Chapter 3
Author's Note: So one of the issues I run into when reading and writing ASOIAF stuff, is logistics and numbers. It ends up being the yolk of these crossover stories as people like reading about all that stuff in detail. And I don't want to ruin that but GRRM is notoriously terrible with this type of stuff. The random teleporting of characters to fit the vague timeline and all the other nonsense means I don't have a good grasp on things nor does anyone else so please- suspension of belief will be necessary for this story as well.
I don't have the patience to actually map out the time that has passed or accurately keep track of how long it should take a character on the southern edge of Westeros to go all North. Doesn't mean I'll have Meryn fucking Trant zooming around like the flash. I'll do my best but please don't tear me to pieces in the reviews. The Wall, the fleets, the fluctuating and absurd army sizes, etc. I can't be expected to pick up where the author slacked off. Thanks. Again, I'm too busy during the day and I'm something of an insomniac so excuse the grammar. I'm not making any money off of this so you get what you get.
Road to Winterfell, 298 AC
Jon Snow lightly kicked his companion to go faster, a beautiful black horse with a luscious dark mane. Ever since his cousin gifted him one, there wasn't a day Jon could be found away from Friday, his four-legged friend. The name was odd and no matter how much prying, Harry refused to reveal its meaning, only laughing when asked about it. Jon was convinced it meant something inappropriate.
Regardless, he honored the chosen name as it was gifted to him. A bit of a random gift he had to admit. Harry was Jon's favorite cousin, but only because he considered Robb a brother. A good enough justification but it wasn't something he had to babble about anyway.
Although the interactions between them were few, each of them left an impression on him. Harry was said to be the smartest man in the North and Jon truly believed it. Despite being the same age, his cousin was a storm of change who constantly oozed with success and improvement wherever he went. He was admired by every commoner and held the respect of every lord.
Jon heard there would be a bountiful feast planned in Winterfell at the start of winter. A grand celebration of abundance and other themes his cousin had yet to reveal. The air was charged with anticipation and a thrill that grew stronger by the day. Caravans of migrating commoners were a common sight in the city as a good omen permeated the North.
The beautiful city changed every time Jon visited and each was better than the last. The discovery of fused stone with the introduction of strange inventions, cemented Harry as one of the greatest minds in the history of Westeros. The secrets of such technology were believed to be lost in the Doom of Valyria yet they resurfaced in the unlikeliest of places. Castles, cottages, farms, and all kinds of other buildings were propped up with ease in the wake of Harry's inventions. Jon wondered if it'd be possible to receive a sizable keep and good lands in the future.
Speaking with the Lord Paramount felt odd at times, Harry held the appearance of a young man but anyone who spoke to him long enough would say there was something off-putting. His weathered, hardened eyes held a timeless quality, as if he had seen more than men three times his age. That subtle detachment, an eerie knowing that made it seem as though he existed just slightly out of step with the rest of the world, always thinking of something or someplace that wasn't in the present. As if he wished to be away but was forced to stay put. 'There must always be a Stark in Winterfell.' The words of Old Nan echoed in his head.
Behind him, a whistle pierced through the cold, snowy air which Jon knew to mean he'd gone too far from the group. Before he could turn back, a small wolf pup ran out onto the road. Not wanting to trample it, Jon instinctively pulled harshly on the reins of his horse. Friday lifted her front legs and neighed in response to Jon's rough tugging.
Jon was nearly thrown off but he gripped the leather cord tightly, saving him from a brutal fall. Finding his bearings, he looked down at the unfazed pup continuing its walk across the road. "I'm not sure you were worth all that." Friday blew hot air from her nostrils in agreement. Unmounting carefully, Jon lifted the wolf pup up to his face only for it to snarl and wiggle desperately. Looking it over, he found dried blood on its fur that wasn't coming from a wound he could spot at first glance.
Wondering where it came from, Jon began his walk into the trees from where the pup emerged. The feisty young wolf continued its struggles for freedom, the embrace clearly unwanted. "Remain still, I'm not planning to keep you. Perhaps if you were better behaved I might have considered it." As if understanding his words, the pup snarled and attempted to bite his arm.
Jon didn't have to travel far before he found the mother he was looking for. His hand unconsciously snapped to the hilt of his sword at the sight of the enormous direwolf lying under a tree. The mother direwolf snapped her head towards him and growled menacingly. Not for long as it began panting shortly after, the pain was too great for her to keep up the aggressive behavior. Her eyes rapidly moved from the pup in his hands to Jon himself.
