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As noon approached the day was still cool but the sky was clear. The courtyard of Winterfell was bustling with final preparations for the King's departure. Harry watched as the Stark bannermen and household staff loaded the last of the wagons, before his gaze drifted to Sansa and Arya saying their goodbyes to Robb and Rickon. Lady Stark stood to the side, her eyes red from tears, her gaze straying to Bran's window.
"Harry!" Arya's voice cut through his thoughts, and he turned to see her running towards him, her face flushed. "Are you ready to go? Father says we're leaving soon."
Harry smiled, ruffling Arya's hair. "I'm ready. Are you?"
Arya scrunched up her nose at him as she leaned back to get out of his reach. "I suppose. I still don't want to go to King's Landing, but at least you're coming with us. Might not be as good as Jon or Robb but certainly better company than having to spend the entire trip with Sansa."
Harry chuckled. "I'll do my best to keep you entertained."
She grinned up at him, then her expression turned serious. "Do … do you think Bran will be all right?"
Harry knelt down, looking into her eyes. "I hope so, Arya. Maester Luwin is doing everything he can. And Bran is strong—stronger than anyone gives him credit for. He'll fight through this."
Arya nodded, her eyes glistening. "I'm going to miss him."
Harry pulled her into a hug. "We all will. But we'll come back. And when we do, Bran will be awake, and he'll want to hear all about our adventures."
She smiled against his shoulder, holding onto him tightly for a moment before pulling away. "You'd better be right, Harry," she said, her voice wavering slightly.
Harry nodded. "All we can do is hope."
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Even though, the sun had barely risen when the grand procession had begun to form in the courtyard of Winterfell, it was after noon when Harry found himself in the midst of the organized chaos, surrounded by the clinking of armor, the snorting of horses, and the low hum of conversation as the King's party and the additional Stark men and women finally began leaving the castle. The combined forces were impressive, far greater than what had arrived with King Robert.
He had expected the departure to be a simple affair—a line of riders heading south along the Kingsroad—but it had turned into a monumental spectacle. It seemed as though almost half of Winterfell was leaving, and the other half had turned out to watch them go. Servants darted between nobles and soldiers, making last-minute adjustments to packs or tightening saddles. Children weaved through the legs of their elders, catching glimpses of the knights and their brightly colored banners.
From where Harry stood, near the back of the massive convoy, the open gates of Winterfell seemed impossibly distant. The heavy wooden doors, flanked by tall stone walls, framed the expanse of the Kingsroad that lay beyond. The first of the riders—led by King Robert and Lord Stark—had already departed nearly an hour ago. Harry could only just make out the faint silhouette of banners flapping in the wind far ahead, the colors of House Baratheon and House Stark disappearing into the distance.
He shifted in his saddle, the unfamiliar weight of his sword, a gift from Lord Stark, pulling slightly at his side. His horse, a sturdy brown mare, stamped the ground impatiently, clearly eager to begin moving. Harry patted her neck absently, his thoughts wandering as he waited for the line to edge forward.
It had been a chaotic several days since Bran's fall. Lady Stark had withdrawn from the public eye, and it was said she barely left Bran's side. Harry had only seen her briefly that morning, as she said a brief goodbye to her daughters before returning to sitting beside her injured son. He could only imagine the weight that lay heavy on her heart. Harry himself felt unsettled, his thoughts often straying to Bran's 'accident' and the mysterious piece of red fabric he still had tucked away.
He was torn from his thoughts as the line of riders in front of him began to move slowly, a creak of wheels from the wagons and the steady clop of hooves filling the air. The sound was accompanied by the excited, if anxious, murmuring of voices and the rustle of movement as his part of the procession finally stretched out along the road. Harry sat patiently, watching the men and women of Winterfell file out in front of him. Robb Stark had already ridden out earlier with guards to say a final goodbye to his father outside the gates, but Harry caught sight of him now, standing atop the castle walls next to Maester Luwin.
Finally, it was his turn to move. Harry urged his mare forward, falling into step with the long column of horses, carts, and wagons that trailed ahead.
As Harry passed under the shadow of the gatehouse, he looked up one last time. Robb was still standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, watching as the procession wound its way down the road. Their eyes met briefly—Harry gave a small nod, and Robb returned it, though his expression remained serious. Whatever Robb was feeling, he masked it well.
