Disclaimer: This fanfiction is a creative work of fiction crafted by a fan of both the Harry Potter and Game of Thrones series and is not officially sanctioned by J.K. Rowling, George R.R. Martin, HBO, or any related parties. All characters, events, and settings from both universes are utilized in a transformative manner and should be interpreted as such. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or deceased, or real-world events are coincidental. The views and interpretations presented in this fanfiction are the sole responsibility of the author(s) and do not necessarily align with the established canons of either Harry Potter or Game of Thrones. Reader discretion is advised as this fanfiction may explore crossover themes, character interactions, and storylines not found in the original works.
--
The next day, as the sun cast a golden glow over Riverrun, Orys found a quiet moment to seek out Brandon Stark. He had been eager for this conversation, hoping to confirm the hints and suspicions that had surfaced during the previous evening's banquet.
He found Brandon by the riverbank, skipping stones across the water. The older boy looked up and smiled as Orys approached. "Morning, Orys," Brandon greeted, his voice warm. "Care to join me?"
Orys nodded, picking up a smooth stone and tossing it into the river. After a few moments of silence, he took a deep breath. "Brandon, I need to ask you something important."
Brandon turned to him, his expression serious. "Go ahead."
"Last night, the way you and your parents spoke... it felt like you knew something about me. About my past," Orys began, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest. "Are you... were you someone else in another life?"
Brandon's eyes softened, and he nodded. "Yes, Orys. I was Neville Longbottom. And you... you were Harry Potter."
A surge of relief and joy washed over Orys. "I knew it," he whispered. "I could feel it. And your parents... they were Sirius Black and Amelia Bones, weren't they?"
Brandon nodded again. "That's right. Father and Mother remembered everything when you were born. Death visited them too, explaining that you'd be reborn as Orys Baratheon."
Orys felt a mix of emotions—relief, joy, and a renewed sense of purpose. "And are there others like us?"
Brandon smiled. "Yes, there are. Back in the North, we have Ser Rodrik Cassel, who was Remus Lupin, and Jeor Mormont, who was Mad-Eye Moody. They remember everything as well."
Orys's eyes widened in amazement. "So many familiar faces... It feels like I'm not alone in this strange new world."
"You're definitely not alone," Brandon assured him. "We're all here, and we're all looking out for each other. The North will be a place where you can learn and grow, and we'll be there to help you every step of the way."
Orys felt a deep sense of gratitude and hope. "Thank you, Brandon. This means more to me than I can say."
Brandon placed a reassuring hand on Orys's shoulder. "We're family, Orys. We always have been, and we always will be. No matter what."
As they stood by the river, the bond between them strengthened by shared memories and destinies, Orys felt a renewed determination to face the future. He had allies, friends, and family in this new world, and with their support, he was ready to unlock his magic and embrace the adventures that lay ahead in the ancient halls of Winterfell.
—-
Meanwhile, in a secluded chamber within Riverrun, Rickard Stark, Steffon Baratheon, Jon Arryn, and Hoster Tully gathered around a large wooden table. The atmosphere was one of gravity and purpose as they worked to finalize the details of the alliance that would shape the future of their great houses.
Rickard Stark, embodying the energetic and charismatic spirit of Sirius Black, leaned back in his chair with a playful grin. "So, gentlemen, let's get down to the brass tacks. We've got fostering and betrothals to sort out. The sooner we wrap this up, the sooner we can get to the tourney."
Steffon Baratheon chuckled, appreciating Rickard's lightheartedness amidst the serious discussions. "Indeed, Rickard. Let's start with the fostering. Orys has expressed a strong interest in learning the ways of the North. I believe it would be beneficial for him to spend his formative years at Winterfell."
Jon Arryn, ever the voice of wisdom and stability, nodded in agreement. "That makes sense. Orys at Winterfell will strengthen the bond between our houses. And Robert will be well-suited to foster in the Vale. He'll benefit from the discipline and learning that we can provide."