"Jon! Jon!" He could hear his uncle calling out for him and the chatter of his cousins not too far behind.
"Over here!" Jon shouted, never taking his eyes off the wounded apex predator. The direwolf was a bit bigger than Friday which was as unbelievable as it was frightening. His horse was on the bigger side of horse breeds. Although he wanted to reassure the direwolf that he didn't mean to harm her offspring, he knew she wouldn't understand.
"Jon. What were you thinking?" Ned Stark reprimanded him, approaching him from his right. "Oh."
"I don't think she can move." Jon could hear quiet whimpers and crying, he knew he'd just found the rest of the litter. Palming his dagger, he kept it in a defensive position in case the direwolf got any ideas.
"Yes, moving can be hard with an antler in your stomach. A hunting accident, she won't be alive for much longer." His uncle moved past him, going behind the direwolf and kneeling there for a moment. True to his word, the direwolf could only lay there in pain, her breathing ragged and agonized.
If it was the gruesome sight of her injury or seeing the symbol of his family dying, Jon didn't know but he had a hard time taking it in. "You killed your mother, Jon." He heard his uncle say, snapping him out of the trance.
"What?" The words caused unwanted memories lingering on the surface of his mind to flare painfully. Restless nights, wondering what his mother was like. Why his father shunned him and threw him away. Was he an embarrassment his father tried to cover up in the snow of the north? Jon believed he possessed some of the blame for Lyanna's death. A disturbing thought that ate at him every time he thought of his mother.
"You will kill their mother, Jon." Ned Stark repeated. "It would be cruel to leave her like this. She isn't long for this world, put her out of her misery." His uncle pointed to the weapon in his hand, he could feel the dagger double in weight. Jon no longer wanted to hold it.
"Why me? What about her pups?" Robb, Sansa, Arya and Bran chose this moment to walk into the clearing.
"What is going on?" Arya demanded, pushing her way to the front, past Robb and Sansa.
"You found her so you will do the deed. As for these…" Ned pulled a few more from behind the dying direwolf. "There is no kindness or mercy in leaving them to suffer in the cold. Without their mother they won't live much longer either."
Sansa gasped with a mournful look, ever the sweet and compassionate girl. Robb didn't have much of a reaction and while Bran was much the same, his face did hold traces of sadness. Arya was the more outspoken one of her siblings.
"What? There is no kindness or mercy in that either! Let us keep them. Please, Father?" Arya begged while attempting to reach for one. Ned kept them out of reach, not giving in to his daughter's cute face.
"Jon, go on and do it." Ned wouldn't ask again and would do it himself if Jon couldn't. Not wanting to displease him or have his uncle think him weak, Jon resolved to give the dying animal peace.
Jon knelt on the ground in front of her and positioned the dagger over the direwolf's chest. "I'm sorry, you were a good mother." He whispered. Closing his eyes, he pushed downward, driving the sharp blade into the direwolf. Jon held on to the dagger as she struggled to move away, much like the pup he left with Bran, but her efforts gradually slowed until .
A soft whimper gave way to outright crying. Turning around, Jon was met with Sansa's sobbing face, her body trembling in sorrow. Robb put an arm around her shoulder to comfort his sister.
"Father, please don't kill them. We can raise them instead." Arya pleaded. Only a glance was necessary to see that Ned Stark had already decided.
"They don't belong on this side of the wall." Ned Stark said with a tone of finality. He pulled a knife from its sheath and prepared to kill the pup.
"Wait!" Jon exclaimed, his own voice betraying him, he hadn't meant to speak at all.
A while later…
"Thank you, Jon." Arya said while petting her direwolf, coincidentally the same one that Jon first met. Next to him, the rest of Arya's siblings played with theirs as well. "I think the gods gifted you with a special one, a sign that you are a Stark no matter what anyone says." Referring to the albino direwolf pup in Jon's hand.
Jon smiled, first making sure no one heard Arya's words. "I'm a bastard. That is what I will always be. But a special bastard is surely better than a mere bastard." Opening the satchel on Friday's saddle, Jon shimmied Ghost in carefully. "I'm sorry boy, we are almost at Winterfell. I promise I'll pull you out as soon as I can." Ghost whined but settled in, preferring the warm space to the open cold air. Perhaps it was reminded of its mother.
Kingslanding 298 AC
"Your Majesty." The small council of King Rhaegar Targaryen, bowed respectfully as he entered the chamber.
The small council looked very different from the previous one. The positions were awarded to trustworthy and wise friends of Rhaegar who he carefully picked after being crowned king. Not all were friends but they earned their seat at his table.
