AN: I am back for a bit, felt inspired to write this out for you all. I hope you all enjoy, see you all soon.

-Replies-

Ltbutterfly287, it's a little like you guessed, the virus will be the center of Henry's life for the first half of the story. I put his survivability purely on the Baratheon will to keep fighting.

Guest, we shall see. He has quite the mountain to climb.


Chapter 3: A Feast of Royals and Bastards


Henry assumed the seat of House Stark was large but he couldn't have guessed how immense the place was.

Two great curtain walls, one taller than the other, and in between is a deep moat. He remarked that it would be hell attacking such fortified defenses.

The interior much to his awe was as spacious and full as the market square of King's Landing, it was a town by itself with homes and buildings and the great keep whose gate was as wide as the two they rode in on.

Looking at his father and brother, they shared similar looks though Joffrey tried to mask his with his usual sour self.

His sister and little brother peeked their heads out and immediately gasped, "It's so big in here!" Tom exclaimed with excitement.

Indeed it was, Henry had to admit happily despite the ride here wearing his body down with aches he'll need to soothe in a bath later on before the feasting starts. His hand unconsciously going and rubbing his leg to fight the soreness.

Turning his attention onward, he saw their hosts for the foreseeable time, all were knelt along with their household guards, servants, and Maester.

The first to dismount from their end was his father, the large but stocky King of Westeros being helped down from his horse and marched right up to Lord Stark and glowered at the man who was once his foster brother.

Lord Stark reciprocated the same energy as he eyed the King right back, "You got fat!"

Henry nearly fell from his horse at his father's abrupt and rude comment, it wasn't uncommon at home but he thought the man would keep his more boisterous side away when meeting his wartime friend for the first time in years.

He expected the rigid Northman to banish them from Winterfell right then and there but Eddard simply gestured to the King's large belly before both men laughed and embraced one another like that haven't been apart.

Seeing the scene brought out his envy once more, wishing he had that same relationship with Joff rather than the rivalry that the younger Prince forced them to have.

He slowly and carefully dismounted from his horse, usually having Ser Arys help but he felt embarrassed to be helped off of his horse in front of a bunch of strangers. Henry held the saddle tightly, his soreness from riding being slightly unbearable.

The Crown Prince looked over the Stark members.

Lord Eddard was every bit what he expected a Northerner to be, tall and as grim-faced as the sky above them. His wife, Lady Catelyn was beautiful, together they seemed a pair of gracious rulers, the Jaehaerys and Alysanne of the North.

The eldest son was handsome, with auburn hair slicked back, and had the frame of a future Lord. Next to the brother was the sister, she was as beautiful as her mother with long red hair tied in a bun, she looked at him and blushed a tinge of red like her hair.

Next to her was another sister who carried more of Lord Stark's features, a long face and dark hair but she had a fierce gaze which was currently in awe of the knights and their armor.

The last two in line were both around Myrcella and Tom's age and both shared their mother's looks.

Henry also noticed behind the Starks was the heir to Pyke, evident by the kraken on the older boys' clothing. He remembers hearing the stories about the fall of Pyke, mostly from his father and uncle Jaime.

"Ned, take me to your crypt, I wish to pay my respects."

Henry's brow furrowed in confusion as to what his father meant, respects to who? The Lord Stark before Eddard? His mother scowled in the middle of conversing with Lady Stark and turned to her husband, "We have been on the road for a month, my love… The dead can wait a day or so, no?" His father scoffed and went on anyway, his Warden of the North following behind.

"Uncle, what am I missing?" He asked Jaime who shook his head and patted him on the shoulder.

"That's a rotten story I don't feel like getting into, neither should you." He hates being left out of the loop, his mind wandering and theorizing whom his father wishes to pay respect to.

The Queen came up to them a moment later, anger in his mother's eyes. "Where is our brother? Find the little beast… " Oh, how deep his mother's hatred for Tyrion is.

"Mother… " He sighed as to tell her she's gone too far, the Queen then focussed on him, her smile returning.

"We should have our Maester check on you, the journey was a hard one… " It's as if she wasn't angry at all, "I will have a hot bath ready for you, come." Henry sighed again and followed his mother and siblings, their rooms having been prepared by Lady Stark a month in advance.

Despite his resistance to doing so, the hot water soothing his aching bones was a welcome feeling as he had his head laid back and eyes closed to the sound of wood splintering from the hearth, the flames offering his room more warmth than was already there.

Winterfell, as he learned from an hour before was built over a hot spring so the castle was possibly the warmest in either Summer or Winter.

His clothes were laid out on his bed, a black and gold doublet and black pants though his footwear was a tint of red leather- A touch in detail made by his mother as the boots were rich in design with lions chasing stags.

A knock at his door made his eyes open and he turned, having finished dressing for the night.

It was his father, he was dressed well for the occasion, no doubt they all would be wearing their best for tonight. "Yes?" He questioned, standing upright.

"Tonight at the feast we will be entering by escorting each of the House Stark, you will follow behind Ned and your mother with Lady Sansa around your arm." Henry almost voiced his disapproval having caught the subtle hint about their dealings other than naming Lord Stark the new Hand of the King.

Not being able to help himself, he did it anyway. "I'm barely a man and you are already choosing my future Queen?" The King finally stopped trying to tip-toe about the whole ordeal.

"It's a good match, Henry. Sansa is a fair maid and marrying her gives us the loyalties of three great families." He does understand it would be a good match... If their standing wasn't good with the Starks.

