AN: As always thank you for your reviews. I always appreciate them. If you had a question and I failed to respond, I apologize. As for the guest reviews...
coldblue: 1) It is possible that he could directly or indirectly cause her to survive. 2)Probably not. 3) You'll find out in this chapter. 4) Unlikely. 5) Yes and Possibly. 6) Possibly 7) Harrion's magic isn't strictly elemental. 8) No. 9) Likely. 10) You'll have to wait and see.
It was the night of Harrion's first and tenth name day, his eyes moved rapidly beneath his lids as another memory consumed his sleep. In the weeks leading up to the day he'd had ever more frequent memories of his counterpart. Most involved large numbers of letters being delivered to his 'family's' home addressed to Harry Potter in the cupboard beneath the stairs, yet he was never allowed to open a single one. It enraged his 'uncle' to the point where he took his family to a secluded island in the hopes of escaping the deluge of missives.
Harrion watched with rapt attention as the events unfolded before him. It was pouring rain outside as his counterpart lay upon the floor, covered in only a thin blanket, wishing himself a happy birthday. The door to the Dursley's retreat shook with the force of the loud knock on its surface. The walrus like sack of flesh that his counterpart was forced to suffer climbed down the stairs with his horse-necked wife in tow, carrying what Harrion had come to understand was a shotgun. Suddenly, the door broke at its hinges, flying into the room to drop on the floor with a bang.
A man far larger than any Harrion had ever seen stepped into the room, dwarfing all others with his height. His counterpart, far smaller than Harrion was at the same age, looked a toddler compared to the massive man. Though his… my… small stature is rather unsurprising when all he's ever given to eat is scraps from the meals he makes. Despite his great size it was clear this man had a kind disposition, and Harrion found it funny how easily he cowed Vernon. As the giant approached Harry's piggish cousin and told him to budge over, he squeaked in fear before hiding behind his mother's legs.
It was then that his black eyes turned to Harry, clear joy in their depths. He presented Harry with a birthday present, a cake to be specific, before introducing himself as Rubeus Hagrid. Harrion could actually feel the surprise at receiving a gift for the first time. Harrion couldn't help put rejoice at finally watching his counterpart be shown some small kindness. Harry experienced nothing but ridicule over the course of his short life; and while Harrion had been forced to live those same experiences, he could wake up in the morning to the embrace of his own parents.
Hagrid sat himself on the musty old couch in the center of the room, and pulled an… umbrella from his coat. The word was foreign to Harrion, but his counterpart knew it well enough. What surprised Harrion was the burst of fire that left the tip and set the wood in the fireplace alight. He… they… stared in wide-eyed fascination at the display. Unlike Harry, Harrion long ago came to understand that he was capable of things that others weren't, that he had magic at his disposal. Though it appears this is the night that he finally came to understand that very fact.
Hagrid explained that he was the Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts, which meant nothing to either Harry or Harrion. This enraged the massive man, and he thundered at the Dursely's for not telling Harry about his parents, what they'd done, and apparently, that Harry was famous in his own world.
It was then that the giant turned to Harry and explained without preamble, "Harry- yer a wizard."
Shock was the only response Harry could muster, as he gasped out his question, "I'm a what?" Hagrid reiterated what he'd already said before handing Harry a letter, one identical to those he'd been denied by his 'relatives'. Harry read it quickly, disbelief flooding his mind and questions filling him to bursting. Harrion just took it as affirmation of what he'd known for years. They were both surprised to see Hagrid pull a living, breathing owl from his coat before he sent it off with a letter. Apparently these owls knew where to go based on the name written on the letter. Hmm that's more than a bit better than the ravens.
The events that followed were unpleasant as his 'aunt' finally admitted that she knew all about magic and that his parents hadn't died in a car crash. Again, Hagrid raged when that particular lie came to light, and Harrion wanted very much to join him. For years, he'd been forced to sit in silent anger as Harry was told of his drunken parents who died needlessly, when he knew the truth of the matter. They'd been murdered trying to protect Harry from danger.
Hagrid explained that Voldemort killed Harry's parents and attempted to kill him, something which Harrion already knew, only for the curse to backfire. The conversation that followed was largely uninteresting, though Harrion couldn't help but feel giddy when Hagrid gave Harry's vile cousin a pig's tail as a parting gift. They slept in the hut that night, and it was as Harry fell asleep beneath Hagrid's heavy coat that Harrion found himself waking.
His body was covered in a light sheen of sweat, something that was common whenever he had one of these memory dreams. As he opened his eyes, it became apparent he sun had yet to crest the eastern horizon. He pulled himself from his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He padded over to his dresser, the only light in his room coming from the moon outside. He quickly divested himself of the soaked shirt he was wearing and replaced it. He grabbed the weathered book resting on his table before making his way to the small balcony in his room that overlooked the courtyard.
He sat down in the chair there and lit the candle that stood nearby. For a long moment, he simply stared up at the star filled sky, noticing the Sword of the Morning constellation in the great expanse of black. His thoughts drifted to what he'd learned in his most recent dream. After years of suffering at the hands of people I've never met, and will never meet, something of note has finally come of my dreams. He sighed to himself contentedly. A school for magic, a place where the arcane is taught; they say such things are all but gone from this world, gone with the Doom. Of course there are rumors of magics still performed in Asshai and Qarth but they are nothing compared to the wonders of the Freehold.
Harry had made a habit of learning all he could of the magics of the world but there was little known about the actual workings of the arcane anymore. So he did what he could with what little he understood of his own abilities. He could now move multiple objects at a time for nearly an hour without tiring. He exercised that ability daily, though he grew frustrated with his inability to use it in a practical situation. But over the last year, he'd found himself learning new things, things thought lost by many.
He looked down at the book in his hands. Its cover was made of worn black leather, and its pages were stiff with age but considering it was nearly a millennium old, it was in impressive condition. For many the words within would hold no meaning, as they were written in the nearly forgotten language of the Rhoynar. In Harrion's opinion, this book had been the most valuable thing scavenged from the shipwreck in the cave, far more valuable than a Valyrian steel dagger. It had been inside the chest he and Ashara dragged back to Starfall together. The airtight chest contained a couple hundred golden coins, and just the one book.
He spent the last two years learning Rhoynish just for the sake of reading it. His mother, Ashara, and even the castle's Maester offered their aid but he refused them, wanting to discover what it had to say for himself. As of now, he'd discovered half of what the old tome contained and couldn't be more pleased with the information.
It detailed the nature of the water magic performed by the Rhoynish; the same magic used to flood Volon Therys in the First Turtle War against the Valyrians, kill three dragons in the Second Spice War, flood the city of Chroyane, and call a mist upon it that caused all caught in its grasp to contract greyscale. To this day that area along the Rhoyne was called the Sorrows.
In most cases such feats required dozens of water mages to perform, but there were smaller things that could be done by an individual. The water could be manipulated and used as a protection; 'watery walls' that could hold with the strength of stone. It could be used as a cloak, to hide and obscure someone from sight, made all the more effective when combined with a fog. It could be used to heal otherwise grievous injury, though it could be daunting to the one performing the deed as the pain would be reflected back three fold. Harry was working diligently to perfect each skill though it was difficult to find the time alone and they were far more difficult than the other magic he'd explored.
But despite his excitement regarding the Rhoynish techniques, he looked forward to experiencing Hogwarts. He hoped seeing a school designed for magic would give him new inspiration for how to approach the subject. And I hope, given Harry's life, to this point that he finds some happiness there.
