NOTES: This chapter and a few others after it are a bit fast paced, mostly filling in the time before the start of Game of Thrones. But, I still wanted the chapter to have some depth and feeling, not mindless filler. Hopefully, I accomplished my task.

Special Thanks to GenoBeast and coldblue for their prospectives. They have been very detailed in their reviews. Coldblue if you want answers to those questions, you gotta PM me. I don't want people who don't want to know to accidentally read it and curse me for putting it up.

Guy and gals, I have been getting some pretty depressing PM's and reviews. I wrote this story with a lot of hope and anxiety at actually posting a story I wrote. A few of them have been really good at critiquing, so I am grateful for that. But, man, some of them just say it sucks. I mean I got no problem with people saying it sucks, but what can I do to make it better. It seems as if the longest reviews I get are people saying this thing blows.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I will not let it get me discouraged. For every negative review I get, there are more than ten that say they enjoy it. It is for those readers and myself that I post this. To everyone who reviewed, to everyone who PM'd me to say that they loved the story: thank you. Sincerely, thank you. I never understood how hard it was to post stories people wrote, but now I do. I also know how…gratifying it is for everyone to ask questions or when I get e-mail notifications that I got reviews, follows, and favorites. I want this story to be near the top of the HP/GoT section in all three sections. And that will only happen because of all of you.

So, thank you. This early release is to show you my appreciation.

Cheers

~Jin

290 AC – Dragonstone

The entire hall was alive with commotion. Men drank and ate, grabbed serving girls in their drunken stupor, and sang merrily to their victory. They had just arrived home and were invited to Dragonstone to feast to their triumph over the Grejoy fleet at the Fair Isles. Many boasted great deeds, telling tall tales, as men who had too much ale in them tend to do.

But, none crowed louder than the men of the Prayer.

They spoke boisterously and often to anyone willing to hear their story, which was everyone, about the tenacity of their commander, a young man of five-and-ten who was the first to board their enemy's ships. Some of the stories were far-fetched: Harry had slew twenty men single handedly, he jumped the height of five men to cut down an Ironborn, and Muirgen's personal favorite, Balon Greyjoy shook in fear at Harry's gore covered armor so much that he could do nothing but buckle and bent the knee not to the king, but Harry himself.

She laughed because all those stories had some measure of truth. Harry had killed twenty men, more actually if they counted Great Wyk. He had jumped off their ship to board the Greyjoy, but it was only a man and a half high at most with the assistance of the railing. And, Harry did make Balon Greyjoy bend the knee, but with his fist and sword rather than pure intimidation.

Still, it made for entertaining stories.

He had earned a knighthood when they went to King's Landing, knighted by his uncle for heroic services to the realm. A fact that his father, Stannis, was immensely proud of and his mother swooned about. Lady Selyse had not stopped painting her son in the picture of a brave heroic knight all little girls had read about when they were young.

Though Muirgen knew the truth. Harry had lived all his life like an honorable knight. At least, as long as she had known him. He did not need the title for her to know that much true.

But, it was also true that in combat, a dirtier fighter she knew none.

'Honor is how one's lives their lives, in a fight its all about surviving. Honor and survival tend to be contradictory', he had said to her once. But, once was all that was needed for Muirgen to have the saying memorized.

Others had been knighted as well, but Muirgen paid them no mind. They were of little consequence to her. The king had also recognized her for her strength and ordered a commission for a flanged mace, made of castle-forged steel, which he paid for with the Crown's coin. Honestly, she liked the weapon; it reminded her much of home. The women of House Mormont were known for their use of a mace. And though she was an unrecognized bastard, they had treated her well before she left to come into Harry's service.

It was no knighthood, but it was more than she could expect because of her gender.

At the feast, she sat at Harry's right hand, since he did not have a wife yet. They spoke of the battles and compared them to their travels, telling Lady Selyse more about their time abroad and retold some of the others. They left the more gruesome aspects, using euphemisms to avoid harsher terms.

The hall was louder and wilder than Lord Stannis would have liked, but said nothing and allowed the loyal men their fun. Such an occasion was good for morale, as it allowed them to celebrate not only their victory, but also the good men and friends they had lost.

