Dragonlord (HP × ASOIAF)

It was a wonderful morning with bright rays of sunlight streaming through the blue sky. The snow finally stopped dropping and it looked like warmth was once again returning to the North. It was a joyous occasion.

Winter represented stagnation, cold and struggle. Oftentimes it was the unfortunate reality of life but summer meant joy, prosperity and rejuvenation. And it seems winter was dying down in favour of summer. It was at a great timing too in Harry's opinion.

He eyed the Unicorn horn sitting inside a clay pot with runes shining eerily in bright green colour. The water inside the pot slowly turned into a thick viscous green liquid in a matter of minutes. When the process was complete Maester Luwin picked the horn out of the pot using a set of tongs before placing it in another pot filled to the brim with hot water. It was truly a marvellous piece of magic and the funny thing was he never intended to create this green concoction.

The runes Harry had carved into the Unicorn horn was supposed to absorb magic at an incredible rate and then when the horn was dipped in water it was supposed to impune the water with healing properties. Yet, the water changed into a green concoction that exhibits all the properties that he imagined and then some. Turns out, the green concoction not only acts as a drinkable healing potion but also as a salve capable of eradicating any skin diseases.

Maester Luwin applied the green paste on the blistering skin of the two Braavosi merchants just to see whether there were any healing effects. It only took five minutes for the skin to absorb the green paste and left in its wake was clear dark skin with no sign of blisters. The two Braavosi were considerably interested and quite grateful to be free from the grip of Spring Sickness. In short, the two merchants were guinea pigs for his healing potion. Maester Luwin has so far kept that little detail quiet from the two Essosi merchants.

Once it was proven that the potion was quite effective Maester Luwin was quick to distribute it to all the residents of the castle. Obviously, this was cause for celebration as a deadly disease was about to get eradicated within a short span of time.

However, this was not the only cause for celebration.

The little bundle of silk and fur hiding the newborn baby in Maester Luwin's hand was enough reason for Winterfell to be in a celebrating mood.

"Maester Luwin, please let me touch my sister." Robb begged.

"I'm afraid not young Robb. Your sister must rest easy for the coming days and away from unnecessary contacts. The Spring Sickness remain at large and it's not safe for the baby." said Maester Luwin with warning in his eyes.

"But, Havvy made the green water that makes everyone happy. Everyone says so." Sansa said, training her large blue eyes on the Maester confusedly.

Harry's hands twitched to pinch his sister's chubby face at the expression on her face. Sansa reminded him of his eldest daughter Stephanie whom he loved so dearly and was too cute for her own good. All it took for her was to shine her puppy eyes at him and he would fold to whatever whims that took her fancy.

"Yes, little Sansa. But, the baby may fall ill. In time, you can touch the baby but for now, let your sister rest safe." Maester Luwin cautioned.

The Maester showed off their new sibling for a bit more time before walking back into their mother's chamber with the baby in hand. Since the sickness was still at large, it was deemed dangerous for their mother to step out of her assigned chambers. Not to mention, she had only just given birth and the dangers of winter were still in play. The weather was improving but that doesn't mean it was all perfect.

This meant their mother would remain confined to her chambers for many days to come. This was not taken well by Robb or Sansa. No one felt the absence of their mother more so than Sansa. It didn't help that Septa Mordane was no longer among the living standing ready to organize fake tea parties for his little sister. Harry would have felt responsible if not for the fact that the zealot septa dug her own grave by whispering nonsense and hatred in his mother's ears. In his opinion, it was a terrible misjudgement on the septa's part to underestimate the love a mother holds for her children. After all, Harry is the living proof that a mother's love can transcend even death.

So, he was not all that surprised to see the septa hang on a rope for all of Winterfell to see. What surprised him the most was how little this bothered the inhabitants of the castle. But, that all changed with the arrival of the Braavosi merchants and the subsequent spread of Spring Sickness. Some people, including Maester Luwin and his mother, were afraid that the New Gods were punishing them for hanging the septa. It was a legitimate fear for the ignorant masses and the timing did not help at all.