With that thought in mind, he turned to the book and began reading. He grew so engrossed with the contents that he didn't even notice the sun as it pushed up along the edge of the landscape, reflecting brightly off the waters of the Torrentine. He was finally interrupted by a soft rapping on his door before it opened to reveal his mother on the other side.
She walked in and rolled her emerald green eyes at him, though there was a slight smile on her lips, "How long have you been up Harrion?"
He smiled at her from where he sat, "Hard to say for sure mother, but probably an hour maybe two."
"You should have been resting, not reading." She chastised, "You read that book enough as it is." She was proud that her son was studious, and knew that he would lose himself in his readings just as she would but with this particular book it could become near obsessive.
"Yes mum," Harry replied contritely as he went back into his room and placed the book on his table. His mother watched him silently, and he felt distinctly uncomfortable after a while, "Is there something you wanted to discuss?" It was odd for his mother to wake him in the morning. He usually woke before his parents and didn't see them until they broke their fast. Though there have been some moments since getting the book where I had to rush just to be able to arrive for training on time. Those had been particularly exhausting training sessions.
Lily smiled widely, "No dear," She walked over and hugged him tightly to her, "Besides, knowing that you would likely be late to the yard if I left you to your own devices, I just wanted to be the first to wish you a happy name day." While his mother wasn't short, he was tall for a boy of one and ten, standing of a height with her. Harrion returned his mother's embrace freely. He was aware that many young men his age, found themselves embarrassed by their mother's attentions but he could not bring himself to worry about such things. He loved his parents and seeing his counterpart's unfortunate life, he couldn't bring himself to do anything but appreciate their ever caring presence.
"Thank you, mum." Harry said sincerely, not commenting on the slight wetness in his mother's eyes.
She chuckled slightly, "You're very welcome, Harrion," She straightened her slightly wrinkled dress and wiped at her eyes subtly before grabbing his shoulders and turning him, "Now hurry up, you need to change before you break your fast." He stumbled toward his dresser with a slight shake of his head. His mother went to the door. She paused a moment to tell him, "Your father shall have our present for you." He nodded his understanding and quickly changed before making his way down to the hall for his meal.
Arthur and Arlan were already there, while Ashara was absent. At the age of five and ten, Arthur now stood well over six feet. He kept his silver blonde hair cut just above his shoulders and unlike most young men of his age, his face was clean shaven. His shoulders had widened as he grew, and his arms were thickly muscled from the years spent hefting both greatsword and lance. He looked every bit the impressive knight everyone knew he would become.
To this day, Harry still hadn't beaten the older boy in a fight. In all fairness though, no one else in Starfall could best the younger Dayne either. Even Arlan and Reynard both yielded before his assaults in the yard. However, Harry found himself successful against nearly every other Dayne man at arms of late, and even bested Arlan on a handful of occasions. He was quick, far quicker than most regardless of his age and he used it to his advantage. Harrion looked forward to the day when he finally tested his mettle in a proper melee.
In the past two years, they had attended a dozen more tourneys, some large and some small. Of those twelve, Arthur had been the victor of the melee three more times; though, his most impressive performance came in a defeat. Despite his loss he managed to throw down both Ser Barristan and Ser Gerold before yielding to Lord Jason Mallister. And had it not been for the exhaustion that came from those exchanges, I have no doubt that he would have managed to beat him in the end.
Arlan thought to knight his brother after that particular victory but stayed his hand at Arthur's insistent; he would be given his knighthood after a victory not a loss. Harry thought his friend foolish in his stubbornness. Though I suppose, I'm not one to talk when it comes to stubbornness.
Both Arthur and Arlan wished him a happy nameday, as they ate. He had a quick meal of fried eggs and sausage before making his way out into the yard.
His father was standing outside speaking with a man dark of skin he'd never seen before. Reynard excused himself from the conversation before making his way over to his son. He rested his hand on Harry's shoulder and smiled warmly, "Happy nameday, Harrion." He turned and gestured for the man he'd been speaking to, "This is Nesio."
Nesio had dark skin and hard black eyes. His head was clean shaven while he had a closely shaved beard along his jaw. There was a scar that ran along his left cheek and toward his neck. He was of a height with Reynard but slightly narrower in the chest and the shoulders. Above his left shoulder, Harry noticed a pair of jeweled sword hilts jutting up.
"Hello?" He said courteously though with a hint of uncertainty. The man returned the greeting but Harrion's attention was focused on his father, conveying his need for an explanation.
Reynard remained silent, almost goading him, before he relented and indulged his son's curiosity, "You have made it quite clear you have no intention to use a shield when fighting," There was a hint of exasperation in his father's voice, "but you don't have the build to use a greatsword like Arthur. And let's not even talk about your ventures into using a spear." The tips of Harry's ears turned red as his father chuckled at the memory. He would rather not think about the embarrassing attempt. Sufficed to say he did more damage to himself with the weapon than he did anybody across from him.
"However, you showed some talent for using two blades at once." Reynard continued, though the mirth had yet to leave his blue eyes, "Unfortunately, I don't have the necessary experience to train you in such techniques, nor did anyone else here at Starfall." He gestured toward Nesio, "That is why we have employed Nesio. His tutelage is your nameday present from your mother and I, as well as Ulric and Larra." Harry blinked owlishly in shock before embracing his father, surprising him. His thanks were muffled against his father's shoulder.
When Harry pulled away he noticed the deep rumble coming from Nesio as he laughed. He had an accent which Harry wasn't familiar with, "You thank your father now, but I doubt you will be as grateful by the time I am done with you for the day." The warning didn't deter Harry; instead he went and grabbed two practice swords from the stand only hesitating when Nesio's voice reached him, "Only one sword for now, Harrion."
He looked perplexed but did as he was commanded without question. He stood at the ready with the blade in his right hand as Nesio divested himself of clothing from the waist up, revealing deep scars along his chest and abdomen. Nesio attacked without warning and Harry defended without much effort. Scant seconds later, the dark-skinned man pulled back and looked Harrion over with an appraising eye, "Perfect form, good reactions, clearly well-trained, and far beyond where I was at your age;" he commented offhandedly, "but from what I was told this is unsurprising."
Harry couldn't help the small smile forming on his face. He appreciated the praise even if he knew he still had much to learn. Nesio continued with a wolfish grin, "But let us see how you perform with your weapon in the other hand shall we." Harry expected that would be coming next and had no doubt that he was going to be very sore in short order.
Harry put the weapon in his left hand and their blades met again just a second later. Nesio was relentless, his practice blade smacking into Harry's arms, legs, back and abdomen any time he left an opening. He could feel the welts forming beneath the padding of his practice gear. But the pain only spurred the young Reyne on. The beating was tamer than what he experienced at Vernon's hands in his dreams. And this pain was meant to teach a lesson, to make him better, not to tear him down.
After half an hour, Nesio stopped them for a moment and smiled toothily, "You I can work with, boy." He grabbed a second practice sword and began swinging them in tandem almost lazily. "You already know that the sword must be as an extension of your body," Harry nodded at this though it wasn't a question, "In order to master this style, you must be able to do everything with a sword in both your left and right hand. Each must be independent while at the same time knowing exactly what the other is going to do; otherwise you will be as dangerous to yourself as your enemy is to you."
Harrion could understand that much, "Arthur talks about learning how to understand the full reach of his greatsword, lest it cause him to fall off balance and leave his enemy with an opening."
"Yes," Nesio agreed, "It is a similar concept if not exactly the same, a greatsword makes the arm far longer than the average sword and one must account for it. The same can be said when using two swords, only you have two extensions of yourself instead of a single greater one."