Beyond the gates, the road stretched endlessly ahead, a gray ribbon winding through the northern landscape. The ground was hard underfoot, the beginnings of the winter clinging to the earth, though the sky above was clear and bright. As the group moved farther from the castle, the sounds of Winterfell gradually faded behind them, replaced by the steady rhythm of travel. Horses snorted, wheels creaked, and voices drifted on the wind.
Harry kept his eyes forward, taking in the surrounding countryside. He had grown accustomed to the sight of the snow-dusted fields and the towering pines of the North, but he knew that the landscape would soon change.
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The caravan moved at a slow, almost leisurely pace as the Starks' household staff and commoners marched southward, their chatter and laughter filling the air. Harry found himself surrounded by servants, cooks, and stablehands, a far cry from the lords and knights who made up the vanguard of the procession. In truth, he didn't mind. While the nobles and highborns could be courteous enough, their conversations often veered toward the tedious — endless talk of politics, lands, and titles. Among the common folk, Harry found a certain warmth and levity that he appreciated. They were honest in their demeanor, laughing easily and sharing simple stories of home.
The Starks' staff, accustomed to the long, hard workdays of Winterfell, took the journey in stride, making the best of their slow pace. As they plodded along, Harry exchanged friendly banter with the men and women he rode beside. Their stories of life in Winterfell reminded him of the parts of Hogwarts he had enjoyed most — the camaraderie of people working toward a common goal. Though he missed Hogwarts, he felt a sense of belonging here, among people who didn't expect anything more from him than to be a decent companion.
They had been on the road for a couple of hours when Winterfell finally disappeared behind them, its towering walls fading into the distant northern landscape. The first hint of the journey's magnitude began to settle on Harry. This was only the beginning, and at this pace it was said that it would be months before they reached King's Landing.
Just as he was settling into the rhythm of the ride, a boy in Stark livery rode up beside him. The lad, no older than twelve, was slightly nervous as he spoke. "Lord Stark requests your presence at your earliest convenience."
Harry couldn't help but smile. The words were polite, but he knew by now that it was less of a request and more of a command. "My earliest convenience, huh?" he murmured to himself with a grin. He turned to the group of men he had been riding with and gave them a mock-serious look. "Looks like the lord has called for me. Try not to eat my portion at the evening meal, alright?"
The group erupted into laughter, one of the older men reached over and clapped him on the back. "No promises, lad. Best get back before we make camp for the night if you want a full belly."
Still smiling, Harry urged his horse forward, following the page through the caravan toward the center of the column. As they rode past wagons, mounted soldiers, and other travelers, the tempo of the journey seemed to shift. Where the rear of the procession had been filled with lighthearted conversation, here at the center was the serious feeling. The banners of House Stark flew high, flapping in the breeze, and Harry could see the knights and higher-ranking members of the household riding in disciplined silence.
As he approached the area where the banners of House Stark seemed to be collected, Lord Stark spotted him approaching and waved him over. As Harry drew up alongside him, Ned greeted him with a rare smile. "How has the journey been so far, Harry?"
Harry looked back toward the north, toward where Winterfell lay, and then forward down the long stretch of the Kingsroad. "It's been alright so far," he said, feigning weariness. "But I suppose it might be too much to hope that we're almost there already."
Ned chuckled, a deep, honest sound that made Harry grin in return. "You'll be sorely dissapointed if you expect to see King's Landing anytime soon."
Harry laughed and nodded, "But in all seriousness, I expect I will manage." Harry said with a shrug. "As long as I don't die of boredom, I'm sure I'll enjoy seeing parts of the Seven Kingdoms I've never seen before."
Ned nodded and clapped Harry on the back, his hand heavy but reassuring. "Good. You have the right outlook. The journey will go easier if you find a way to enjoy it. However, do try to maintain that attitude. You'll need it in the months ahead."
Harry followed Ned's gaze and saw Sansa and Arya riding several lengths ahead of them. Even from a distance, it was clear that they were bickering about something. Arya had a mischievous glint in her eye. Sansa, on the other hand, wore a look of utter exasperation.
Ned sighed heavily. "Despite what you say, I feel that I am still in your debt for saving Arya. However, in truth, Harry, despite knowing this, there's something more I wish to ask of you. Not as a lord, but as a father."
Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What do you need, Lord Stark?"
