A/N: It occurs to me that this story is going to be a bucket load of work... normal crossover stories are relatively easy... but I decided to incorporate both worlds together... Why? Why did I do that!? I have enough on my plate already, what with my dissertation to write!
Enjoy~
The creature kneeling below him had once been a man, but that was a very long time ago when he'd had dreams and ambitions, when all he had wanted was a wife to warm his bed at night and to watch her grow heavy with his child, but that was before the Dark Lord had changed him. Now he was nothing more than a servant, a tool for the Dark Lords pleasure, he called himself the King of the Others, and the Dark Lord was content to let him do so because he was useful. They both knew who was the more powerful of the two, though the King of the Others certainly resented the fact that was the weaker of the two. He sat upon the Throne of Bones and listened to the Other King drone on about his patrol, the new recruits and how the plans were progressing.
The Dark Lord was not handsome, to look upon his face was to look upon a demon, indeed he was like a demon from the deepest reaches of the seven hells, cruel, merciless and intelligent with the darkest of magic surrounding him, he was the epitome of evil. He hated the barren snowy waste land that he was bound to, he hated the Other kneeling before him, hate was an emotion he was very familiar with. But who he hated most of all was a tiny babe with power filled green eyes.
But no, he mused as he brought a hand up to caress his skeletal face, she will not be a babe any longer. To think my banishment was because of a baby and a prophecy.
He first heard the words of the prophecy spoken in the Red Temple in Volantis, the High Priest had uttered them with reverence to him. He'd been handsome back then, the ever so dashing and polite Tom Riddle. He sneered at the name. Riddle was a bastard orphan who had risen in the ranks of Volanteen society, men trusted him with their secrets and women lusted after him. Voldemort, however, was his true nature, the monster that played in the shadows and caused men to tremble, they feared to speak his name, to go out after dark with no protection. He was the heir of Slytherin and all feared his wrath, all except for the fool of a Gryffindor and his mudblood wife. Thrice they dared to defy him, thrice.
It still made his blood boil.
The Gryffindor line was magical, they were gifted much like he was in the magical arts, and yet, James had married a woman of low birth. She was unworthy and her blood so dirty. It angered the Dark Lord like nothing else, then the words of prophecy reached his ears and he knew who the child it spoke of was. The birth of Titania Gryffindor had been talked of for weeks, the precious little girl with the greenest eyes and beauty no other child possessed. It sickened him. But he knew the child was the one who could defeat him. It was preposterous to think of, let alone foresee, still the child had to die.
But that was where he miscalculated.
For Lily Gryffindor, though not gifted in the noble art of Old Magic, was talented in Rune Magic, her blood had not been as dirty as he thought. She had created a powerful rune circle around her daughter, sacrificing herself to protect the child, as soon as he approached the crib where the child lay he was trapped. Magic surrounded him, attacking his person and tearing his body apart. He was sent from the house, leaving behind a babe with a scar upon her forehead and smear of black in what had been a perfectly white soul.
His confinement to the wasteland north of the Wall had begun, the magic having cast him as far as it could, and he could not cross the magically enchanted wall for he was not at full power. It was slowly coming back to him though, and he had begun his rise into the world of the creatures inhabiting the wasteland, he told them of the South, of the people and their greed and lusts. Of the soft women and men who thought themselves higher than they were. His words attracted them and they too began to look South once more.
He smiled upon his Throne of Bones, making the Other King pause in fear, the Dark Lord could have rolled his eyes but the action was so mundane and beneath him. He dismissed the Other King, forgoing the usual treatment of torture, the Other King was after all, very useful in his plans to take the Iron Throne.
Soon, he thought longingly, I shall trade my bones for iron, though perhaps I shall have the skull of the girl as my crown.
OoO
Titania remembered the day she came upon Winterfell and fell in love with its cold and harsh beauty, she had unceremoniously delivered herself to Lord Rickard and pleaded for amnesty against her abusive aunt and uncle. He had been given no choice but to take her in, she would have been left to fend for herself otherwise, but still he went through every effort to make her feel welcome and loved. She was the child of his greatest friend after all. She looked nothing like the Starks, with their brown hair, blue eyes and harsh northern features. She was a contradiction, born in a land of summer but raised a child of the North, her blood is fire but her magic is ice.
She was the blood of Old Valyria and she had the traditional Valyrian silver hair, though hers had streaks of black within it. Her eyes were what made people keep their distance, she had once heard someone whisper that they were cursed eyes. There were some who claimed they were beautiful and some who claimed she had been gifted, in Volantis the High Priest had told her she had been gifted with Old Magic and her eyes were only a reflection of that power. To her they were just normal. She saw them every day in the looking glass, she was so used to them it took her a moment to think of why people gave her strange looks.