Harry furrowed his brow in thought for a moment, "So, I shall be using only one blade until such a time as I can use my left hand with the same ease as my right." Nesio smiled his agreement. Harry continued to voice his thought, "Only once I have managed that task shall I be able to learn to work them in tandem."
"Exactly!" Nesio said emphatically, "I have attempted to train only two others in this particular brand of sword play," He shook his head in obvious disappointment, "and both of my previous students failed miserably; not because of any particular lack of skill but because they lacked the necessary patience." He rumbled a laugh as he thought back, "The first found himself missing a finger when he tried to use a second sword too soon, the other very nearly turned himself into a eunuch."
Harry winced at the thought but quickly schooled his features, "You will find I have the necessary patience," He told the older man confidently, "and more than enough tenacity. If I couldn't handle a challenge I would have stopped sparring with Arthur ages ago."
The man gave a full-bellied laugh, his deep voice ringing in the courtyard, "Something tells me that you are right, boy." They resumed their sparring; Nesio would stop Harry to explain where he went wrong, only after giving him a physical blow to enforce the lesson. The biggest issue for Harry was reconciling the change in footwork with the change in sword hand. Though the weight isn't anything to scoff at either and my movements need a great deal of refinement.
About two hours in, he noticed Ashara join them in the yard as she took to practicing her archery. Her newest bow was made from ironwood, and had a heavier draw. These days, she could hit the bulls-eye from a hundred yards away without any effort but she continued to practice the craft all the same. He lost focus for a moment as he watched her and received a painful strike along his lower back for his mistake. Even from across the yard, he could see the mirth in Ashara's eyes at his plight and couldn't help the groan that escaped his lips, not from the pain but because he knew she would tease him once he was done in the yard.
"Distractions," Nesio bit out the word, "are often the difference between life and death." He stepped closer and poked Harry firmly in the chest, "Do. Not. Let it happen. Again." Harry nodded firmly as he wiped the beads of sweat from his brow.
They finished an hour later. His new instructor was pleased with his first day of training but assured him that things would only get more difficult. Harrion took the words to heart and looked forward to the challenge. As he placed his practice gear and sword on the rack he felt Ashara's presence beside him, he glanced in her direction and noticed that she had her dark hair slung over a shoulder in an intricate braid. She was smiling at him innocently but he knew it would not last.
He decided to break the silence before she had the opportunity with the hopes of avoiding whatever jibe she might have prepared, "I think you managed another fifteen yards today with the bow; an impressive shot at that." He nodded toward where the weapon rested against the wall, "Soon you shall need yet another new one, as I think you have reached the potential of the ironwood."
She blinked once before smiling genuinely at the complement, "Thank you, but there is little else better than ironwood." She scrunched her nose in displeasure, "The weirwoods are too few in the south for bows of the like to be common place and the Summer Islanders never part with their goldenheart bows."
"I shall have to find a way to retrieve one or the other for you then," Harry said nonchalantly, "You shouldn't be forced to use anything less than what matches your skill."
She stared at him for a long moment, an unreadable expression upon her face before moving closer and embracing him tightly, despite his sweat covered body. She whispered in his ear, "I did not have the opportunity this morning, but happy nameday." When she pulled away, he could see that mischievous glint in her eye and knew that he had only delayed the inevitable, "So how did you enjoy our parents' present?"
Harry considered what would be the best response to that question as she waited expectantly, "It will certainly prove a practical gift if nothing else. And I cannot help but appreciate the thought behind it."
She hummed to herself and rocked back and forth on her feet, "True enough," She poked him in his back drawing a small grunt of discomfort in the process, "but perhaps in the future you should pay more attention to your sword play, instead of my skill with a bow. Then, you might not be black and blue by the end."
Ahh there it is, I knew she would manage to get in at some point. He smiled cheekily in return as he ignored the pain radiating from his back, "But it was such a fine shot, Ashara. A moment's distraction just couldn't be helped."
She wasn't expecting that reply and spluttered for a second before continuing haughtily, "Well, I suppose my skill with a bow is truly awe-inspiring." She flipped her braid over her shoulder, hitting him in the nose in the process, "I don't know if I can blame you." They stared at each other for a moment before falling into raucous laughter. Ashara rested a hand on his shoulder as she controlled herself, "In all seriousness, I am glad that you have a new teacher. I know how badly you wanted to learn the obscure style."
Harry smiled widely, "I honestly couldn't be happier at the moment."
"Oh that's fantastic news!" She said with false excitement, "I suppose you won't need my present then."
"Let's not be too hasty now, Ash," Harry said cautiously, "I am always overjoyed when I receive your gifts."
She huffed from her nose, "Oh, I know." She placed a finger to her chin in thought, "Very well, I suppose I shall still give it to you." He looked at her expectantly and she just shook her head, "Later though, we have lessons with your mother."
He huffed and she just rolled eyes good-naturedly as they separated. He made his way to his quarters so he could bathe before his lessons. He arrived at the appointed hour, though only barely. They spent the next few hours discussing Aegon IV, his unlikely friend in Ser Duncan the Tall, and his even more unlikely rise to the throne. The topic was interesting to say the least, and they talked about the adventures of the strange duo not only in the Seven Kingdoms but in Essos as well, so it kept both Ashara and Harrion's attention.
When they were dismissed for the evening they had another hour before dinner was to be served. Ashara bid him come with her so that she might give him his present. "So," Ashara started as they made their way to her quarters, "have you read the book that Prince Rhaegar gave you yet?" Harrion shook his head slightly and Ashara smirked knowingly, "To busy with the Rhoynish book then?" He smiled sheepishly and she smacked him on the shoulder, "What is it that fascinates you about that old tome?"
"Someday, when I've actually finished it, I might just tell you." Outside of his parents there was no one he would trust more with his secrets than Ashara, and he wouldn't be surprised if one day she knew about more than just the snakes.
The simple admission seemed to appease her but as she went to speak again he cut her off, "But you're right, I ought to read the Prince's gift. The Rhoynish book shall be there for me once I've finished it." It was a small tome detailing the court intrigues of the Valyrian Freehold, something which had always intrigued Harry. In his conversations with Rhaegar, who had become a friend through Arthur, they had discussed the topic. Rhaegar provided him a copy of the exceedingly rare book from his own library.
At times, Harrion didn't know what to make of the young Prince. He was beloved by the smallfolk, far more so than his father, yet he was quiet and prone to introspection. Despite his generous and kindly manner he had few friends, but many admirers. He was quick witted, and talented with both blade and harp yet he would often seem somber as though a terrible thing rested on his mind.
Arthur was better at knowing Rhaegar's mind than anyone else Harrion had yet to meet and the pair would often speak together. Harry knew that while he had grown to have Rhaegar's friendship as few others did, there was no one held in trust like Arthur. And every noble lord and lady knows it.
"Well, at least it is easy to reason with you… even when you are obsessed." Ashara quipped, pulling him from his thoughts.
"I needed only a kind reminder to pull me from my obsession," Harry admitted without hesitation, as arguing against it would be foolish.
"I was happy to provide such," She smiled, "And I thought it best that I do it before you next find yourself in Rhaegar's company." It was a good point; he was likely to see the Prince at the next tourney.
They reached her quarters a few seconds later where they stepped inside. She pointed at a chair and he dutifully took a seat there keeping his eyes fixed ahead as she rummaged around among her things behind him to retrieve his present.
What she presented to him was not anything he would have expected. The year prior she had given him a new scabbard for his dagger, adorned with the star and sword of House Dayne. As had become the custom with her gifts, she had made it herself, dying the leather the vibrant purple and stitching in her house's sigil. What he looked at now though was something entirely different, something they had talked about only in passing.