"I'd like to welcome, Lord Petyr Baelish, as the new master of coin." Petyr Baelish thanked the king and entered the room. Shaking hands with the rest of the members and exchanging pleasantries.
"Thank you for having me, Your Grace. I will work hard everyday to prove how wise of a decision this was. Lord Qarlton would vouch for my skills in counting coppers if he were here. May the seven grant him peace."
"See to it, Lord Baelish. Do not make me regret your promotion." Rhaegar had long planned to rid Qarlton of his position because of his support for King Aerys, the man was good at sabotaging his carefully laid plans by alerting his father many times in the past. Most notably during the tourney of Harrenhall, where he successfully convinced the mad king to attend.
Good he was at sabotage, he was just as good in keeping the realm's finances in order. It helped that Qarlton became subdued after the rebellion was squashed and didn't attempt to start any trouble. When the man passed in his sleep, he found a good substitute in the oddest of places.
A successful royal collector who doubled as a popular brothel owner, Petyr showed great skill in managing wealth. From a low status noble family from the Vale to one of the richest men in Kingslanding. Rhaegar only accepted Petyr as his new master of coin as he believed it could be another sign of fate.
King Jaehaerys was once criticized for choosing a foreign magister as the new master of coin. Rego Draz was a low-born man from Pentos who also climbed to the top of the ladder with nothing but wit and talent. The merchant found his home on the street of silk, and despite all this, he proved to be a great master of coin. Many accredited him with the restoration of the realm's economy after Maegor's rampage.
Petyr Baelish operated in the very same place Rego once resided. The way Petyr dressed was queer almost foreign with his flamboyant and colorful attire. The man had ambitions to climb so he would be properly incentivised to do well if he wishes to go any higher. For a noble of low status, positions like these were the only way their house could ever find prestige.
'The height of House Targaryen' It appeared to be a sign for Rhaegar that the glory days of his lineage were returning. The parallel was interesting if anything, and he would ask Varys to keep an eye on Baelish in case the man was not what he seemed. He wasn't like his father, he ran a tight ship and kept wise counsel around him.
"I swear on my very life. Your reign will be remembered as a prosperous one." Petyr announced seriously.
"Any news?" Rhaegar turned to his master of whisperers, Varys. The eunuch was still breathing because of his usefulness otherwise he would have met the same end his father's staunch supporters faced when Rhaegar quietly cleaned house.
"Of course, your Grace. A powerful connection of mine was able to retrieve these eggs from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. No easy task my lord, those lands are even more dangerous than acclaimed in legends. Demons, shadow-walkers, and sorcerers who practice all sorts of magic out in the open. Depravity beyond imagination, the worst kind of humans can be found there, well, if they happen to be human in the first place." Varys said, building up the importance of his success, and the herculean effort this feat required.
A good job the spider did, Varys noticed every member of the council leaned forward as he described a land so far away that most had accepted they would never visit such mystical places. The only ones who still believed were children and men like Corlys Velaryon, but only one other person in the history of Westeros could ever be compared to the Sea Snake.
Lomas Longstrider and Corlys Velaryon kept the dreams they held as children and journeyed to those places of legend. One poor and the other wealthy, both earning undying fame and cementing their place in the annals of history. Their deeds remain unmatched, even long after their deaths.
Rhaegar once dreamed of visiting such places but not on a ship. On dragonback but he wouldn't follow the Sea Snake's routes. Rhaegar would carve his own and have his name added alongside the others. That dream was gone now but a spark of hope for another yet remained. "Thank you, Varys. When the eggs arrive, ask anything of me and I will do everything in my power to see it done."
The Spider bowed his head, with a simpering smile on his face. "I only do what is expected of me, serving my king to the best of my ability. If you insist, however, I could think of something that might help a lowly eunuch like me pass the time. You honor me, Your Grace." The rest of the small council members smiled and congratulated the master of whispers, giving homage for his great success.
Rhaegar slumped slightly on his throne, feeling relief after months of stress and worry. "Lord Baelish, the wedding of the prince is coming up fast, that will be your first task as Master of Coin. Prove I didn't make a mistake like many claim I have. Prove yourself to me, this council, and the realm."
To his credit, Petyr didn't show any sign of worry or pressure, only confidence and excitement. "Of course, your Grace. Leave it to me, I have already taken the liberty to review the crown's finances from the day you generously chose to sponsor me. There will be no problem organizing the wedding. I will do my best to make it as memorable and opulent as any royal event deserves, especially a Targaryen wedding."