Then there was Draco, her silent protector, a warrior so unlike the knights that Benjen raved about. He was her shadow, he followed her around and even when he was not visible she knew he was watching, but he did not seek to keep her from all evils. 'You need to make mistakes to learn and grow,' he often told her. He protected her from any danger to her life, but was otherwise content to let her make her own choices. He was seven years older than her, an assassin trained from childhood and her companion since she was eight. He had pledged himself to her service when she had stumbled upon him in the Temple of the Lord of Light, under Benerro's insistence that she would be good for him. It was him that took her away from her relatives, hired a ship to sail to Westeros, stole a horse to bring her to Winterfell. His silence came from his lack of the Westerosi language, stating it was beneath him to learn a language so crass when he spoke Valyrian. Titania had learned purely out of necessity, but she agreed with him, compared to poetry of her mother tongue, common certainly left a lot to be desired. Still, even with his silver hair, he did not stand out half so much as her, though he was popular with the ladies.
For the first time since she had been there she was venturing away from Winterfell, accompanied by Draco, Brandon, Benjen and Lyanna Stark, as well as some of Lord Rickard's men, they were to journey to Harrenhal for the tourney that was to take place. She could not say what excited her more, the tourney itself or the meeting of new people, though of course it saddened her that women were not allowed to take part. Lyanna was greatly annoyed by this too. They were rather alike, they were both wild spirits and of the same age, but Lyanna was a wolf and had a place in the North. Titania was no more than an outsider, even after the long years she had spent within the wolf's den.
"Father says you must not use your powers while we are at Harrenhal," Brandon told her, a stern look in her eyes, "you will be noticed and he does not wish for you to draw anymore unnecessary attention to yourself. If you must get up to your antics then do so discreetly and stay away from the royalty."
"Yes sir!" she mockingly bowed to him, though it was rather awkward on horseback, "be a good girl. Don't be my usual mischievous self. Don't plot and scheme with Lyanna."
"When you and my sister join forces even Aegon the Conqueror would tremble in fear," Benjen laughed and shook his head.
"Did you hear that Lyanna?" she called out to the girl.
"We make even legendary figures of history tremble, it is quite the feat to manage is it not?" her eyes held the same twinkle Titania's held, and Brandon was hard pushed not to let himself tremble. He may be heir of Winterfell, but he knew when to yield and run as far as his horse could carry him, his sister and Titania were two women he would run very far from.
"Lord Robert will be in attendance as well, so you best be on your best behaviour too Lyanna," Brandon told his sister, though he said his sister's betrothed's name with distaste. Robert Baratheon would not know the meaning of fidelity if it hit him in the face, he sowed more seeds than a farmer.
"Oh yes Lyanna you must be the courteous lady for a man who fucks anything with a pretty face and hole."
"Titania!" Brandon said in chastisement but the effect was ruined a moment later when he began laughing, "you should be careful, little bird, for you have, as you so delicately put it, a pretty face and hole."
"He will not touch you," Draco all but hissed, his eyes narrowing upon Brandon. Though he would not speak the common tongue, he understood it perfectly. Brandon shied away from the grey eyes of the fierce protector.
"He'd have an easier time trying to lay with the queen then he would with I," she snorted in distaste and looked away, "he is a cur and I truly feel sorry for you Lyanna."
"Tis father's wish that I marry him," Lyanna sneered, her thoughts on the matter clear for all to see, "no matter how I may loathe the idea, what can I do? Mayhaps I could borrow Draco, I have no doubt he could best the beast that is my betrothed in combat."
"Perhaps," Titania conceded, "if only it was your service he was pledged to." Draco would not harm anyone unless it was in defence of her, it was one of his qualities that she liked the most.
"Perhaps the Lady Lyanna would like to offer a sweet prize for my services?" Draco said giving the girl a smirk and laughing.
"I heard my name," Lyanna glared, "don't be crude."
They said no more on the matter, and broke away from the heavy atmosphere by racing their horses. Firebolt, a pure white stallion that was as wild as she was, was the fastest horse Winterfell had to offer and he was hers. The head of the stables could not tame the stallion, any who tried ended up wounded, but all it had was a glance from Titania and the horse was hers. She had a gift for charming animals, they simply loved her, it was both a blessing and a curse. She gave Bran, Ben and Lyanna a head start but was quick to urge Firebolt forwards and soon she was ahead of them. Laughter taring from her throat as she threw her head back, then she was doing a feat only she could ever manage, she gathered her magic around her and with a show of lithe skill she was stood upon Firebolt's back, her arms outstretched and her face turned up to the sky.