Harry stood and rapped his hand on top of the table to gather everyone's attention. Everyone was quick to hush seeing the young man many openly proclaimed much respect for. The Fair Isles and Great Wyk were generally seen as victories of Stannis Baratheon, but the men knew who had led the charge at Great Wyk and later the vanguard at Pyke.

Once the men were quieted, Harry walked around the table with a mug of ale in one hand.

"I want to make a toast," The men cheered and raised their glasses, "To the good men who sacrificed themselves for the protection of the Kingdoms, may the rest peacefully now."

"Here, here!" came the reply in agreement.

"To the men of the Prayer who stood by me. Who soldiered on through the storm of the seas and the muck of Pyke!"

"Here, here!" came from the knights who sailed with Harry. They were fewer in number than the grand hall, but just as loud.

"History will never forget that we good men stood against brigands, pirates, and slavers! That we stood face-to-face with men who hailed themselves the best sailors of the seas and we sent those bastards to their Drowned god!"

The knights gathered didn't bother with words, instead roaring their approval so loudly the stones of the hall shook.

"History will never forget because we will never let them!" Harry down the rest of his mug and threw the cup in the center of the room; a clamor of other cups soon followed.

"But, I have my own personal thanks to give. I would do it publically, so all here may witness."

Harry turned to the high table that Muirgen and his family sat at, his mother cradling little Shireen.

"First, to my father, who had so much faith in my abilities he gave me my first command. I will strive to never cause you to question such an appointment." Stannis bowed his head in acknowledgement, the small smile he had hidden behind a hand he used to prop his chin.

"To Ser Davos, who taught me just as much as my father did about sailing," Ser Davos bowed, but Harry had to add, "Even though, it was mostly about avoiding ships than actually warring with them."

The men in the hall laughed raucously, slamming their fist on the tables at the jape. Any other man would have reddened in embarrassment but, Davos took it took it for what it was and laughed as well.

"Lastly, to Muirgen Snow, my Sworn Shield." Muirgen felt uncomfortable as all eyes were on her, but she kept her lord's eye.

"She kept me safe from thieves as I traveled all over the Seven Kingdoms and stayed by my side as we crushed the Greyjoys. She taught me to fight, how to maintain armor, and has been an ever loyal friend."

Harry pulled out his sword to the surprise of the room.

"As I said on the Prayer, I would not patronize you with bribes for duties required as men of the realm. But, I would see you keep what rewards you earn. And this has been a reward long in the making," Everyone knew what Harry was going to do and ironically enough, none seemed too surprised at it. Though, she could see still some had astonished looks.

"Muirgen Snow," Harry said as he turned to her with a grin and nodded to the ground in front of him, "Take a knee."

It was with disbelief and shaky steps that she made her way to the man she had sworn to. She had served him faithfully and with devotion, but it had been an easy task. Harry was not a hard person to like and an even easier person to serve. He did not ask things of her that he would not do himself. He took honor more seriously than any other person she had known. Considering Muirgen grew up in the North, it was a compliment not given lightly.

She was finally going to achieve her greatest dream.

Due to the unexpected wonder, Muirgen knew she would have to give him his surprise earlier than expected. Well, it was more a request than a gift, but she knew that Harry would appreciate it.

Harry touched her shoulder with his sword, alternating shoulders as he spoke each line.

"In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent. In the name of the Maid I charge you to protect all women…Arise Dame Muirgen Bearstone!"

She stood, forcing the joyful tears that wanted to spill back. Muirgen would not allow the others to see her cry, even if they were tears of happiness. Harry placed a hand on her shoulder, reaching up to touch her.

"Thank you…for allowing me to see history, my friend." He said with a proud smile.

"This changes nothing. I still swear to serve you and only you. Until the end." She replied, placing her opposite arm on his shoulder as well. It was only then that she realized he was not as small as he used to be, that her lord had grown into a fine man.

"Until the end," Harry repeated, only for her ears to hear. "But, I am not done."

