that he was handsome enough to make any woman blessed to be in his presence.

With those pleasant thoughts turning in his head, Joff savored a fresh gulp of his wine. Soon, maybe even on the eve of his next nameday, there would be no one to stop Joff drinking as much as he had a thirst for.

And he was finding that he had a man's thirst, to the raucous delight of his father and brother, who urged him on every time they caught him with golden goblet in hand.

"Now then," Hadrian began, a small smile on his face as he turned back to Joffrey, "what's on that disturbing little mind of yours, Joffrey?"

"Nothing that concerns you, brother." Joffrey muttered, but knew that Hadrian had heard him. Hadrian hardly missed anything Joffrey said.

"I believe anything that enters the spider's web called your brain concerns me… and the entire table for that matter, little brother." Hadrian nudged Joffrey playfully, Joffrey was hardly in the mood for any such false affections. Hadrian was only ever playful with him when he wanted something or needed information Joffrey hadn't even considered secret.

"Don't play coy with me, Hadrian. What do you want?" Joffrey drawled, setting his golden goblet out at arm's reach. It would not do him well if Hadrian caught him drunk and unawares.

Hadrian's emerald eyes followed his movements like a predator watching prey. "I was going to ask how you were enjoying your wine, but I can see that you like it greatly. So thus, I'll move on from pleasantries, and state my true query: how are you enjoying Winterfell's hospitality?"

"It's nothing more than they owe us for gracing their halls. Don't try to make it sound like they're being extra courteous, brother."

"Ah," Hadrian leaned back in his chair, savoring his newly filled cup after thanking the serving wench. Joffrey would never give thanks to a servant who was simply doing their job. "I sometimes forget you don't visit the North nearly as much as myself. You don't see its splendor… its bounty…"

"If we are being honest… It is all a little too drab and tiresome up here. There are no great works of art, no songs to be heard, no women dancing for my amusement. This place… Winterfell… it is boring to me. The North might as well be a barren wasteland for all interest that is here." Joffrey smiled, whether to himself or his brother even he didn't know.

Hadrian, however, did not look amused. "Don't ever say such a profoundly stupid thing again, Joffrey. The North holds a vastness that the other kingdoms lack. And unlike Dorne, the North can protect every inch of their lands without resorting to cheap hit-and-run tactics. There are things here in the North that you would believe impossible."

"You mean like that mutt you've acquired while here?" Joffrey had seen the beast. It was a runt.

Well, at least when compared to Harry's beast back at the castle. What was that thing's name again…?

"Yes, Severus is something, isn't he? Only a month, and he's already nearly the size of a full-grown dog. Just imagine how big he'll be in a year." Hadrian took up his chalice once again. Joffrey scowled at the disgusting thing. He would never drink from such cheap glass in his life. Yet, Hadrian had no problem holding it as if it were gold.

But no, gold was what Joffrey and his family had brought with them in order to avoid doing exactly what Hadrian was doing now. Well, Hadrian was not the only one. Their father, uncle Jamie, and uncle Tyrion were drinking and eating off the cheap pewter as well.

And speaking of uncle Tyrion… where was it that the Imp was slipping away to now?

Hadrian too had caught the Imp leaving the feast early after making excuses, but his eyes once again locked on Joffrey.

"If enormous dogs are the best the North has to offer, then I believe I'll be just fine not appreciating its… splendor…"

"There is much more to the North than wolves and ice." Hadrian said with a glint to his eyes, but then looked at Joffrey from over the rim of his pewter chalice as he sipped his whiskey.

"Of course there is…" Joffrey refrained from rolling his eyes.

"The North has warriors, not knights who all practice the appearance of warriors, but actual warriors, Joffrey. The North has fighters here that worth ten in the South. It's cold that does it… it hardens a person. Man or women, elder or child… winter will never find the North unprepared for its wrath."

"I've no doubt about their fighting capacity, Hadrian." After all, the North was filled with savages. They were little more than beasts, so of course they should have the ability to fight with greater strength than normal men. However, savages didn't have the strength of mind like knights did. Nor the grace. "The North was a major help in father winning his throne."

"Ha!" Hadrian barked with laughter, "You don't fool me, little brother. We both know that the North and the Vale practically handed father his crown with Uncle Ned all but placing it on his head... But you don't fool me, Joffrey. Not one bit. You don't respect the North. You think it's just a bunch of ice and snow. You are probably of the same mind that Dorne is nothing but sand."