"Talk is cheap, Lord Baelish. But we appreciate your initiative and commitment." Jon Connington said with slight disdain, one of the chief opposers to Petyr's appointment. The slimy man rubbed him the wrong way but Lord Connington wasn't king nor was he disloyal. As Hand of the King, Jon would make sure to watch 'Littlefinger' closely.
"Talk is cheap. You are correct, my lord. I hope to change that as Master of Coin." Lord Baelish said with a charming smile. The small council laughed at his wit, with the exception of Lord Connington who's face remained stoney with a touch of contempt.
The gods know we need a moment of celebration. Lighten up, Jon." Quellon Greyjoy says, coughing in between words.
"I like you, Lord Baelish. Any man who knows the worth of sex and the female form, is good in my book." Oberyn Martell says, kissing his fingertips. "I'm afraid you know it perhaps a little too well. Your brothels charge me four times what any other establishment demands. I almost became celibate seeing those prices but the whores would riot if that ever happened and as master of laws that wouldn't be very prudent.
"Ah! The famous hot-blooded Dornish prince. The Red Viper of Dorne. If it weren't for the good pay my ladies receive, you'd have walked out with all of them. I hope you understand, I have a business to run." Petyr Baelish said, surprised at the man's willingness to talk about such vulgar matters in the same room where the realm was governed from, in front of King Rhaegar no less. The Martells were of course the exception as they were family to Queen Elia Martell.
Rhaegar cut in. "Lord Quellon, Pycelle tells me your condition worsens by the day. If you would like, you may return to the islands to live out your days. The familiar waters and lands of the Ironborn might be what you've been missing." Observing the pale lord of the Iron Islands sway in his chair.
"Do not bother with me, your Grace. I can continue my duties until the day I die or you send me away." Quellon Greyjoy attempted to say, but his voice was interrupted by a disturbing wet cough.
"It would not be a bother, Lord Quellon. I count you amongst the most loyal of subjects I possess, and a friend. I do not want you to think I want you gone or replaced, the choice is yours." Rhaegar smiles disarmingly.
"I will stay, your Grace. My body will return all the same." Lord Quellon manages to get out without a cough.
"Grand Maester, look after Lord Greyjoy. Make certain that his every request is fulfilled. I wish to make any possible arrangement if it meant he was any degree more comfortable."
"I will see to it, your Grace. I sincerely apologize for the knowledge and wisdom we lack, Lord Greyjoy. If only we could provide complete relief and a sound treatment for your afflictions." Grand Maester Pycelle said with a benevolent and apologetic face.
"I'll let you all go now. Lord Baelish, report to the Hand if you run into any problems." Rhaegar did it mainly for his sick friend, who looked as if he was about to die if this went on any longer.
Winterfell 298 AC
Eddard's household was welcomed at Winterfell with a grand banquet at Harry's behest. Wanting to know how his nephew was doing and the state of the North, Eddard settled in comfortably into his old castle. In his mind, Moat Cailin was better but Winterfell would always be his childhood home. The days slipped by as he and his family explored the changes that'd been done since they left.
Clinking cups, he drank together with Harry like he always wanted to. Now the boy was old enough to handle the amounts of wine Ned enjoyed.
"I do not believe you Uncle. You're telling me that you had Aenys Frey thrown into a swamp?" Harry cackled in perverse glee. Ned was a little disturbed but he too despised the Freys greatly. They were just like Catelyn's father, opportunistic and dishonorable creatures.
"I swear it upon both the old gods and new. I threw him into the Neck with the other animals where he belongs." Ned held back his laugh, the wine was hitting harder than usual. "Asking for both my daughters, he's fortunate I didn't take his head instead. Walder Frey grows ever bolder."
"If I were you I-" A knock made Harry pause in the middle of his sentence. "Come in."
The door slowly creaked open and Jon Snow stood there shyly. "Oh, I didn't know you were busy. I'll come back later."
"No, it's alright." Harry stopped Jon before he could take off. "I was only wasting our uncle's time here by having him amuse me with what's been happening at the Moat. Supper should be ready by now, Uncle. I won't keep you here any longer."
"It wasn't a waste of my time. You know I always enjoy our talks." Ned said with an earnest expression.
"Yes but I know you love roasted duck and a good cup of mead even more." Harry looked at his uncle with a sly smirk. "Lady Catelyn will need help getting Arya to stop harassing the men training in the courtyard or the stable boy. I cannot recall which one she chose for today."
Ned finally relents and excuses himself. Passing Jon at the doorway, he stops for a moment. Ned seems like he wants to say or do something but is hesitant. Jon doesn't know why but this fills him with dread. His uncle's hand slowly inches upwards towards him but stops.