Ned took a long breath, his eyes never leaving his daughters. "I have men to watch over my family, and Septa Mordane is meant to keep my daughters in line. But Arya is … well, she is as wild as my sister Lyanna ever was. I fear no septa will be able to keep her tethered for long. I know you've already done much for my family, but I'd ask that you keep an eye on Arya and Sansa as we travel south. Arya, especially, has a way of finding trouble and I fear she will have no trouble finding it on this journey."
Harry considered this for a moment before giving a solemn nod. "Of course, Lord Stark. I'll keep an eye—both eyes—on Arya as much as I can."
Ned chuckled softly, though there was a touch of weariness in his expression. "I appreciate that, though I wonder if even both eyes will be enough to keep her from trouble."
As if on cue, Arya threw something at Sansa, who shrieked in indignation. Arya, laughing, turned her horse and rode back toward the rear of the procession, leaving Sansa fuming.
Ned shook his head with a resigned sigh. "Good luck, Harry."
Sensing the conversation was over, Harry smiled and nodded before spurring his horse forward to catch up with Arya. The young girl was trying to look innocent as she spotted him approaching, but Harry wasn't fooled.
"Why did you do that?" Harry asked, his voice light but curious.
Arya gave him a wide-eyed look, feigning ignorance. "Do what?"
Harry pointed back toward Sansa, who was still glaring at her younger sister. "That."
Arya shrugged, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. "She deserved it."
"Does she, though?" Harry asked, his tone turning more serious. "She's your sister. Part of your pack."
Arya frowned slightly at his words but didn't respond immediately. Harry continued, his gaze distant as he remembered his own past. "I'm not sure how much of my childhood you had heard about back in Winterfell, but growing up, I wished for siblings, more times than I could count. But instead, I was stuck in a house with a cousin who was awful to me. Worse than you are to Sansa, much, much worse to be certain. And now … well, there's so much bad blood between us, I don't anything would be able to overcome it."
Arya's frown deepened, and she tilted her head slightly. "Why would you want to?"
Harry looked at her, his expression thoughtful. "Because blood is blood. They're supposed to be there for you, no matter what. You want family on your side for when it really matters. If you keep pushing her away, it'll be harder to fix things later. And trust me, you don't want to push her so far that you can't ever mend things."
Arya was quiet for a moment, her young face pensive, before she looked back to him and snorted. "But ... we're just so different. She likes fancy dresses and being a lady. I can't stand that."
Harry smiled faintly. "And that's fine. I can't imagine anything in all of Westeros that would make you want to act like Sansa, and gods know how Winterfell or your parents would survive if Sansa ever decided to act like you. But getting along isn't impossible."
Arya opened her mouth as if to argue, but Harry shook his head. "I'm not looking for an argument. There's no need to reply. It's just something to think about."
She clamped her mouth shut and nodded slowly, clearly considering his words. They rode in silence for a few moments, the only sound the steady plod of their horses' hooves.
Eventually, Harry glanced over at her and grinned. "How about we play a game? Could use something to kill the time."
Arya's face lit up with excitement. "What kind of game?"
Harry smirked. "Ever heard of 'I Spy'?"
At first, Arya was hesitant to play, mostly because she wasn't familiar with the game. But after a few rounds, she began to enjoy herself—especially when she started beating Harry. As it turned out, she had a sharp eye, catching things before Harry even noticed. It also helped that Arya often included items that left him scratching his head—trees, plants, pieces of armor, or obscure house emblems—things Harry had never heard of. The more Arya won, the more she seemed to enjoy herself, her laughter carrying across the caravan.
They had been at it for a while when Sansa rode up to them, looking as if she had been drawn by the sound of their enjoyment. At first, Arya's face tightened as if she wanted to tell Sansa to leave, but a quick glance from Harry seemed to soften her resolve. With an exaggerated sigh, Arya forced an invitation, the words coming out more reluctantly than Harry would have imagined a simple offer could sound. However, despite it sounding awkward and forced, Harry smiled at the effort.
"Do you want to play, Sansa?" Arya asked, her tone strained but just polite enough to pass for an invitation.
Sansa blinked, clearly surprised, but after a moment of hesitation, she nodded and joined them. The game resumed, albeit with some initial stiffness as Sansa got the hang of it. At first, Sansa was hesitant, much like Arya had been, and she wasn't as enthusiastic, but eventually the three of them found a rhythm. The game became more lively, punctuated by Sansa's occasional giggles and Arya's more boisterous laughter.