Joff rolled his eyes, "That's because Dorne is nothing but sand."

"Then why, Joffrey? Why are the North and Dorne two of the great seven kingdoms if they are nothing but snow and sand?" Hadrian leaned forward at Joff, now looking curious for his answer.

The blond prince rolled his eyes once again. "Because a long time ago they had submitted themselves to Aegon the Conqueror, who in my opinion was far too kind to the whelps with the type of power he wielded."

"Too kind, you say." Harry echoed as though stunned by the words alone. Joffrey nodded.

"Yes. Far too kind. He possessed not only an army of men loyal to himself, but the greatest thing the Targaryens ever possessed in history: dragons."

"Dragons? You think that was the best thing about House Targaryen and its kings? Their dragons?"

"Of course. If I possessed a dragon, I would conquer all the lands. From the Iron Isles to the furthest reaches of Essos, all the lands would tremble at the might of my army with dragons flying overhead."

"Dragons wouldn't help you rule the world, Joffrey. They'd only get you killed quicker." Hadrian took a deep gulp from his pewter chalice.

"The dragons would be an asset, not the main fighting force. They would burn villages and castles to the ground before my armies came in to demolish whatever was left."

"If you possessed a dragon, Joffrey, it would eat you alive. Dragons don't bend to the will of just any man."

"Then it is a good thing I was born a prince."

"A prince who thinks too much of a dragon." Hadrian smiled, and Joffrey found it did not settle well with him. "Your dragon would be shot down by the archers placed upon castle walls… at least, if it got that close to begin with. They'd probably launch scorpion bolts at it until they at least clipped a wing. The moment a dragon stops flight when the enemy knows about it is the moment it is in danger."

"What nonsense are you talking about?" the blond scowled at his older brother. Leave it to Hadrian to always have all the answers. "Dragons can breathe fire! They are massive!"

"And yet, flames can only travel so far. Size only matters if it can be used against an enemy. The dragons most use tool is their ability to fly. The ultimate expression of maneuverability. The power to go as far as their wings would carry them. To sail clean over any walls, any armies, any rivers or seas. A dragon's best power is flight, and once that is taken from it; it might as well be a horse with a torch. Sooner rather than later, the dragon will be overwhelmed and killed."

"Yes, well…" Joffrey tried to regain some footing with his brother. He always saw dragons as fire-breathing demons for conquest. He only ever gave the barest thought to their ability to fly. It was more novelty than actual power to Joffrey. "Dragons are extinct now, so it doesn't matter. Besides, if a dragon ever did return to the lands, we'd be well prepared to capture it rather than kill it. Then we could breed more dragons hopefully, and bring all the kingdom under one banner: House Baratheon."

"…you've been thinking about this, haven't you?"

"Of course. These are all subjects mother and I have discussed at length during our travel up here with father. She prepared me, so as not to be caught unawares for something of this nature."

"Ah, that figures it. She trained you on how both fronts, hmm?"

"Both fronts?"

"Yes, how to speak what you—or rather she—really thinks about the North to the Lannister men who've come with you, and you probably have some good responses for the Starks if they should ask you anything about the North."

"Of course." Joffrey smiled over the rim of his goblet, but then he scowled so deeply at Hadrian the other quirked an eyebrow, "However, don't call it her training me. It sounds as though I were no better than those mutts of you keep."

Hadrian then gave Joffrey one of those looks. A look that told him that his next words would be harsh, but carry great meaning. He stared hard at Joffrey, almost as if glaring into the prince's soul, but Joffrey was proud that he only flinched back a little. A few years ago one of those looks would have calling mother to his defense.

"When you let someone else, anyone else—even your mother—make your opinions for you, then you are no better than the mutts I keep, my naïve little brother." Hadrian snarled, and for a split moment, Joffrey was afraid his brother would strike him across the face, or raise his voice in a roar like their father would. Worse yet, in front of everyone.

Or even worse, look down on Joffrey from that day forth like child who clung too closely to their mother's dress.

However, there must have been something in his expression that told his elder brother what he had just thought was to come, as Hadrian took a deep breath before rising from the table.

"I shall take my leave of the festivities, everyone." Hadrian said, and all the conversations at the table paused for his announcement. "Please, enjoy the rest of the feast on my behalf."

