A/N: Sorry it took me a while to upload this chapter. My son was born in September and it has been an adjustment! I have written some more chapter so I'll upload them in the next couple weeks.
Draco Malfoy
"Hello Draco..." Draco widened his eyes as he saw this old nemesis standing before him.
"Long time no see, Granger." Draco responded, palming his wand but not yet drawing it.
"It's Weasley now, Malfoy." Weasley asked, "What are you doing back in Wizarding Britain?"
"But I'm not in Wizarding Britain, am I? I'm in Muggle London." Draco said, smirking at her.
She stared at Draco with annoyance, "What are you doing here?"
Draco smirked at her, "Oh, just a little sightseeing, Granger. Thought I'd see how the other half lives."
Hermione's expression hardened, "Don't play games. You know we've been keeping tabs on you. You're still considered wanted for questioning about belonging to a terrorist organization."
Draco chuckled, a somewhat mocking tone in his voice, "You say terrorist organization, I say legitimate government... All in the eyes of the rebel."
"You can't just dismiss it, Malfoy. You know you're still wanted for questioning." Hermione retorted, pulling her wand out and leveling it at Draco.
Draco's smirk only grew wider. "Ah you're a woman of many hats, aren't you? Department of Mysteries officer and now a Muggle Auror! But tell me, am I being detained, or am I free to go?"
Hermione began to argue, "You're being detained at the moment obviously."
"I thought you were all about due process and justice. Suspicion alone doesn't make me a criminal, Granger." Draco said, still smirking.
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Draco, at this point, you need to come to the Ministry for questioning. Will you come peacefully?"
Malfoy's wand shot into his hand and he leveled it right at her, "No." Suddenly, he unleashed a barrage of spells at her, forcing Hermione to take cover behind the wall of the next room. The darkened hallway turned into a battleground as Draco and Hermione exchanged fire. The bright colors of hexes and curses filled the house as they both delved deep into their knowledge, trying to gain some advantage.
Hermione used the available cover to her advantage, sending spell after spell toward Draco from around the corner of the wall. Draco, on the other hand, was easily deflecting her curses while sending his own back, slowly chipping away at the wall and her cover.
Draco knew that Hermione would likely have backup on the way, but he had no intention of allowing himself to be taken into Ministry custody. He fired a powerful Bombarda spell into the wall, sending the wall into Hermione and flinging her into the opposite wall.
Hermione, to her credit, didn't just give up. Draco watched as she touched the back of her head revealing blood as well as several ribs seemed to be broken. She seemed out of it almost, fumbling around for her wand. When she couldn't find it, she lunged forward, attempting to tackle Draco. She was, at this point in the duel, much weaker and Draco easily pinned her to the ground.
She scratched and attempted to claw at him as he closed his hands around her neck and slammed her head into the hard wooden floors a few times. Suddenly, she slipped into unconsciousness and Draco stood up. He stood over the unconscious girl as his chest heaved from exertion.
"You always were a pain, bitch," he muttered, "Mudblood..." With a final glance at the woman, he turned and made his way out of Grimmauld Place, leaving her behind with a small puddle of blood growing under her head. As he stepped out into the dimly lit streets of Muggle London, he Disapparated, leaving Grimmauld Place behind. A moment later he found himself in Potter Manor, his mission a success.
Hermione Weasley
Hermione Weasley slowly awoke, her head throbbing with pain. She was disoriented and groggy as she blinked her eyes open, taking in the surroundings of St. Mungo's Hospital. She could barely remember what had happened; the last thing she saw was the wall exploding and crashing into the opposite wall.
As her vision cleared, she noticed her surroundings... white walls, medical equipment, and the soft hum of the hospital. Hermione's hand went to her head, feeling the bandages wrapped around it. The throbbing pain was relentless from her back and sides. Definitely a rib or back injury.
A Healer appeared at her bedside, holding a clipboard. "Ah, you're awake. How are you feeling, Ms. Weasley?"
Hermione's voice was hoarse as she responded, "What happened?"
The Healer smile sadly, "You were found unconscious in Grimmauld Place. You've suffered some injuries, but you're in St. Mungo's now. You're going to be okay."
"What ARE my injuries?" Hermione asked, her voice filled with fear.
The Healer hesitated for a moment before responding, "I won't sugarcoat it, Ms. Weasley. You've sustained significant injuries. Whatever occurred caused severe head trauma and you have multiple fractures in your ribs and spine. As a result, you're experiencing temporary paralysis from the waist down."
Hermione's eyes widened in shock, "Temporary paralysis?"
She nodded solemnly, "Yes, I'm afraid so. You're in the best place for treatment and rehabilitation, but it's going to be a challenging journey ahead." Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes as the reality of her condition sank in. She quickly offered some reassurance, "We have an excellent team here at St. Mungo's, and we will do everything we can to help you recover. It's not going to be easy, but with time, therapy, and your determination, there's a good chance you can regain your mobility."
"What about my husband? Have they found him yet?" Hermione asked, her tears now flowing as her world seemed to be crashing down around her.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Weasley, but your husband is still missing." The Healer took her hand and squeezed it, "I'll let you know if we hear anything. Please, get some rest."
Harry Potter, Dark Lord of Wizarding Britain
Harry awoke with a start as he heard a loud pop echo in the atrium of Potter Manor. An elf quickly informed him of his companions' arrival and he made his way to meet them.
"I trust your mission was successful?" Harry asked from the top of the stairs.
