It was hard concentrating in the small council meeting that Oberyn had constituted. His adventure at night had weakened Severus significantly. He had lost quite a bit of blood, and felt faint, but it wouldn't do to let anyone know. His attackers would know about his survival by now, and of Tyrion Lannister's, too.

Hopefully their failure to kill Severus would make them reassess their methodology, and that would gain Severus some time. If Severus was lucky, they'd even think that he had a counter-spell, which would make them think twice. He couldn't seem weak. They must think that their ritual failed.

He stifled a yawn. Oberyn was speaking about how to get the lords to support Severus's claim, of writing to them, and sending delegations, and Severus tried to listen, but the words were just blurring into incoherent buzzing.

Severus crunched on a grape, craving a shot of sugar as the council droned on. He just wanted to find a pillow and rest his head for a few hours. He was fantasizing about his soft feather bed, better than the one at Hogwarts by far when he felt it. A spike of legilimency. It drove out all sleep in an instant. It was a crude attack, someone was trying to look through his eyes. Severus looked around discreetly, occluding very subtly, not letting his attacker know that he had been found out. No one was making eye contact. It was most unusual. He gently pushed back, following his attacker's mind trail, his natural train of thought, keeping his own relatively unguarded. It was no one in the room, Severus gleaned. A remote attack, a powerful sorcerer then, yet unskilled. Potter?

Severus pushed back, and then he was in his attacker's mind. The mind was swirling with memories, memories that belonged to a multitude of people. He saw a black-haired girl with a long face make Ned Stark swear that he'd protect her child, he saw a large man, as big as Hagrid exchange words in the courtyard of a castle. The memories kept coming, and they were all memories gleaned from legilimency: relatively devoid of emotion, as seen by a third party.

Then the sorcerer panicked. He withdrew into his own head. Severus followed. The mind was incoherent, yet Severus persevered. It was critical he understand the magic of this world. The magic that kept attacking him. The sorcerer was leaping through minds now, trying to escape but only pulling Severus with him in his panic. Absolutely unskilled.

Severus had never seen anything like it. He upped his occlumency. The disregard with which the sorcerer was ploughing through various mindscapes was reckless. He was in a wolf's head now, looking through a forest full of snow, and strange trees with faces. The wolf was now a bird, and Severus could see from high above, flags with flayed men on its banners fluttering from the walls of an impressive castle. And then, he was falling. Falling down near the ramparts of the castle. An arrow had pierced him, his lifeblood was flowing out, and Severus could feel pain, overwhelming pain. If he fell, he'd be dead at best, and his mind as empty as if he had been kissed by a dementor, if he were unlucky.

Severus had never counted on luck. Lady Luck had a tendency to spite him. He occluded instead, as hard as he could. With much effort, Severus disengaged his mind from that of the bird, and from that of the sorcerer.

He felt faint when his mind rushed back into his body, and found himself almost falling. He steadied himself, discreetly checking if anyone had noticed his weakness. Oberyn was looking at him strangely, but other than the prince, no one seemed to notice.

Severus stood up, checking his body from swaying. The council quietened, and looked at him quizzically. "We'll reconvene later," he found himself muttering softly, and rushed as well as he could to his own room and collapsed on the bed in relief.

When he came to, Oberyn was in his room, sitting on a chair across his bed, a book in his hand. He had been waiting some time, it appeared. There were guards in the room as well. Seeing Severus awake, the guards retreated outside the door, which Severus saw was guarded by several guards more. Granger was standing outside as well. It appeared she had been trying to come in, but was being obviously denied.

"Let her in," Severus commanded, sitting up against the headboard. Oberyn glared at him, but nodded reluctantly. The guards parted for Granger to enter, and the doors shut behind her.

"What was that all about?" asked the prince, shutting his book closed.

"I was tired. I needed to sleep."

Oberyn wasn't buying it. "You were faint. The others didn't notice, I am sure, but if anyone looked closely, it was obvious. A day's sleep doesn't do that to a man. I would know…"

Severus weighed his options. He was too exhausted to try legilimency on Oberyn, and wasn't sure it would be a wise course of action anyway. The man was his half-brother. Perhaps he could confide in him. But then again, Tobias Snape had been his father, and he was the last man that Severus would share his thoughts with. He mentally shook himself. This was not the time for allowing his mind to wander. He needed to organise his thoughts, weigh the pros and cons.

He mentally jotted the pros: Oberyn wasn't angry about magic. He had seemed ecstatic instead, with the way Gregor Clegane had been dispatched. He was also a well read man of the world, literally and figuratively. There was little that would surprise the man.