The others gave their goodnights to him, and Hadrian swept off from the hall while Joffrey watched him leave with something akin to horror.

Was he truly what Hadrian had cast upon him with unspoken words?

Was he really a mama's boy?


"Severus, to me." Harry said aloud to the quiet and near empty yard. A lone sentry stood high on the battlements of the inner wall, his cloak pulled tight around him against the cold. He looked bored and miserable as he huddled there alone.

Then a pair of gleaming eyes peered out from the shadows of the inner wall, and a large black shadow slowly morphed away from the wall in a jog as Severus came reluctantly to Harry's call. Harry chuckled a bit as he threw the dog a leg of chicken, which it took earnestly by tearing apart with all the haste of a starved wolf.

But the damn mutt was never starved, this Harry knew.

The sounds of music and song spilled through the open windows behind the crown prince.

Harry began to walk around the castle with little thought to where he was going. He did this wherever he was when he found himself practically vexed by thought or emotion. It was never too often that something bothered Harry. Normally was it was the problems of Dragonstone that made Harry walk through empty halls, but today it was Cersei Lannister.

Or rather, what Cersei Lannister was doing to his brother, Joffrey Baratheon.

The woman was a poison Harry felt was slowly eating away at the kingdom. All she did was turn her nose up at anyone who wasn't a Lannister and go to any lengths she could to make her presence known as queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

Like all the extravagant parties and feasts and tourneys she held in honor of her Lannister family, or her children, or to bring more Lannister squires into knighthood.

It was sickening.

And as much as Harry had tried to stop it with the little time spent with his brother Joffrey, Cersei was poisoning Joffrey's mind as much as she was trying to put the crown in debt to her father, Tywin Lannister.

Of course, it was always an argument with that woman. And it always ended the same: the debt was on the Lannisters if they chose to lend their precious Cersei even a single gold dragon for whatever it was she demanded. And of course Cersei always demanded.

And so, of course, Tywin always supplied.

But now Cersei was making Joffrey into a puppet, and that was what bothered Harry.

Joffrey might have had a mean streak, a cruelty that Harry wanted to beat out of his brother, but if it was combined with the haughty stupidity that was Cersei's Lannister-mindset, then the Seven Kingdoms were in trouble if Harry could not stop it.

Especially since he knew Cersei wouldn't be able to control it.

The woman made evil; she rarely displayed the ability to tame it to her will.

Unlike Harry himself.

It would seem that since his brother was growing into a ma now, Harry would have to keep him on a closer leash than expected.

"Jon!" Harry called as he returned to the empty yard outside the feast. Jon turned to him, a watery smile on his face.

Had Jon been crying just then?

Behind Jon, Tyrion Lannister was sitting on the ledge above the door to the Great Hall, looking for all the world like a gargoyle. The dwarf grinned down at them.

"Are those animals there wolves? My brother and sister have been most fervent about your… pets, Harry."

"They are direwolves, Uncle Tyrion." Harry said, his furrowed brow relaxing as he and Jon stared up at the little man.

"What? Another one?" Tyrion said as he cocked his head to the side, "What of the one back at the castle you returned with after inspecting the Wall and beyond?"

"Remus is a summer wolf. Severus belongs to the winter." Harry explained, but he saw Tyrion didn't quite understand. "Remus came from beyond the Wall, but I found Severus here on this side near Long Lake. That means that winter is coming soon to the Seven Kingdoms."

"If you say so, nephew." Tyrion waved Harry off, but was probably thinking about his words more than he'd like to show, "For now, however, its too hot, too noisy, and I'd drunk too much wine."

"You didn't happen to vomit on uncle Jamie, did you?"

"I learned long ago that it is considered rude to vomit on your brother."

"Oh well, one can only hope…"

"Can he climb down?" Jon said to Harry, probably louder than he thought was being. Jon's breath smelt of summer-wine. "Shall I bring a ladder?"

"Oh, bleed that," Tyrion said before he pushed himself off the ledge into empty air. Jon gasped, but Harry only chuckled as they watched Tyrion Lannister. He spun around in a tight ball, landed lightly on his hands, then vaulted backward onto his legs.

Severus and Ghost backed away from him uncertainly, like opposite sides of a mirror moving in reflection.

The half-man dusted himself off and laughed. "I believe I've frightened your wolves. My apologies."