It was a tunic meant to be worn over armor, multiple such tunics in fact, and bigger than he would be able to wear for some years yet. The cloth was silver and sewed in black upon it was a proud rampant lion, emerald green done for the eyes, while its tail forked into two snakes, one attempting to devour the other. Directly above the lion was a single violet star. He couldn't believe what he was looking at. I expected a new shirt, like the one she made me on my ninth nameday, not something like this.
Something about gift-giving always seemed to rattle Ashara's nerves, particularly when she made the gift herself. She took his silence as a bad sign and started rambling, "I know we only talked briefly about what your personal sigil would be someday, given that it would be almost impossible for you to reclaim the red lion of House Reyne, and that you would need to take a new one when you're knighted. But I couldn't get this image out of my mind after our discussion and it just seemed to suit you so well… what with your being able to speak to snakes and your having lived in Starfall for years and being a lion despite…"
She trailed off immediately when Harry did as he always did when she started rambling about her gifts, he leaned in and embraced her tightly, "You always surprise me with your gifts, Ash, and this year is no different." He kissed her lightly on her cheek and couldn't help but notice the slight blush on her cheeks as he pulled away. He didn't comment and instead grabbed the silken garment from where it lay before him. It will be such a shame to turn these to tatters in melees and tilts.
A ghost of a smile came to his lips as he turned to her, "It's funny, this is just how imagined it in my mind as well."
She beamed victoriously, her violet eyes alive with happiness, "You are happy with them then?"
Harry rolled his eyes in slight exasperation, "I have never once disliked one of your gifts, Ash, and I doubt I ever will." She pouted cutely and he relented, "But if you must know, yes, I am more than happy with them." He looked her in the eye, "And someday, whether I happen to miraculously reclaim Castamere or not, this will be my personal sigil." The thought of reclaiming Castamere held some appeal to him, but he had no inclination of how to approach such a task.
"Well of course it will," She told him with a false arrogance, "I sowed it for you, and my work is exquisite." He poked her in her side, causing her to squeak indignantly and jump away from the offending digit.
"Sometimes, you make complimenting you far more difficult than it needs to be." Harrion told her causing them both to chuckle. The rest of the day, while pleasant proved uneventful. As Harrion lay his head against the pillow that night, he couldn't help some excitement for the possibilities of the coming days.
Harrion sat along the edge of the Torrentine, his left hand running through the current, glowing slightly as he healed a cut he received earlier in the day while training. It was only a tiny thing, received from Nesio when he over reached on one of his attacks. The thrice returned pain was barely even noticed.
In the year and a half since the sword masters arrival, Harry's ability with the sword style had grown considerably. There was no longer anything he could do with his right arm that he could not do with his left, and nothing with he could with his left arm that he could not do with his right. As a result, for the past two months Harrion worked with a sword in both hands and found success.
But he did not focus solely on swordplay, no, his magic had progressed nicely as well. He'd finished the old Rhoynish tome after almost three years of reading. He could form water walls strong enough to withstand assault, obscure himself from view in the dark of night, though failed quite miserably during the day, and as evidenced by his now unmarred skin, could heal minor wounds.
Despite his success with magic, he could not help a sense of disappoint in the magic he'd witnessed in his dreams. The night after his eleventh nameday, Harrion watched as his counterpart traveled to Diagon Alley. He could admit himself impressed by the sum of gold left by his parents for his well-being and education, even if he found the goblins to be miserly bastards. That Hagrid retrieved an important package with Harry in tow was a surprise but understandable.
After a whirlwind of shopping that did nothing but bore Harrion, save meeting a rather pretentious blonde haired boy who needed a good clout on the ears, he found himself in a wand shop. A wand shop for gods sakes. The Rhoynar didn't need wands, nor did the Valyrians, and neither do I.
What followed was an uncomfortable quarter of an hour with an extremely strange man until Harry finally received the brother wand to the Voldemort's. Harrion thought that he may very well be unable to explore the magic of his counterpart given his lack of a wand but decided to wait and see what would happen.
What used to be an intermittent occurrence became a nightly one. Every night he would watch as another life played out before his eyes. The train ride where he met Ronald Weasley, yet another unpleasant encounter with Draco Malfoy, meeting the bookish Hermione Granger, and the sorting hat. It seems I am always meant to be a lion with a snake's tongue. Not to mention actually seeing Hogwarts for the first time, for Harry it was awe-inspiring but Harrion had seen more impressive castles in his time. Highgarden and the Red Keep just to name a couple.
The year that followed would at times baffle Harrion. I swear there is less danger of death at a tourney than there is at that school. The troll, the broom incident, the three-headed dog, the dragon, the forest, and then the stone; it seemed that Harry was constantly in danger… in between his regular lessons which proved surprisingly underwhelming to this point. Harry already had far more control over levitation than anything Professor Flitwick taught, and turning a needle into a matchstick was pointless. He lacked the potions ingredients necessary for that class to be of any use, not to mention, like his counterpart, he found himself apathetic to the course thanks to the dour man who held a deep-seated hatred of Harry for no apparent reason.
But there were some small bits of useful information to be gained. The lighting charm has been useful, as have the flames. Harrion found the words associated with these spells of little use though and would instead follow his instinct and will these things to happen. What would be nice is if I had a bit more ambition to actually learn. Maybe then I would have learned more worthwhile magic. Harrion snorted derisively to himself. I really wish I could reach into my dreams and bash my and Ron's head together. Who in the seven hells complains about learning magic?
Still Harrion couldn't help but rejoice at Harry's newfound friendships. And despite his disappointment at what knowledge could be taken from the dreams, he found himself exhilarated by the actual adventures. And I am the first person in nearly a century to see a living dragon! Even if it was much smaller than the Targaryen dragons.
And then there was saving the stone… from the man who'd murdered his parents! Harrion found it passing odd that the traps set against Ron, Hermione and himself could all be beaten by eleven year olds but that passed away easily enough when he came face to face with the stuttering Professor Quirrell, who taught seemingly nothing of value. I knew there was something wrong with the bastard. Harry felt fear and rage in equal parts when he came face to face with his parent's murderer. Harrion couldn't help but feel triumphant when the bastard burned to dust at his touch, though it was tempered by the shade that remained.
The conversation that came with Professor Dumbledore in the following dream told Harrion only one thing of importance, the man knew more than he said.
The summer that followed, Harrion still had trouble believing they experienced four distinct seasons over the course of a year, proved less enjoyable than the dangerous school year. Though at least there was no being forced into a cupboard anymore. He couldn't help but feel disappointment when his friends didn't write him back, nor could he restrain the urge to throttle the tiny, eccentric house elf who stole his letters. In all fairness, he seems to have good intentions… just extremely poor execution.
The midnight rescue by the Weasleys was ill thought out… and absolutely brilliant. The Burrow was far from the beauty of Starfall, but it had its charms. Harrion found the young girl's timid behavior strange… but he was also accustomed to Ashara's bold personality. Another trip to Diagon Alley, which included a rather uncomfortable photoshoot with the pretentious Gilderoy Lockhart, eventually ended in a brawl between Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley after a childish exchange of words with Draco. And then the elder Malfoy slipped something into Ginny's cauldron. Sometimes Harrion really wished his counterpart was just a bit more observant, it would save him a great deal of trouble.
The start of his new term of school proved just as dangerous as his last. After the barrier to their train sealed itself, Ron and Harry idiotically decided to take a flying car that neither of them knew how to drive… and then proceeded to crash into a Whomping Willow. And what in the seven hells does a school need a combative tree for anyway… maybe they actually want to kill students… weed out the weak. Somehow the pair only received detention, which would prove terrible as he was subject to the company of the incompetent Professor Lockhart.