Hoster Tully, pragmatic and keen to see the alliance flourish, added, "This arrangement will also solidify the ties between our families. My daughter Catelyn is already betrothed to Brandon, and we can arrange for Lyanna Stark to be betrothed to Orys Baratheon. These connections will ensure our unity and mutual support."
Jon Arryn nodded thoughtfully, his gaze shifting to his granddaughter. "And let us not forget young Robert," he interjected, his voice carrying a note of pride. "He could be betrothed to Lysa Tully. Such unions will further strengthen our alliance and bring prosperity to our lands."
Rickard Stark, his eyes glinting with approval, raised his goblet in agreement. "A wise decision, Jon. These betrothals will bind our houses together in shared purpose and strength. Our children's futures are secured, and our alliance will stand as a beacon of unity in the realm."
Steffon smiled, feeling a sense of accomplishment. "Then it's settled. Orys will go to Winterfell, Robert to the Vale, and our alliance will be sealed with these marriages. Our houses will stand stronger together."
The men raised their goblets in a toast, their commitment to the alliance unwavering. "To the future of our houses," Jon Arryn proclaimed, his voice filled with resolve.
"To the strength of our bond," Hoster Tully echoed.
"To the enduring friendship between our families," Steffon added.
"And to the adventures that lie ahead," Rickard concluded with a grin, raising his goblet high.
With the details finalized and the future secured, the four lords felt a sense of unity and purpose. The alliance between Stark, Baratheon, Arryn, and Tully would not only strengthen their houses but also shape the destiny of Westeros. As they left the chamber, they knew that the bonds they had forged would endure through the trials and tribulations to come.
—
In a cozy sitting room at Riverrun, the soft afternoon light streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room. Lyarra Stark, nursing baby Lyanna, sat comfortably in a chair while Cassana Baratheon settled across from her, both women enjoying a moment of calm amidst the hustle and bustle of the tourney preparations.
Lyarra Stark, formerly Amelia Bones in another life, gazed down at her newborn daughter with a tender smile. "Lyanna has been such a blessing," she said softly. "She has a fierce spirit, even at this young age."
Cassana Baratheon, watching the scene with a mother's appreciation, nodded. "She's beautiful, Lyarra. And I have no doubt she'll grow into a remarkable woman, just like her mother."
Lyarra looked up, her eyes meeting Cassana's with a warm, knowing smile. "Thank you, Cassana. And your boys—Orys, Robert, and little Stannis—each of them has such potential. Orys especially... there's something special about him, isn't there?"
Cassana sighed, her expression a mixture of pride and contemplation. "Yes, Orys has always been different. Mature beyond his years, kind-hearted, and wise. Robert is more spirited, but his heart is in the right place. And Stannis, he's serious and determined, even as a toddler."
Lyarra nodded, gently rocking Lyanna. "Orys will thrive in the North. Winterfell has its own unique wisdom and strength, much like your son. And Robert will learn much in the Vale. Jon Arryn is a good man, and his influence will help shape Robert into a fine leader."
Cassana smiled, the worry lines on her face easing. "I hope so. This alliance, these fostering arrangements... they're so important for the future of our houses. We're placing so much hope in our children."
Lyarra reached out with her free hand and placed it gently on Cassana's. "We are, but our children are strong. They have the best of us in them, and with our guidance and the bonds between our houses, they will grow into the leaders this realm needs."
Cassana squeezed Lyarra's hand, drawing strength from her friend's confidence. "Thank you, Lyarra. Your words give me hope."
Lyarra smiled warmly, her eyes filled with determination. "We're in this together, Cassana. Our families are united, and together, we can face whatever challenges come our way. Our children will forge a new future for Westeros, one we can be proud of."
As the two women continued their conversation, sharing their hopes and dreams for their children's futures, they felt a renewed sense of purpose and solidarity. Their friendship and the alliance between their houses would help shape the destiny of Westeros, ensuring a brighter future for all.