"He's not scared," Jon said as he knelt and called out. "Ghost, come here. Come on. That's it." The wolf pup padded closer and nuzzled at Jon's face, but he kept a wary eye on Tyrion Lannister, and when the dwarf reached out to pet him, he drew back and bared his fangs in a silent snarl.

"Shy, isn't he?" Tyrion observed.

"Severus, to me." Harry said, and Severus moved warily to sit at Harry's left leg, shielding himself from Tyrion who he sniffed at.

"Sit, Ghost," Jon commanded. "That's it. Keep still."

He looked up at the dwarf. "You can touch him now. He won't move until I tell him to. I've been training him."

"I see," Tyrion smiled as he ruffled the snow-white fur between Ghost's ears. "Nice wolf."

"If I wasn't here, he'd tear out your throat," Jon said. It wasn't actually true yet, but it would be.

Harry snorted as he tried to hold back his laughter. "In that case, you had best stay close."

Jon rose. Standing, already twice the size of Tyrion. Harry remembered that feeling. The strangest of being taller than someone three times your age.

"Jon, have you seen Gendry at the feast?" Harry asked as Jon nodded.

"He was drinking with the squires. They all seemed nice enough…"

Harry nodded, taking note of the way Jon's face fell. "Good. I was worried he might have gone looking for me instead of enjoying himself. It's not often he gets to enjoy the company of boys his age and yours. Almost a whole year now that he's only had the Griffguard and me to take his meals with. Arthur and Brienne always ruin a meal with talk of training. And me… well, I'm poor enough company as it is."

Jon and Tyrion laughed at that, but then gave each other stunned looks as they cut their laughter short upon seeing the other mirror them. It must have been surreal to see someone so different have the same opinion on something like Harry's sense of humor.

"Jon, right?" Tyrion said with curiosity dripping in his tone, "As in Jon Snow, correct? As in Ned Stark's bastard son? The one our dear king Robert hugged upon our arrival?"

"That I am." Jon said, puffing his chest up a bit.

There had been a time where Jon hated being called a bastard by anyone and everyone, but now he was used to it. No one in Winterfell treated him poorly, and since Harry went gallivanting around the Seven Kingdoms with his bastard brothers, Edric and Gendry, for a time, no one was sure how they should approach the subject of bastards.

With nearing the time of his own rule from the Iron Throne, the entire continent was a little more tolerant of bastards as their soon-to-be king seemed to take no offense by them.

At least, so long as they didn't try to overstep their place in society. Yes, some of them could rise, but they could never take the place of a living legitimate heir or such.

"Then you are the one begging to join the Night's Watch." Tyrion drawled, slowly drinking in Jon's appearance as though the boy would drop dead before him.

"I haven't—I didn't—I was not begging!" Jon snarled as Tyrion rolled his eyes.

"Personally, I don't understand why you're so obessed with the Night's Watch." Harry drawled himself with a shrug as Jon rounded on him.

"I am not ob—"

"You are very obsessed. Especially when I've offered to take you into my Griffguard." Harry said as Jon clamored to his feet.

"I want to join the Night' Watch so people fear me due to skill, not who my family is."

"Then you should have thought of that before you were born the bastard son of the Quiet Wolf, good-brother to the King of Westeros known to all men of the Seven Kingdoms as the Taker of Crowns, and Demon of the Trident." Tyrion sneered softly as Jon turned back to him, his face flushed with either the wine or his own embarrassment.

"As much as I want the Wall to be manned by those of your quality, Jon, I still think you'd do better with me and the Griffguard." Harry took Jon's shoulder and gave him a hard look. "You might feel that taking the Black is the only honorable thing you can do, but remember that honor isn't everything in every moment. Some men wait a lifetime for the honorable thing to come to them, and some make honor out of their bad decisions. Honor is defined by what you do, how people see it, and why you do what needs doing. Think about your options before you jump into something you know nothing about."

"I know all I need to about the Black!" Jon retorted, probably louder than he meant to. He slapped away Harry's hand, stumbling a bit at the sudden unbalance. "I know I'd be giving up women… and marriage… and… and other things, but—"

"But nothing, boy," Tyrion said, and his stern voice cowed Jon almost like a king's tone. "Harry and I have been to the Wall, and boys like you would sooner run away from your sworn oath if the first things you think you're giving up are whores and sex. Marriage is just spending time with one whore for her entire life."