Classes resumed, he sat through them and found tiny bits of magic worth trying to reproduce… and then Halloween came, and the petrification of the caretaker's cat, Mrs. Norris. Harrion could hear the voice in the walls just like Harry, but he realized easily what it must have been immediately… a snake, and a large one I would guess. The school went into a bit of panic, more because of the warning written in blood on the wall than anything.
The Quidditch match against Slytherin proved entertaining… and extremely painful. If I could, I would kill that stupid bastard Lockhart... I never want to regrow bones ever again. The rogue bludger that nearly killed him was the work of the same house elf who tried 'helping' him in the summer. But what proved most interesting was the second petrification.
His most recent dream left a bitter taste in his mouth. Lockhart thought to host a dueling club, which did little to impress Harrion. They have magic at their disposal and most squires could likely kill them without much trouble with nothing more than sword in hand. He was less than impressed with the fighting skills of those of an age with him to say the least, particularly with Harry's. You have an extremely powerful murderer out for your blood and you don't think to train as hard as you can? But what left him truly upset was the stigma that came with parseltongue, and the accusing looks that came after it was revealed that Harry had the ability.
Harrion shook himself from his thoughts of another life and glanced to his left, and his mind turned toward more sullen thoughts. In the dirt sat a large black stone, carved into a perfect circle with one simple word etched into its surface, Upir.
The old snake had been a friend for years but time had finally taken its toll. His death had been expected but unpleasant all the same, he felt it only fitting that there be some sort of monument for the helpful serpent. Ashara meant to be there when he placed the stone but pressing matters kept her within Starfall. I should probably return soon, lest my mother come and get me.
With a sigh, Harry stood and turned toward the castle but stopped upon seeing Nesio walking toward him. His deep voice carried over the murmur of the river, "Lady Ashara told me I would find you here, Harrion." He waved a hand, "Come, Lord Dayne's guest shall be arriving soon."
While Harrion respected his teacher immensely, it was rare that they ever shared words outside of the training yard, and even those were few and far between, "I was just preparing to make my way back."
"So I could see." Nesio turned his back to Harry and they walked together in silence for a few long minutes before Harry decided to break it.
"You are never the sort to discuss yourself," He started hesitantly, unsure how his questions would be received, "but I find myself curious, where are you from?"
"We've trained together for more than a year." He shrugged his shoulders, "What difference does it make now?"
"None," Harry admitted, "But I still find myself curious."
Nesio eyed him, weighing his next words before speaking, "You will have no doubt noticed the scars upon my back from our many days training together." Harrion nodded as the man continued more softly than he'd ever spoken before, "I received them at the end of a lash, at a time when I was nothing more than a slave in the Basilisk Isles."
Harry didn't know how to respond. Given the many scars on the man's body, he'd always had suspicions but to hear it put so bluntly wasn't something he expected. "How did you see yourself free?" Best not to dwell on the unfortunate past.
Nesio clenched his jaw and Harry thought he'd pressed too far but the man continued, "I was sold to an owner of great warriors," He scoffed, "or so I was told. The man provided fodder against real warriors in the fighting pits of Slaver's Bay." He smiled almost cruelly, "I refused to die at my appointed hour, and instead took the life of half a dozen men. I made a habit of it for the next three years and became known as the demon of the pits."
"There are worse titles to have," Harry quipped in the hopes it would lighten his tutor's mood.
He was pleased that it drew a chuckle. "I suppose that is true, but it isn't quite as gallant as the Sword of the Morning."
"Something tells me gallantry was the least of your concerns when in the fighting pits," Harry spoke quietly but it was heard all the same.
"No, you're right," Nesio agreed evenly, "I worried only about my survival." He shook his head, "But you asked how I saw myself free." His eyes looked distant as he continued, "I cut down dozens, even hundreds of men over my years in the pits. I climbed a pile of bodies, surrounded by a river of blood to freedom." He ran his hand over a scar on his left shoulder, "I won the final bout in a tournament held in honor of the Wise Masters of Yunkai. The crowd was so enthralled with my performance that I was granted freedom."
"Does that happen often?" Harry questioned.
"No," he replied succinctly, unwilling to elaborate any further.
"What did you do after?" He prodded as they neared the gates of Starfall.
"All I have ever known is the sword, Harry." The simple truth didn't seem to bother the former slave, "So, I did what came naturally, I sold it. Sometimes it would be to one of the sell-sword companies in Essos and other times as a teacher." He gave Harry a look as they entered Starfall's courtyard. Harry pressed no further and they said farewell before going their separate ways.
Harrion quickly made his way to his room and bathed before changing into doublet and trousers. As he buttoned up his shirt, the door to his room opened and his mother and father came in. They both smiled at him in his finery. Reynard wormed his arm around Lily's waist as they watched him. His father made to speak but Harrion cut him off.
"Yes father, I know." Harrion started with a slight roll of his eyes, "Do not mention, you or mum under any circumstances. I am well aware of the story I need to adhere to; I have told it enough times, after all." He smiled cheekily as his father's mouth snapped shut and continued before his mother had the chance to reprimand him, "Furthermore, I am to be on my best behavior, speak only when spoken to, and to follow any direction given to me by Larra or Ulric without question." He waved his hand dismissively, "Though I am still to act in accordance with my prior interactions with Oberyn and Elia."
He turned to look at his parents and found them glaring at him in apparent anger, but the slight upturn of their lips betrayed their amusement at his antics. He gave them an unrepentant grin and managed to pull a chuckle from his parents. Reynard stepped forward and put his hands on Harrion's shoulders, "Well seems you were listening a bit more intently than we thought." Lily snorted in disbelief behind them but her eyes shown with mirth.
Harry chuckled, "Probably more than you thought but not necessarily as much as I should." He shrugged his shoulders slightly, "I've been playing this game for years now. I know what can and can't be said."
Lily moved next to him and kissed his temple, "We know, Harrion, and we trust you but it helps assuage our worry."
He had no problem indulging his parents, he honestly just wished they could join him in welcoming the Martells but knew what danger it might present. They are to venture to Casterly Rock in short order, and it would not do for them to have the Reynes fresh in their minds. As such, Reynard would be taking Lily to High Hermitage for three weeks at Ulric's command. Reynard was meant to inspect the soldiers trained there and in the meanwhile, Harrion and Ashara would have a reprieve from their lessons.
Reynard pulled away and grabbed his wife's hand, "Come, we must depart love, the Martells arrive within the hour." Lily nodded and hugged her son one more time before relenting to her husband's pull and leaving the room. The sun was slowly setting in the west as he watched their boat travel down the Torrentine from the Palestone Sword until he heard a call from the guards. The Martells would arrive at the castle in just minutes.
He quickly made his way down to the courtyard and joined the rest of the Dayne household. Larra and Ulric stood side by side. Larra wore a silver dress that appeared almost as though it flowed with her long, unencumbered hair. Ulric and Garlan wore simple black doublets with their houses sigil upon the breast. Arlan was on his father's right looking like a younger mirror to the elder Dayne.
To Arlan's right Arthur stood clad in armor, unlike his brother. The younger Dayne, now an anointed knight, wore his chainmail, gauntlets, pauldrons, and studded trousers with a brand new tunic upon his chest. On his back sat the greatsword, Dawn. The most recent Sword of the Morning received the ancestral blade when Arlan knighted him some six months prior. Arlan, having tired of actually competing in tourneys, instructed Harry to take over duties as Arthur's squire. It really wasn't much of a change for the younger boy.