"I got what I think to be your Horcrux." Draco replied, showing the box he had taken. Harry descended the stairs and took the box, opening it to show the old coin.
"My first and only... Unnecessary after I created my philosopher's stone." Harry said, removing the coin and twirling it between his fingers, "Thank you for retrieving this. I trust it went smoothly?"
Draco smirked, "Hermione discovered me searching the house. She shouldn't be bothering us for a while."
Harry just chuckled, "Good job. She is still alive then?"
"Yes, unless she bleeds out before the Aurors get there." Draco replied, pointing to a few drops of blood on his clothes.
"Fine with me. I would hate to return to magical Britain and have to fight random wizards. Much more fun if I know my enemies." Harry laughed.
"What of our prisoner?" Draco asked, reminding Harry of Ron down in the basement, "Do you wish to keep him alive, take him to Westeros, or what?"
"Kill him and string him up in Diagon Alley. Put my sigil on his bare chest and cast our mark when blowing up a building or two." He commanded, smirking.
"Will we ever return to Britain?" Draco asked, looking at the army of elves and Wizarding families before them, "We are taking everyone."
"All in due time, Draco..."
Lord Harry Peverell, Lord of the Riverlands and the Trident, Master of the Crownlands
Year 9: Day 86 - 298 AC
Harry stepped through the veil into Westeros. It was quiet with all of the elves and Wizarding families that had just passed through the Veil standing before him.
"My friends, Welcome to your new home!" Harry yelled in triumph as those there erupted in cheers and applause, "Our enemies still cower at the mention of us and Ronald Weasley... IS DEAD!" Cheers rang out once again, louder than before. "We have much to do for us to be secure in this realm, yet I am sure we will all do our duty! The elves who were our friends in Britain have returned to us and our power grows! Soon, we will rid this land of those who would oppose us and we will reign over not just wizards, but muggles as well!"
Harry nodded and stepped from his elevated position and shook hands with Draco, "The townsfolk will get you up to speed on how getting plots of land and home building works. I am just a floo call away if you run into any problems."
He made his way back to Harrenhal and his keep when he spotted a serious looking Susan making her way to him.
"Harry, things have changed since you left." Susan began, cutting off his reunion, "The King is dead. Renly has declared himself King with Eddard Stark demanding every loyal Lord pledge to the true King. Joffrey has also declared himself King as the 'son' of Robert. Stark attempted to arrest Joffrey and the Lannisters but was betrayed by the City Watch and they escaped."
"What of the other Kingdoms?"
"All the Kingdoms have called their banners, but no one besides the Westerlands and North have made any movements." Susan said, ushering Harry towards the magical table, pointing towards the Westerlands and Northern rally points.
"What of the Crownlands? Are they following our plan?" Harry asked, looking towards King's Landing and the surrounding towns.
"It is too early to tell, but they have called their banners and made no movements towards King Joffrey's designated rally point."
"Good. If all goes well, they can ambush Joffrey while his troops are outside King's Landing and besiege the city. That will force Tywin to march across our lands to relieve the siege."
The wizards and witches in attendance all agreed, hoping their their plans would continue as they had envisioned.
"Did you bring anything besides gold back from Britain?" Astoria asked, "We have plenty of that."
Draco chuckled and answered for Harry, "We got a lot of books and artifacts. Especially from those vaults owned by the Potters."
Harry nodded, "Yeah, lots of things I had no idea where in the vaults... Truthfully, I think that Gringotts is less of a bank but a guarded self-storage facility. Like, what bank just lets you leave millions of galleons in your vault and not loan it out? I also had books and other stuff that wasn't even money."
The group laughed when there was a knock on the door followed by a wizard, "Apologies, mi Lords and Ladies, but a message from the King." He extended the letter to Harry who took it quickly. He unrolled it, not truly sure who had send it...
Lord Harry Peverell,
I command you to take your troops and march to join me in destroying the traitorous House Stark and Renly Baratheon. Failure to do so will be seen as an act of rebellion, and I will not hesitate to take action against you and your family.
Swear fealty to me, King Joffrey Baratheon, and you may continue to enjoy whatever power and wealth you have accumulated. Defy me, and you shall face the consequences.
- King Joffrey Baratheon, First of His Name... titles... titles...
"I thought it would be more unhinged." Astoria said, causing the group to laugh.
"Rather tempered for our young King. Written by his mother perhaps?" Susan replied, looking unfazed, "I bet our allies have received this message as well. I'll get with Luna to make the rounds with the Great Houses to ensure their loyalty."
Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and the Wastelands, Warden of the West, Hand of the King
Year 9: Day 96 - 298 AC
Tywin sat on his horse, watching the red and gold banners of House Lannister and the Westerlands wave in the wind in front of him. They had marched for some time unopposed through the Riverlands, finding themselves just to the west of Harrenhal when they finally encountered the Peverells.
Tywin had been respectful. As much as he could. He decided best not antagonize the Riverlands until they needed to be. The Riverlands had called their banners, yes, but they had not named anyone else King. Perhaps they still supported Joffrey? Maybe, but the same situation was happening with the Reach, the Vale, and Dragonstone. No one had moved or even acted like they were going to be helping either side.
The Crownlands, much to Tywin's surprise, had decided to siege King's Landing without orders? They had yet to name a "real" King. It was very confusing. Thus, Tywin needed to capture King's Landing for his family once again. So, here he rides, a force of 30,000 loyal Lannister troops making with all due haste for King's Landing while Jaime took 20,000 to stop the Starks from entering the Westerlands.
