Here's another chapter! Phew, I'm on a role today! This will be the last chapter for today. Now I've got a bit of content going, I'd be more than happy to answer any reviews or messages in a postnote next chapter. At the risk of sounding needy, please favorite, follow or review if you like the story :)
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Lord Arryn stared at the letter held in his hands in abject horror. He truly couldn't believe it had come to this. He knew Aerys was mad. The whole of Westeros knew. But to burn alive a Lord Paramount and strangle the Heir of the North, then have the audacity to demand the lives of another Lord Paramount and Heir. He just couldn't believe the words on paper, for they were surely the decisions of a mad man. Did not the advisors surrounding the mad king know these actions would unite the kingdoms in rebellion against the throne? Did they truly not know that they had now doomed themselves completely?
Balling the paper in his tightly clenched fist, Jon cursed vehemently as he stormed through the stone hallways of his keep heading towards the courtyard he had become very familiar with these past two years.
Since returning from that fateful tourney at Harrenhal a year past, he had been hard on his son. He knew this. Harry truly did not understand the repercussions for his actions that night. Whilst to a boy, it was hilarious and fun, but to the scheming vipers of the court, it was an outspoken attack on Dornish nobility by the Heir of the East. In return for the hours he had to spend clearing up the political mess, he subjected his son to hours upon hours of physical training.
Annoyingly enough, the boy of course took to the training just about as well as he does anything, exceedingly well. Blademaster Rand Al'thor claimed the boy must have been born with a sword in his hand for all his finesse. Still, Harry was just a boy, and new talent with a practice blade or not, he feared for the days to come, and what they would mean for his House.
Reaching the overlook facing the paved courtyard, Jon watched without sympathy as Harry was beaten down by Robert. It had surprised him when Robert and Eddard both had returned to the Eyrie after the Tourney. Both were of age and their fostering finished. He supposed it was out of fondness for himself and his son that kept, the now men, here.
"By the gods above you're quick and clever with a blade Harry, but you're ten years too early to try over powering me!" Robert roared as he charged the recuperating boy. Recovering enough to level his sword, Harry angled it as if for a quick draw and went through the movements for The Moon Rises Over the Lakes, striking out against the Baratheon's heavier blade and forcing the sword to sail harmlessly to side. Shifting his weight to favour his right, Harry then moved into The Falling Leaf, hitting hard into the off balanced man's back, sending him to the ground hard.
"A point to Harry! That's three to two in favour of Lord Baratheon" Rand called from the side, where his keen eyes were watching the flaws in his students form.
"Bloody hell Harry, you and that foreigner's strange dances hurt something fierce" Robert grumbled as he stood up and brushed himself off. "Though I'm not really a good opponent with a sword, I've always been fucking useless with the things. Give me a hammer any day" the big man grinned toothily.
"I don't think I'd face your Warhammer even on a good day Rob" Harry smiled tiredly, "I rather like my head attached to my shoulders".
"What about you Eddard, give Harry another dance partner?" Blademaster Rand asked the pensive Northman.
"I have no doubt I'd fair better than Robert, he is as useless as he says with a blade, but I tired myself earlier and would not serve adequately" he humbly declined.
"Bah, ignore his proper speech, he was having a tousle with that fine girl Tammy, you know, the the cookgirl with huge tits. Tired myself earlier my arse" Robert roared with laughter.
Laughing despite himself, Harry looked at Ned in question. The man blushed fiercely and refused to comment.
"Well if no one else wishes to challenge you, we will finish the day with what you know of forms. Come Harry, start your warm downs as we go through them" Rand commanded.
"I am striking at you with a low, slow but heavy strike, how do you counter?" the teacher of blades tested.
Harry looked pensive for a moment before answering slowly.
"I'd counter with a quick Cutting the Clouds aiming from shoulder to waist, striking the blade to stop its force" he answered, though he trailed off in question towards the end.
"You could do that I suppose" Rand grunted, "Assuming you don't mind the possibility of jarring your hands, missing completely, shattering your blade or any other number of reasons why that would be a poor choice." The Blademaster retorted.
