CH11 Stepping into another's cabbage patch

6th day of the 5th moon, 256 AC. Hardhome.

Skagos sat in the Bay of Seals, directly east of the Wall. Technically it was part of the North, but in practice the island was almost completely isolated. The Skagosi lived their own lives with little concern for mainland Westeros, and they sometimes raided the lands beyond the Wall, taking women and whatever else they could get their hands on back to their rocky island home. It was inevitable that they would eventually notice all the activity at Hardhome and think it a great opportunity to launch a big raid. They thought it would be easy.

They were wrong.

Garm contemptously kicked the man off his sword and looked around. The fighting was dying down, the last of the Skagosi being killed. People were already looting the corpses and dragging them off to be burned, although some would be left out for the ravens and crows to feast on.

The Greensight had allowed them plenty of advance warning about the attack, there being weirwoods on Skagos, but Hardhome had still suffered some damage since they had to pull away from the docks in order to get a good defensive position.

That kind of pissed Garm off. It would take weeks to rebuild all the fishing boats and buildings that the Skagosi had burned. More than that, it pissed him off that the Skagosi had the balls to attack them like this.

He saw his brother ambling towards him, his casual air somewhat ruined by the bloodstains on his armor and the even more bloodied two-handed mace resting on his shoulder.

"You know, this kind of pisses me off." Grond said, his tone casual but his brows drawn into a scowl.

"Aye, we can't let the fuckers get away with this." Garm nodded at the words that echoed his own feelings.

"I want to attack them right back and get the Last Word in." Grond's grin was a streak of white under his thick, black beard.

Garm rolled his eyes and resisted the urge to groan at the stupid pun. The mace that his brother was using was a brutish thing with a heavy head and six sharp blades encircling it like a crown. Good for smashing things and even stabbing in a pinch. Their father had named it the Last Word and unfortunately passed on his fondness for puns onto Grond.

"Skagos is part of the North, that could be trouble." He said instead, remembering Adrastia's lessons on the political power structure of the southron kingdoms.

"Bah, the Skagosi attacked us first." Grond dismissed. "Stark will have to either accept responsibility for what his vassals did or admit that he has no real control over them."

That was true, and tied in to yet another lesson on politics from Adrastia – always secure the moral high ground. Garm preferred to keep things simple and thought that many of the tricks she taught him and his siblings were dishonest, but the dark-skinned woman had a way of verbally backing you into a corner and making you feel stupid for arguing with her. None of them had ever managed to present a good counter-argument to her methods.

Such as in this case. Even if Stark disregarded the initial attack on Hardhome by the Skagosi, the hypocrisy of it may give pause to some of his vassals and it would certainly get the free folk fighting mad.

"We'd need ships." Garm said thoughtfully, already thinking of how they might invade Skagos. All they had was fishing boats and a few ships they'd managed to seize from the overconfident Skagosi attackers.

"We?" Grond repeated with a raised eyebrow. "What makes you think you're going along? You've got a woman here and a child on the way, who'll protect them if you're off having fun?"

Garm's hands clenched around Frostmourne's hilt as he considered that. He really wanted in on this, killing the Skagosi fuckers side by side with his brother, but that was desire rather than need speaking.

"Don't worry, brother." Grond continued grimly. "I'll make sure they never attack us again."

"You'll still need ships, and men." Garm pointed out, burying his frustration.

"We've got too many men here as it is, I'm sure they'll be happy to go with me for the promise of Skagosi women." Grond said thoughtfully.

That was true. Isengard had been getting a bit crowded with so many newcomers on top of all the babes surviving to reach adulthood that would have usually starved or frozen to death, so plenty of people had been willing to go with them to Hardhome and carve out a new life for themselves. Most of those people had been young men however, and another thing that both Adrastia and Father had warned them of was the danger inherent of having large numbers of unattached men in the population.

"As for ships...I was thinking we could ask Father for advice."

Garm grimaced. It wasn't that he didn't want to ask their father, but how were they supposed to make him proud if they went to him with every problem?

XXXXX

9th day of the 5th moon, 256 AC. Hardhome.

Harry and Hala walked through the burgeoning settlement, ignoring the stares and whispers. It was nothing new.

"They're doing well." She said happily, pride in her sons clearly audible in her voice.

Harry hummed agreeably. It was true, Hardhome was well on its way to being rebuilt bigger and better than it had been the first time. There were still some people living in tents, but most already had homes of stone or wood.

The two of them ambled towards the biggest house, which a discerning eye could tell had been made with magical assistance; the walls too smooth, the stone too clean. That was good. The women he'd stolen had only ever showed minimal magical aptitude, either due to innate lack of talent, interest or simply being too old and set in their ways, but his children were more adept, some more than others. Garm and Grond were somewhere in the middle of the pack, favoring physicality over sorcery and generally only resorting to magic when short on time or patience.