As they neared the castle, the sigils of House Peverell fluttered against the high walls. He raised his eyebrows at the thick black stripe that now also adorned the walls, an addition since the last time he was here. He would question it, but the Peverells are an odd bunch.
For a moment, Tywin considered not even stopping to speak with Lord Peverell about his allegiance but his duty remained. He ordered his troops to set camp as he slowly began towards Harrenhal. Suddenly, he heard several groans rip through his command staff. They were all looking towards the rear of their army.
As Tywin looked, the Deathly Hallows banner of House Peverell fluttered defiantly in the wind, halting his advance towards Harrenhal. It seemed to Tywin the force was probably a similar size to his own host, something that slightly concerned him. However, it appeared that House Peverell made up only a fraction of the host. Most of the banners were of Riverlords, not the Lord Paramount's troops.
Tywin watched as a small group of horsemen broke from the army, making their way to his forces. Several sigils accompanied the force, both Vance houses and others... Tywin then urged his horse to meet them, followed by his brother Kevan and his house guard.
As the two groups closed the distance, they slowed. Coming to a stop some 15 feet apart, they just seemed to stare at one another. Truthfully, Tywin didn't recognize anyone of the Riverlands side.
"Harry Peverell sends his regards, Lord Lannister." A voice said, breaking the silence. Tywin cocked an eyebrow in curiosity, looked at the Lord who spoke.
"Do you not respect your Lord enough to use his title?" Tywin asked.
"Peverell has my undying respect, Lannister. Can your Lords say the same?" The Lord responded snidely, "Lord Robb Stark marches his banners from the North to support his father." Tywin just raised his eyebrow in curiosity.
"Get to the point, Lord Vance." While Tywin didn't recognize the man, he wore the sigil of Wayfarer's Rest on his chest armor. As he spoke, as shadow passed over the group. It was fast and while it was a cloudy day, the speed of the shadow was much faster than the clouds were moving. Several of Tywin's party looked to the sky as he spoke again, "I know of Stark's movements. I am making all due haste to King's Landing to head him off."
Several of the accompanying Lords chuckled, "Perhaps you should hurry then. Your King needs your army to rescue his claim."
Tywin sneered, "He is your King as well."
A new voice spoke, a woman's if Tywin wasn't mistake, "The Riverlands cannot pay homage to two Kings."
"Indeed. Tell me then, my Lady, to whom do the Riverlands pay homage to?" Kevan then asked, respectfully. The shadow passed again, this time a bit slower. One of the Lannister guards inhaled sharply, something obviously catching his eye but he remained silent.
"The Riverlands pays homage to our King, of course." The lady removed her helmet, revealing her auburn hair, "Harry James Peverell, King of the Riverlands and the Trident, Warlock of Harrenhal and Rider of Hedwig!" She shouted, a stick suddenly appearing out of her sleeve and into her hand. At that moment, the stick seeming released a flash and huge bang which spooked Tywin's horse. Suddenly, a low pitched roar was heard in the clouds, causing the horses to jump again in surprise and become restless in fear. As Tywin struggled to calm his horse, they were once again covered in a shadow. This time, however, the shadow grew larger until a large animal plunged out through the clouds. A roar was heard again as Tywin realized what was bearing down on him. Something that hadn't been seen for a hundred years. A dragon.
Tywin was dumbfounded to say the least as Lord Peverell descended from the black and red beast. A Dragon? In Westeros? And ridden by a non-Targaryen? It was shocking and exceptionally dangerous for him and his family. A dragon could easily destroy anything his family could muster while forcing the King to abdicate his crown.
Suddenly, the dragon landed behind the Riverlands Lords and a man jumped off. The Riverlord slowly approached, his Valyrian steel armor glistening in the sun as he rested his hand on the pommel of his sword, "Lord Lannister, I trust you are well?"
The Lannister forced a smile, "Indeed, Lord Peverell, or should I say 'Your Grace'?"
"You may dispense with the pleasantries, Lannister. We both know how this ends." Harry said, cutting through the usual Lordly blustering.
"A forgone conclusion, Peverell? Tell me, how does it end?"
Harry chuckled, "I burn your army when you refuse to bend the knee."
"And if I bend the knee instead?" Tywin asked pragmatically.
"House Lannister retains all their titles and lands. See Jaime is released from the Kingsguard and your grandchildren become Lannisters. You will have your heir back to either father an heir for himself or you can appoint a grandchild as your heir." Harry responded, not surprised that Tywin asked.
Tywin stared at Harry for a moment before replying, "May I speak with my council before deciding?"
"You have 24 hours." Harry replied, before smirking, "Don't try to escape, Lannister. Sadly, I have you surrounded." Harry chuckled again as he walked back to his dragon and took flight, leaving the remaining parties still facing one another.
It was silent for a minute before the auburn haired woman spoke, "We spotted your son's army near Riverrun. If you bend the knee, we will allow him across the Twins to attack Robb's rear as he travels down the Kingsroad. If not, his army will burn as well." When she finished, she quickly pulled her horse to the right and trotted off back towards the Riverlands army with her group in tow.
Lord Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock and the Westerlands, Warden of the West, Hand of the King
Year 9: Day 82 - 298 AC
It was silent in the Lannister tent. Each lord that had accommodated Tywin and his army had said nothing since they entered, waiting for their Lord to speak. It was not that they were afraid to speak, Tywin had always accepted wise counsel, but rather there was nothing to say. No good choice.