He looked to one of the servants standing near the door and motioned. When the servant returned, he led in a large courser. It was the most beautiful animal she had ever seen. It was large, strong, and golden with white markings. The hair was short and a darker shade of gold, almost tan, and silken to the look.

"Every knight must have a good horse." Harry said as she approached the stallion. The beast nodded into her hand and neighed, obviously pleased to meet her. "It will be in the stables when you have need of it."

Muirgen did not want to send her steed to the stables at that moment; she wanted to ride it around the island. But, she knew that it would have been improper to mount the thing and speed off. She gave nodded to the servant, who still had the reigns, to take the animal to be fed and watered.

"You give too much, my lord." She said, returning to Harry's side, noticing the other knights admire her horse as it was led away.

"What kind of lord would I be if I made you a knight, but didn't give you a horse?" Harry asked, as if it was the most common thing in the world to buy knights expensive horses. She only needed a look to know the beast was no doubt expensive.

He made to return to his seat, noticing the men were still looking to them to see if there would be any more announcements. But, Muirgen stopped him.

"The time of giving is not done, for I too, have a gift for my lord." Muirgen nodded to the same servant Harry had done. They would have to wait a moment as her gift was fetched, but she was giddy in anticipation.

Finally, a young girl was brought in, a girl too young for the men to leer at or jest that she had brought him a bed warmer. But, she could not be used for either, the look on her face less than welcoming.

Her hair as black as coal and cut short with eyes that could rival the sky on a clear day they were so blue. She was a strapping little girl, well-muscled and dressed in masculine clothing finished with a heavy coat to stave off the chill of the sea wind.

Muirgen could see the question in Harry's eyes and returned his look, projecting her want for him to be patience a while longer and she would explain.

She led the girl by her shoulder and planted her a respectful distance in front of Harry.

"My lord, many years ago, you gave me a chance to better myself, a chance to rise above my station as a bastard. With that chance I became a knight. I would ask you do the same for this girl by making her your squire with a promise of knighthood should she prove herself." Muirgen stated for the entire hall to hear. She had barely finished speaking when they murmured amongst themselves, no doubt criticizing her for her audacity. But, she did defend her statement. After all, she did not rise to where she was by being meek and humble.

"She is strong, able, and will serve you proudly. I will assist in her teaching if need be."

Harry stepped close, eyeing the girl. He gripped one of her arms, testing her muscles as he made noises to himself.

"With you teaching her, I have no doubt she would become a formidable warrior. You did help train me after all," he said to Muirgen, before addressing the girl.

"What is your name?"

"Mya Stone." Mya replied surely, not at all ashamed of her bastard name.

"And how did you meet Dame Bearstone?" Harry stopped Muirgen from answering. She knew why. It was a test, like the one he had given her long ago. The one where he peered into her eyes and drank in her words to judge them.

"Years ago, you traveled to the Vale. I saw her, clad in armor, and thought her a knight. We spoke, she told me that she was not a knight, but one day hoped to be. She wanted to rise above her station. I told her that one-day, I would do the same. If she believed she could, then I knew I could as well." Mya replied passionately.

Harry stared into the young girl's eyes, his own brilliant in the light of the torches that lit the room. He was judging her, but she stared right back, unwilling to back down and unafraid to be judged.

"And that is why you want to be my squire? For better station?"

"I want to prove them wrong." She replied voice steeped in determination, fire burning in her eyes.

"Who?"

"All of them. All of the people who look down at me, who think I will never amount to anything." She stepped into his space and Muirgen wanted to smack her forehead. Mya was not doing a very good job at making Harry endearing of her. But, then again, Muirgen had picked her because of Mya's attitude. She should not have expected anything less.

Meek women did not make history.

"You once said to Muirgen, that anyone could become great if they but had the constitution. She made it so and I will do so. I will become one of the greatest knights the entire world has ever seen." Mya testified.

She was a fierce sight for a young girl, reminded Muirgen of herself when she was young.

Harry just stared. Other men would have laughed in her face or smacked her down for her impudence. But, Harry just…stared.