In truth, none of the dozen children he had raised this time around had the mindset to truly dedicate themselves to the study of magic, but at least they were competent enough with it.

A knock on the door was quickly answered, Grond's 6'5'' figure looming in the doorway like a statue.

"Mother, Father." He beamed, eagerly accepting his mother's hug.

"You've grown a beard?" Hala commented, running her fingers through the thick facial hair. "It suits you."

It did at that. Adrastia was probably right about Hala having a few drops of giant blood in her. All three of their children were very tall for their respective genders and had an abundance of body hair, although Jala had long since used magic to get rid of it.

"Aye, now I'm even more hairy." Grond joked.

"But not as Harry as me." Harry countered, grinning.

"Don't you two start." Hala warned, exasperation coloring her tone.

"Woman, you have no appreciation for a good running gag."

Grond chuckled and stepped aside. "Come on in, we were just about to have dinner."

XXXXX

Dinner was a bit heavy on the fish and the woman Garm took for himself kept nearly tripping over herself in her earnestness to be a good hostess for her man's parents. Hala eventually took the pregnant girl aside so that Harry and the boys would be able to talk, as her awe at being in the presence of a 'living god' was more than a little disruptive.

Garm led the way to their 'war room', which was basically a combination between armory and map room. There was a table in the middle, multiple maps pinned to one wall, and two armor and weapon racks taking up a large chunk of the remaining space.

He smiled slightly at the sight of their meticulously cared-for gear, remembering the work they'd done together to create it.

The Last Word was essentially an extended version of Sauron's mace meant for two-handed usage. Given the origins of Grond's name, that seemed appropriate. Garm, on the other hand, got a replica of Frostmourne the size of a greatsword, but with the demon skull on the crossguard replaced by a wolf. It also didn't have ice powers, obviously. That would have been retarded given who their neighbours to the north were.

As for the armor...one could be forgiven for thinking it was some kind of darkened steel or iron at first glance, but it was actually made of dragonbone. He'd given a suit of it to each of his sons, despite impractical urges like making Havel a suit of armor made of rock just to stick with the theme. The high iron content and magical nature of dragonbone made it extremely resilient, and the fact that Harry had killed Cannibal himself was mystically important and made it easier to work with.

"I saw you fending off the Skagosi a few days ago." Harry said, mostly to start the conversation. "You did well."

"They underestimated us, badly." Grond grinned.

"Of course they did." Harry nodded. "The Skagosi are almost completely cut off from the rest of the world, so they haven't heard of us. They assumed that you'd be easy prey."

"We can't let this go unanswered." Garm said with a scowl. "I don't want to deal with their raids for the rest of my life, and I sure as fuck don't want my children to deal with them either."

"Then conquest is your only option." Harry shrugged. Although they could just fortify Hardhome to the point where it would be unassailable, that wouldn't protect their ships out at sea.

"Conquest?" Grond repeated, looking a bit surprised. "I was thinking we'd just go and wipe out House Stane of Driftwood Hall. It was their lordling that started this after all."

"And then what?" Harry challenged with a raised eyebrow. "Even if you wipe out all three major noble Houses on Skagos and no others ever rise to take their place, the Skagosi will still raid you simply because you will have things they don't and it's easier to steal than to work for it yourself. No, if you want a permanent solution then you have only two options; conquest or extermination, and I don't think the Old Gods will help you with the latter."

"If we conquered Skagos then the Starks and their vassals will get pissy." Garm pointed out.

"True, but their control over Skagos has always been a thing of law more than reality and the Northmen have always sneered at the Skagosi and considered them to be no different than 'wildlings'. You could use that, and the fact that they attacked you first, to convince Edwyle to let it go. Of course, you would have to offer something more to bribe him with, because he can't afford to look weak in front of his vassals and letting you have Skagos so easily, even if none of them care about it, would look weak."

"This is starting to sound like more trouble than it's worth." Grond sighed, rubbing a hand over his face in exasperation.

"Why do you think I came beyond the Wall in the first place?" Harry snorted. "This is the kind of shit you have to deal with when politics are involved."

There was a few seconds of silence as the three of them thought wistfully about the simplicity of violent solutions.

"So, conquest." Grond spoke up. "Even if we wanted to do it, we don't have enought ships to transport fighters to Skagos."

"I've never learned how to build ships." Harry replied thoughtfully, catching the unsubtle hint. He had learned quite a bit about carpentry over the years, but never shipbuilding in particular. "Still, I could learn and then teach it to your carpenters if you'd like."