As they waited, the flap to the tent opened and a Westerlands soldier entered, "Lord Crakehall?" He asked. When Crakehall stood, the young soldier quickly handed him a raven scroll, "From your lady wife, mi Lord." Crakehall nodded in acceptance and took his seat.
The Lord unrolled the scroll and read. After a moment, the Lord paled and took a deep breath. "Well, Crakehall? What is so important from your wife?" Tywin mocked, obviously annoyed at his predicament.
"Crakehall scouts report Tyrell bannermen have crossed the border of the Westerlands and are making haste to Crakehall. She also said another force is not far from Cornfield." Crakehall summarized.
"And so it goes..." Tywin said sadly.
"Perhaps if we break camp in the night, we can sneak our forces back to the Westerlands to fight the Tyrells?" A Lord asked, the mood and silence having been broken.
Another Lord spoke up, "They have scouts watching us. We might be able to get out at max half, but it's risky."
"Perhaps we could take a small force and leave the bulk of the army here. A major loss, of course, but we could raise more."
"Yes, but we wouldn't have to bend the knee to that commoner."
Tywin looked to the man who had suggested fleeing but addressed all the Lords, "How many men can sneak out without being detected? An army as large as ours, five hundred over several hours?" There were some nods around after that statement.
"All night? Perhaps three thousand." Kevan Lannister said forcefully, "But what if we attack the Peverell force after nightfall? We could catch them sleeping and the dragon would be useless in the dark. We would also be in their army's midst so they would be reluctant to use the dragon."
"Once we win? We are in the same predicament but with less of a chance Lord Peverell would not burn our army." Lord Crakehall said, doubting the stated plan's feasibility.
"If we can defeat the Peverells before dawn, we could disperse our army into small units and have them make haste through the woods to the Westerlands. Some of them might be caught, but more than if we snuck out overnight." Kevan replied.
Tywin stood from his seat calmly, "I will make my decision shorty. Leave me."
King Harry Peverell, King of the Riverlands and the Trident, Warlock of Harrenhal, Protector of the Realm
Year 9: Day 97 - 298 AC
It was midnight when the news arrived. Tywin, ever the man of intelligence and action, had decided to ignore Harry's demand for him to bend the knee and had taken his army and attacked the Peverell forces.
Now, to give Tywin credit, it was the smart play if he wasn't going to surrender. Take out a portion of your enemies force while their air cover was useless. However, Harry and his men were not stupid and they had learned the tactics of this world.
Harry's men had toiled all day since they arrived, digging trenches and installing a crude palisade to prevent a Lannister sneak attack. One third of the army also remained awake while the others slept, allowing some 10,000 men to be ready when the Lannisters did attack.
Night attacks were hard to pull off to say the least. Impossible to coordinate your force once engaged and maneuver was nonexistent. The only orders you could sound were what your forces knew from instruments. Retreat, advance... Even advanced maneuvering with sound commands would be too hard to coordinate. Thus, the direct assault was what Lord Lannister resorted to.
Granted, he didn't just march straight at the Riverlander army, he rather attempted to flank them on both sides. Harry and his generals from England had envisioned this and, by using an ancient Roman strategy of building a fort to protect your 'legion', Harry's men were not caught unaware.
Thus, when the Lannisters came their force smashed against the walls as arrows raised down on them. It was likely a calculated risk from Tywin to attack. He had undoubtedly seen the fort being constructed and would have known it would cost additional men to defeat it.
Sadly, it had only been a third of Tywin's force that attacked and was destroyed. Tywin's main force of bannerman force used the battle to mask their escape towards the Westerlands.
The battle had been bloody, and sadly for the Lannisters, walls do not allow for a sneak attack. The Lannisters probably lost 85-90% of their diversionary attack, with the rest captured or fled. The Peverells? A mere 568 killed, with a several hundred wounded. A rout.
Harry had tried to assist where he could with Hedwig when he got the word, but the darkness betrayed him. The moon was also not helping, with the light being minimal.
When morning dawned, Harry surveyed the battlefield and stood amongst the ~9,000 dead soldiers. He heard to his left several wizards dry heaving and he chuckled. However, what intrigued him the most was an old man on his guard that didn't seem even fazed.
"Ivan, see this before?" Harry asked the 100-year-old man, lower old age for wizards.
The Russian wizard affirmed almost sadly, "The NKVD found many such places during the Great Patriotic War." The man said in a thick accent and Harry just nodded in understanding.
Harry turned to his assembled Lords, "Lord Tywin is a clever man. He expects us to chase him with our bannermen to hunt down their forces. I will not order this. We will continue with our plan." Harry paused and looked to Lord Paege of Maidenpool, "Lord Paege, march this force to King's Landing and reinforce the siege. I will chase Lord Tywin back to the Westerlands with Hedwig and meet up with my main host at Riverrun." The Lord nodded and rode off towards their camp with the rest of the Lords in tow.
"Susan, is the Vale force in position?" Harry asked, looking to his right.
"Of course, Neville has ensured that Lord Arryn is compliant." She responded, looking at the enchanted map in her hands, "Lord Arryn will force Lord Stark to cross the Trident at the Twins and Lord Frey will graciously allow him across the Trident to attack the Westerlands." Harry just nodded and returned to the back of Hedwig.