"Your correct choice, if there is to be only one, would be Rain in High Wind, as this form uses friction from the connecting blades to slow the force, halting in a deadlock. Whilst this limits your next actions, it succeeds in your original goal yes? Countering the attack." Rand explained as they moved through several of what the Norvosi called Kata's. "Though another acceptable form would have been Cat Dances On The Wall, which would use speed rather than force to counter, much like you used against Lord Baratheon before yes?"
"Yes Master" Harry agreed as he panted in exertion. Sweat was rolling down his forehead and sticking the collar of his loose thread shirt to his neck. He had been at this for hours and even for his impressive memory, the seemingly hundreds of forms used by Blademaster's was difficult to memorise, let alone use flawlessly in battle.
"That's enough for today, you're exhausted little falcon. Go rest and we will continue from here tomorrow" Rand stated as he came out his low stance.
"Boys, come here" Jon called seriously.
Startled by the unexpected voice, and the severity of it, the three nobles quickly met the man they all thought of as father.
"Eddard… I don't know to tell you this son." He paused. "Nor you Robert…" he trailed off. "A letter has arrived from a source of mine and another missive followed shortly after. The first spoke of a kidnapping." Looking at the two he measured his tone. "Lyanna Stark has been kidnapped by Rhaegar Targaryen."
Slowly, like the pressure building in a volcano, Roberts face contorted in fury as he gripped the wooden railing next to them with near shattering force.
Jon looked to Eddard. "That's not the worst son." He continued sadly. "Your brother Brandon in his rage stormed Kingslanding, your father followed him. The two demanded the King hand over Rhaegar to be executed and return Lyanna Stark." He finished slowly. "The King killed them both…"
Eddard choked as if he couldn't breathe and braced himself next to Robert.
"King Aerys demands I kill and deliver the both of you to Kingslanding to have your heads placed on spikes as warning against treason and traitors" Harry's father continued as face darkened in anger. "I will not be doing this. The reign of Aerys the Mad must end. The two of you must return home, and marshal your forces"
Harry could barely follow the conversation it was so unexpected for him. Kidnapping? Execution? War? Why was this happening? He had heard the king was mad, but he didn't foresee this happening.
"Father?" Harry inquired quietly.
"Harry- You son will be staying here. The Vale will be marshaling and moving forces to the Riverland's where we will meet the North. The Stormlander's with Robert will meet us further south." He finished heavily. "You will be the active leader of the Vale Harry as my Heir…"
What? Him? Heir? Harry staggered as if a great weight had settled around his shoulders. He was far too young was he not? He was smart yes, mature when he chose to be. But still, he knew very little about leading or ruling anyone!
He must have conveyed his panic with look alone as his father sent him a reassuring smile.
"Maester Colemon and Lord Nestor Royce will be staying and advising you in my absence. They shall not lead you astray my son." He sighed through his nose and looked over to the now silently weeping Stark. "I'm truly sorry all of this happened boys. All of it. But we must all be strong now. For this will surely test all of us."
A year had passed, Harry thinks sadly. A year and a half, and still the rebellion rages. If anything, the stoking fire of rage has only been fanned by the actions of the Mad King this past year. Mass executions, burnings, raping's. So much evil and bad, all by the will of one man. The year had not been kind to the Vale. Despite his best efforts, there was a severe lack of man power left after the men all joined his Father. With so little man power, the farms went untended and the hunting ceased almost all together. Food was becoming scarce with only what the women could provide making up their stock. Sadly, living in a patriarchal world, where farmers were fathers and sons, the women of the vale knew very little about food production, other than cooking.
Though he could never resent the womenfolk, for it was truly only due to them that they had survived at all. Blankets and sheets to warm the nights, meals cooked in such a way to bring out the healthiest in an otherwise bland dinner. Truly they were blessed. If nothing else, this past year has truly put things into perspective for Harry. He had thought he had lived through war as Harry Potter, fighting the Dark Lords regime. How foolish he was. They were mere skirmishes compared to the full frontal conflict this war was turning into. Thousands of men fighting in a single place at a single time. The scale of which completely shocked Harry.
Safe in the Vale he had no exposure to the war other than the general depression and famine that was caused by it, and through the recounts he was constantly getting through missive from his father and others. He spent most of his days occupying himself to forget his troubles.