Plundering minds for knowledge was far from the best way to learn new skills, but it sure was fast.

"That would be excellent." Grond smiled brightly. "Thank you, Father."

"Don't mention it." Harry waved off. "What are you going to do about experienced sailors though? You can't just put people on ships and expect them to know what to do."

Grond winced, clearly not having considered that. "I don't suppose you could teach that as well?"

Harry looked at the hopeful expression on his son's face and shrugged. "Sure, why not. I've got some free time."

"And while you're doing that I'll work on fortifying the coast." Garm broke in. "We'll still have pirates to worry about even if you takes Skagos for yourself, brother."

Harry nodded approvingly. Slavers and pirates from Essos had started getting a bit skittish after all the 'mysterious' disappearances around these parts, but there was always someone out there greedy enough to try it anyway.

XXXXX

20th day of the 11th moon, 256 AC. Hardhome.

The months passed, carpenters learned how to build ships and people learned how to sail them, and eventually everything was prepared for the invasion of Skagos. More men had come from Isengard after hearing of the planned invasion, until a most formidable host had assembled.

Adrastia paid Grond a visit a mere two days before they were to set off, with the intention of giving him some last minute advice.

"Fighting and bloodshed have a way of bringing out the animal in man. " She began once the pleasantries were done with. "Baser urges will rise to the surface, which you would be well advised to control."

"Why?" Grond asked, frowning.

He had grown up in a culture that was moving away from the practice of stealing women, because you didn't steal women that were from your own clan, and he had been educated by the standards of a far more advanced society.

But the Skagosi were not part of their clan. The Skagosi had been raiding their shores and stealing their women for thousands of years. The Skagosi had it coming.

"Because you are not going there to raid, you are going there to conquer, and first impressions are important. If your men brutalize the people you mean to rule, you can hardly expect them to be anything other than belligerent afterwards." She explained patiently.

Grond nodded thoughtfully. That made sense. He'd been so caught up in his anger that he hadn't looked at it like that.

"What would you suggest we do, then?" He asked. Adrastia wouldn't have come talk to him if she didn't have any ideas.

"You, personally, should consider taking the daughter of the current Lord Stane for yourself."

"Why?" Grond frowned again. That was not what he was expecting, especially not after she warned him about keeping baser urges in check.

"Because it would make the Skagosi more accepting of you. Always remember that men may be the structure of a society, but women are the foundation. As long as the foundation is not damaged, you can re-use it after clearing away the ruins atop it. This was the reason that the Starks took the daughters of their enemies while they were conquering the North." She explained.

"She'll not want to be my woman willingly after I kill her father." He pointed out.

"Won't she?" Adrastia's lips curved into a smirk. "What did I teach you about the loyalties of men and women?"

"Women are loyal to their children, themselves, the rest of their families, their friends and their beliefs, in that order." Grond recited after thinking about it for a moment. "Men are loyal to their families, their beliefs, their friends and themselves, in that order."

"Very good. There are always exceptions of course and it may vary with the situation, but that is the way it usually is. The girl may resent you for killing her father, yes, but resentment fades if it is not reinforced and it is her nature to attach herself to the strongest man in her reach."

"So I should pursue her?" He asked.

"No." Adrastia clicked her tongue in displeasure. "Did you already forget what I taught you about pursuing women?"

"Don't." Grond said with a wince, clearly recalling her multiple lectures on the topic. "Make them pursue you. You are the prize, act like it."

"Exactly. Just treat her well and she will come crawling to your bed before long." Provided he remained strong of course, but that wouldn't be an issue.

"Alright, I'll do it, if I like the girl well enough." He nodded.

Adrastia personally considered the girl in question more of a utility than a person and didn't think 'like' was at all relevant, but refrained from voicing her opinion. It was better to limit how much of her beliefs she passed on than to provoke resistance from hearts that hadn't had time to harden.

She changed the subject. "In the meanwhile, make sure to keep your men away from the towns and villages and forbid them from harming any non-combatants, after which you can claim that they are the same clan and should be treated as such."

"They won't like it." Grond warned. He knew that a lot of the men he was taking with him were going specifically because they were looking forward to stealing some Skagosi women for themselves.

"Short-sighted fools never like it when they are told they aren't allowed to act like short-sighted fools." Adrastia sniffed disdainfully. "If you let them run wild, they will cause you no end of trouble because they are used to making a mess and then leaving. Better to deal with their grumbling than to have a truculent populace."

Harry was very much the 'let them make their own mistakes' type of parent. Usually not something she took issue with, but in this case it would have caused long-lasting problems.

"Very well, I will do what I can." He nodded, seeing the truth of her words.