Muirgen held her breath, hoping Mya would pass whatever test Harry had cooked up in his mind. Mya was brash and frankly a little rude, but she was indomitable. It was a quality that she knew Harry would appreciate, especially if Mya had the same attitude towards loyalty and honor.

Harry surprised the whole hall went he burst into laughter. It was a giant, infectious type of laughter that had him throwing his head back. The entire hall laughed with him, but probably not all of them for the same reason.

Muirgen could see Mya conflicted by it, but held the girl back from doing something she might regret and pulled her back to her original distance. Harry might have been one of the nicest persons she had ever met, but that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous.

"Very well." Harry finally stated when he had gathered enough breath to speak. "I would see you accomplish all this. Should you have the disposition I have said, the spirit you speak so brazenly about, I'll help you get what you want. But, I won't promise you a knighthood. Muirgen will decided whether you deserve to be a knight."

Muirgen's eyes widened at the implication. The girl had meant to be Harry's. Muirgen might have taught him to fight, but Harry had shown her all what being a knight meant to be. She could see the gleam in his eyes, the way they glittered as some scheme developed in his head.

It seemed as if her ride with Harry was going to become even more interesting.

"I have given my gift to the realm. I gave it a true Dame, one of honor and who has served with distinction. If the world will have any more Dames, then let the first give it to them. Let that be the legacy of the Bearstone name; the House of Great Dames...with the occasional knight." He joked lamely, the crowd giving a small rumbling laughter.

Muirgen smiled and nodded, knowing better than to argue. Harry was a stubborn thing after all. There was just no saying 'no' when his mind was set. And she would follow, Just as she had always done. It had worked out well so far.

She fell to her knees, taking Mya down with her. Muirgen could see the questioning look, but Muirgen only had eyes for Harry.

"We of House Bearstone," that had gotten a shocking gasp from the crowd. Muirgen could not blame them. In front of all there to witness, she had taken a bastard girl into her House without warning. She would have been shocked if Harry had done the same. It pleased her that Harry just gave a pleased grin.

It was good for Muirgen to know that she could still read him. She had had a feeling of what her lord wanted to do, and there was no time like the present to enact it. Doing so later would have been suspicious.

"Promise to serve Lord Harry 'Ironside' Baratheon proudly, faithfully, and with unquestioning devotion."

They were the words she had spoken before. But, it was different as well. When Muirgen had become his sworn shield, she had only pledge her own life. With the renewing of the oath, she promised him her life and all those that would come after her. He had given her everything she could ever want. She had nothing to give him in return, but her loyalty. And he would have it. She would give him the only she was able.

Muirgen would give him more swords than the Iron Throne.

Stannis griped the parchment in his fingers tightly, almost crumbling the offending document in his hand. The golden wax seal was supposed to bring a sense of pride in him. It was the sigil of their house, the sigil of their fathers, and their fathers before them. It was a symbol to be feared, respected, and cherished.

But, it did nothing but fill him with disgust and hatred. The name signed at the end of the page only further fueled the fire in his blood.

He had read the damned thing over and over, willing the words to change. It was a stupid notion; words would not change with a thought. But, a part of him still wanted them too.

His brother, King Robert, had 'requested' something of him that he did not want to give. But, Stannis would not disobey. It would grate at his very core, the very essence of his being. That was why the burning in his chest killed him. His mind warred with his heart. His sense of duty clashed with his love for Harry.

Robert worried, unnecessarily in Stannis's opinion, about another Greyjoy Rebellion. He wanted to solidify the bond, have something that would bring them to heel. It was not good enough that Balon's only remaining son would foster at Winterfell, it was not enough that they had decimated the Iron Born fleet, that it was his son that lead the vanguard and forcefully made Balon bend the knee.

The fucking cunt wants my son too, Stannis thought angrily, throwing the parchment into the fire. As if the flame could feel his ire, it devoured the message quickly. He made to slam his hands unto the table, but controlled himself. His anger was still present, but he managed to bring it to a simmering.

His brother had brokered a deal with the decrepit Greyjoy, the backroom-dealing bastard did. Robert had all but demanded that Balon agree to promise his daughter's hand in marriage. Stannis knew there was more than his brother was telling him. Robert was not one for diplomacy or one with a clever tongue.