—
As the sun dipped low over the vast courtyard of Riverrun, the air was filled with the distant echoes of laughter and the clinking of armor. Lords and ladies bustled about, their children trailing behind them in a flurry of excitement. Among them were two young boys, their paths destined to intertwine in ways neither could yet fathom.
Robert Baratheon, a sturdy lad of five with a shock of dark hair and a mischievous glint in his eyes, stood beside his father, Steffon Baratheon. His eyes widened with curiosity as he watched the other children playing nearby, their laughter ringing through the air.
Nearby, Eddard Stark, a year younger at four, but with a serious demeanor that belied his tender age, stood by his father Rickard Stark. His eyes, a reflection of the northern sky, scanned the unfamiliar faces with a mix of caution and intrigue.
Steffon Baratheon noticed Eddard Stark and motioned for Robert to join him. "Robert, come meet young Eddard Stark," he said warmly, guiding his son toward the Stark contingent. "He will be Orys' future brother-in-law, and a good friend to you, I hope."
Robert, eager to make a new acquaintance, bounded forward with youthful energy. "Hello!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine friendliness. "I'm Robert Baratheon!"
Eddard glanced up from where he stood, his eyes meeting Robert's with a cautious curiosity. He shifted slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Hello," he replied softly, his northern accent giving his words a distinct cadence. "I'm Eddard Stark."
Steffon and Rickard exchanged amused glances as the two boys stood facing each other, each sizing up the other in their own way. "Why don't you two go explore the castle grounds together?" Rickard suggested, a knowing twinkle in his eye.
Robert nodded eagerly, already turning to Eddard with a grin. "Come on, Eddard! I'll show you the best spots for climbing and exploring!" With that, he took Eddard's hand, the beginning of a friendship that would shape their futures in ways they could not yet imagine.
As Robert led Eddard off toward the castle walls, their laughter mingling with the fading echoes of the day, Steffon and Rickard watched with pride. The bonds of friendship and kinship were being forged, laying the foundation for the enduring unity between House Baratheon and House Stark. And amidst the grandeur of Riverrun, two young boys embarked on an adventure that would bind their destinies together, as lifelong friends.
—
As the festivities of the grand tourney at Riverrun continued into the evening, Orys Baratheon found himself seeking a quiet moment away from the crowd. He wandered through the castle's halls until he reached a secluded terrace overlooking the river. There, he saw Lord Rickard Stark standing alone, gazing thoughtfully at the water.
"Lord Rickard," Orys called softly, his heart pounding with anticipation.
Rickard turned, a smile lighting up his face. "Orys, come join me," he said warmly, gesturing to the spot beside him.
Orys approached, feeling a sense of familiarity and comfort in Rickard's presence. "I've already spoken to Brandon," he began, his voice steady. "He told me everything. About you, Lyarra, and who you really are."
Rickard's eyes widened slightly, then softened with understanding. "So, you know," he said quietly. "I was hoping to have this conversation with you myself, but it seems Brandon beat me to it."
Orys nodded. "He told me you were Sirius Black, and that Lady Lyarra was Amelia Bones. And that he's Neville."
Rickard—Sirius—nodded, his expression serious. "That's right, Orys. In another life, we were all connected. And it seems fate has brought us together again in this one."
Orys took a deep breath, feeling a rush of emotions. "I can't believe it," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I knew there was something familiar about all of you, but I didn't expect this."
Sirius placed a reassuring hand on Orys's shoulder. "It's a lot to take in, I know," he said gently. "But you need to understand, we're here to support you, just as we did in our past lives."
Orys looked up at Sirius, his green eyes reflecting a mixture of confusion and hope. "What does it mean for us now?" he asked. "What are we supposed to do?"
Sirius smiled, a glint of determination in his eyes. "It means we have a chance to build a better future, Orys. To use the knowledge and experiences from our past lives to guide us in this one. Your destiny is tied to this world now, and we are here to help you fulfill it."