Just as Harry was about to offer up the next item to look for, one of Lord Stark's guards approached on horseback, his dark silhouette cast against the fading daylight. "Lady Sansa, Lady Arya," he said with a respectful nod, "we're approaching the first camp. You're needed to wash up and prepare. You'll be eating with your father and the royal family tonight. Harry you've been invited as Lord Stark's guest."
Sansa's eyes brightened at the mention of dining with the king's family, while Arya let out a groan, clearly less thrilled about the idea. Harry simply nodded, though he, too, wasn't positive about how he felt about being invited.
"I guess that means our game's over," Harry said with a chuckle, glancing at Arya.
"Just for tonight," Arya replied with a mischievous grin. "I'll beat you again tomorrow."
Sansa, now more at ease after the game, offered a small smile. "Thanks for the company, Harry. We'll see you later tonight."
"Goodnight," Harry said, watching as the two girls rode off, led by the guard. He turned his horse around, heading back to where he had originally been riding in the caravan, alongside members of the household staff. As he approached, he eventually spotted the familiar faces of the men he had been with earlier in the day, and he raised a hand in greeting.
"We're close to camp, lads!" he called out, and the news was met with a round of relieved sounding cheers. Most of the men had been up since well before dawn, many of them working tirelessly to prepare for the journey. The thought of resting their aching limbs and enjoying a warm meal seemed to lift their spirits.
One of the older men, a grizzled rider with a crooked nose, grinned at Harry. "Aye, and it's about bloody time. I've been up since before dawn, prepping the wagons. Thought my arse was going to fuse with this saddle."
The group laughed, and Harry couldn't help but smile. Despite the initial awkwardness of being assigned to ride with a group of people he was largely unfamiliar with, Harry found that he didn't mind. In fact, he had grown quite fond of the company. The common folk, with their easy humor and lack of pretense, were a refreshing change from the stiff, formal attitudes of the nobility.
As they rode toward the camp, the scent of wood smoke began to fill the air. Harry could see the flicker of fires ahead, and the sounds of the camp slowly coming to life. Men were unloading wagons, setting up tents, and preparing the evening's meal. It was a barely organized chaos, with each person trying to perform their role, although Harry imagined that as the trip progressed everyone would certainly get better at setting up camps. The sight was oddly comforting, and for a brief moment, Harry was reminded of the Hogwarts kitchens before the start of a big feast, bustling with activity.
Once they reached the section of land that they had been assigned to, Harry dismounted and patted his horse's neck, thanking it for the day's ride. He handed the reins to a stable boy and stretched his stiff muscles, feeling the ache in his legs and back. The men he had ridden with were already finding spots around the fires, sharing jests and jabs as they relaxed.
"Gonna grab a bite with us, Harry?" one of the men called out, gesturing to an empty spot near the fire.
Harry smiled, tempted by the smell of roasted meat and the warmth of the flames. "I'd love to, but I've got to eat with Lord Stark and the king tonight."
The men groaned in mock sympathy. "Poor lad, stuck with the lords while we feast like kings down here," one of them joked, causing the others to laugh.
"Save me some of the good stuff, eh?" Harry said with a wink before heading off toward the larger tents where the nobles were gathering.
As Harry made his way through the camp, he noticed that the atmosphere around the noble tents was slightly quieter, more restrained. Servants bustled about, setting up tables and preparing food, but the conversation was subdued. Harry wasn't entirely sure how he felt about dining with the royal family. He hadn't yet had much interaction with King Robert, but from what he had seen, the man was far from the great ruler the stories had painted him to be.
When he reached the tent where the dinner would be held, Harry saw Lord Stark standing near the entrance, speaking with a few of his bannermen. Upon noticing Harry, Ned waved him over.
"Harry," Ned said in greeting, his voice warm despite the long day. "I trust the ride hasn't worn you down too much."
Harry shook his head. "Not at all, Lord Stark. It was pleasant, actually."
Ned nodded, his eyes scanning the camp. "Good. I'm glad to hear it. Tonight's dinner may be a bit more ... formal, but I'm sure you'll manage."
Harry gave a small smile. "I'll do my best."
As they entered the tent, Harry saw that the king and his family were already seated. King Robert Baratheon was easy to spot, his massive frame dominating the head of the table. He was laughing loudly at something, a goblet of wine already in hand. Queen Cersei sat beside him, her expression cool and distant, while Prince Joffrey looked as smug as ever.
Sansa was seated near the royal family, her posture perfect as she made polite conversation with Joffrey. Arya, by contrast, looked like she'd rather be anywhere else, her gaze wandering toward the entrance as if contemplating an escape.