However, that bit of bad business could be put behind them now seeing as the cure was available and it was quite effective. Of course, there was the matter of distributing the cure and he had no idea how that'd work. Despite Harry's showing of farfetched skills he was still treated as a boy of his age. Maester Luwin was reluctant to divulge any details on how the medicine would be used. Frustrating as that is he understood the Maester. That doesn't mean he didn't leave some listening charms on the Maester's chain links.

It was one of the reasons why he decided to break away from his siblings and shut himself inside the confines of the library. There he could listen keenly to what was going on and it was an important conversation as well. Mostly it was surrounding the updates from the war front. Apparently, Stannis Baratheon the Lord of Dragonstone managed to break the Iron Fleet near Fair Isle.

The good news didn't end there.

Jaime Lannister managed to lead the Lannister armies into victory by reliving the Crag and Banefort castles from the raiding Ironborn. The defeat in the sea pushed the Iron Fleet back to the shores of the Iron Islands. With the western shores free from Ironborn raids the King, as well as his armies, sailed for Pyke with the Royal Fleet and Redwyne Fleet. While this was happening Ser Barristan of the Kingsguard and Lord Stannis was sieging Old Wyk and Great Wyk respectively.

With the Iron Fleet reduced to a handful of longships and the King laying siege to Pyke itself, it was hoped the war would come to a speedy conclusion. No one was doubtful of the war's inevitable conclusion. The Greyjoys were about to lose the war they started and King Robert was assured of another victory cementing his rule.

Harry could hear the audible sound of relief from his mother when the Maester unravelled the affairs of the South. He listened for a few more minutes before he grew bored of eavesdropping and decided to spend some time hunting for some information. Chief among them was more details about the Age of Heroes. To ensure no one disturbed him in his research he set up a muggle repelling ward around the library. After which, he dove headfirst into the dusty old tomes of Winterfell's library.

The good thing about having a library as old as one in Winterfell is that there is quite a large anthology of manuscripts and books. But, the sad part is quite a good portion of that collection was decaying and being lost to the wheel of time. The only saving grace is that a wave of the elder wand can restore those decaying books and scrolls in a jiffy. But, Harry could not cast a wide area charm rather he was forced to selectively use the charm owing to his diminished magical power.

And so, his quest for knowledge continued unabated if only held back by some small factors. The history of this world fascinated him to no end. Chiefly, the stagnation suffered by Westeros and Essos for that matter astounded him. His family, the Starks, claim descendence from Brandon the Builder, a mythical hero who lived in the Age of Heroes. The book that he was reading at present, True History, written by Maesters Quincy and Seder claims the Wall was put up around eight thousand years ago. There was no substantial proof but merely it is a claim made by the two Maesters based on their research into Northern myths and stories.

Even if this claim is false the next claim by some Maesters put the time to six thousand years. The Andal invasion is also a contentious issue among the learned men of the Citadel. The True History claims the Andals came four thousand years ago. Some Maesters like Denestan claim it's only two thousand years since Andals sailed to Westeros.

Either way, the point stands that the human race of this world remained terribly stagnant. It is not clear exactly when the First Men began using Bronze weapons and tools but it took them nearly two thousand years to start using steel. The Andals had learned the steel making process from the Rhoynar far early than the First Men. Yet, they were content in their knowledge and never made any significant progress for almost six thousand years. The most advanced civilizations supposedly lay in the far east, beyond the Jade Sea. And this information came from rumours and hearsay, so he was reluctant to believe anything of the sort until he lay his eyes on those famed cities.

The Valyrians were also a civilisation of interest purely because they managed to subjugate dragons to their will. That was a feat not even seen in the wizarding world. The dragons of his world were fiercely independent and would never allow any other creature to dictate its destiny. There were rumours that Merlin had a pet dragon but rumours often held not a drop of truth. Even the most esteemed and powerful of wizards never managed to tame a dragon as the Valyrians had supposedly done.