"Uncle." Ned turned around, reminded of Harry's presence. "Save me a plate will you." Ned stood there, locking eyes with Harry but eventually nodded with a small smile.
Jon watched Ned Stark walk off with visible confusion. He was certain something just happened between the two but he didn't know what. "Are you going to come in, Jon?"
"Oh yes, sorry." Closing the door, he sat in the same seat Ned previously occupied.
"What did you want to talk about?" Harry asked, although he already knew from the liberties he took with mind magic. Disregardment of personal space and what not weren't just something other wizards suffered from but Harry as well. Harry likened it to having eyes but choosing to keep them closed or having a leg but refusing to even stand.
His justification was simple: if people really wanted to keep their thoughts private, they could learn Occlumency—those who didn't clearly had no objections to prying eyes. Dumbledore and Voldemort once took the same liberties with him so why should he be any different? Should he not use magic at all since, under the same logic, it would be unfair to muggles and squibs?
Jon could not put the words together so Harry decided to help him out. "Is this about Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen? Here, don't tell Ned I gave you some." It was still a little weird to see children drinking hard alcohol but Harry got over it fast. He was stacking bodies at an even younger age. Hell, in his first year, he killed one of his teachers and was patted on the back for his efforts. Hogwarts became one hell of an acid trip when he visited memory lane during those long nights.
Jon nodded. "Our uncle doesn't tell me much and avoids the conversation as much as possible. I've wanted answers ever since I learned he wasn't my father." His cousin's pain was visible all over his face even if he did a good job at hiding it.
Harry sighed. He'd figured Ned would've had this talk a long time ago but knowing his uncle, the man avoided the topic even with him. Any mention of his dead family caused Ned to withdraw completely or he'd vehemently change subjects. The battle at the trident would be a great war story even with the humiliation of defeat but Ned refused to talk of it or the resulting private talks with Rhaegar.
"I wonder if it is wise to tell you anything. This matter should have remained between the two of you but I think it's high time you learn something." Jon's face visibly brightened, and with childish excitement he settled in for the story.
"This whole mess started at the tourney of Harrenhal back when the Mad King ruled. Prince Rhaegar participated in the competition and went on to defeat Arthur Dayne in the final match. He crowned your mother as his queen of love and beauty. Something which is highly frowned upon as it is seen as the start of a courtship and Rhaegar happened to be married as well… but when has that ever stopped a royal." Harry paused to check if his cousin was keeping up.
"Why do you think he chose my mother instead of his own wife?" Jon asked, confusion etched on his face.
Harry took a moment to think, wondering how much he should reveal. "The concrete answer lies with Rhaegar and his close friends. I personally believe it to be a prophecy that Rhaegar sought to fulfill with your mother. Although he could have maybe tried to fulfill the Pact of Ice and Fire. Or maybe he was attracted to her wolf's blood and temperament much like the late Robert Baratheon once was. Or maybe it's a combination of all these things! Only the gods and Rhaegar know for certain." Jon took it in and Harry allowed him to process it.
"If he went through all this trouble then why cast me aside at the very end? What was it all for? The war, bloodshed, death, and misery? That is all that my birth caused!" Jon exclaimed, his grieving mind giving way to hysteria.
Harry entered his mind and forcefully cleared away some of the more troublesome memories inciting the panic attack. "Jon. Jon. Jon. Listen to me, you did not cause any of that. Those actions were done by people whose will is independent of yours. Others might try to associate you with them but you hold no sort of responsibility to them, outside of what you decide to permit."
Jon's breathing slowed and his eyes focused. "I am a product of all that. I am cursed."
Harry regretted ever saying anything. He wondered if this was why Ned chose to withhold this from Jon. Perhaps his uncle had a pocket of wisdom he hadn't seen. "Yes, in some sense you are a product of it but it is as I said. It shouldn't hold any bearing upon you. If you want to allow this mess to define you then fine. That is a path you can walk but not one that will ever bring you any satisfaction or fulfillment because it is stupid and meaningless. If you have no more questions for me then you can go." Harry hoped to have a mature conversation but clearly his cousin wasn't ready.
"How can you send me away? You haven't told me the rest!" Jon sensed he angered his cousin with his little outburst but his need for answers outweighed any caution he felt.
Harry snorted. "Why should I? It's clear you aren't ready for this talk. I am not your mother, I have no desire to answer the questions of a snivelling whelp or to console you. I have better things to do than to waste my time wiping away your tears." Was he being harsh? Yes, but the storm lingering in the horizon would not be kind to people so soft-hearted. Robb Stark was a good example of what Harry hoped Jon would be like.