"Erm hmph," Harry cleared his throat, seeing as he was about to be married in the coming few months.

"Apologizes, nephew," Tyrion said, though didn't look the least bit sorry.

Tyrion turned back to Jon, his eyes stern again as he looked up at the youth. "The point is, marriage and sex aren't your two biggest worries if you join the Wall. What about the family you have here and now? The little girl I saw just early today outclassing her brother in bow and sword? Or the boy who can climb like a trained circus monkey? Or the older girl who stood like a proper lady of the South with more dignity than I've seen from any woman in a while. Or the oldest Stark child who kept looking for you at the table? Or your dear father, who rambled on and on about how proud he was of each of his children."

"And the wife who hates me with every fiber of her being." Jon seethed with his fists clenched.

Tyrion nodded while waving him off dismissively, "Yes, you'll have to excuse her that. She's only a woman."

"Your opinion of women is noted, good uncle." Harry said in an exasperated tone.

"Just think about this boy." Tyrion drawled with the shake of his head. "Even give it a bit of a trial period, if you need." Tyrion shared a look with Harry. "If you want to go and try your luck at the Wall so bloody much, then you can accompany me there while I take my time pissing off the damn thing. If you like it, I'll leave you there with the best of wishes. If you suddenly remember common senses, then you'll accompany me back to humanity and join Harry's ill named band of merry misfit knights."

"Careful, Uncle Tyrion," Harry said with a small smirk, "Any of those misfit knights could cut you apart as easily as carving a cake."

"You stole that from Barristan."

"No," Harry smirked wider, "he taught it to me."

Jon looked solemn, "I'll do as you ask, Harry." Because of course he knew it was all Harry's idea. Only Harry had such honeyed words for him. Tyrion didn't know him, and certainly won't care about him in the least. "But you don't understand what it means to be a bastard. Neither of you do. You might help your bastard brothers, but you'll never understand them… their lives… what it means to go through life with the word bastard hanging over your head…"

"All dwarves are bastards in their father's eyes…" Tyrion said slowly with a shrug, no longer hurt by what he had dealt with for over twenty years of his life.

"It's not the same thing…" Jon muttered stubbornly.

"You are right, Jon," Jon turned to Harry, hearing how hollow his voice sounded. "What would I know about the life of a bastard brother or of you? I only watched my mother die before my young eyes after being prisoner to a crazed prince just as mad as his father… Then got shoved into the role of a prince myself with a woman who tried her damnedest to make me feel as though my freshly-dead mother and I weren't worth her chamber pot…"

"Harry…" Tyrion said, hanging his head and sighing.

"A woman who my father had to marry before my mother was even properly buried…"

"I didn't know…" Jon looked horrified between Tyrion and Harry.

"A woman who told me every day that she would see me dead before she saw me on a throne that belonged to her family… her soon to be born son…"

"Harry, its over." Tyrion tried to reach for Harry's arm, but he was slapped away. Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"Whispers surrounded me for a long time too, Jon. Assassins with daggers… poison plots… Kidnappings… And that woman, Cersei Lannister, was only behind a few of them every year in my childhood. She made the first few years of my life in that grand castle as miserable as she could, but I have to give her some thanks because she made me stronger than her in her attempts to break me."

"Harry… I… I didn't know…"

"Of course you didn't know," Harry snarled, "you don't think about anyone but yourself since the world apparently revolved around you. You and your women. You and your marriage. You and your other things."

Jon backed away from the heated glare Harry was now throwing him. Instead of the anger for what had been brought up from bad memories, Harry was channeling that anger to fuel his tirade at Jon.

"Uncle Ned gave you a blessed life, and all you want to do is run away from it because one person makes you doubt you belong to it. Arya loves you. Sansa loves you, but doesn't show it as much because of Aunt Cat and that damnable Septa you lot keep. Bran loves you. Rickon loves you. Robb loves you. Uncle Ned loves you best and most. And hell, even Theon likes to annoy you because he feels you're the only one around that has any respect for him here in the North. Just because Aunt Cat doesn't like or love you, that makes it all unbearable?"

"I… it… she…"

"She makes you stronger. Let her say what she will. Let her look down on you." Harry grabbed him by his collar, and with a strength like his massive father, Harry held Jon off his feet with one hand. "Let her hatred fuel you. Drive you to train harder. Become smarter. Become better than she could ever expect. Only then will you have the last laugh. Only then will you have truly won the fight against her. AND CERSEI LANNISTER WILL NEVER HAVE THE BETTER OF ME!"