Unless it was to lick one of his whores, Stannis growled in disgust.

He was not a daft man. He knew there was only one thing that would make Balon agree to foster his son and betroth his daughter. Robert had threatened his lordship, the seat of Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands. Balon would give anything to keep his power. But, it was not as if he was paying any true price. His daughter would be married to a lord befitting her station and his son would be fostered with Eddard Stark, who would do nothing to treat the boy wrong.

Stannis was stewing in his anger when a knock came. He tried to keep it all under a façade of calm. It was one of the hardest things he had ever had to do. And he had withheld a siege for a year, bowing down to baser natures that no man should ever have to. With that in mind, it was still harder to keep his composure.

"Enter." He barked, seeing his son do as he was commanded with a small smile on his face.

His son.

The heir he had hoped for after three miscarriages. The child he loved and saw grow into a good, if albeit rebellious, young man. Stannis felt something he had not in a long while.

He felt undeserving.

Harry had done Stannis proud at the Fair Isles, at Great Wyk, and at Pyke. Harry had done so much, so much for their name. And Stannis could do nothing to protect him, to save the reputation he had earned. Soon, the realm would forget all of Harry's actions. They would only see the one thing he had not contributed to.

Marrying a traitor's daughter.

"You wished to see me father?" Harry asked smiling, but confused as to why his father looked ready to eat his tongue.

"Sit." Stannis commanded with after a nod.

"Leave us Dame Muirgen." He ordered after Harry had complied, a quizzical expression plaster across his face. His temper started to flair when the woman gave no intention to move.

"Guard the door." Harry said over his shoulder with a nod. Muirgen gave a silent bow before exiting, not paying Stannis's glare any mind.

"What did you wish to discuss father?" came the question he had been dreading. It made him feel worse that his son sounded pleased. Still happy from the feast, happy for finally giving his Sworn Shield what she deserved, and pleased from acquiring a squire. Stannis had never thought his heart could break after three failed births, but he was wrong.

"I have a request from the king." He started, pulling out two cups and a bottle of strong rum he had kept in his desk. The thing was barely touched. Partially because he rarely used his study enough in Dragonstone, being at King's Landing more times than not, and because it was a particularly good rum. Stannis poured healthy portions before handing Harry one, much to the younger man's surprise.

"I do not think I will like where this is headed, father." Harry stated, taking a healthy gulp from his rum. Normally, Stannis would comment, but not that time. Harry would need more than a mouthful, probably need the whole bottle. Seven hells, they both would.

His son was like the sea. Relaxing and pleasant when calm, but when angered a man could do nothing but tie himself to the mast and pray.

Harry's spirit was an ill combination between the fury in his blood and his mother's temperament.

Not a good thing to rouse.

Thinking of Selyse only brought another problem for Stannis. How in the Seven Hells was he going to explain Harry's betrothal to his wife? She had notions of their son marrying a proper lady, a beauty that would give them beautiful grandchildren.

Not a Greyjoy.

She's going to fucking smother me in my sleep.

"It is about your betrothal." Stannis immediately put the cup to his lips and swallowed the alcohol as if would cure him. Cured him, drown him, either would have been preferable to the ringing in his ears as his son roared, "WHAT?"

Harry jumped to his feet, slamming his cup on his father's desk. The innocent object in between his fingers threatened to deform as he squeezed around it as if to strange it. All propriety, all thoughts of respect and etiquette left Harry at his father's words.

They glared at each other. Stannis had felt bad about the situation, horrible even. But, he would not allow his son who was also evidently not happy take it out on him. It was not his choice. Not his fault.

Harry was the first to give, knowing that he had been in the wrong. It was only when he passed the word 'betrothal' did he remember it was a bid from his uncle. Though, Harry knew 'request' was a civil understatement.

"Who?" He asked, much weaker and downed the rest of the cup before taking the bottle on the desk and pouring another. It was to the brim, not half way as before. If it had come from the king and not through his mother, then already Harry knew he was not going to like it. His mother would at least ask his approval.