While he found the Valyrians interesting owing to their incredible magic, he was more interested in the First Men. For the North, everything and anything started with Brandon Stark or Bran the Builder as he is called among the Northfolk. It is said Brandon Stark was the first King of Winter and learned his craft from the Children. Supposedly, he learned magic from the Children and raised the Wall to keep the Others from threatening the realms of men. There were even stories of other petty kings of the North like the Barrow Kings, Red Kings, the Glovers and a thousand other petty kings and kingdoms.

But, try as he might he could not find a peep about the Green King Spring was talking about.

'Maybe, I should explore the historical and mythical figures outside the North.' Harry thought before he flipped the pages of True History and started from the Riverlands.

So lost in his search he didn't feel the time pass away at all. It was only when the door to the library slid open did he look up from the large tome. To his surprise, it was Maester Luwin and somehow the old Maester managed to penetrate the wards Harry set up.

'How did that happen?' Harry wondered in the confines of his mind even as he stood up from his seat to greet the Maester.

"Maester Luwin, what a surprise."

His greeting was waved away by the old Maester who proceeded to sag into a nearby chair. The chain that signified the knowledge of a learned Maester of Citadel clinked away like no tomorrow. And among those links, Harry eyed the brightest one that supposedly represented the mastery of the occult or higher mysteries as Maester Luwin called it. That link was supposed to be made of Valyrian steel but it was nothing of that sort. After all, Harry had checked by comparing the magical enchantments with those he found on Ice. He could say with confidence that the link did not contain an ounce of Valyrian steel.

This made Harry wonder why the lords of Westeros never suspected the sham the Citadel was pulling. If Maesters surely knew to make Valyrian steel then surely the Citadel would have been spawning out weapons made out of the coveted steel and making a mountain full of gold. He suspected no one bothered to ask the right questions to find out the truth simply because the lords of Westeros were simpletons. Or maybe, they knew and they were just turning a blind eye to what some old geezers in grey robs were claiming.

"I suppose you have no idea how much time has passed, do you?" asked Maester Luwin with disappointment shining in his eyes.

"I'm sorry Maester. I was looking for something."

Maester Luwin eyed him suspiciously. "Looking for what?"

"I was looking for someone called the Green King. Do you know someone like that in the North Maester?"

For a moment Maester Luwin eyed him silently. "You should be out there with children your age and play rather than chase grandiloquent tales of ages past."

"If I was like every other child then I wouldn't be me."

That seems to take back Maester Luwin somewhat.

"I suppose you are right." Maester Luwin muttered reluctantly. "Now, why are you interested in this Green King?"

"I have to know Maester Luwin. Do you by any chance know of any First Men mythical figures by this name?"

"The Green King, huh?" Master Luwin pondered with a frown adorning his ageing face. The creases on his temples stood pronounced. "There is no First Men called Green King, certainly not in the North. Although..."

"What is it?" Harry leaned forward eagerly.

"You could call Garth Greenhand the Green King. Some stories describe him as the High King of First Men but of course, the Northerners do not believe that story and the same goes for Maesters of the Citadel." Said Maester Luwin.

"Who is Garth Greenhand? And why have I not heard anything about him?"

"The Northerners don't like the stories surrounding Garth the Gardner especially the Starks. The Gardners were once the kings of the Reach before Aegon's Conquest. According to legends, Garth led the First Men to the continent of Westeros. He was of green skin and had antlers protruding from his temples."

"So, he was like the Green Men?" Harry asked, remembering the night-time tales spun by Old Nan.

"Green Men are not real Harrion. They are just stories passed down from ages past. We Maesters believe Garth to be just like any other man except maybe he was the leader of his tribe. The ancient First Men were tribal and most likely Garth was the leader of one of the largest tribes to settle in the Reach." said Maester Luwin.

"Tell me more." Harry said eagerly.

"Not now and perhaps never. The Starks dislike this legend."

"Why?"

"Because, the Northern houses and most importantly House Stark derive their right to rule the whole North from the First King, the king of all First Men that came to Westeros. Garth Greenhand is a rival to that claim and the Starks of old have repeatedly refuted the claims made by Gardners most fiercely." Master Luwin explained shaking his head. "Now, enough of these old tales and myths. There is something else I want to talk to you about."

"Oh, I'm all ears Maester." said Harry, setting aside the Green King for the moment.