To Larra's left was Ashara, wearing a sleeveless dress the same shade as her eyes. It was modest but revealed a fact Harry quite deliberately ignored most days as they spent time together; Ashara was growing into a truly beautiful young woman. The smooth material hugged at the subtle curve of her hip and the bodice accentuated the slight swell of her chest. On her arm she wore the armband he'd bought her at their first tourney and in her hair was a silver piece with interconnected gems like starbursts that contrasted with her braided raven-locks, which he gave her for her last nameday. He didn't even notice that he was staring until he felt her gaze on him; he met her eyes for a moment and resisted the urge to blush before walking to stand beside Arthur.
The young knight smirked down at Harry as he passed by, "It is good of you to join us, Harrion. Mother was beginning to think it would be best to send Ashara after you like a bloodhound."
"Apologies," Harry said earnestly, "I was seeing my parents off." Arthur's response was cut off as the Martells entered the courtyard. Laughing loudly, Princess Elia and Prince Oberyn rode in upon black Dornish sand horses, flanking their mother's small palanquin as twenty of their household guard followed in their wake. Elia and Oberyn dismounted as Princess Aliandra exited her palanquin. The three approached the Daynes side by side.
Ulric offered them a warm smile, "Princess Aliandra," he leaned down to kiss her hand, courteously, "welcome to Starfall. We are happy to host House Martell."
Aliandra smirked, "Ulric, I appreciate the pleasantries, but we have known each other for decades… and we are Dornish." She gestured with her hands, "Come, greet an old friend properly." Ulric relented without complaint and hugged the aging ruler of Dorne tightly, as did Larra.
Ulric turned to the younger Martells, "Elia, Oberyn it is a pleasure seeing you again."
Elia curtsied and offered their shared sentiments, "It is ours as well, Lord Dayne."
Aliandra nodded her head firmly and grasped Larra at the elbow, "Right, now that is out of the way. Come, we haven't talked in years and I tire of this heat." Larra chuckled as the two women retreated inside with Ulric and Arlan close at hand.
Elia moved over to Ashara and hugged her firmly, "It is good to see you again, Ashara. It's been nearly a year since the last we saw each other." Her fingers glided through the younger girl's hair and rested a moment on the gems interspersed there, "This is lovely, where did you get it?"
Ashara gave a small smile and glanced in Harry's direction, "It was a gift for my last nameday. Harry gave it to me."
"Ahhh," Elia nodded knowingly, "I should have guessed. You did say in your letters that he gives the best gifts." She giggled at the slight scowl that marred the younger girl's lips.
"I did tell you that," Ashara admitted, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on Elia, "but not about this particular gift."
"It would seem this one only makes it all the more true," Elia retorted happily, "But I shall have to see the weirwood bow you rave about as well."
Ashara smiled thinking on her cherished possession, "I look forward to showing it to you." She grabbed Elia's hand and started leading her away, "Tomorrow though, you arrived late in the day and we shall feast soon."
The pair talked in quieter tones then, and their voices didn't carry to Harrion's ears, that is until Elia looked over her shoulder and called out, "It was good seeing you again, Arthur, Harry, we shall talk later." Arthur waved after her while Harry just smirked at Ashara's behavior.
Oberyn stepped so that he was standing next to Harry and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, "So you give the best gifts?" Harry eyed him warily, and shrugged noncommittally, "I should be offended then. Have we not been friends for years now young Harry?" He questioned rhetorically and clutched at his chest in mock pain, "And yet I have never received a single gift from you."
Harry made to reply but was interrupted by a snort from Arthur, "Harry isn't acquainted with whores, Prince Oberyn. So beyond providing you with a fancy new spear, which I'm sure you are already plenty well equipped, there is nothing he could provide of any interest to you."
Oberyn looked affronted for a moment, "You wound me, ser. He could have provided me a fine bottle of wine, or a new book." He shook Harry's shoulders smiling his roguish smile, "I do have interests beyond women and blood." Arthur and Harry each raised a skeptical eyebrow but Oberyn paid them little mind.
"I am afraid that my gifts wouldn't be the best if it were a simple book or bottle of wine, Prince Oberyn." He pushed Oberyn's arm from his shoulder patting his forearm almost condescendingly, "I am sorry, but I have a reputation to uphold." There was a pregnant pause as Oberyn looked at him in mild disbelief before all three broke out in laughter.
Oberyn brought himself under control, "Well, I would not want you to sully your good reputation." He looked around the walls a moment and looked to Arthur, "It is a beautiful castle, Arthur. I feel I shall like it best of the places we are meant to visit."
"My father would be happy to hear such words, I am sure." He turned toward the door and gestured for Oberyn to follow, "Come, my sister was right. Dinner shall be served soon and I assume you should like to relax beforehand."
The trio made their way through the doors of the castle before Oberyn spoke again, "So tell me Arthur, how does it feel earning the title Sword of the Morning?"
"It has been a dream of mine since blade was put in hand for the first time, when I barely stood higher than my father's knee," He spoke softly, slowly as he thought of the achievement, "To have earned my knighthood and Dawn along with it feels… fantastic. I can think of no other way of describing the realization of a lifelong goal."
"It is well deserved, my friend, well deserved indeed." Oberyn glanced at the greatsword on Arthur's back, "Shall we see Dawn in any melees in future?"
"No," Arthur told him firmly, "Dawn is meant for blood and battle, not sport. I shall participate in the lists from now on but nothing more."
"A shame," Oberyn responded, "though, I am of a similar mind of late." He rubbed his chin, "But with your absence I might finally stand a chance at victory. You have seen my end in six melees now?"
Arthur chuckled, "Seven, if my count is correct." He looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye, "But I believe your confidence comes over soon. My squire shall participate in my absence."
Oberyn's dark eyes looked Harry up and down, before he waved a hand dismissively, "He shall be no problem." The smile on his lips betrayed his good nature though.
"You have yet to see me fight, Prince Oberyn. You have no idea what sort of problem I can be." Harry's stony delivery drew a wide-eyed look from Oberyn and a nod from Arthur.
Oberyn smiled wolfishly, "I would have demonstration, tomorrow in the yard."
Harrion looked him in the eye, "You shall have it then."
"You have always had a sharp wit about you, Harry," Oberyn said approvingly, "I look forward to seeing if you are half as good with a blade."
That night a feast was served in the halls of Starfall but there was no high table; all just sat together. Musicians played a bevy of jaunty tunes as toasts were made in honor of the castle's noble guests. Elia sat between Ser Arlan and Arthur. Ashara sat beside her younger brother with Oberyn by her side and Harrion by his; it was a distinctly Dornish trait to not even bat an eye when a common born squire sat at a table with high lords. Harry was unsurprised by the seating arrangement given that it was well known the entire purpose of the Martell journey was to find suitable matches for the two youngest of the house.
Elia and Arlan talked pleasantly together, but more than once he heard them break words about Lady Elinor Penrose, a flaxen-haired, blue-eyed woman of four and twenty who caught Arlan's eye at more than one tourney they'd attended. It bodes ill for a potential match when they are speaking openly about other women. Not that Harry would expect any differently, they differed by more than a decade in age and it was clear they respected one another but nothing more.
Meanwhile, Arthur and Elia's conversations were more natural, more personal and while Harry suspected they held some affection for one another, he could not say for sure or to what extent. They would certainly make a more likely pairing. And yet it could never happen, he is the second son and she is the only daughter of a Great House.
The thought gave him pause as he glanced at Oberyn and Ashara beside him. They laughed together freely, Oberyn making lewd remarks that made the younger girl blush prettily, but Harry could see her slight discomfort at some his more ribald remarks and a bit of distaste at the amount of wine Oberyn imbibed.