'Lord' Robb Stark, "The Young Wolf"
Year 9: Day 99 - 298 AC
Robb had been peering at the Twins for a while now, considering his options while cursing the Arryns and Peverells. He had three options, none good. He could continue down the Kingsroad and hope that he could beat the Arryn force if they come to blows, ask the Freys to allow him to cross the Trident, or return to the North…
In truth, Robb was scared. He was green and knew it. Every decision he made would likely be the wrong one. Cross the bridge: A Lannister army somewhere. A Peverell force. There had even been rumors of a Dragon. Down the Kingsroad: The Arryn host, with mounted knights and stronger than him. The North: Cowardice. Disgrace. He couldn't just leave his father.
But the known was worse in this case than the unknown. Lord Arryn and a force ten thousand stronger than his was marching up the Kingsroad to meet him, but he was there to rescue his father.
As he thought, a guard approached calmly, "Lord Stark, scouts report the Vale army to our front."
Robb paled; while he had known the force was on its way, he had thought he had more time. "How far away?"
"A day's march, perhaps less mi Lord."
"Then we must prepare." Robb said resolutely, "Inform the Lords to prepare the army the best you can for defense." Robb then pushed his horse to a gallop towards the Twins and destiny.
Ser Neville Longbottom, Hand of the King
Year 9: Day 99 - 298 AC
Neville ground his teeth as he watched the Northern army stand firm, their backs against the river. They had erected a crude spike wall, meant to stymie the Arryn calvary. They looked prepared to fight. But, unluckily for Robb Stark, Neville didn't need to.
"They failed to cross the River, Ser Longbottom." Lord Arryn reported causing Neville to give him the side eye.
"Obviously…" Neville replied slowly, visibly annoyed that the boy had not taken the easy route.
"Then what do we do?"
Neville stood silently for what seemed like five minutes to the Arryn Lord, but truthfully it was only a minute as the wizard thought. This was an unforeseen action, "We move on to phase two. We ride for King's Landing."
"Are you sure?" Lord Yohn Royce asked, the large man a veteran of the Rebellion and a man with a sound military mind, "That would put the Northerner's behind our army."
"Our host is faster. Most of their force is footman." Lord Redfort replied, unconcerned.
"We will force them to fight us on our terms, not up against the Trident. They will have to break the siege at King's Landing anyway, let them fight us and the Crownlands at the same time then." As Neville turned to leave, he could see the Northern lords watching him from their makeshift fighting positions. A small group, perhaps 5 or 6 of them, were staring right at him. They were talking, obviously not just looking at him. They could easily see the Peverell banner raised high just like the Arryn banner beside it. Neville smirked as he raised his hand to the group and waved in greeting before turning and galloping away with his guard and Lords in tow.
Ser Jaime Lannister, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard
Year 9: Day 107 - 298 AC
Jaime Lannister was angry to say the least. His first engagement with Lord Frey had been an utter disaster, his army becoming a shadow of itself. The Frey force, coupled with the main Peverell army, had surprised him and hammered his army hard. After that defeat, he had hastened his retreat towards his home as nothing could be done here. He had intended to cross the Trident and meet Lord Stark on his terms but that had failed.
So now, here he was marching with his force back towards the Westerlands as fast as they could. The had just about entered into the Westerlands when he spotted movement to his left flank. A sigil was cresting the hill...
Jaime narrowed his eyes, peering into the fog of the morning. Suddenly, for a split second, the fog allowed a glimpse. Another Peverell force? Jaime cursed his luck. The Peverell were to the left and the Frey army was not far behind him. He spurred his horse to a gallop and began shouting as his army slowly realized the Riverlanders arrival, "BATTLE LINES!" The army moved slowly on his command, but he continued up the column from his starting position in the middle, "BATTLE LINES! ARCHERS BEHIND THE LINE!"
As more of the Peverell army crested the hill, the movement of his force became more hurried and frantic. His force was taking a standard battle line, five deep with his archers in a line behind them. The best formation that could be achieved in under 10 minutes. Jaime continued to order his forces into position as the rest of his commanders did the same.
When they finished assembling, which Jaime thought was a miracle in itself since the Peverells didn't just rush the field while they were disorganized, he looked at the enemy army which had to number at least ten thousand. A fresh force vs his defeated and tired force of fourteen thousand. He had more men though. Perhaps he could win this one. It wasn't until a few minutes later when Jaime realized why they had not attacked. A dark shadow soon passed over his army and a deafening roar was heard over the battlefield.
Lord Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North
Year 9: Day 107 - 298 AC
"Well then, what do you suggest Stark?" King Renly asked, his voice obviously irritated at the former-Hand. They were alone in the Throne Room in the Red Keep, with Renly sitting in his newly acquired sword chair.
"Renly, we must consider our options carefully. My son will be here within a fortnight and your forces from the Stormlands in the same time. They will be able to break the siege." Eddard responded, attempting to calm the young King.
Renly just looked at the man skeptically, "Any raven we send is shot down and we have received none. Are you sure that your son is even on his way?"
"I trust my son."
"Like you trusted your bastard? The boy who sits idly by on Dragonstone while his father supports the real King?" Renly asked, angry that more Lords had not answered his call.
Eddard looked at the young man in from of him. He was barely older that his first son, but with 10x the arrogance. He felt he deserved the Kingdoms rather than earn them. It wasn't like the Targaryens who had their dragons to enforce loyalty, Renly only had his claim and the Stormlands.
Suddenly, the doors opened revealing a slightly disheveled Northern guard who sprinted towards them. It only took a moment for him to reach the steps to the throne sand as he bowed, he said, "Your Grace, mi Lord, Arryn banners have been sighted on the horizon."