Harry was seated a little further down the table, closer to the Stark family but still within earshot of the king's booming voice. As the meal began, he quietly observed everyone. King Robert seemed content to drink and laugh, paying little attention to anything his wife or son tried to say. Cersei, for her part, was engaged in a quiet conversation with one of her ladies-in-waiting, while Joffrey quickly began to look utterly bored.
The food was rich and plentiful, though Harry found himself longing for the simpler fare that he suspected was being shared around the campfires outside. The roasted boar and spiced wine tasted almost too decadent, and the stiff formality of the dinner made him miss the easy camaraderie of the common men he had spent the day with.
As the night wore on, Harry noticed Arya shooting him pleading looks from across the table. He couldn't help but smile, knowing exactly how she felt. Formal dinners weren't his favorite either, and he wished he could offer her an escape. Unfortunately, they were both stuck here for the evening, surrounded by politics and pleasantries that neither of them had much interest in.
Eventually, the dinner came to an end, and Harry was relieved to be able to slip away from the tent. As he made his way back to the campfires, he found the men he had ridden with earlier, now well into their evening drinks, sharing stories.
"There he is!" one of the men called out, raising a mug in greeting. "Come on, Harry, we saved you a spot, tell us all about your evening with the King!"
Kind Regards,
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Story Note 1 – And the trip south has begun! Like in the book there will be several important things that happen during this trip, beyond things that might have happened in canon. However, I certainly hope that no direwolves are harmed or abandoned during the journey …
Story Note 2 – Despite Arya and Sansa managing to play a simple game of 'I Spy' they have certainly not managed to instantly repair years of behavior and vastly different personality types like that. However, they have certainly started mending their relationship. Hopefully, its not a case of too little too late.
Author Note 1 - To everyone who has come over from Ao3 welcome here! I am currently working on bringing my story in line with Ao3 ToS and have resubmitted the stories that had been flagged for review. Definitely understand that some people like reading on different sites so I'll be reposting back there as soon as I can. But in the meanwhile, I hope you enjoy the stories here!
A large thanks to those of you out there who enjoy my stories, I promise to keep updating the stories as long as you all are enjoying them, and a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to leave feedback or have reached out to me directly.
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Guest x 3, BioHazard82 - Thanks so much for the review and I really hope you continue to enjoy the story going forward!
Mrsberg - Thanks so much :) honesty writing the characters was certainly something that I've spent alot of time making sure I get right and honestly always appreciate hearing when I have a chapter that really gets it!
Blaze1992 - He has not ... at least, not yet ...
Fenrir070 - Nicely done! I wanted it to be subtle but obvious if you go back. Eira will certainly pop up again ... at least I would imagine she will. But happy the chat came off well. Really happy Ttyrion came off that way. Obviously there were some characters in GoT that were intense and rightfully meant to be feared but Tyrion always came off as the one I'd be more concerned with as he seems the 'safest' but in reality has the potential to be incredibly dangerous! Certainly Jon will have some big moments coming up ... wonder what's in store for him. And hope you have a fun holiday season coming up. Any fun plans?
cameron1812 - I'd guess that Harry might certainly be hanging around the Stark's for a little while longer.
Ariadne Venegas - That is a totally fair point. But I feel there were reasons, part of it was Lady Stark realizing that Arya was not becoming a Lady as she wanted in the North and thinking the South might help more with that (lol) and part hoping to introduce her to potential females and friends down there that she might become friends with. As for sending girls off without mother I think that was certainly done at the time. Especially under the supervision of a Septa and likely some other mother figure. And while I'm sure the mother there would have helped the girls I think leaving her at home to help Robb run Winterfell fit with the times (obviously she was not military strategist but Ned didn't leave her in that role) he left her to help Robb understand what was involved in governing Winterfell and I certainly believe she had experience with that (can be seen how she has a very loud voice even when it comes to time in the war and that the men of the North respect her - which was likely rare for that time)
Monkey D Conan - That's a good catch and more on that will be coming up but Ned will certainly send Harry off with a reward once Harry decides it's time to leave. But until then staying as the Starks personal guest is serving as a partial reward. And it's not like Ned felt the need to give him a bunch of things especially since he was meeting Harry for the first time and still trying to get a better understanding on who he was as a person.
orionastro - Oh ... Bran will certainly have a story to tell.