Harry stood up to open the door but Jon grabbed him by the arm. "Please, I need to hear the rest. I promise I won't cry or cause you any shame."
Staring him down, Jon's resolve was steadily etched away at his cousin's piercing stare but his desire to know more pulled through once more. "Fine you win, but I'll throw you out of this castle if you begin to cry." Harry said, taking his seat again. "I'll chalk it up to the wine messing with your head. You wouldn't be the first man to sob when having too much to drink."
"Where did we leave off? Oh yes, your mother who was certainly abducted." Harry made air quotes when saying abducted. "Not. Based on what Howland Reed tells me… by the way, that man does not like me, Jon." Harry took a moment to share an irrelevant detail that greatly vexed him, if only to get it off his chest.
Jon was surprised at the derailment but entertained his cousin's troubles if only to obtain more information about his mother. "Why do you think that is? Have you done something to him?" Jon found Harry's unbelieving expression to be rather shaming. "I was only offering a different opinion. Maybe he believes you intentionally slighted his house or left him out of something important." Harry considered all that and decided it was most likely because of the man's greensight or that of his children…
"Perhaps, but rather unfair. Don't you think, Jon? Holding a grudge against your liege without ever talking it out like gentlemen. Tsk, tsk, tsk."
"Yes, I think it's some imagined slight or misunderstanding that has occurred between the two of you." Jon said earnestly. "I can't think of any reason as to why someone in the North might hate you. You are the savior of the North!"
Harry chuckled, he looked away in faux modesty. "That's enough, I've only done what was necessary and nothing more." Jon stared at him in suspicion, but kept his words to himself. Well, as much as one could in the face of a mind-reading wizard.
"As I was saying, Lord Reed provided details of the tourney that I'm sure uncle Ned also knows about. Those two are like bread and butter. A cloak and dagger. Between me and you, they're up to something, but I'll allow it as long as it doesn't interfere with our interests." Harry said, with a dismissive tone. "You do remember that the North comes before anything or anyone else right, Jon?"
Harry's piercing eyes were on him again, searching him for any sign of dissent. Jon felt cold, as if his gaze could see into his soul. "Pardon my ramblings, now back to your mother. Lord Reed tells me that Lyanna defended him from a group of squires who kept poking fun at him for his short stature. Those crannogmen are famously lacking in height. Odd blokes really. Lyanna beat the troublemakers away and later a mysterious knight wipes the floor with the three knights who were in charge of those same squires. Howland tells me that he believes the knight of the laughing tree to be Lyanna. He tells me that last he heard, the prince set out with members of the kingsguard to look for the knight as the Mad King believed he was being mocked."
Harry left the ending with a hint, hoping Jon could piece it together. 'If you can't figure this much else out, then you are useless to me.' Harry thought, waiting for his cousin to provide an answer.
Jon fell into deep thought, only coming back to reality once he realized his cousin was expecting an answer to an unasked question. "You're saying my father found my mother and fell in love with her. Or that my mother fell in love with him. They formed a bond in those secret moments and later absconded together without telling anyone. Which caused major problems since everyone assumed the worst."
Harry gave him a thumbs-up. "Not the worst, but the usual. There aren't many reasons as to why a man would take a young maiden away without the permission of her parents. A married one no less. But yes, you are otherwise correct about the situation. I don't fault your mother for anything that happened either. She was a rebellious girl who was still a child at the end of the day. The handsome prince charming swooped in with his public displays of affection, crown of flowers, and appreciation for her wild and unladylike interests. Any girl would've been head over heels, a dream come true. Straight out of a fairytale, it doesn't get any more romantic than that. You get the idea."
"I suppose it was quite foolish of her, no?" Jon seemed rather depressed at this revelation. Reality or truth was often not an easy thing to swallow.
Harry pondered it for a moment. "She was a child when it happened, on the cusp of womanhood. If you want more of my honest opinion, I do fully believe she regretted her decision somewhere along the way. Lyanna, like anyone else, did not foresee the situation spiraling out of control like it did. No one did, for who can predict what a mad man like King Aerys might do?"
Jon felt a little better but it wasn't what he wanted to hear. Lyanna's expectations lined up with the story he wanted to hear. "Aye. I imagine my mother believed she would become Rhaegar's Visenya or a warrior queen. At least, that is what I hoped she'd be."