"Yara Greyjoy, Balon's daughter," Stannis damn near spit when he said the Lord Paramount of the Iron Island's name.

He fully expected his son to lash out again. It was a surprise when he spoke calmly.

"She will hate me. I killed her older brother and literally put her father on his knees. What kind of marriage would we have?" The question was rhetorical, but logical. They both knew the answer: a bloody horrible one. Bloody being more apt and literal than figurative.

Stannis could not find the words. He was not one for poetry or meaningless platitudes; they have never meant anything to him before. But, they had at that moment when his son looked so…broken. His son, Harry 'Ironside', who commanded and slayed men looked dejected. It almost made Stannis want to rebel.

However, his son was full of surprised that night. Just as Stannis was going to try and comfort him, knowing he would fail, but would try anyway, Harry looked up at him fiercely. His eyes glowed in the little fire of his office.

"This will keep the peace?" Harry grit through grinded teeth, a habit Stannis was not happy to take responsibility for.

"Yes. Keep the peace and form an alliance with the Greyjoy." He informed his son, but Harry scoffed.

"Alliance? Forged with what? Smoke?"

Stannis was furiously thinking on how to lighten the burden on Harry, something that would make it all not seem so bad. He had never had to before. His son was strong in will. He had made that obvious recently at Great Wyk. Thinking of the name brought an idea to Stannis; one that would take Harry's mind off his betrothal to the treasonous bastard's daughter.

He wanted to say that it was Harry's duty, but even Stannis could not find himself believe the words in his own mind.

"It will not all be bad. Not only do you have two years, but she's a Greyjoy, she'll have your love of sailing." Stannis tried.

Harry glared at his father. It was a poor attempt too sooth his ire, he knew, but it did little. He seethed on the inside. There was a rumbling in his chest that he wanted to release, to lash out. It was only looking into his father's eyes and seeing the same conflict within him that stayed Harry's hand. Stannis was taking it as much of a slight as Harry was, for different reasons, but neither of them was happy with the arrangement. His mind was already thinking of ways to make his uncle pay.

Maybe, next time in King's Landing he would trade the King's wine skin for piss.

"Will I even be able to become acquainted with this girl before marriage?" Harry asked, far much too calmly, a contradiction to how he was feeling.

"Yes, she is being sent here at we speak, arrives within a moon. She will spend five moons here and five moons at Pyke. After two years, she will be six-and-ten and you will marry." Stannis replied in kind, though his feels much in line with his son's.

Harry nodded, feeling his rage slowly ebb away. Their marriage would help with the peace of the Kingdoms. A very fragile peace would be made less fragile.

Plus, his father was probably right. She was a Greyjoy. At least they would have their love of the sea and sailing in common. The girl was still too young to have been a reaver, maybe he could assuage her of the notion. The Iron Born believed in the Iron Price, taking what was earned. Maybe, Harry could convince her that working for what they wanted was more of an Iron Price than just taking.

"I suppose it is not all bad," Harry conceded, it was mostly for his father's benefit. "As, you said, she'll like sailing."

"I know you will do your duty." Stannis replied, suddenly feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He recognized the look that slowly morphed over his son's face. Harry's mischievous side had come out to torment him.

"On top of that," Harry smirked almost evilly, "I get to see what happens when you tell mother."

Stannis felt his heart drop. In the excitement of the moment he had temporarily forgotten. Just as quickly did it stop, his heart started to beat again, but as the pace of a sprinting horse.

Cheeky fucking bastard.

290 AC – Sunspear

The amount of time it had taken for Harry to visit Dorne had been longer than had been expected or would have liked. He had sent a raven to Arianne explaining the circumstances, but she was most put if her reply was any indication. They were just friends and already she was acting like a jilted lover.

Muirgen and Mya certainly had a good laugh about the ordeal.

After stopping the rebellion, they had been ordered to King's Landing for a celebration that lasted a week. It was an enjoyable affair where Harry had been able to meet one of his childhood idols: Ser Barristan Selmy. The old knight had been gracious enough to answer his questions about swordplay and even imparted some knowledge. It may not have been the highlight of Harry's life, but it was sure enough to place it in the top five.