"Finally, the Arryns have come to their senses." Renly said, rising from his seat while Eddard looked concerned, "What is it, Lord Stark?"
"Let's find out if they truly do support you before we accept their help, your Grace..."
"Very well."
It only took the fifteen minutes to reach the walls where they could get a clear view of the Arryn army approaching. Lots of mounted knights, but other types of troops as well. Renly was smiling as Eddard still watched the army carefully, something felt wrong.
Luckily for Renly, the Arryn army didn't seem to be meeting up with the Crownlands. But they weren't fighting them either. Truthfully, they looked to be bypassing King's Landing all together, heading south.
Renly still seemed hopeful, but it was quickly fading. Eddard just watched the falcon banners, at least a hundred of them, flutter in the wind. Once they would have signaled rescue and support, but now... He wasn't sure. As he watched, both men saw a single black banner come into focus along with a larger Arryn banner signaling Lord Arryn's presence.
"Stark, do you recognize the black sigil?" Renly asked, squinting his eyes.
Eddard thought of only two houses that would be traveling next to Lord Arryn and only one was actually reasonable. The Greyjoys and Peverells... It took only a moment for the white of the deathly hallows to become visible for Eddard to know the truth.
"Peverells, your Grace. A small group, likely Ser Longbottom or Lady Bones and a small group of Peverell guards." He responded, guessing on who would accompany the Arryns. Obviously only there to enforce whatever sorcery they use on Lord Arryn...
"Do you think we should attempt to communicate with them? See if they are here to help us?" Renly asked, looking back at Lord Stark.
"We must tread very carefully. If the Vale has betrayed you and they cross the river to the south, rescue by the Stormlands becomes much more unlikely. The army from the Crownlands is weaker and would lose verses a strong Stormlands force, the Knights of the Vale and that force would stop any army in its tracks..."
"What do you suggest then?"
"We take our loyal forces and leave the city in the docked ships."
"Fleeing King's Landing? Abandoning the Iron Throne? I cannot do that, Stark," he protested, gripping the hilt of his sword.
Eddard Stark met Renly's eyes, "Your Grace, the city watch is not loyal. They serve the one who pays them, and in times like these, gold can quickly change allegiances. Our banners in the city cannot fight all of the Watch."
As they spoke, a guard shouted something indistinct, causing them to look back to the outside of the walls. Stark just chuckled mirthlessly as several of the Crownlands lords were riding towards Lord Arryn and the Peverells.
"I would expect an emissary soon. Perhaps a parlay to ask for our surrender." Stark said, taking a deep breath.
"Then we will meet them."
Eddard rode towards the small gathering of traitors with King Baratheon in tow. As they came nearer, he inclined his head ever so slightly in greeting.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" A pale man with Targaryen like hair began, looking both him and Renly up and down, "King Renly Baratheon and Lord Stark gracing us with their presence. To what do we owe the pleasure?"
Lord Stark met the man's gaze, frowning, "I'm sorry, but I seem to at a disadvantage. Who are you?"
Draco sneered, "Draco Malfoy of House Malfoy. Perhaps you should remember it, Lord Stark, as I plan to be Lord of the North by the time this war is through."
Eddard frowned even deeper, how dare this man threaten that! To kill his family! But, his calmness won out over his anger and he said nothing more, allowing Renly to begin, "We've come for a parlay. Let us discuss terms and see if a resolution can be reached."
Draco smirked. "Oh, a parlay, you say? Okay. King Harry Peverell is willing to pardon you both if you bend the knee and declare him the rightful King."
Renly remained silent, though the tension in his posture was evident.
"Lord Peverell is no King." Eddard replied, confusion running through his mind. Last he had heard only King Joffrey was claiming the throne and Peverell was in Harrenhal doing whatever those sorcerers do there.
"King Peverell has the loyalty of the Crownlands, the Riverlands, the Vale, the Reach, and Dragonstone. He is the rightful King by conquest." Lord Arryn responded, sounding very similar to Draco with his arrogance.
"He has yet to control the Iron Throne." Renly looked at the traitorous Lord, "Fickle are your loyalties then? My brother won the rebellion and not 20 years later there is another?"
"Your brother was a shit King and you will be a shit King." One of the Crownlands Lords said, visibly angering Renly.
"I think this parley is done." Eddard said as he used his horse to nudge Renly back to the city. As they both trotted off, Draco called out.
"Lord Stark! I have a message from King Peverell for you and one from your good-daughter Margaery."
Eddard slowed his horse and Renly slowed as well before he told him to continue on back to the city. Renly nodded and left Eddard with only four Northern guards. Eddard turned and rode back closer to the main grouping. He could see Malfoy holding out two letters. Ned grabbed the notes and quickly followed the King. As he rode, he unfolded the first note.
Lord Eddard Stark,
I instructed Lord Malfoy to give this to you if you failed to agree to surrender…
Your daughter, Arya, prays for your safety every day. I do not. I hope you will reconsider your choice and allow your children to grow up with their father. If not, my men will show you no mercy.
King Harry Peverell
Ned frowned as he tossed the note onto the ground, choosing to ignore the threat. He opened the second note:
Lord Stark,
As I sit down to pen these words, the weight of the news concerning your allegiance to Renly bears heavy on our hearts. My husband, Jon, has entrusted me with the task of reaching out to you in hopes of finding a path that steers us away from the brink of conflict between yourself and the family that raised Jon from a bastard to the Lord of Dragonstone.