Orys felt a sense of relief and connection wash over him. "Thank you, Sirius," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "I mean, Lord Rickard."
Sirius laughed softly. "You can call me Padfoot when we're in private," he said with a wink. "It's good to hear it again. And I'll call you Pup, like old times."
As they stood together on the terrace, the bonds of their past lives intertwining with their present, Orys felt a renewed sense of purpose. He glanced at Rickard—Sirius—and decided it was time to share something crucial.
"Padfoot," Orys began, his voice a mix of apprehension and determination, "there's something else I need to tell you.."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Go on, Pup. What is it?"
Orys took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I had a conversation with Death," he said slowly. "Just after my brother Stannis was born. Death told me that our magic, the magic we had in our previous lives, is still with us. It's just... dormant, waiting to be awakened."
Sirius's eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of curiosity and excitement flashing across his face. "Our magic is still with us?" he echoed, his voice filled with wonder. "That's incredible, Pup. But how do we awaken it?"
"Death wasn't entirely clear on the specifics," Orys admitted, "but I believe it has something to do with the Old Gods. Death mentioned that the key lies with them, and that I need to go to the Weirwood tree in the Godswood of Winterfell for answers."
Sirius nodded thoughtfully, his gaze returning to the river. "That makes sense," he said after a moment. "Our past lives are a part of us, but we need to integrate them into who we are now. And if the Old Gods hold the answers, then we must seek their guidance."
Orys felt a surge of hope and determination. "Exactly," he agreed. "We need to stick together, support each other, just like we did before. And maybe, just maybe, we'll find a way to bring our magic back through the Weirwood tree."
Sirius smiled, his eyes reflecting a renewed sense of purpose. "We will, Pup. I have no doubt about that. And with the strength of our bonds and the wisdom of our past lives, there's nothing we can't achieve."
Orys felt a sense of relief and camaraderie wash over him. "Thank you, Padfoot," he said sincerely. "For being here, for understanding."
Sirius clapped a hand on Orys's shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "Always, Pup. We're family, in this life and the last. And we'll face whatever comes our way together."
As they stood on the terrace, the setting sun casting a golden glow over the river, Orys and Sirius knew that their journey was only just beginning. With the knowledge of their past lives and the promise of their magic still within them, they were ready to face the challenges ahead and shape a future filled with hope, strength, and unity. The path to the Weirwood tree at Winterfell awaited them, and with it, the secrets of their magic and their destiny.
—
As the festivities of the grand tourney at Riverrun continued into the afternoon, a ripple of excitement spread through the crowd. The royal family had arrived, their presence adding a new layer of grandeur and anticipation to the already spectacular event. Trumpets blared and banners fluttered in the wind as King Aerys Targaryen, Queen Rhaella, and their two children made their entrance.
King Aerys Targaryen, exuded an air of paranoia and unease, his eyes constantly darting around as if searching for unseen threats. He rode at the head of the royal procession, his regal bearing unmistakable despite the shadows that seemed to cling to him.
Beside him, Queen Rhaella sat gracefully on her palfrey, her poise and dignity masking the unhappiness that lay beneath the surface. She was newly pregnant, a fact that added a delicate glow to her otherwise somber demeanor. Despite her inner turmoil, she maintained the composure expected of a queen, her gaze steady and serene.
Behind them rode the royal twins, Prince Rhaegar and Princess Rhaenyra. Rhaegar, at eight years old, already exhibited a quiet intensity and a love for music and poetry that set him apart. His silver-gold hair and violet eyes marked him unmistakably as a Targaryen, a figure of both fascination and mystery to those around him.
Prince Rhaenyra, his twin sister, was equally striking. Her beauty was ethereal, and she carried with her a sense of grace and charm that captivated all who saw her. Even at a young age, she possessed an elegance and poise beyond her years.
The royal family was greeted with deep bows and curtsies as they made their way to the dais set up for them. Lord Hoster Tully, the host of the tourney, stepped forward to welcome them personally.