"I've received a raven from your father. He asks whether you will be ready to forge another Vlayrian steel weapon."

If anything this news was surprising. He'd have never imagined his father would ask him to do such a thing. Harry got the impression that his father was troubled by his ability to wield magic. But, that concern was somehow swept away if his father was asking for another Valyrian steel weapon.

'Perhaps, I may have misjudged Eddard Stark.' Harry thought.

"So, another sword then. I can do that." Harry said, nodding to himself.

"Oh, no Harrion. It's not a sword but rather a warhammer. You'll be having the honour of making a weapon for King Robert Baratheon." said Maester Luwin.

"Oh!"

Despite all the serious business of the day when night came Winterfell was lit up by colours courtesy of his runic firecrackers. The night sky lit up with a thousand lights celebrating the arrival of the medicine. The coming days certainly gave them all hope to be free from the grip of Spring sickness and a return to normalcy.

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Robert's booming laughter prevailed over the chaos of the battlefield. The more Ironborn that came at the King of the Seven Kingdoms stronger the swings of his warhammer became. And on every swing, the eldest Baratheon proved that he was every bit of a descendant of the Storm Kings of old.

'Ours the Fury indeed.' Eddard thought, as he cleaved the head of an overzealous Ironborn who tried to one-up him in this dance of steel.

After facing down into the jaws of death at the tip of Ser Arthur Dayne's sword, some foolish Ironborn with subpar skills was child's play for him. The same could be said of Robert who faced down Rhaegar at the Trident. His friend had crushed not just Rhaegar but the Dragon Prince's lackeys on that fateful day. Six years later, Eddard was once again witnessing the Demon of the Trident take the field.

Another group of Ironborn charged towards his position but Ser Rodrick and Jory Cassel flanking him on the sides dispatched them with ease leaving a lone Ironborn as his opponent. Eddard didn't even entertain the fool and merely swatted away the man's axe before smashing his shield on his enemy's head. The Ironborn fell with a cracked skull never to rise again.

The rocky terrain upon which the castle of Pyke sat was difficult to traverse for a large army. Yet, by the grace of gods, they were steadily gaining ground. Eddard was quite disheartened to see the Ironborn were fighting to the last man. He'd have gathered Balon Greyjoy would see sense and surrender.

"It'd seem old Balon has more pride than sense, your grace." Eddard shouted as he swatted a sword that came too close to Jory's side allowing the captain of his personal guards the upper hand in his duel.

"All the more fun for me Ned." Robert boomed with laughter.

For a moment, Eddard wondered whether the sound was Robert's laughter or the cracking of skull. It could be either of those but Eddard was hard-pressed to wonder about such trivial matters when he was pressing in into the castle.

Sieging the castle of Pyke was no easy task. The seat of Seastone chair sat on a barren rock surrounded by barren islands made of grey-black stone. The same stone which was used to build the ancient seat of House Hoare. On these barren rocks, numerous towers sat interconnected by bridges to defend the Gret Keep. To access the main castle they had to take Lordsport and anchor their ships there. From there, the royal army fought for every inch of land. One by one, the towers surrounding the castle fell to the might of their swords and yet the Ironborn were quite ready to spill their blood for a doomed cause. If nothing else, he commended the loyalty these people held for Balon Greyjoy.

The fighting ensued without end and the rocky islands were wet with the blood of Ironborn. Time passed and their army pushed further and further felling many Ironborn warriors. The Greyjoy guards wearing black iron breastplates were most ferocious in defending the isles. For all their valour, the Ironborn were no match against the combined armies of Stormlands, Westerlands and the North.

"Lord Stark, I might be wrong but I think I see a stone bridge not too far away." Gerion Lannister shouted over the song of steel.

Eddard generally distrusted any Lannisters after his encounter with Jaime Lannister and Tywin Lannister in the Red Keep. But, he found Gerion Lannister to be someone with a sense of honour. The man has been nothing but courteous during the whole campaign preferring to dine with fellow soldiers rather than seeking comforts and extravagance afforded to his station. He could respect someone like that. He remembered a lesson his father imparted before he was sent off to the Vale.