"I am sorry to burden you with this on the eve of your departure, but I couldn't bear to see you making a mistake that would haunt you for years." Adrastia said faux sorrowfully.

"No, no, I am grateful for your advice." Grond was quick to assure. "You have never led me false, Aunt Adrastia."

She smiled and gave his impressively large biceps an affectionate rub, pleased to have him listening to her. It didn't carry the dark pleasure of slowly leeching the strength out of him until he was a shadow of his former self, but being valued like this did bring her a certain satisfaction.

XXXXX

24th day of the 11th moon, 256 AC. Skagos, northwestern shore.

Fishing was by far the easiest way to acquire food on Skagos and there was scarcely a shoreline anywhere on the island that didn't have a fishing village on it. Because of that, a stealth landing was simply unfeasible, so Grond decided not to bother.

They dropped anchor off the coast of a beach scouted in advance with the Greensight and then made their way ashore with boats.

Naturally, they were spotted by fishermen while doing this, but Grond had very deliberately chosen a spot that was a ways away from any actual villages.

It took hours to get everyone ashore (minus a skeleton crew for the ships), and by then all the men were eager to attack something.

Grond stepped in front of the miling warriors, his mace slung over his shoulder.

"Listen up, you cunts!" He bellowed to get their attention. "Now that we've made it to Skagos I'll be setting down some ground rules."

The crowd muttered, but didn't protest overmuch. Yet.

"This isn't a raid. We aren't here to pillage, burn and get the fuck out, we're taking over so that these Skagosi cunts don't get any ideas about attacking Hardhome again."

The crowd roared their approval.

"That means that they'll be part of our clan once we're done, so I don't want any of you fucks raping women, stealing shit or killing anyone that doesn't attack you."

The crowd roared again, this time in outrage. A nearly incoherent storm of protests ranging from 'but they deserve it' to 'they're just Skaggs' and even some to the tune of 'that's bullshit'.

The discontent made sense. For all that these men were well armed and well provisioned, they hadn't received anything close to the kind of education he had and weren't thinking of much beyond satisfying their base desires. Fortunately, there was an easy way to keep them in line.

Grond roared and swung the Last Word down on a nearby boulder, sending up a shower of sparks with a screech as the blades of the great mace scraped over the stone. The boulder itself split into several pieces under the force of the blow as the magical weapon proved to be far more durable than the rock.

"If you don't like it then you can fuck off back to the ships! I'm here to make it easier for my brother to rebuild Hardhome and by the gods I swear I'll bash your fucking heads in if you make that any harder than it has to be. Understand?" He growled, glaring at all of them.

The crowd was silent now, most of them believing that he was some kind of demigod and more importantly, not wanting their skulls to go the way of the boulder.

"Good, now come on. The sooner we kill this Skagosi lordling, the sooner we can find ourselves some women."

That got a cheer out of the men, and they set off on a good note.

XXXXX

2nd day of the 12 moon, 256 AC. Skagos, Driftwood Hall.

As it turned out, taking Driftwood Hall turned out to not be much of a problem. Lord Stane had already sent much of his strength on that failed raid to Hardhome and the time since then had allowed the remaining fighters to return to their homes.

Grond's arrival came as a surprise and Lord Stane simply didn't have time to muster his men again or call for help from his neighbours, so he chose instead to take what men he had and barricade himself inside his keep.

True to its name, the inner keep of Driftwood Hall was made of wood, but the outer walls were stone and the gate was thick ironwood reinforced with actual iron studs. Despite its fairly small size in comparison to other castles in Westeros, it would be a tough nut to crack, as its elevated location and narrow approach path prevented the use of siege weapons. Not that they had any siege weapons anyway.

This could have – and normally would have – resulted in a lengthy siege. Fortunately, it did have design flaws, as Grond lacked the patience to starve out the defenders. The walls had no towers or archer platforms, and the area directly in front of the gate was actually hidden from the sight of archers on the walls.

Grond left most of his army in the command of trusted lieutenants – something that his father had taught all of them was of incalculable value for a leader – who would keep them from doing anything stupid, and charged the gate with a small force of his best fighters.

"Now what?" One of said men asked, looking at the heavy gate and stone walls with a frown, clearly wondering how they were going to get through.

Grond ignored the question and focused on his mace, muttering the incantation for a spell of force under his breath. He wasn't all that good a sorcerer, but he could manage a few useful tricks.

Feeling the spell take hold, Grond grinned and smashed the Last Word directly into the middle of the ironwood gates. The spell on it multiplied the power of the blow many times over and the gates shuddered as if hit by a battering ram.

Grond struck the doors again and again, until they could take no more abuse and broke open.