After a week in King's Landing they had traveled back to Dragonstone where his mother had organized another feast; thankfully it was only for one day. Harry would have believed himself a glutton if he engaged in anymore than that.

Harry had told his father a week after their talk, of his intention to travel to Dorne and though he was not happy about it, considering the bad blood between the Martells and Baratheons, could not think of a reasonable explanation to deny him. Especially because of what Harry was doing in regards to the Greyjoy.

Stannis's only caveat was that he stays at Dragonstone for two weeks to spend time with his mother and sister. It was a sweet gesture, an uncommon thing for his father, but Harry knew that his father had only said such a thing as to not have his wife nag him to death. She was still beyond displeased with his betrothal. He could not help but smile at the memory of his father being dressed down by his mother.

Harry had spent a lot of his free time with his mother and Shireen. They had spent a lot of time walking along the shoreline. He also sang to her at night and told his little sister stories of the life he had remembered, but no longer lived. Harry did anything to see the girl laugh and smile. It made his heart calm and full of love when she touched his stony skin without fear.

Not that he was ashamed of it. Harry wore it like a badge of honor, the price for his sister's life.

The time with his mother could have been better spent, but that was through not fault of Harry's own. She had spent most of her time was asking for things he wanted: new armor, a new sword, horses, clothes and odd trinkets. He was adamant about telling her, the only thing he wanted from her was her time. But, she had been so insistent. It almost got to the point where Harry started to understand why his father feared her nagging.

He decided on quieting her, so that they may just enjoy each other's company, by asking for something truly ridiculous: a zorse.

It was an animal similar to a horse, but striped black and white. They were stronger than most horses, but with that strength came an even fouler temper. The ridiculous part was that zorses were not bred in Westeros, they were only known to be bred far east across the Dothraki Sea. It was not an animal commonly known about in Westeros, Harry himself only knew about it because of one of the rare books owned by Maester Cressen.

He supposed it was her way of making it up to him for his betrothal to the Greyjoy girl. It wasn't her fault and Harry had agreed in the end. It was for the peace of the realm. Making an unbelievably fragile peace a smidgen stronger. Harry knew it wasn't much, but he at least was trying to do his part. But still, she felt bad because he wanted her to marry someone…well, anyone else.

Harry tried to placate her on the issue, to allow her to forget it for a moment, saying they would speak more of it when he returned from Dorne.

That had started an entirely different 'conversation' that let him know his mother did not like it in the least.

'Do not be seduced by their liberal nature. Their exoticness may be appealing now, but it will not always be so. Your future wife should only know you and be dutiful. Dornish women are known to be fiery tempered and untamable. At least we know that the Greyjoy girl will be untouched. Even Balon is not stupid enough to disrespect our house on such a thing.' Selyse had told him vehemently.

He wanted to tell her that he had laid with other women before and it would have been hypocritical to judge, but didn't have the heart to break her of that fantasy.

He was firm in his decision for them to speak about it at a later date and did his best to assuage his mother's fears by joking assuring her he would not elope with a 'Dornish scarlet woman'. He was a friend of Arianne and the Sand Snakes.

Obara and Nymeria were the only ones old enough at the time of his last visit to partake in such…activities. And while Nymeria was cordial enough, always trying to see if she could make him blush, which he did often, Obara was more likely to penetrate him, as he was to do her.

Melisandre, for all she had done for him and his family, had become an annoyance. She was constantly inviting him to the room she had built for the Red god for prayer. Apparently, he should have given thanks. When he tried to explain to her she would have answers for everything. He had done it on his own; the Red god had given him strength. Harry had not heard or even felt the Red god. They could not always feel the wind or even see it, but it was there. A headache and a half the woman was. He had finally snapped and said he did not believe in her Red god or any gods, not after what happened to his sister. That had just entertained her even more as she smiled a condescending smile and told him he would see the truth sooner or later.

'Enjoy your trip, Azor Ahai. But, wherever you go the Lord of Light will always lead you back to me,' were her last words to him. Presumptuous and condescending, words Harry had come to associate with her.