'Judge a man not by how he treats his equals but by how he treats his inferiors.'

Eddard considered himself a simple man owing to his position as the second son. He was not brought up to rule from Winterfell and he learned early on to not covet glory or power. Those were assigned to his elder brother as the gods willed it. And yet the gods were cruel to take his brother away leaving him with far greater responsibility and power than he ever imagined. He could easily see some parts of what he would have been in Gerion Lannister. It was one of the reasons why he took a liking to the youngest brother of Tywin Lannister. It helped the man was also a good storyteller. Unlike the songs would have you believe army camps are terribly dull. It is often the storytellers and bards who alleviate the cold grip of death over a soldier's neck.

"Look, Ned. We are near the stone bridge." Robert shouted.

Sure enough, he could see the stone bridge bonding the Bloody Keep to the Great Keep. The stone bridge led to the Seastone Chair.

'This war is nearly over.' Eddard thought with some relief. He missed his wife and his children. He was eager to see them but first, he had a Kraken to crush for his king.

"How about this Robert? Let's see who can first reach the Seastone Chair. The sturdy Northmen by my side or the bold Stormlanders by your side."

"Ha! I thought you'd never ask." Robert roared, smashing a poor sod with his warhammer spilling blood and bone in a single strike.

Some enthusiastic fighting later Eddard stood beside Robert in the throne room of Pyke. He eyed the Seastone Chair made of a rock so black it seemed to suck out the light. The whole hall was dreary looking, it was no different from the rest of the isles. The words of House Greyjoy are; we do not sow. It'd seem these isles were enshrining those words by the looks of it. If these people were living on barren rocks all their lives he could see why they considered it normal to steal from others.

'The Ironborn are a bunch of thieves but they are far worse than the average bandits.' Eddard thought, eyeing the thralls inside the castle.

"So, you are the Lord Reaper eh. You don't look like you can stand a strong wind old man. I hope you realise the folly of rebelling against your king." Robert mocked.

"Rebel? I did not rebel against anyone." said Balon Greyjoy, in a rasping voice that made Eddard liken the sound to grinding rocks.

"You rebelled against your rightful king Lord Greyjoy. Have you forgotten the oaths you and yours swore?" Eddard reminded the would-be king.

"Oaths, Lord Stark? I have not sworn any oaths to a Baratheon. No Ironborn has ever sworn any oaths to any Baratheon. To the dragons we bowed and the last dragon is dead. Your king is no dragon for my oaths to bind." Balon growled.

Eddard thought the man just have a death wish to bring up the Targaryens in the presence of Robert. He could already see his childhood friend was ready to crush Balon's skull with his hammer.

"Robert." he cautioned his friend and that seems to work as Robert took a deep breath and let go of his rage.

"Very well then Greyjoy. Have it your way."

Robert surged forward and sat on the Seastone Chair before all the assembled lords and knights.

"Someone bring me my crown." Robert shouted and a boy quickly brought a steel crown with antlers.

Wearing the crown Robert sat as regally as he could on the Seastone Chair. Eddard gathered that the current throne must be a world of difference compared to the Iron Throne as he could see Robert hum appreciatively.

"You say you have not sworn any oaths to me Greyjoy. I shall correct this travesty. Bend your knee, swear your fealty to me and my heirs. Do this and you may live and rule Pyke as your ancestors have." Robert demanded.

Eddard let out a sigh of relief when Balon Greyjoy bend his knee and swore his oaths.

"That was not hard now was it. Now comes the matter of reparations for this costly war. I will be taking all your stolen wealth and distributing it to those who were affected by your attacks. And I suppose, there ought to be hostages to ensure your good behaviour. I am told you have a son still breathing." Robert guffawed breaking into laughter while calling for wine to celebrate his victory.

Eddard shook his head at his friend's antics and hopes he'd stop needlessly antagonizing a beaten enemy. Either way, he was happy that the whole war has come to an end. He could finally go home and be surrounded by the warmth of his family. The Greyjoy rebellion as the Maesters were calling it was finally over.

AN:

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