There were only about two dozen men in the courtyard beyond, including one in platemail that had to be the Lord Stane, and all of them were staring at the broken gates in shocked horror. Clearly they hadn't been expecting them to be breached so swiftly, if at all, and had been caught by surprise.

"Who are you?!" Lord Stane bellowed, clutching his sword tightly.

"I am Grond, the Breaker of Stone!" Grond roared back, smashing the Last Word into the ground and discharging the spell on it in a shockwave that sent the Skagosi sprawling. "You sent ships to raid Hardhome, now you pay the price."

Lord Stane picked himself up, looking visibly shaken even though little of him could be seen in his armor.

"Sorcerer." He said grimly.

"That's my father." Grond replied cheekily and strode forward to engage him.

Around them, their respective men had already begun fighting, with the defenders easily coming off worse, but they instinctively left room for the two of them to go at it.

Grond knew fully well that his enemy's sword had a speed and maneuverability advantage on him, so he didn't try to play that game. He caught the first swing on the shaft of his mace, shoved it aside to unbalance the Skagosi lord and then simply body checked him to the ground.

Lord Stane's final scream was abruptly cut off as the Last Word smashed into his chest.

Seeing their lord slain, the defenders lost heart and broke, running towards the keep and whatever shelter they could find.

Grond caught one of them before he got away and got right in his face.

"Tell everyone that this castle is mine now." He growled, the helmet he was wearing making it sound even more intimidating.

"A-aye, m'lord." The guardsman stuttered and ran off as soon as he was released.

"What now, m'lord? Would you like me to lick your ass, m'lord?" A young man of broad build, average height and flaming ginger hair mocked.

"Shut the fuck up, Tormund." Grond snorted, amused. Tormund had come along for this invasion because he was eager to get into a proper fight, but he had quickly proven to have some leadership ability as well, so Grond had made him his second.

"Aye, m'lord. Whatever you say, m'lord."

And it wasn't just because he was amusing to have around.

XXXXX

3rd day of the 12th moon, 256 AC. Dol Guldur.

Adrastia was feeling quite pleased with herself. She had known from the start that rebuilding Hardhome would draw attention from Skagos, which could then be used as an excuse to invade it.

Of course, despite Skagos' isolation, news would inevitably reach the Starks and they couldn't just let the invasion of territory nominally under their control go. Their bannermen would lose respect for them if they did.

Her original plan had been to smooth things over by doing some matchmaking between Harry and Edwyle's children, or if that had already happened, use the relationhip to settle things down. With that rendered impossible, the situation would be more tense...so why not invite King Aegon to mediate? He was well-regarded by the Northmen for the aid he had given during the cruel winter at the start of his reign, and he would no doubt jump at the excuse to discuss dragons with Harry.

It would probably also be quite easy to use that eagerness to hold the meeting at Dol Guldur, especially if a compulsion charm was placed on the letter. But was that really a good idea? King Aegon was almost fifty-seven years old at this point and the journey through the lands beyond the Wall was difficult. If the soft king died on the journey things would become very...troublesome.

No, best to have the meeting take place at Castle Black, as a sort of neutral ground. Although it might make convincing Harry to attend more difficult.

XXXXX

14th day of the 12th moon, 256 AC. Winterfell.

Edwyle put aside the letter and wearily ran a hand over his face.

He was glad to receive a letter from Adrastia, but the contents of it were deeply troubling. Harry's sons were moving, claiming lands for themselves, rebuilding Hardhome and worst of all, conquering Skagos.

His bannermen would take this as proof that Harry intended to invade them eventually, and Adrastia clearly knew it. She was proposing that he call his principal lords and attend a meeting with Harry, his sons and the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. She had even invited the king!

Edwyle wrote a response, accepting the invitation and assuring Adrastia that he would contact his bannermen. What else could he do?

The meeting was to take place at either Winterfell, Castle Black or Dol Guldur. Apparently it didn't matter to Harry one way or another. His bannermen would likely prefer Winterfell, but the final decision would rest with the king.

XXXXX

Ravens flew back and forth all across the North, as well as to and from King's Landing. The information in Adrastia's first letters was confirmed, details were hammered out and the trip planned.

Aegon's advisors urged him not to go, citing concerns about safety and whispers coming from Essos that the Blackfyre pretenders may be preparing for another attempt to seize the Iron Throne.

In a burst of cunning unusual for him, King Aegon argued that if the Blackfyres were going to stage another rebellion then the last thing Westeros needed was to have an enemy to the north as well. It didn't fool those closest to him, who knew that his primary concern was the revival of dragons, but it satisfied most everyone else. He left his son, Jaeherys, as regent with his Hand to help him and went norht with a small-ish entourage. The compulsion on the letter ensured that Aegon picked Castle Black as the meeting location, despite the temptation to see Dol Guldur.