Harry clapped suddenly, surprising Jon. "That is a very shrewd conclusion to make. Yes, the sword-wielding independent queen who breaks the boundary of what is possible for women. Unfortunately for her, she lacked a dragon and so did Rhaegar. Without one, the Targaryens are forced to concede on many matters to conform with the faith and existing traditions."
The line of thinking brought Jon back to a question he always asked himself. "Is that why my father sent me here? Because they wouldn't have accepted my legitimacy?" Jon licked his lips, sensing the answer was close at hand.
Harry disagreed, shaking his head. "No but it definitely helped him lean towards this decision. Polygamy is considered a sin but again so is incest and the Targaryens have been at it for ages. If it wasn't for the rebellion, you wouldn't be here now. Unfortunately, it'd be rather obscene if he practically flaunted you at court. You'd only remind everyone about the rebellion and the cause behind it. Rhaegar likely wanted to avoid this, especially after his house nearly faced extinction. Best to not provoke the more combustible lords or the faith lest they get any dangerous ideas. Even now, you can easily be legitimized and returned to the line of succession. In fact, I believe it will happen in the near future." Harry spoke with a matter-of-fact tone.
Jon caught his breath. "Me? He hasn't spoken to me once in my entire life!" The thought of his father taking the time to come see his bastard was absurd. Legitimizing him out of the blue was even more of a farfetched fantasy to him.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes but only because he is comfortable with the way things currently are. In the future, moves will have to be made and you, my friend, are a special person. Which is a blessing in disguise because you are one of the most uninspired and unmotivated bastards I know of. We all have our roles to play and that includes you as well. What your destiny is, I do not know but you are important."
"Me? Important? Why? How are you so sure?" Jon asked, this conversation had long left any semblance of normality.
"I'm not like our uncle. I won't baby you or treat you like a child. I can perceive important events and people, especially if they are close by. You are not the only one here who has great importance. Your cousins are a very interesting group of children too. Ned really lucked out with you all or maybe he is cursed, only time will tell. The blood of Valyria and the First Men courses through you—and who can say what magic such a union might awaken." Being the first to explain these mysteries to Jon would only further endear him to Harry. There wasn't much backlash Harry could think of that could result from revealing this all to Jon. Eddard Stark, Harry was sure he could handle with ease.
Jon was intrigued by the speculation and mention of the Higher Mysteries. "You have greensight?" He remembered Old Nan's tales, something he missed a great deal when they left for Moat Cailin years ago.
"Hmmm, you can say that. I'm still learning how to properly use it but you may soon encounter visions and a little bit of warging. The bond you form with your direwolf will go a long way in developing this power. That goes for our cousins as well. Almost as if it were fate, don't you think?" Examining their direwolves after they arrived at Winterfell, Harry discovered the start of a magical bond between the Stark children and the pups.
"I would be inclined to agree. Is that all you can do? Can you warg?" Jon squirmed with excitement. Maester Luwin always ridiculed Old Nan's tales but here he was being told he was special and that he had… magic! A dream come true, especially for a bastard.
"If you can keep a secret." Harry retorted. "Yes, I can do all those things to an extent and a little bit more on the side. Don't trouble yourself with what I can do but instead on what you are capable of. What a waste it would be if your potential was wasted on something foolish, Jon."
Jon's cheeks turned rosy from embarrassment. His cousin must have heard of his ambitions to join the Night's Watch with Benjen Stark. The only reason he didn't take the leap is because a part of him wanted to see if there was any possibility of reconnecting with his paternal father.
Jon got an idea, he remembered a talk he had with Harry years ago. Harry was one of the few people who didn't scorn him for being a bastard. "Can you teach me? You told me a few years ago that if I wanted to do something with my life that your door was always open." The hope in Jon's eyes made him feel a little bad but it was for the best.
"No." Jon was shattered, his dreams of becoming a powerful sorcerer vanished into a wisp of smoke.
"What! Why?"
"I meant other things when I offered my help to you. There are many opportunities in this brave new world we find ourselves in and there is a place for anyone who has a hand to lend." Part of the reason as to why he said no was because Jon yearned for his father. And why wouldn't he? Jon is entitled to those desires but they presented a conflict of interests.
Why would Harry train the boy into possibly becoming one of the North's greatest foes? Greensight, dragon dreams, warging, and a dragon bond were all a major threat if developed properly. He'd be an utter idiot if he trained the boy only to have him run off to the south where he'd possibly offer Rhaegar his services in exchange for acknowledgement. One thing was for certain, Jon would be eagerly welcomed if he pledged his magic to Rhaegar's ambitions.