He was pulled from his thoughts by a slap on his shoulder, "Come, Harry, we are feasting and you are sitting there as lifeless as a stone." Oberyn poured more wine into the still mostly filled cup in front of him, "Drink with me, my friend."
Harrion smirked, "I would not have my senses dulled on the morrow," he pushed Oberyn in the shoulder and watched him sway slightly in his seat, "I mean to best you in the yard."
Oberyn barked a laugh, "I could fight you now and the result would be the same," He took another swig of wine, "You spend too much time in Arthur's company, it seems as though nothing can dent the steel that one is made of."
Ashara hummed in displeasure beside him, drawing Oberyn's attention, "Your insinuation isn't appreciated in regards to either Arthur or Harry."
Oberyn bowed his head dramatically, "I apologize, my Lady. I meant no offense."
She rolled her eyes at his antics before turning them to Harry, a dangerous glint in them, "You shall have to show him the error of his ways tomorrow."
"If that is what my Lady desires, it shall be done." He smiled widely causing her to giggle softly. The tinkling quality made him repress the urge to blush. He was saved from further conversation as Ulric stood and addressed the Hall.
"A delicious feast, with good company," There were cheers of approval from the gathered people, "but I find my hospitality wanting." He gestured toward a servant near a door and three more entered, each carrying a gift.
"How wonderful!" Oberyn exclaimed over the muted noise of the hall, "I expected no such favors." Ulric smiled even as Elia cuffed her brother over the back of the head drawing laughs from everyone.
Ulric resisted the urge to laugh along with the crowd as he handed the first gift to Princess Aliandra and explained its significance , "A shipwreck was found along the Torrentine some years ago by Harry and Ashara, the ship was one of Nymeria's ten thousand" They both shrunk back ever so slightly as all attention fell on them, "Within was a book detailing the water magics of the Rhoynar," Aliandra looked all the more interested at these words, "This is a translated copy of that same book."
The Princess stood and offered a short bow, "A valuable gift, one that is deeply appreciated; even if it was unexpected."
Ulric smiled before continuing, "For Princess Elia," He indicated an intricately woven necklace of red gold, "this was crafted from the gold found within that same ship." She took it delicately from the pillow it rested on, and asked Arthur to help her clasp it around her neck. He handled her dark curls with care as he did as she bid.
"It is beautiful, Lord Dayne," She fingered the piece with obvious approval.
"Books and necklaces, perhaps my excitement was premature," He whispered so that only Harry and Ashara could hear. They both gave him a withering look as Ulric presented the last gift.
"And finally, a shield, light despite the iron covering its surface, and bearing Nymeria's red sun." He offered it to Oberyn, who stood and strapped it to his arm, testing the weight of it.
"Aye," He said nodding, "this will do nicely."
Ulric clapped his hands and sat back down and the noise rose steadily in the room again. The festivities lasted only a short while longer before all made their way to their quarters and sleep took them for the night.
The next morning, Harrion arose early, broke his fast and met Arthur and Nesio in the yard where they trained for nearly an hour before Oberyn joined them, Ashara and Elia just behind him.
Oberyn smiled that roguish smile, "I apologize for my lateness gentlemen, but I imbibed a fair bit more wine than was perfectly necessary last night."
"Really, I never would have guessed," Harrion quipped sarcastically, earning a quick smack from Arthur though he couldn't hide his own amusement.
The prince looked at the weapons in Harry's hands, "I was not aware that you favored such an uncommon style, I would have thought you for the greatsword like Arthur, or the shield like Arlan." It was a fair assumption and one Harry hoped to exploit. And while Harry had become adequate with other weapons and styles, he would always favor two swords.
"Arlan and Lord Ulric kindly hired a tutor for the style when I showed interest," He smirked slightly, "I look forward to demonstrating the results."
Oberyn laughed slightly, "Shall we begin then?" Harrion nodded confidently and took a place across from the prince as he went to retrieve a spear and small round-shield.
The young Reyne had long since adopted Nesio's practice of going bare-chested in practice, particularly in the sweltering heat of the Dornish summer. The light of the sun played across the sweat slicked surface of his wiry muscles. He would never be as large as Arthur, but he was well-defined for a boy of two and ten. There were a few faint scars lining his chest from where Arthur or Nesio struck him in the past. They were lessons that he chose not to heal with the waters.
Harrion watched with determined eyes as Oberyn tested the weight of the spear and spun it around with impressive fluidity and grace. He'd seen the prince do much the same at tourneys in the past so paid it little mind, knowing it was as much for show as anything else.
Oberyn stood across from him and smiled cockily, "This will end when you yield."
Harrion clenched his jaw once, "Or when you do." Oberyn's smile became predatory as he lashed out with the spear.
Harry reacted immediately and stepped back, letting the blade pass him by without any injury. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. He slashed at Oberyn's shoulder with his left hand only to have the strike met by the shaft of the spear. He used the sword in his right hand to stab at the prince's leg but he danced away using the butt of his spear to try and strike Harry in the back in the process, only for him to be gone before the blow could connect.
As Harry turned to face Oberyn again, he was forced to jump over a sweeping swing of the spear and then shift as his opponent reared back and stabbed at his shoulder. Harry batted the spear downward with his right hand and stabbed with his left only for metal to meet metal as his thrust met Oberyn's shield with a solid clang. The blow sent Oberyn stumbling backward, and a short laugh escaped his lips, "Perhaps my words yesterday were spoken too quickly." He brought the spear down in a wide arc that Harry sidestepped easily, "I should have expected someone who's spent years training with the Sword of the Morning to pose a proper challenge."
Harry didn't acknowledge the compliment and instead pressed an attack. He was a flurry of movement, each strike landing where he meant. Oberyn was forced to backpedal and defend as Harry reigned down his blows. He batted the older man's shield aside leaving his chest open. Lifting his leg, he kicked out and sent Oberyn tumbling into the dirt of the courtyard with a thump. As he brought his sword down to end the match, the prince rolled away before springing back up quickly. Oberyn coughed before smirking, "Wrong indeed."
They continued in that manner for another fifteen minutes before things finally finished. Harrion winced as he felt the edge of the spear cut across his cheek but he paid it little mind as he once more pushed the spear toward the ground on the follow through. This time he managed to pin it there for just a moment longer, buying the time necessary to bring his other sword down against the shaft, snapping it in two. Without the leverage of the spear, Oberyn stumbled forward and attempted to knock Harry to the ground with his shield. Harry avoided it and kicked Oberyn's leg out from under him. He let out a pained breath as the air left his lungs and then stilled as he felt the tip of a sword at his throat.
He smiled good naturedly, "It would seem I have been bested. Yield." Harry smiled triumphantly before leaning down to help him to his feet. The prince clapped Harry on the shoulder with one hand, as he rubbed at his back with the other, "That was quite enjoyable my friend. I look forward to the day you participate in the melee."
They walked over to Arthur who looked a little smug, which was a rare thing for the knight. Oberyn just shook his head, "Oh, stuff it. You were right."
A soft hand turned Harry's shoulder and he felt a cool cloth applied to the cut on his cheek. Ashara stood there with her weirwood bow slung across her back, looking pleased with the outcome of the battle as Elia was chuckling beside her. When she pulled the cloth away from his face she did her best imitation of a curtsey given she was wearing trousers before speaking, "You have done as I bid, kind ser, and I thank you."
Harry gave her an exaggerated bow and surprised her when he grasped her hand and kissed the back, bringing a hint of color to her cheeks, "It was a pleasure, my Lady."