The lords of the North were not happy with the idea of negotiating with wildlings, but several had benefitted from Harry's warnings and Edwyle's assurances that he was a man of his word despite being a sorcerer kept them from doing anything more than grumbling. Several of the less suspicious ones even decided to bring their heirs, including Edwyle.

It took months to arrange things and then months more to make the journey, but things did eventually come together.

XXXXX

6th day of the 4th moon, 257 AC. Castle Black.

Aegon took off his crown with a relieved sigh and sat down in the offered chair.

"I hadn't thought we would ever see each other again." Brynden mused. "Fate takes us on strange paths indeed."

Bloodraven was a very old man now, over eighty, yet he did not look infirm.

"A time of miracles, with magic returning to the world." Aegon agreed, his mind on the dragon eggs he had brought with him.

"I know what you are thinking, your Grace, and I must warn you that it will not be so simple." Aemon cautioned.

"Brother, please, do not be so distant and formal with me, not when we are alone." Aegon pleaded.

It was just the three of them in the Lord Commander's solar and he didn't want the trappings of kingship to follow him even into a private meeting with members of his own family.

"Very well, Aegon." Aemon smiled.

Aegon would have preferred the affectionate nickname of Egg, but he understood why his brother would not call him that.

"That's better. Now, what do you mean when you say it will not be so simple?"

"We may not have seen each other in many years, brother, but I know your mind. You are thinking of ceding Skagos in exchange for the revival of dragons, or at least the knowledge of how to do so yourself." Aemon said shrewdly.

"Yes." Aegon admitted.

"And how do you plan to appease the Northmen?" Aemon asked pointedly. "The Iron Throne has already slighted them in such a way before, when Alysanne Targaryen forced the Starks to donate the New Gift to the Night's Watch. No good will come of forcing them to give up their claim on Skagos for your own benefit."

"If it comes to it, I thought that I might restore the New Gift to them." Aegon said. "From your letters, you are unable to make use of it anyway."

"That is certainly true, but the Night's Watch is meant to be independent of the Seven Kingdoms." Brynden spoke up. "Involving us like this could set a dangerous precedent. Bad enough that the meeting is being held here, but that can at least be exaplained as us being the natural middle ground, but to make us part of the discussion may be going too far."

"And that is not even mentioning that Harry may refuse such a bargain." Aemon pointed out.

"Is that likely?" Aegon asked in surprise. He hadn't really considered the possibility, as he thought it more than generous.

"Harry is a...difficult...man to negotiate with." Brynden said with frown. "One thing you should be aware of – and make your men aware of – is that he will not respect your station, your titles, your crown, or the authority of the Iron Throne. When he speaks to you it will be either as equals, or as an elder to a callow youth."

Aegon recalled what his interaction with the sorcerer had been like so far. The envoys he had sent returned frustrated and angry, speaking of what a disrespectful cur the man was. Most of the letters he had sent were answered by Adrastia and satisfied the requirements of diplomacy, but showed no deference. Those letters answered by Harry himself were terse, blunt and usually referred to him simply as 'Targaryen', as if his family name was an insult.

Of course, one had to take into account that the man claimed to have been a king himself at one point, and that his reign alone had lasted for nearly as long as the whole Targaryen dynasty.

Having an abundance of humility due to his early years – an overabundance according to some – Aegon wondered if it wasn't he who was of lesser station. It had been many years since he had ascended the Iron Throne, but a part of him would always remain just a squire to a tall mystery knight and the crown of the Seven Kingdoms had never felt comfortable on his brow. Having an equal to speak to would be...refreshing, but he would indeed need to warn his men to not take offense on his behalf. Duncan could always be relied upon to remain calm and sensible, but the other knights of the Kingsguard he'd taken with him were more impetuous.

"That was not an answer to my question." He finally noted.

"It is not." Aemon agreed. "Nor do we have an anwer to give you, save to caution you against treating with him as if he were any other noble. First and foremost, he is a sorcerer."

"Advice that Duncan gives me often." Aegon sighed ruefully.

XXXXX

9th day of the 4th moon, 257 AC. Dol Guldur.

Harry smiled slightly as Adrastia brushed his hair. It was terribly amusing how fussy she could get sometimes. Not a mother hen type of fussy, merely...image conscious. Narcissa had been like that too, but his long dead mistress had forever been trying to make him look more ostentatious, whereas Adrastia was just very meticulous about what kind of image she wanted him to project.

Fortunately he'd still had a couple of his old semi-formal outfits stashed in hammerspace. They were still of far higher quality than anything this world could hope to produce, but weren't blatantly designed to impress, which was exactly the kind of impression Adrastia wanted to make.