"Your Grace, Your Majesty," Hoster said, bowing low. "We are honored by your presence at Riverrun. May the tourney be a celebration worthy of the Targaryen name."
King Aerys nodded curtly, his expression unreadable. "We shall see, Lord Tully," he replied, his voice tinged with a subtle menace. "We shall see."
As the formalities concluded, Rhaegar and Rhaenyra dismounted, their eyes wide with wonder at the spectacle around them. Rhaegar, ever the introspective one, seemed lost in thought, while Rhaenyra took in the scene with a mixture of curiosity and excitement.
Rhaenyra turned to her brother, her voice barely above a whisper. "Rhaegar, look at all the knights and banners. It's like something out of a story."
Rhaegar nodded, his lips curving into a rare smile. "It is," he agreed. "But remember, sister, not all stories have happy endings."
Rhaenyra frowned slightly, sensing the weight behind his words. "Still, we can hope," she said softly, her gaze drifting to the tourney grounds where the day's events were about to unfold. Her eyes, however, seemed to search the crowd intently, as if looking for someone in particular.
As the royal family settled into their seats, the excitement in the air was palpable. The arrival of the Targaryens had added a new layer of intrigue to the tourney, and all eyes were now on the field, where knights and lords would compete for glory and honor under the watchful gaze of the king. For Orys Baratheon and his newfound allies, the stakes had just been raised, and the future seemed more uncertain than ever.
—
As the festivities of the grand tourney at Riverrun continued to captivate all in attendance, another wave of excitement and whispers swept through the crowd. The Lannisters of Casterly Rock had arrived, their presence commanding attention and respect.
Tywin Lannister, the formidable Hand of the King, rode at the head of his family. His stern countenance and imposing presence were enough to silence any chatter as he passed. Beside him, Lady Joanna Lannister exuded grace and beauty, though a wary look clouded her eyes, aware of the King's notorious interest in her. In her arms, she held her one-year-old twins, Jaime and Cersei, their bright green eyes observing the world with innocent curiosity.
As the Lannisters made their way toward the dais where the royal family was seated, the crowd parted respectfully. Lord Hoster Tully stepped forward to greet them, bowing low.
"Lord Tywin, Lady Joanna, welcome to Riverrun," Hoster said warmly. "We are honored by your presence."
Tywin inclined his head, his gaze sharp and calculating. "Thank you, Lord Hoster. It is a pleasure to be here."
As they reached the dais, King Aerys Targaryen's eyes lit up with a mix of recognition and something more unsettling as he beheld Joanna. His gaze lingered on her longer than propriety dictated, causing a flicker of discomfort to cross Joanna's face.
"Lord Tywin," Aerys said, his voice carrying a hint of forced warmth. "Lady Joanna. You honor us with your presence."
Joanna curtsied gracefully, her voice steady despite the unease she felt. "Your Grace, the honor is ours."
Aerys' eyes roved over Joanna with a thinly veiled hunger. "It's been too long, Lady Joanna," he said, his voice dripping with false charm. "I have missed your presence at court."
Queen Rhaella, seated beside Aerys, maintained her serene composure, though her eyes flicked to Joanna with a mixture of sympathy and concern. She, too, was aware of her husband's inappropriate interest. Rhaella and Joanna shared a deep, enduring friendship, with Joanna having been Rhaella's Lady-in-Waiting before being sent to Casterly Rock to keep her away from Aerys.
Joanna smiled politely, though her discomfort was palpable. "You are most kind, Your Grace," she replied, her voice steady. "But I am content at Casterly Rock with my lord husband and our children."
Aerys' smile did not reach his eyes. "Of course," he said, his tone dismissive, though his gaze lingered on her longer than was appropriate. "Tywin, you are fortunate to have such a gem by your side."
Tywin's eyes narrowed slightly, though he maintained his composure. "Thank you, Your Grace," he replied curtly, placing a protective arm around Joanna.