He continued training with Muirgen and other of the Baratheon men, having Mya sit in or take part. The girl had a way with words, but that finesse did not translate to her skill with a sword. She was brutish, fierce, but lacked grace and finesse.

Harry and Muirgen agreed that while a sword would be necessary, Mya would never be great with it.

Mya had grumbled the entire time, even more determined to learn it. But, the harder she tried, the harder she fell. Until, alas, with Muirgen and Harry knowing who she was bastard to, suggested an unorthodox approach. Muirgen knew how to fight with a mace and such techniques were applicable to a war-hammer, Mya's father's weapon of choice.

She had been fervently against it, not wanting to ride on her father's coattails and because of not wanting to be associated with him when she finally did achieve greatness. It was Harry who talked her into it.

'Imagine the spectacle it would be: a woman swinging a war-hammer with the strength of a giant and caving the chest of men twice her size. You will make music of thunder and they will sing your praises for it.'

For such her heated argument, Mya was quick to change her tune at his words.

Harry had armor made for her, nothing too intricate or expensive. Her weapon was heavy and clumsy; Mya would need speed and agility on her side. There was also the fact that most squires would not have armor so early, but Harry wanted her to get used to moving in it. He remembered his first battle at the Fair Isles and how strange it was for him to move in it, having been used to fighting in common clothing during his travels. And his armor was lighter than most.

More protection could always be added later.

Mya's armor was much like Harry's, consisting mostly of the riveted mail. The only plate she wore was half-gauntlets that covered thick hide gloves, overlapping greaves and overlapping tassets that fell to her knees to protect Mya's legs. Under her tassets, Mya had scale armor. Her helmet was much like Muirgen's, a Barbute design without a visor, but not as ornately decorated, as Harry's own.

Her war-hammer was beautiful, something Harry trusted Muirgen to design, as she was more familiar with such sort of weaponry. It was bigger than Harry would have wanted for Mya, she was still growing after all, but Muirgen had argued that it was better for her to get used to the weight than be scaled up and have to readjust. Plus, it would save them coin.

The striking side was wide, a hand in length on all four sides with each corner turning into a spike. On the opposite end was a large spike that would pierce any man as well as a lance. Mya seemed to be fascinated with the design and she had been most enthusiastic with her thanks to Muirgen.

His dealings with Muirgen were much of the same. She had decided on her sigil: a black bear, with permission from House Mormont, standing on hind legs with its maw opened in a roar and a patch of greyscale on it's left eye. The bear represented where she had come from, Bear Island, and the scar was obviously for Harry.

They sailed to Dorne, clad in only their mail and swords, with men of the Prayer. They had earned quite a bit of gold for themselves and he asked which of his men would venture with him to enjoy a furlough in Dorne. Almost every one of them had enthusiastically agreed. Some wanted to buy Dornish wine, some of the best offered in the kingdom. Others wanted to pick up other items that were more cheaply bought in Dorne. And, there were others who wanted to sample the pillow houses and gambling halls. Harry would not deny them any of it; so long as they caused no trouble they could not talk themselves out of.

"Muirgen, assign the men their guard details of the ship. Ensure the roster is long enough to cover the two weeks we will be here and that every man is given equal time leave." Harry ordered, leaving to pay the port master the fine. He knew Muirgen would see it done and the men would follow.

"Yes, my lord. To where do you go?" She asked, Mya not far from her side.

"I'll go pay the port master and head straight to the Sun Tower. I fear if I dally here too long, Arianne will become quite cross with me. You know how she gets." Harry sighed, not looking over his shoulder. He had no need to look to know the teasing grins of his Sworn Shield and Squire.

"I wouldn't know, but I hear women can get that way when their lovers are away for long periods of time. Lack of…affection, as it were. Imagine how your future wife will feel when she finds out about your Dornish 'friend'." Mya quipped.

"Just for that, you are taking the first shift of guard duty." Harry replied, jumping off the ship to find the port master. It was a small gratification the hear Mya whine at Muirgen about how he was being unfair.