Jon's heart breaks for House Stark. You must understand that an internal battle raged inside him when he heard of your support for Renly. Jon's loyalty to House Stark runs deep, as does his love and respect for you, Lord Stark. However, the news of your support for Renly has placed him in a difficult position, torn between his duty to his birth family and his obligations as Lord of Dragonstone.
Yet, amidst this turbulence, there exists a glimmer of hope—that reason may yet prevail over the clamor of swords and the cries of battle.
I implore you, Lord Stark, to consider the consequences of continued defiance. The safety of our loved ones, the future of our children—these are stakes too high to gamble upon the fleeting allure of loyalty to a cause fraught with uncertainty.
Think of Arya, Sansa, Robb, Bran, Rickon—think of the legacy you wish to leave for them. Is it one of strife and turmoil, or is it one of unity and resilience? My heart aches for the latter, my lord. I beseech you, Lord Stark, to heed King Peverell's plea. Your wisdom and courage are renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms, and it is in times of strife that your leadership is needed most. Let us find a way to resolve our differences without bloodshed, for the sake of all those we hold dear.
With earnest prayers for your wisdom and compassion,
Margaery Tyrell
He passed the letter over to Renly to read before speaking, "The Tyrells have always had a way with words. A copy of her Grandmother that one."
"Margaery is a kind woman," Renly replied, his face a mask yet Lord Stark could see a tear welling up in his right eye. He coughed and rubbed his eyes, attempting to hide it, "What did the Peverell note say?"
"What else but threats? Death…" Eddard waved his hand in a dismissive way, "I have been threatened worse."
Stevron Frey, "The Green Frey"
Year 9: Day 108 - 298 AC
The Frey army had been chasing Jaime Lannister's force for a few days after their victory north of Riverrun. Stevron had succeeded in lulling Jaime into a false sense of confidence at the lack of his combat experience. The carnage was unlike anything he had ever seen before and had made him realize the gravity of his war.
Yesterday, they had not been far from the border of the Westerlands and maybe 15 miles behind the remainder of the Lannister force when they saw a large plume of thick black smoke appear in the sky in the direction of the Westerlands. It didn't rise faster than normal, likely a large fire, but Stevron was curious what could have caused it. However, it could have been anything.
The other Lords riding with him had noticed as well, "Perhaps a wildfire. The ground has been dry." Black Walder said, his voice low and sinister.
It seemed the most likely explanation. Wildfires start quickly and can easily rage out of control. However, a voice in the back of his head had nagged him. There had been ravens telling of a Dragon in the Riverlands. Walder, his father, had also mentioned it in a letter at some point, however there was never any evidence at that time. However, these ravens were more substantial, from Lords and Ladies who had seen it. Stevron pushed it from his mind, best not bring up children's fairytales until he had seen it himself.
As his army marched closer the next day, the nagging increased. The terrain turned rockier and the easily combustible vegetation disappeared. The grass seemed strong and it appeared it had rained recently as well. The wildfire theory became less plausible. The worry began to set in. While Jaime was an enemy, did he truly deserve to be burned alive?
As they came closer and closer, next came the smell. The burning, smokey smell that accompanied large fires. Yet, this smelled different to his nose. It wasn't the simple wood burning smell he was used to, no. It was harsher, deadlier. Well, as much as smoke can smell 'deadly'. As his force marched, their pace quickening as they neared the source of the smell, there was a feeling of trepidation and fear that spread through him and his army. Everyone had the same thoughts…
When they finally came within view of the source, his nagging feeling was proven correct. A wasteland of ash and the remnants of a destroyed army greeted them. Stevron had been in the front of his army, eager to see the damage, but this was beyond his wildest imagination. Several of his Lords gasped at the carnage while others sneered at the dishonor.
"It appears it was not a wildfire, Walder." he said, solemnly. Walder just nodded his head, silently agreeing. Even he was surprised.
They marched his army into the remains of the Lannister force, their footsteps crunching on the charred ground and what Stevron thought might be the ashes of Lannister men. The seared ground seemed to stretch on for a mile as the signs of a battle were self-evident. Most Lannister bannermen were just burned to a crisp rather than ashes, their hands still clinging to their swords and shields. Some swords melted onto their hands while others were cowering under their kite shields.
As they made their way through, his army began looking for survivors, even as they believed it was a fruitless endeavor. He assisted as well, walking through the remains, looking for anyone that might be alive. However, it seemed that an army, perhaps the Peverells, had cleaned up after the dragon attack. Everybody they found that appeared to not be charred to death had at least one stab wound.
"The Peverells left no survivors." Black Walder said, standing next to Stevron as he gazed at the Lannister at their feet. A young man, not much older than his grandson. A neck wound that had seemingly caused him to bleed out.
"My Lord, looks like we had a live one." A Frey bannerman said as he pointed to the drag marks in the ash, "Looks like someone found refuge under this wagon. Drug out after the battle."
"High value Lord I would guess." Walder responded, "They killed the rest of the survivors. No reason to just take one prisoner if they didn't have ransom power." Stevron just nodded.
"What should we do now?" another Frey asked bluntly, "Should we return to the Crossing?"