And speaking of fussing, there was a lot of that going on right now.

Except for Tarkus – who was currently blundering through the Frostfangs and had already accidentally taken over a couple of the free folk clans scraping out a living there – all of his sons were home again and catching up with their mothers, Luna, Skadi and Verthandi.

Hala, Sigrid, Oak and Ava were well into their forties now and the signs of their mortality were plainly visible in their wrinkles and greying hair. Harry was going to miss them when they were gone. He couldn't love like he had in his youth anymore, but he'd grown to care for them all the same.

Maybe he should consider setting up mirror portals in Koj, Thenn, Hardhome, Skagos and wherever else their kids settled? He knew that the women missed them and it would make them feel better to have easy access to them.

It would also spare him the effort of having to collect them with his Nimbus Cloud in the future, which was how Adrastia had gotten him to go along with this in the first place. Leaving them to hoof it wasn't feasible.

Well, to be fair, he was also a little bit curious to see how things would go, but that wasn't something he was ever going to admit to. He had a reputation to uphold.

"There we go." Adrastia said softly, followed by the click of a silver hair clasp as his now thoroughly brushed hair was bound into a low ponytail.

She stepped in front of him to give him a critical once-over before nodding. "Perfect."

The Black Widow herself was dressed in a robe of similar coloring to his own trimmed with white fur that somehow managed to expose nothing yet imply everything. No doubt some kind of secret female sorcery with the cut, fabric and trimming of the outfit. She also had a gilded silver collar around her neck and a pair of golden bracelets around her wrists, both engraved with runes.

Sneaky woman, calling attention to her state of bondage so as to make her actions seem to be his.

"So we're finally ready to go?" Harry asked archly.

"Yes." She replied primly.

His sons heard and were quick to amble over. As much as they loved their mothers and sisters, there was only so much 'catching up' a man could tolerate.

"Don't let the southrons give you any shit." Hala said by way of goodbye, echoed in various forms by the other three.

"We won't." Havel promised in his deep, rumbling voice, mouth almost completely hidden behind his properly dwarven beard braid. If a dwarf was, you know, 7'8''. Luna loved braiding his beard.

"Good luck!" Said witch beamed, giving everyone a final round of hugs, including the unreceptive Adrastia.

XXXXX

9th day of the 4th moon, 257 AC. Castle Black.

Brynden stood in the courtyard, awaiting his other guests. Harry – or to be more precise, Adrastia – had sent word that they would be arriving this day, at this hour.

Aegon and the lords of the North were inside, it having been decided that for them to be arrayed to receive the sorcerer and his party could be seen as deferential.

Brynden had forgotten how wearisome politics could be. The Night's Watch inevitably had some politics of its own, but nothing like the posturing inherent to the game of thrones.

A shout of alarm brought him out of his reverie and he looked up, immediately having to struggle to keep the shock from his face as he saw Harry and his companions descending from over the wall on a cloud of all things. A puffy white cloud easily large enough to hold all seven of them.

The cloud stopped a few feet above the ground and its passengers jumped off, Harry waving it off a moment later, which caused it to fly back into the sky.

"Brynden, you're looking well." Adrastia greeted gregariously.

She was resplendent in a body-hugging robe that felt strangely indecent for some reason, though Brynden wouldn't be able to explain why or how if anyone asked him to. A silver collar and golden bracelets decorated her neck and wrists, as blatant an indication of her station as could be despite the richness of her garb.

"Not as well as you." Brynden returned with a tight smile. He was old and he looked it. He knew it and she knew it. He also knew that she reveled in her ageslessness as the people around her became bent and grey. It was what Shiera would have done.

"Why, thank you." She smiled widely. "Allow me to introduce our party. You already know Harry, of course."

The sorcerer gave the dark-skinned woman a dry glance, but said nothing.

Just like Adrastia, Harry hadn't aged a day since they'd first met. The only thing different about him now was that he was dressed somewhat more formally than usual, in some kind of half-robe of exquisite quality.

"His sons by Sigrid of Thenn, Sigmar and Sindri." Adrastia continued.

Two young men of about equal size to their father, their faces painted with Thenn markings. Sindri's hair was of a slightly lighter shade, but otherwise they looked a lot alike. They wielded a warhammer and spear that gleamed almost – but not quite – like burnished bronze. Even at a glance, the weapons were clearly magical.

"His sons by Hala the Warg. Garm and Grond the Stonebreaker."

Ah, so these two were the ones with whom the current situation had started. They were big men, several inches larger than their father. Garm had a blue tint to his emerald eyes and wielded an ominous looking sword, while Grond was hefting a similarly menacing mace over his shoulder and a had thick beard hiding his easy grin.