He realised the other day that he hadn't smiled or laughed in a while. Since Robert and Eddard and his Father left he supposed. There wasn't much to be joyous for. He only had the daily troubles of his people to listen too, his books to escape too, and Rand to lean on. Without his sword instructor, he privately thought he may have gone as mad as the king.
Sword forms flew through his mind now as he effortlessly entered a kata and started stretching his muscles. He was no means a master, not even an adept, having only two years of instruction, however Rand promised he was at the ends of the beginner level of competency. He could feel it too, like a threshold he was close to crossing, to making a leap into the next realm of fighting.
"Harry" old Nestor was descending the steps into the courtyard with a tattered missive in his hand and a wide smile on his old crinkled face. "It's from your father".
Confused for he wasn't expecting another missive for some time, he read the first few lines and couldn't believe his eyes.
Rhaegar dead. Kingslanding sacked. Robert King. War Over.
He reread those four lines repeatedly, savoring them each. Laughing joyfully for perhaps the first time in over a year, Harry grabbed Nestor and hugged his middle tightly.
"We must tell everyone the good news!" He shouted, running up the stairs two at a time.
Reaching the great hall where several wives, sisters, mothers and daughters were waiting he started laughing again waving around the letter wildly.
"The war is over!"
The cheer was deafening.
Laying eyes upon the grand fortress that was his home for the first time in near two years was enough to almost bring him to tears. He had kept up to date with the happenings in his household and kingdom through missive, but to truly be back, to be able to hold his son again and hear his laughter was almost too much to bear for Jon.
"That is the Eyrie?" a snide voice said from his side, "It looks ugly compared to Riverrun".
Jon sighed as he turned to his new wife Lysa Tully, or Arryn now. Truly, in his opinion their marriage was one the greatest sacrifices made during the war. For he would have to put up with her, and the girl would have to put up with him. Truly the gods were cruel.
He ignored the comment, as he had most of the things the woman had said on their journey and tried to bring back his earlier excitement.
Passing the narrow-suspended walkway that made up the entrance to the eyrie, he gazed upon the thick strong natural rock walls, and the rounded blue glass domes of his home. The west landers claim Casterly Rock was the greatest mountain hold, but surely there was nothing grander than the Eyrie in the Vale.
Joy surged through Jon for standing before the gates awaiting him was a tall lad of ten years. His son. His Harry.
"Father!" the boy called out happily and ran towards the slowing carriage. Jon noticed the voice cracked a little. Gods, he was approaching puberty. Two years and he had missed so much.
"Harry" he breathed deeply as his son jumped into his embrace. Holding him made the whole ordeal worthwhile. All his children were safe. Ned was with wife and Lord of the North, Harry was a little older and a little wiser but still completely safe, and Robert was king of all of bleeding westeros!
"Welcome home father." Harry grinned up at him before looking to the carriage. Jon could pick immediately the moment he noticed Lysa for his eyes dimmed and his smile forced. "Welcome Lady Lysa."
"Lady Arryn" she sneered at the boy.
"Yes, that" he agreed before looking back to his father.
"How long will you be staying?" he asked as he followed Jon further into the keep. The Household staff was busy unpacking any luggage and could show Lysa to her rooms, he truly didn't care where she ended up.
"Only for a week Harry" he said sadly. "Roberts rule is in its infancy and, due to the way the city was taken he is surrounded by conniving lions on all sides. He needs me there as his Hand." He sighed. "However, you could come back with Lysa and I and foster in Kingslanding. Nestor can be regent while we're away" he tried to convince him.
Harry looked at him then, oddly torn and far older than he remembered. "The war was hard father. Not just on the soldiers fighting. In the two years, you've been gone I've had to rule a kingdom of starving people. Now that the war is over and we can start rebuilding, you wish for me to hand the reigns over to the steward?" He loved Nestor, truly he did, the man was a god send, but did his father truly expect this of him? To abandon his people for greener pastures?
Jon sighed again. He was doing that far too much lately he reflected. "No Harry, I could not ask that of you. I just thought to give you the option. If you truly wish to stay, in a weeks' time when I return you will remain here as my heir and regent of the Vale."
"Still, that is a weeks' time away, tonight you can rest and tell me stories of the war" his growing son grinned and led him by the arm further into the keep.