Rhaella, sensing the tension, intervened smoothly. "Joanna, it is wonderful to see you again," she said warmly, reaching out to her friend. "We must find time to catch up. There is much I wish to share with you."
Joanna's smile softened as she turned to Rhaella. "I would like that very much, Your Grace," she said, her voice filled with genuine affection.
Aerys watched the exchange with a calculating gleam in his eye, but he said nothing more. As the formalities concluded, the Lannisters moved to take their seats, the twins now settled in their nurse's care. The palpable tension in the air began to dissipate as the focus shifted back to the tourney grounds.
As the day continued, the presence of the Lannisters, along with the royal family and other prominent houses, set the stage for a tourney that would be remembered for years to come. Amidst the games and the politics, alliances would be forged, rivalries would be kindled, and the fates of many would be decided.
—
As the festivities of the grand tourney at Riverrun continued into the afternoon, the royal family had settled into their seats, but Princess Rhaenyra's curiosity was far from satisfied. She tugged on her brother Rhaegar's sleeve, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Rhaegar, let's explore the tourney grounds," she urged, her voice filled with enthusiasm.
Rhaegar, more reserved and introspective, hesitated. "We should stay close to our parents," he suggested, glancing back at the royal dais where King Aerys and Queen Rhaella were seated.
But Rhaenyra was persistent. "We have Ser Barristan with us," she said, nodding toward the imposing figure of Ser Barristan Selmy, the 31-year-old Kingsguard who stood watchfully nearby. "We'll be safe."
Rhaegar sighed but nodded, unable to resist his sister's infectious energy. "Alright, let's go."
With that, Rhaenyra took Rhaegar's hand, and they made their way through the bustling tourney grounds, Ser Barristan following closely behind. The knight's keen eyes scanned the crowd, ever vigilant in his duty to protect the royal children.
As they wandered among the various stalls and displays, Rhaenyra's gaze was not on the knights practicing their jousting or the merchants hawking their wares. Instead, her eyes darted around, searching the crowd with a determined focus. She was looking for someone—someone important, though she kept the identity to herself.
"Look, Rhaegar, they're selling sweetmeats!" Rhaenyra exclaimed, pointing to a nearby stall.
Rhaegar smiled indulgently. "Do you want some?"
Rhaenyra shook her head, her attention already shifting elsewhere. "Maybe later," she said absently.
Ser Barristan watched the twins with a mixture of affection and duty. He had seen them grow from infants into the bright and curious children they were now, and he was committed to their safety and happiness.
"Princess Rhaenyra, is there something specific you wish to see?" he asked, his deep voice steady and reassuring.
Rhaenyra glanced up at Ser Barristan, her eyes briefly meeting his before flitting away. "I'm just exploring," she said, her tone evasive.
As they continued their tour of the grounds, Rhaenyra's heart pounded with a mix of anticipation and hope. She had a feeling deep within her that the person she was seeking was somewhere close, and she was determined to find them.
"Rhaegar," she said softly as they paused by a large tent where knights were preparing for the next round of jousts, "do you ever feel like you're searching for something, even if you're not sure what it is?"
Rhaegar looked at his sister, his violet eyes thoughtful. "Sometimes," he admitted. "It's like there's something just out of reach, something important."
Rhaenyra nodded, her hand tightening slightly around his. "That's how I feel right now."
Ser Barristan, sensing the seriousness of their conversation, gave them a moment of privacy, standing a respectful distance away but still close enough to intervene if necessary.
"Don't worry, Rhaenyra," Rhaegar said gently. "Whatever it is, we'll find it together."
Rhaenyra smiled, her resolve strengthening. "Yes, we will."
As they continued their exploration of the tourney grounds, Rhaenyra's eyes kept searching, her heart filled with a quiet determination. She knew that finding this person was more than just a fleeting fancy—it was a connection to something deeper within her, a piece of her soul that she was determined to reclaim.