Elia's shoulders shook as she tried to contain her amusement at their antics. She gasped a quick breath to calm herself, "We quite enjoyed the show," She looked in her brother's direction mirth dancing in her eyes, "I love my brother dearly, but there are times where he needs to be knocked on his arse and I haven't been able to do it myself for years." She said it loud enough for him to hear and he stuck his tongue out childishly causing them all to laugh.
They broke apart then, the boys training while the two ladies spent a time firing at the targets in the yard. Elia proved a poor shot and while Ashara attempted to offer advice, it did little help. They stopped when Elia nearly hit poor Lucas… ten yards from the target. However, Elia did prove skilled in the use of a whip. When Ashara attempted the same, her yelp rang through the courtyard as she cracked across her own bum. Elia took it from her gingerly then, earning a glare from the younger girl before they retreated to the comfort of the castle.
For five days the Martells enjoyed the hospitality of the Starfall. On their last day there the younger Martells wished to visit the location of the Rhoynish ship from which their gifts were taken. The sun was nearing the western horizon as Elia's laughter carried across the banks of the Torrentine and back to where Harry and Ashara watched as she beat both Oberyn and Arthur in a horserace.
As they joined them where they stopped atop the sandy hill, Elia's voice met them, "Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning," she said loftily, "Beaten by a mere woman in a race, I wonder if I might be able to beat you in a joust?" She poked him in the chest teasingly.
"No doubt you would be a fierce competitor, princess," Arthur responded his indigo eyes locked with her shining brown, "But you are half my size, and only beat me by head, maybe two. I would not be quite so confident in your jousting skills."
Elia coughed lightly, "You will just need to teach me then ser, with such a renowned knight as my teacher I shall be able to best Ser Barristan in mere months." They both chuckled at the bold claim before settling back into the sand.
The princess sighed as she let the warm sand slide through her fingers, "I do not look forward to our departure on the morrow. I shall miss this place."
"It shall miss you as well, my Lady," Arthur spoke quietly, almost to himself, though his voice carried in the stillness of the twilight.
"I shall miss it as well," Oberyn spoke up loudly, "in case anybody was wondering."
Arthur smirked and turned to Oberyn, "I'm not so sure how Starfall will feel about your departure." Oberyn clutched at his chest as if injured but then shrugged his shoulders in defeat. The five of them sat there watching the sunset in silence until it had nearly fallen beneath the horizon.
Arthur stood then and offered his hand to Elia, "Come, your mother shall worry if we do not return soon." She nodded and allowed him to help her up. They made quick work of the journey back, and when they were within a few hundred yards of Starfall, Oberyn proposed yet another race. Arthur and Ashara agreed while Harrion and Elia remained behind.
They watched the three shrink slowly as they raced away from them. Elia coughed before turning to look at Harry as they trotted along, "This must be the first time we have ever been alone together." Harry nodded, unsure how to respond to the comment. She focused on him for a long moment without speaking, "Tell me, how is it that you came by the weirwood bow?"
Harry turned to look at her, his eyebrow raised in surprise. Well that certainly wasn't what I was expecting. Still there is no harm in telling the story I suppose. "We were in the capital for the tourney held in honor of King Aerys' tenth year on the throne." He rubbed at the back of his neck, "Rather foolishly, I decided to venture into the city alone and happened upon a northerner playing dice outside an inn along Eel Alley. He took any willing to best him at the game, wagering his weirwood bow against a golden dragon."
Elia had one eyebrow raised in question, "A dragon? You happened to have a dragon with you? And willingly wagered it?"
Harrion smirked slightly, "That ship Ashara and I found carried a considerable sum of gold. As its founder, Ulric ensured I was given an appropriate sum for the discovery." He shrugged, "As to the wager, it was a small price to pay knowing that should I win, I would make Ashara immeasurably happy." In truth, Harry did something untoward to ensure his victory. A small bit of magic saw him win without issue. And it was hard to feel bad when the dice were weighted to begin with. The look on the man's face proved priceless as well.
"Immeasurably happy seems an apt way of describing her reaction to that bow," Elia chuckled, "I remember the letter I received from her after you gifted it to her; I doubt she has ever been happier." She smiled slyly in Harry's direction, "It is her most cherished possession."
"She is a talented archer," Harry said fondly, "I wish only that I could have found a goldenheart bow for her use, but they are never allowed from the Summer Isles."
"Practical," Elia commented, "but as you said that wasn't the reason you found that bow for her, nor the reason you wagered a dragon to ensure it would be hers. You did it because you care about her and her happiness." She looked at him, "Had you lost, how many golden dragons would you have sacrificed before you admitted defeat?"
"As many as were in my coin purse," He responded without hesitation.
She seemed pleased by that answer, "As I would have guessed," She coughed into her hand before continuing, "I am very fond of Ashara and believe she is lucky to have you in her life." Harry blushed slightly but did not comment. Elia's smile widened at his discomfort, "You know it is a funny thing," She commented conversationally, "my mother tells me that Lady Larra seems reluctant to discuss any sort of arrangement for Ashara… and I mean for any suitor, not just Oberyn. Though Oberyn's wife has all but been decided." She said the last to herself more than Harry.
Harry fidgeted uncomfortably in his saddle, "I would not be privy to such things." He sought to change the subject, "Who shall Oberyn wed?"
"Oh," Elia smiled but it did not reach her eyes, "Joanna Lannister and my mother agreed some years ago that Cersei would be his bride; though, I doubt that Lord Tywin is in agreement."
Harrion fell silent remembering the time he saw Princess Aliandra and Joanna speak together at the Tourney at Ashford. They neared the gates of Starfall before he spoke again, "Princess Elia, if you could choose for yourself who would you wed?"
Elia smiled sadly, "I would not say Harry, for it is not my choice… not really. Sometimes we must do things even if it they against our own heart." That was all she had to say on the matter, so Harry let things lie. They dismounted and took their horses to the stables before parting to prepare for leaving feast.
The following morning, Harry stood in the courtyard to bid the Martells a final farewell.
"Ulric," Princess Aliandra started with a soft smile on her lined face, "Starfall's hospitality was nothing short of wonderful." She turned to Larra, "And I look forward to seeing you again, my dear. Hopefully, it will not be years in the coming." She turned and entered her palanquin.
Elia hugged Ashara and they shared whispered words before she stood in front of Harry, "Take care of yourself… I shall need you around to knock Oberyn around in the future." They both ignored the indignant squawk from the aforementioned prince.
She turned to Arthur who kissed the back of her hand before she had the chance to speak, "Farewell, Princess Elia." She smiled and said nothing further instead gracing him with a soft peck on the cheek, Harry and Ashara shared a look but didn't comment.
Oberyn smiled as he clapped Harry's shoulder, "I have come to a decision," He told him conspiratorially, "I will continue participating in the melees… otherwise I will not have the opportunity to repay you for my defeat in the yard."
Harry smiled, "I look forward to it Prince Oberyn."
The unabashed rogue nodded, "Until that time then." With that, the younger Martells mounted their horses and their retinue left Starfall. Harry and Ashara watched in silence from the walls as they wound their way down to the town and took a ferry across the Torrentine. Neither could help the slight disappointment at watching their departure.
AN: I realize in my authors note at the end of the last chapter that I said this could get as far as the Tourney at Lannisport but a six year time jump in one chapter seemed a bit much. Not to mention the Tourney will prove important for a couple reasons so I didn't want to rush and this chapter was already 13k words.
A quick comment on Harrion's memories of Harry Potter's life. It was intentional on my part that he will at times differentiate between himself and his counterpart and at others he will think of them as a single entity. Harrion is both within and without in the dreams, having independent thought while feeling everything Harry feels.
Thanks all for reading. Until next time.