Jon reigned in the wild side within that told him to push for more. Harry had no obligation to teach him and had already revealed many secrets that Jon otherwise wouldn't have known. Would Howland Reed or Ned ever open up about these secrets to him? The clear answer was a resounding no! As it stood, Jon felt indebted to his cousin, he was in no position to demand such valuable knowledge or time from him. "I'm sorry for overstepping, Lord Stark." Those secrets were most likely meant for family only and Jon wasn't a part of it.
Harry scoffed. "You can call me Harry. You didn't overstep and this doesn't mean I won't teach you at all. My answer can change in the future and besides, I don't mean to send you away with zero advice. Prove yourself to me first and I may consider offering you my tutelage. As it stands, I don't see that ever happening."
Jon's expression lit up with joy. "Thank you, Harry. I promise to find a way." This was the second best answer in Jon's mind. It wasn't a definite no but an eventual yes.
"But are you up for it? I have to wonder. You seem quite comfortable at Moat Cailin."
Jon was taken aback by the statement. "What are you trying to say?"
"Despite knowing you are a bastard and are in no position to inherit anything, you haven't left Moat Cailin. Were you just waiting for an opportunity to fall into your lap? For a raven to come bearing the king's request for his son to return as an heir to the Iron Throne? Deep down you want the king to acknowledge you but you've done nothing to fulfill this desire of yours. I was quite disappointed the day I offered my help and all you did was thank me. Any other bastard with half a brain would have jumped at the chance to make something of themselves." Harry looked him up and down, as if condemning him. Jon cringed with every word.
"I… I wasn't sure what I wanted to do with my life yet." Truth be told, Jon was comfortable living in the Moat. Eddard Stark treated him like a son and Lady Catelyn tolerated his presence. It helped that he was a royal bastard and that her children were fond of him.
"Hmmm, it matters not to me but it should to you. If you want to accomplish any of the lofty goals in that head of yours, then Moat Cailin will only serve as your prison. Go on and eat with the rest of our family." Recognizing a dismissal when he heard one, Jon thanked Harry one last time and departed, an extra bounce in his step.
Sitting alone with the crackling of wood in the fireplace serving as music, Harry takes a few moments to himself. His eyes become completely white as he stares into the void, the minutes going by. "Too slow. Very slow." Harry's green eyes return and he hurries to leave.
Passing guards salute him and continue their patrol of the castle. Avoiding the lower levels where his family feasts, Harry went up to the highest floor in the castle. Where stone bridges connect to other areas of Winterfell, a near fulfillment of Harry's vision for the seat of House Stark.
Harry uses the shortcut to enter the remodeled First Keep, now known as Harry's Keep. A keep meant only for his private use as the Great Keep hosted many visitors every day without end. The rebuilding of Winterfell, in general, was a hands-on effort for him. The walls, floors, doors, and every other part was carefully layered with spells and enchantments of various uses. He couldn't bear to live without modern luxuries. Something he could now do in the secrecy of his keep. As well as other activities.
Harry moved cautiously, his breath quiet as he glanced over his shoulder. The flickering torchlight in the upper halls cast long shadows on the black marble floor, but the keep was quiet—no chattering, no curious ears.
He walked down the grand hall and into smaller corridors, his hand running across the wall, feeling for something. A small gouge in the stone, barely noticeable to anyone else, guided his hand. Pressing it firmly, he heard the faintest of clicks, followed by the deep groan of moving mechanisms.
A section of the wall shifted, scraping against itself as it revealed a narrow, unlit corridor. Cold, damp air seeped out, carrying with it the scent of old stone and something else—something alive. Harry stepped inside without hesitation, pulling the hidden door shut behind him.
The tunnel sloped downward, curving beneath the very foundations of Winterfell. Here, no one would come. Not the other Starks, not the maester, not even the animals that roamed the castle grounds. At least not willingly.
The path was narrow and dark, only red candles lined the stone walls that lit up ceremoniously as Harry walked further in. The narrow path soon opened up into an atrium. Tunnels went in all directions leading to places all around the castle and region, like the one he entered. In the middle, was a cracked empty egg with shells scattered around the room. Skeletons of various animals littered the ground, Harry vanished them, finding the chamber too messy for his liking.
A steamy pool of water rippled in the corner, the hot springs underneath the castle somehow extended here as well. To his shock, Harry saw a very familiar toad bathing in the hot spring. The toad moved away from him but stayed in the pool. "How are you still alive? I figured she would have eaten you first." The toad only croaked and puffed up in response.
"Come to me, Nagga." Harry hissed in a forever lost tongue.