They passed by various knights practicing their swordsmanship, their movements precise and powerful. The clang of metal on metal filled the air, but Rhaenyra was only half-aware of it, her mind focused on her search. They moved through crowds of spectators cheering for their favorite champions, and yet, Rhaenyra's attention remained fixed on scanning the faces around her.
"Look at that!" Rhaegar exclaimed, pointing to a group of knights preparing their horses for the next joust.
Rhaenyra glanced over, but her interest was fleeting. "Impressive," she acknowledged, but her eyes quickly resumed their quest.
As they neared a large pavilion, decorated with the banners of noble houses, Rhaenyra's heart skipped a beat. She felt an inexplicable pull toward the area, a sense that something—or someone—important was nearby. She tugged on Rhaegar's hand, leading him toward the pavilion.
"Over there," she said, her voice tinged with urgency.
Rhaegar followed without question, trusting his sister's intuition. Ser Barristan stayed close, his expression vigilant but curious. He had learned to trust Rhaenyra's instincts, which often proved uncannily accurate.
—
Orys Baratheon and Brandon Stark found themselves wandering the tourney grounds, their youthful curiosity driving them to explore every corner of the event.
"Look at that!" Brandon exclaimed, pointing to a group of knights practicing their swordsmanship. "I've never seen such skilled fighters up close before."
Orys nodded, his eyes wide with wonder. "It's incredible. Imagine being able to fight like that."
The two boys continued their exploration, their excitement palpable. They weaved through the bustling crowds, marveling at the various stalls and attractions that the tourney had to offer. From the brightly colored tents to the delicious smells of food wafting through the air, every detail captivated their attention.
As they approached a large tent where knights were preparing for the next round of jousts, Orys's attention was drawn to a flash of silver hair and violet eyes. He squinted, trying to get a better look. The figure seemed familiar, stirring something deep within him.
"Orys, are you alright?" Brandon asked, noticing his friend's sudden distraction.
Orys blinked, shaking off the feeling. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thought I saw someone I recognized."
Brandon followed Orys's gaze but saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Maybe you'll run into them later," he said with a knowing smile.
Meanwhile, Rhaenyra and Rhaegar, accompanied by Ser Barristan Selmy, continued their exploration. Rhaenyra's eyes constantly scanned the crowd, her heart pounding with anticipation. She had a feeling that 'Arry' was somewhere close, and she was determined to find him.
As they approached the same tent, Rhaenyra's gaze locked onto Orys. Her breath caught in her throat as a wave of recognition washed over her. She tugged on Rhaegar's sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Rhaegar, I think I've found him," she said, her eyes never leaving Orys.
Rhaegar followed her gaze, his expression curious. "Who, Rhaenyra?"
Rhaenyra didn't answer immediately. Instead, she took a step forward, her heart racing. Ser Barristan, ever watchful, followed closely behind, his eyes scanning the crowd for any potential threats.
Orys and Brandon continued to watch the knights, oblivious to the approaching princess and her entourage. It wasn't until Rhaenyra was just a few steps away that Orys turned, sensing someone approaching. His eyes widened as they met Rhaenyra's, a flicker of recognition passing between them.
"Fleur," Orys breathed, the name slipping from his lips as if it had always been there.
Rhaenyra smiled, a mixture of relief and joy lighting up her face. "Arry," she whispered back, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
Brandon and Rhaegar exchanged glances, both aware of the significance of the moment. Ser Barristan, however, sensed the depth of the connection and kept a respectful distance, allowing the two to have their reunion.
As Orys and Rhaenyra stood facing each other, the bustling tourney grounds seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them and the unspoken bond that connected them across lifetimes.
Rhaenyra took another step closer, her voice trembling with emotion. "I knew I'd find you," she said softly. "I could feel it."
Orys reached out, his hand brushing hers lightly. "I felt it too," he replied. "I just didn't know it was you until now."
They stood like that for a moment, lost in each other's eyes, the memories of their past lives mingling with their present emotions. The noise of the tourney faded into the background, replaced by the silent understanding between them.
--
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