When she first did it her brothers had called out in fright but she knew no harm would come from it, she felt as though she was flying. Her arms reached up as to trace the edge of the blue sky, as though she was a bird and her arms were wings, she loved the feeling of the wind in her hair and loved the freedom she felt from such an act. She slowed Firebolt down with no verbal command, the stallion just knew what she wanted.
They met with the middle Stark child at the Trident, she hadn't seen Ned since she was ten and he had gone off to squire for Lord Arryn, he was taller and stronger now. But he seemed no less stern and the embodiment of all that a Northman was. She greeted him warmly nonetheless but sneered when it came to Robert Baratheon, he was handsome and clearly very strong but he was smug. He had a look that said all women should worship him. He eyed her with interest and she could not believe he would dare whilst his betrothed was next to her. She barely concealed her disgust and repulsion. She looked away as he commented on Lyanna's beauty and asked how she faired, lest she say some scathing remark about the bastard he was rumoured to have fathered at the Vale. Perhaps she should use her magic to find a way to have this betrothal annulled, she could not imagine Lyanna would ever be happy with him, she would have to think on it.
"I would advise against what you're planning," Draco told her, he had an innate talent for knowing what she was thinking. "Any use of magic will be seen and it will not do to gain unwanted attentions. We are entering the realm of politics here, Titania, step wisely. Remember what Benerro told you."
"I am aware," she responded softly, as if she could ever forget.
"What is that language?" Robert asked her, she said nothing and Draco merely rose an eyebrow in contempt.
"It's High Valyrian," Ned eventually told his friend awkwardly, but with the hard glare Draco sent his way, he uttered nothing more on the matter.
Harrenhal was a monstrosity of that there was no doubt in Titania's mind, it was huge, hulking and an eyesore. It was dark and looked, as the whispers told, haunted. But she would not step foot within its halls but for the feasts to be held in the great hall. She, like everyone in attendance – minus the royalty, – would be sleeping in tents.
Her horse was taken from her, the stable hand had told her that any spare horse would be used as substitute in case any horse fell ill, she pitied the poor fool who tried to ride Firebolt. She would be sharing her tent, and bed, with Lyanna she didn't mind for she had shared a bed with Lyanna before. It was a way to protect themselves from any unwanted visitors, though they would have a guard at the entrance of their tent. She wondered on her own for the most part, the boys were taken up in the events and Bran had to enlist in the tourney. She saw many banners as she walked the camp, some she knew by heart but others took a moment or two for her to remember.
She was perusing a merchant's stall, Draco ever the shadow behind her, when she first got her glimpse of the outside world's view of her abnormal eyes. Any who met her gaze was quick to look away, or stared in disgust and fear. They were a strange green in colour and almost seemed to glow with power, the colours within them swirled to the point that some days they seemed to hold a yellow tint to them and others a blue tint. Her eyes were life.
"You are the light of R'hllor child, never be ashamed of the life held in your eyes. The night is dark and full of terrors. Your eyes will be of use to you yet in the coming darkness. And you shall face great darkness of that there is no doubt, you will be shunned and jeered at, you will be surrounded by the dark evils. Never forget that you are the light. R'hllor has chosen you. Ice burns just as lethally as fire does. Yes, I see it in you, the child you will bare will be the one."
Benerro's voice echoed in her head as she moved away from the camp and into the silence of the Godswood, he was the first one to ever compliment her eyes, before then she had remained shut away in her aunt's house. She had snuck out in the dead of night and the light from the Temple of the Lord of Light had attracted her. Benerro had found her, he fed her and told her of the Lord of Light and his apparent connection to her. She wasn't sure what she believed.
"There are too many gods," she decided as she reached the heart tree, "how are we to know which god is false and which is true when there are so many? Was it these old gods who gave me my eyes? Or was it the Seven? The Lord of Light seems the most logical choice, but even then…"
She stood staring at the weirwood tree as if it would give her a verbal reply but it remained quiet.
"Valar morghulis," she whispered to the tree.
"Valar dohaeris," Draco whispered behind her.
Yes, she thought, because all men must serve and all men must die. Is that the only certainty in this world? Is that what I was created to do? Serve and die?
A/N: Contrary to the A/N above, though this story is hard to write, its also very fun... but I do have a dissertation to complete, a ten thousand word extract of a novel, so updates on this story won't be too frequent. On the plus side, I've already written eight thousands words of my dissertation, but need to edit it and stuff.
So what did you think of the chapter? Is it believable? It's hard combining two worlds together, as I said last chapter, it is primarily set in G.R.R. Martin's world so not all Harry Potter characters will appear.
Please Review!