The cons came next: Oberyn was an agent of Doran Martell. He was a politician with his own agenda, and until recently had little love for Severus. His real thoughts, Severus wasn't privy to.

Yet, something needed to be shared, that was clear. Oberyn Martell was suspicious, and it wouldn't do for the man to learn more than he needed to by poking his oddly Snape-like nose where it didn't belong.

"Do you know anything of magic?" Severus fished, causing Granger to startle.

The question seemed unexpected. Oberyn was looking at him, puzzled. "Magic?"

Severus nodded.

"They call it the Higher Mysteries at the Citadel. Only the smallfolk use the word magic, well they and the maegi, I suppose. The maesters believe that there is little true magic left in the world, and the little that there is comes from the East, much like the Targaryens and their dragons."

"Besides dragons, what kind of magic is there?"

"The Seven be good! Not you too!" Oberyn had gone white, his book dropping to the floor as he shot up from his chair.

It was an unexpectedly strange reaction. So there was some magic, and Oberyn knew of it. "What do you mean, not you too…"

"Dragon dreams. Drove Rhaegar mad. He was obsessed. He could see the future, he told Elia. His dreams matched prophesy, he said. It drove Elia mad, but she loved him too much." Granger scoffed, and Oberyn looked at her in odd agreement. "Nonsense for the most part."

Prophesy. Severus shuddered. As if remote legilimency and blood magic weren't enough.

"Not Dragon Dreams." Severus said. A bit of colour returned to Oberyn's face, as if he were glad that Severus wasn't a madman. "I lost a lot of blood last night" Severus continued to explain blandly. "Lady Hermione saved me."

Together they recounted the heavily edited events of the night, seeming as if Granger had stopped the ritual by accident. Even so Oberyn was looking at them in both awe and worry.

He paced the floor, as he spoke. "Joffrey is dangerous. Moreso than I had expected, and madder than Aerys, if what you say is true. If he has a sorcerer with him..." He was looking intently at Severus, and when he spoke again, he did so formally. "You are correct, your grace. We can't let him know how close he came to success. You will need protection, and knights will not be sufficient." He looked at Granger sharply, as if something had just penetrated his head. "Why were you out? How did you know how to save him?"

"I didn't know. It was luck. I was at the pier. I am a Spicer, and my family trades in wine. I had gone there to see if our ship had come to port –"

"How did you get out? How did you get back in? How did you know who their intended victim was? Who was the sacrifice?"

"They were hardly being discreet about their intended victim. Why, they declared it openly. They had Lord Tyrion tied up. They needed noble blood to spill. King's blood, they said. As far as how I got out, and came back in…well, I created a distraction. When the guards went to investigate, I snuck out, and later, the same way, snuck back in."

"Which guard, what gate was this?"

Severus couldn't allow this to become a cross-examination. "Oberyn," Severus interrupted. "She told me how, it wasn't the guard's fault. He wouldn't be able to stop her. Don't question her on this."

Oberyn looked at him incredulously. It was obvious that Oberyn was unconvinced, yet it was obvious also that he could see that he hadn't been lied to. Thankfully, Oberyn choose to overlook the omission for now in favour of learning what he could. Severus could respect that. Yet, behind the burning curiosity in his eyes, Severus knew that Oberyn's brain was clearly working hard.

The prince exclaimed suddenly, as if he had an epiphany. "She's yours, not Cersei's! You insisted that she be Sansa Stark's lady in waiting, even when Cersei died, she brought you her sword. I should have known."

He was looking between them, studying them. "No, you aren't lovers," Oberyn declared confidently. "That look I know, well enough, and neither of you have it." Granger made a horrified face, it probably mirrored his own, and Oberyn laughed. "Certainly not lovers." Oberyn studied Granger "She's quite young. Your bastard, then?"

He peered at her carefully, then shook his head. "No, not yours." He muttered. Then looked alarmed for a second before his features schooled themselves in relief, as he continued to mutter to himself. "She's not mine, either. I know all my daughters. They all have my look. She isn't Doran's, of that I am certain. A Targaryen bastard, then? Aerys did fuck whoever was available…"

"Let's say she is my student and leave it at that," Severus found himself saying, interrupting his half-brother. "She is a diligent pupil, and trustworthy. We have faced many unpleasant situations together, and frankly, I trust her with my life."

Granger stood with her mouth gaping open, but it was the truth. She was a self-righteous Gryffindor and Severus wasn't particularly fond of her, but he knew for a certainty that Granger could always be counted upon.