The thing was his father and Lord Stark and Lords Arryn and Tully went to war together, they fought and overthrew the reign of the dragon. Robert and Eddard were raised as brothers and he's sure that bond will remain as loyal and faithful as a Targaryen is with their dragons.

It's the other Houses whose faith and loyalty should be tightened to them, marrying Sansa Stark gives him armies but there is no war to be fought, no one to threaten the stag except in the form of debt which to his reading had worsened in the last seven years.

He knows this because where Joffrey was outside training to be a poor Dragonknight, he was eager to govern and so sat in observation whenever Lord Arryn held council or when court was being assembled.

Six million dragons in debt to several parties, the largest of them being the Iron Bank and then to his Grandfather and even House Tyrell in the Reach.

"Father, I am sorry but I don't want to marry Sansa. Why not give her to Joffrey or maybe betroth Myrcella to Lord Stark's eldest son." He suggested but arguing with his father was like banging one's head against a wall trying to break through.

The King shook his head and gestured with his hands, "I will hear none of it, Henry, because Ned already agreed to it." So soon? Henry had thought with how isolated the Northman was, he'd have thought about it for a few days first. "Listen, son, I know I haven't been right with you for some time and I am sorry for that... Just please, do as I ask."

The man's plea was hard to say no to, Henry felt the touch of his father's hand on his shoulder as if to bring in for an embrace but pulled away as quickly and left out the door with haste.

His uncle Renly once said all his father knew was War and fighting, and being gentle and nurturing was an impossible feat for the King but Henry had seen his father love, with him and his siblings when they were smaller.

A memory flashed of his father swinging him around his room, he was laughing and felt like a bird in flight.

The past is cold, now, his father's habits turning him cold and distant but strict and demanding. It suits him ill that his heir couldn't even swing a sword or fight like a traditional man would despite his own contempt for what ails him.

No way to avoid this other than feigning a spout of fatigue but he decided it would be foolish so he relented to his father's wish.

Sansa was waiting for him with the others, she eagerly met him halfway and curtailed graciously, "Hello, my Prince." She greeted and glancing behind her he saw a sour-looking Joffrey was standing beside an equally sour-looking Arya Stark.

Returning his attention back to his escort, he bowed as gentlemanly as he could, "My Lady… " He offered his hand and she took it gladly.

Her hand was soft, her features on her face feminine with her high cheekbones and deep blue eyes. She wore a dress of grey and blue, sharing the colors of Stark and Tully.

Henry thought it looked well on her, unconsciously wondering if gold and black would or his mothers red and gold but it was uncertain.

As the feast began the steward announced them, and as he walked beside her, he smelled her hair and it was sweet like berries or maybe grapes that he would eat whenever he craved something sweeter.

Both families seated themselves on the high table, his father announcing for the feasting to begin.

It was filled with conversations and music, he took the time and sat by Sansa along with her friend Jeyne Poole and sister Myrcella.

"How are you liking Winterfell so far, my Prince?" She asked him and smiled and set down his water, wine not very accommodating to his stomach since he drank a whole bottle on his eleventh name-day.

"It's beautiful, my Lady. I was in awe seeing how formidable and spacious the entire place looked." He praised and she liked that he was enjoying the place.

"I'm glad, I know the weather can make it look rather dreary to some Southern visitors." She said and sipped from her single glass of wine, "I imagine you've seen far fantastical places."

"Actually that is untrue, I daresay I barely left the Red Keep or even a mile out of King's Landing." She was a little shocked by that revelation, "You are coming South with us? Your father agreeing to the position and all so I must show you around the Keep."

Her face fell for a moment, "I hope to but my mother told me that Father has yet to agree to that or… Our future together." Henry's heart sank in the seconds after the words left her mouth.

His eyes scanned and spotted his father flirting with a serving wench, a hand on her behind. You lied to me, really, father? He almost wanted to get up and storm off, but he had spent enough time with Sansa that he doesn't want to be rude to her.

So he decided to lie his way out, "I feel a little too warm, my Lady, I need some air." he got up and started to walk off but Myrcella took his hand and looked with some concern.

"Brother, are you alright?" She probably wondered if he was having a pain like always but he wasn't.

"I'm fine, Cella."

He was making his way out of the hall, far enough he intended to slink away back to his chambers when he bumped into someone and it sent him flying to the ground, a body soon fell back on his and he groaned out in pain.

His eyes opened and he stared right into the blackest eyes he had ever seen, belonging to another boy possibly a year or two older than himself with curly dark hair and a handsome face.

Those eyes soon expressed shame and horror as he was pulled up by a pair of his fathers men, "That's the Crown Prince you whelp!" one of the men said and readied to hit the boy.

An older man intervened, "It was an accident, leave him be. I'm sure Jon didn't mean it." Arys finally appeared and helped him back to his feet.

Henry dusted himself off and spoke, "Stand down, it was as he says. Let him go." The men did so and the boy named Jon hurriedly left the hall with a white dog chasing behind him.

The one who defended Jon turned to face him, "I'm Benjen, Eddards brother, sorry again for Jon. He was drunk and having a spat with me. Are you well, my Prince?" He nodded and the man in black bowed and sat back down to eat.

Out of earshot he leaned over and spoke in hushed tones, "Good thing Mother didn't see that, she'd have a head by midnight." He joked with his protector, Arys shook his head at his jest, "Where were you, anyway?" He asked.

"Talking with Meryn Trant, sorry for leaving."

Henry looked out into the dark of the outside, deciding to go for that fresh air instead of heading to his room as he planned to. "Come, Ser, I need some air."