None of the assembled Lords said a word, but rather looked to Stevron, "No, we continue to the Westerlands. King Peverell will give us orders…"
King Harry Peverell, King of the Riverlands and the Trident, Warlock of Harrenhal, Protector of the Realm
Year 9: Day 108 - 298 AC
Harry's army had ended up not capturing any of Lord Tywin's army, a mistake on his part, however he had destroyed the remnants of Jaime Lannister's army so in the end it worked out. They did, however, find that Lord Crakehall had been captured by a Raventree Hall patrol after becoming lost in the dark and falling down an embankment. In addition to his capture by Riverlands forces and luckily for Lord Lannister, they had pulled his son out from under a carriage. Badly burned but alive…
Harry stood silently, staring into the cell that held Lord Crakehall. He was a short, stocky middle aged man. He had heard the stories of the man from Robert's Rebellion, a fine knight and an intelligent man. It was truly sad to see such a proud lord sitting on the stone floor with his head in his hands.
"Lord Ronald Crakehall… It is a pleasure to say the least." Harry said, catching the attention of the sitting man. The lord simply chuckled at his predicament.
"Come to gloat, Lord Peverell? Captured by my own stupidity." The man jested, finding humor in his confinement.
"Of course not, Lord Crakehall." Harry laughed, "Your situation is one anyone could find themselves in. I myself have tripped down several embankments in my youth."
"But alas, I am well past my youth." Ronald joked, "But tell me, why do you speak with me? To find out what I know? Sadly, I only know we were to regroup at Golden Tooth."
"Naturally. It is the closest Westerlands castle… It would be foolish not to." Harry replied, "Tell me of your sons? Are they in the field?"
Roland smiled softly, "Tybolt, my oldest is at our seat with my wife. Ruling Crakehall in my stead. Going to defend it from the Tyrells I have heard…"
"Oh yes, word has reached me that the Tyrell army did begin the siege a few days ago." Harry responded, "I told them to remain respectful of your family even though we are enemies."
Lord Crakehall looked to Harry and nodded, "You have my thanks, Lord Peverell."
"It is no issue. What of your other sons? Lyle is the name of one?"
"Lyle is my middle child. Strong man. Served with me in the main army. I pray to the Seven he lives." Roland said, sincere in his words, "Merlon is my youngest. I believe he was in King's Landing. Serving our King."
"That's good to hear that your family is still intact. I pray that it remains that way." Harry said solemnly, "There are many that cannot say the same already… Do you know anyone who was in Ser Jaime's host?"
"Lord Banefort, Estren… Ser Tytos Brax… I believe that one of Kevan's sons was in that host." Crakehall responded curiously, wondering the goal of the question, "Lord Banefort is a good friend of mine. Pray tell, does he live?"
Harry shook his head, "Unless he was taken prisoner by the Freys, it is unlikely. The host was smashed near Riverrun. Destroyed by my host."
"And your dragon?" Ronald chuckled mirthlessly, "I saw the smoke, King Peverell. Do you wish to rule over a realm of ashes?"
"There are those that will bend the knee. For their own head or their families… You have that choice as well, Lord Crakehall. When I meet Lord Lannister on the field, I will ensure that his army turns to ash and House Lannister is a page in a history book. Perhaps when I am King of the Seven Kingdom, House Crakehall will hold Casterly Rock." Harry said, looking at the man who he was now asking to betray his Lord. The man looked like he was going to speak, before Harry stopped him, "Or perhaps they will not. I am sure there is no shortage of ambitious Westerlands Lords willing to take that mantle when Lord Lannister is dead. Think on it, Crakehall…" Harry turned to leave but turned back for a split second, "You have until tomorrow. Then you will be transferred to Harrenhal to spend the rest of the war in the dungeons."
Astoria Peverell, Lady of the Riverlands and the Trident
Harrenhal
Astoria watched her sister Daphne sitting quietly in the Lord's library in Harrenhal, researching ancient magic. She was beautiful, nicer than her, probably smarter... And in love with her husband.
She had read her mind on several occasion. She was hopelessly in love and was depressed that he wasn't available.
"I can feel you staring, Astoria." Daphne said, her spidey senses tingling, "What?"
Astoria smirked as she entered the library, "You can never sneak up on the Ice Queen can you?"
Daphne raised an eyebrow, "'Stori, you've been staring at me for a while... Is everything alright?"
Astoria forced a smile, having made her way to the table Daphne was reading at, "Of course, everything's fine. I was just admiring how you are so devoted to your work..."
"You know you can talk to me about anything, right? If there's something on your mind..." Daphne repeated, looking into her sisters eyes, seemingly trying to read her mind.
"I appreciate it, Daph, but truly, everything's fine."
Daphne rolled her eyes, "Ooookay, whatever you say..."
Daphne looked back to her book but heard the scrap of chair legs against the ground as Astoria took a seat across from her. There was a moment of silence before Astoria spoke, her voice slightly trembling.
"There is something wrong..." she said, causing Daphne to look up again, "Do you love my husband?"
Daphne recoiled in surprise, responding with confusion, while also suddenly raising her occlumency shields. That didn't surprise Astoria, "What do you mean?"
Astoria looked at her hands in her lap, "I see you look at him. There is longing in your eyes, Daph."
"..." Daphne was silent, also looking at her hands, seemed like a Greengrass trait, "What do you want to hear, Astoria? No? That I only see him as a friend?"
She sighed, "That would be good."
Her older sister also sighed, "Well, then yes. Only as a friend."
A single tear seemed to escape Astoria's eye, "I see." She knew it was a lie... She saw it in her eyes and didn't even need to read her sister's mind.