Oberyn's expression was equally gobsmacked, but he reigned it in quickly enough. He nodded, instead.

"As I was saying, this is a matter of concern, and we must keep you safe. Magic…" Oberyn was shook his head in disbelief, then continued, his voice louder, as if he were lecturing them. "The study of the Higher Mysteries is disdained by many, most of them too arrogant and narrow of mind to appreciate the wonders the world has to offer. I forged a Valyrian steel link during my time there. The wonders of the world appealed to me, and I studied as much as I was able while I was there.

"There was little about ritual magic there, except for a mention that it originated in Assha'i. The study of blood magic was discouraged at the Citadel, and for good reason, too. The few books about magic that did exist were generally about magic from our own lands. This magic is of a different sort, more benign. It is magic that one is born with, not one that is taken, like the skinchangers of the North…"

"Skinchangers?" Granger asked, curiosity writ large of her face. Severus thanked his stars for having a curious know-it-all in his midst. He really had not wanted to ask that question himself, lest he pique Oberyn's suspicions yet again.

"They can enter into the minds of animals and see through them," Oberyn explained, a little put off by the interruption. "They are quite rare. Only one in a thousand men are skinchangers."

Severus inhaled sharply. The legilimency…

"What else is known about a skinchanger?" Persisted Granger to Severus's delight

"Not much, really, except that a bond with an animal helps to, well, skinchange…"

"Does a skinchanger have any other powers? Can they fly? Kill?"

"Not in any of the legends that I have heard. Skinchangers have historically been used only as spies. Blood magic on the other hand…their use is rarer still. The sacrifice that blood magic requires makes it virtually impossible to use in the way the user intends. Joffrey's ploy failed. Sacrificing a lord cannot be taken lightly. It will be a while before he tries again…"

Oberyn looked at Granger with hard eyes, and Severus knew instinctively that he was going to do something monumentally stupid. "I know Lady Hermione that I have not been privy to all that occurred last night. I also know that you saved his grace. I charge you to protect him at all cost and stay by him night and day. You are to be his sworn shield. I knight you, Lady Hermione, and will have your vows."

The Mountain's death had brought much celebration in the Riverlands, and the Brotherhood had been ecstatic, as well as surprised. Sandor Clegane had brooded, but did not seem unhappy about his brother's death. There was a story there, Harry was certain, but the Hound did not look like one to exchange confidences.

Harry had a strange relationship with the Brotherhood. Most of the men treated Harry with wary respect due to his rank, while Sandor Clegane and his boy seemed to be completely indifferent. It was obvious that they were outsiders, too. Dondarrion and Thoros, on the other hand, seemed completely fascinated with Harry. They had asked him to summon the patronus several times, so much so, that Harry had heard the smallfolk gossip about a ghostly stag in the villages too. It had become a rallying symbol of sorts, the King's justice they called it.

Harry had been hesitant sending his patronus forth on demand, tales of witch burnings in the middle ages at the back of his mind, but it seemed that the people here respected magic rather than feared it. Apparently legend had it that the Great Houses of the past had their own magic. The Starks of the North were skinchangers, people who could see through the eyes of another. Nymeria, the conquerer of Dorne, had water magic, while the Targaryens had been associated with fire. In this context Harry's patronus was an indicator of his high birth, and potential greatness. Oddly enough, even Lord Tywin's respect for Harry reinforced the Brotherhood's beliefs. Everyone agreed that Lord Tywin was no fool.

And so, when the Brotherhood asked him to conjure his patronus in front of the villagers, he had, and the smallfolk had looked on in wonder and awe. His Frey-ness did not seem to bother them, neither did the fact that he had Lannister blood. Many seemed convinced that Robert Baratheon's spirit lived on in him. Others disagreed. Robert Baratheon hadn't been a King of legend. It was obvious that Harry was Orys Baratheon come again: a noble bastard destined for greatness.

The stag patronus had helped with the peace, Harry couldn't deny. The marauding mobs that had been preying on the smallfolk had been wary. A ghostly stag apparently meant something.

The commotion startled him from his thoughts. For all that the group was gregarious and large, the Brotherhood was for the most part discreet. Outlaws, Harry supposed, had to be. There didn't seem to be any prisoners. For this at least, Harry was grateful. Only a messenger stood surrounded by a crowd. Lord Walder Frey had let known that he wanted to treat with the Brotherhood, and a messenger had been sent. The Brotherhood was eager to know what word had been brought.

Dondarrion motioned for silence, and the men moved away, making room for their leader. The messenger handed a couple of sealed missives to the man. The larger one had the symbol of the Twins stamped on the seal, while a smaller one had the Tully arms. Dondarrion broke open the seal and read through.