With that said, Harry dropped Jon in the snow of the empty yard. The lone sentinel was gawking up on the armaments, his vigilance forgotten in lieu of the drama going on down in the yard. Harry looked up at the man, and made him trip back into his position of standing guard. With a final hard look at Jon's face and then Tyrion's stunned expression, Harry swept from the yard in kingly fashion, Severus at his heels like loyal beast should.

"Well then," Tyrion said, clapping his hands together once, "Remind me to never get on my dear nephew's bad side."

Jon looked up at Tyrion, who was his position on the snowy yard ground was practically towering over him. "Only if you'll do the same for me…"

"Indeed."


So there you have it! Not exactly the chapter I had planned, mind you, but work and college have kept me busy and off balance.

This chapter, at least for me, was… ehh. I didn't like the way it turned out, but that's a part of writing. Sometimes you'll have really great chapters, and some chapters will just be bad. I don't mind that, as it'll drive me to write better in the next chapter. This chapter though was not at all what I had planned. It was supposed to be a chapter where Joffrey's personality shows over the feast. It was supposed to show how Joffrey respects and even loves Harry as his brother, but doesn't quite like Harry as a person because Harry is constantly on his case about the way he's turning out. Ya know, like a real big brother would be. The chapter was also supposed to showcase how Joffrey is more book-smart than Harry, who is more worldly and likeable than Joffrey. Sort of a callback to how Stannis is smarter than Robert, but people like Robert better nonetheless. The chapter was also supposed to show how each brother would run their kingdom. Joffrey would bully the other kingdoms into one empire, but Harry would slowly make them think it was their own idea. And this chapter was also supposed to show just how much Cersei's influence is now an ingrained part of Joffrey's mindset, and how absent Harry and Robert are compared to the mother-hen that is Cersei Lannister.

The chapter was going to be a fight between Cersei and Harry over Joffrey, but I decided against this as Harry no longer fights with Cersei and Cersei would never publicly fight with anyone. Cersei was supposed to show just how much she wants Harry dead and Harry was supposed to show just how much Cersei doesn't bother him anymore, but deep down she is the core of what bothers him. Harry has grown up to have tougher skin than most because of Cersei's brand of evil, and so he goes around creating goodwill since he knows how stupid and evil people can be through Cersei and her Lannister cronies. It also shows that Cersei has practically driven Harry to be more like Robert than most people realize because Harry doesn't drink and whore the way Robert does. Harry is rough like Robert, and strong like him, but Harry is also ill-tempered and violent when people get him angry. Call it wolfsblood; call it Baratheon rage; call it whatever you want. Cersei brought it out of Harry at a very young age, and she is the source of all Harry's misery after he became a prince.

I also revealed some things in this chapter that I had planned to keep hidden until the part of the story where they return to King's Landing. Those small parts include Remus the direwolf which Harry got from his first exploration beyond the Wall, so there. Now you know why the black wolf wasn't named Remus or Sirius. Sirius is the name of another beast Harry has, one that was revealed by Ned in a previous chapter to be somewhere on Dragonstone. You guys also now know that Harry was at the Wall and even beyond it.

Remus, first direwolf found beyond the Wall where Harry went with his original Griffguard members, Tyrion, and some men of the Night's Watch. Who were the men of the Watch that accompanied him? Who were these original Griffguard members? What else did Harry encounter beyond the Wall? How did this trip change him?

Sirius, a beast back at Dragonstone. What is Sirius?

Severus, a direwolf Harry found near Long Lake after an execution.

Lily, a Valyrian-steel sword Harry keeps on him most of the time with a twin sword named Prongs.

Prongs, a Valyrian-steel sword that harry keeps along with its twin, Lily.

Members of the Griffguard so far: Arthur Dayne, Brienne of Tarth, Nymen Martell, and Jonothor Darry.

Questions? Comments? Concerns? REVIEW!

Like it? Hate it? Kiss it? Burn it? REVIEW!

Next chapter (hopefully) - October 30th

Chapter Six: Stark Emotions for the Starks

Hopefully everyone doesn't mind the crappiness of this chapter, and likes the story as a whole so far.

Until Next Time, See Ya!