"They have agreed to terms," he said. "Riverrun will be restored to the Tullys, and the prisoners will be exchanged. All raiding will stop, and the Freys will accept and ensure the King's peace."

There was a moment of disbelief, and then loud cheering erupted. Dondarrion raised his hand for silence. He was frowning. "But they want Hareld Frey returned, as part of the prisoner exchange."

At this, angry muttering broke out, and a swell of disagreement rose.

Harry swallowed. He didn't recall much of what his life was as a Frey, but he knew at least this much, that he was one. His family wanted him back, and that was more than the Dursleys ever done for him.

He knew that the Freys and Lannisters were hated. The Brotherhood hadn't really made a secret about it, but Harry had lived with the Lannisters. Lord Tywin hadn't been evil. Not the way the Brotherhood made him out, at least. A man couldn't control all the actions of his men. Was Lord Tywin at fault for what the Mountain had done in the Riverlands? Harry hardly thought that King Robert had asked the Brotherhood to terrorise all men whose names were Lannister or Frey.

That said, life in the Brotherhood hadn't been bad. It was an iterant life. Much like a long and disorganised camping trip. It hadn't bothered Harry much, except for the limited messages he could send to his friends. He had been in touch with Sirius a couple of times, and was glad his godfather was recovering well. He had dissuaded his friends from rescuing him. Harry knew he wasn't in any obvious danger, and well, Sirius could use the rest. He had promised to send them a patronus in case of an emergency, and had been detailing the locations that he was at so that they'd be able to "apparate" immediately if needed.

Being in a castle, Harry knew, would make sending messages safely a bit simpler. He'd likely have his own room in a Frey castle, and sending a patronus through a window was much easier than sneaking out at night in the middle of the woods to send one. He could also give his friends a proper location, something that wasn't possible with the iterant way the Brotherhood lived, but it was obvious that the Brotherhood did not want let him go, not even for peace.

"We can't," a man was saying with quite some vehemence. "He's no true Frey. He's the King's. It's obvious. If he returns they'll as like kill him as welcome him." Harry was touched with the man's unexpected concern, misplaced though it seemed to be.

"It can't be allowed," seconded another. "The Freys know they have lost. The King's stag haunts them. They are hardly in a position to set terms."

"Those are no terms," a third spat. "What have they that they think we will give 'im up?" he demanded.

Dondarrion motioned for silence once more. "It seems they do have something to bargain with. Or at least someone. Lord Walder Frey informs us that he has Lady Stark prisoner. She will be returned to Riverrun, from where the Frey guard will withdraw, but this will be done only if Hareld Frey is freed. What say you?" He was looking at Clegane's boy as he spoke. The boy had paled impossibly.

The maester was panting when he brought the message in. It was obvious that the man had rushed as soon as the raven had been received.

"Your Grace…" the man gasped.

Stannis grabbed it without a word as the man tried to regain his breath, dismissing him with a wave. He looked at the letter that had brought the man in such a rush. It was the seal of the three headed dragon, quartered with the Martell sun.

Lord Stannis,

King's Landing has fallen. The rule of the usurper and his successors are at an end. The Targaryens have been restored.

Severus Targaryen, nephew of King Aerys II and cousin to Prince Rheagar, through his father, reclaims the iron throne by right of conquest, and wishes now to restore the King's peace. Know that there was a trial at King's Landing, witnessed by the entire city, where the guilt of Tywin Lannister was proven.

Dorne, the Reach, the Riverlands and the North stand united, and Lord Tyrion Lannister has bowed on behalf of Casterly Rock. The crown is secure.

The realm knows that Robert's Rebellion was not your own; it was your brother's. You followed as a loyal brother must. The King knows you to be an upright, honest and lawful lord, who knows his duty, and would have you as a friend. He offers you complete clemency for the usurper Robert's folly.

Bend the knee, and you will be recognised as the lawful lord of Storm's End, as is your birth right, and Lady Shireen will be recognised as your heir. Don't and it will mean Fire and Blood.

It may also interest you, my lord, that Cersei Lannister's son, the usurper Joffrey, has escaped King's Landing in a fishing boat. While an alarm has been raised and ravens across the coast have been sent, if you can have him caught, there is a place in the King's council for the Master of Ships.

His Grace wishes that you may give to him the opportunity to restore the honour of House Baratheon.

On behalf of King Severus, First of his Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm,

His hand,

Prince Oberyn Martell

Stannis crushed the Viper's letter in his hand.