"And last but not least, his son by Ava Giantkin, Havel the Rock."

Not least indeed. Havel was a man of monstrous size, nearly eight feet tall, and he towered far above the others. He had the distinctive look of his father, save for the intricately braided beard hanging down to the middle of his chest. In his right hand he held a masterfully crafted poleaxe even bigger than him and as obviously magical as the weapons of his siblings.

All of them were dressed in furs and leathers easily on par in quality to the clothes worn by nobles in the North.

"I am honored to meet you." Brynden said with a diplomatic smile. "If it pleases you, we can show you to the rooms we have prepared so that you may rest after your journey?"

"No." Harry immediately refused the offer. "The journey was short and we're plenty rested. Lead us to the meeting room so that we can get started. Lodgings can be handled afterwards if necessary."

"Very well." Brynden conceded. Far be it from him to argue if that was how they wanted it.

He sent one of the stewards to relay the situation to the king and the lords of the North while he took Harry and his party on a slightly circuitous route to the great hall, which was where they had set things up since Castle Black had not been designed with large meetings in mind and had no appropriate room.

Brynden was fairly sure that Harry and Adrastia at least were aware of what he was doing, but they made no comment, for which he was duly grateful.

Upon arriving in the great hall, Northmen and southron knights both grabbed the hilts of their swords as they saw the arms carried by Harry's sons, who took a firmer grip of said arms in response.

"Edwyle! How lovely to see you again." Adrastia cut through the tension with her greeting before anything could come of it. "And this must be your son? He is a handsome one, you must be so proud."

Young Rickard kept his face stoic, but a slight blush colored his cheeks all the same at being complimented by such a beautiful woman.

"Adrastia." the Lord Stark returned courteously, a small but genuine smile on his face. "You haven't aged a day."

"I know." She smiled widely, confirming Brynden's earlier suspicions. "Would you like to start the introductions, or should I?"

XXXXX

The introductions went by without a hitch. Adrastia went over their group again for the benefit of the Targaryen and his bodyguard and Edwyle went over his bannermen.

All of the principal lords of the North were present, but of them only Stark, Mormont and Manderly brought along their heirs as well.

Harry was very amused by Adrastia's handling of the situation. All these meatheads had been tense and ready for an outbreak of violence, only for a woman to brazenly take control, leaving them flatfooted and uncertain.

He'd seen it many times before, but never so pronounced. Back on Earth, people knew that Adrastia was a witch and dangerous besides, but in this world she had taken pains to avoid using magic in view of anyone. The knights and twitchy lords instinctively relaxed, sensing no physical threat from a woman, especially not from one that they identified as being a slave and therefore someone to be pitied rather than feared.

Then Bloodraven suggested that they all partake of bread and salt, which presented a new problem. The table, namely. It was a long table, clearly one used to seat people as they ate. Obvious effort had gone into making it look more presentable for the occasion, but it was still unacceptable.

"This won't do." Harry shook his head.

"What won't do?" Bloodraven asked, making an admirable effort at ignoring the way tension rose once again as he spoke.

"The table." Harry explained. "Allow me to fix it..."

Without waiting for a response, he raised his hand and enveloped the table in a transfiguration spell. Not a specific one, but the one he favored for merely changing an object's shape.

The table slowly changed form, his skill with both magic and carpentry making it a trivial task to turn it into an impressive round one. He even added the House sigils to the places where the various lords were intended to sit. Adrastia had made a seating arrangement before they'd come. The Northmen and Aegon on one side, He and his sons on the other, Bloodraven the delineator on one side and Adrastia on the other.

That done, he went after the chairs. Most of them belonged to Castle Black, but there was one cushioned, ostentatious monstrosity that had obviously been brought along by Aegon's party. That shit wasn't going to fly and Harry gleefully turned it into the same kind of non-descript and uncushioned one as the rest. The only one that stood out was Havel's and even then only because it was substantially larger than the others so that it could comfortably fit his huge frame.

"There, now that the Targaryen won't be having his pride or his arse coddled we can begin." Harry said, nodding to himself in satisfaction.

The comment broke many of their awe at the display of magic. The Northmen were a little bit amused in spite of themselves, some even having to hide smiles, but the southerners were more prickly, particularly as they had been raised to think of magic as evil and had less time to get used to the idea.

"You dare...?!" One of the Kingsguard blustered indignantly.

"Gerold!" Duncan barked, giving the man a gimlet eye.

"But, Lord Commander..." Gerold protested.

"It's alright, Ser Gerold. I took no offense." Aegon said.

"Yes, your Grace." Gerold, Hightower according to Harry's Legilimency, simmered down. "I apologise for my outburst."

"Quite alright, it is only natural for a knight to defend his king's honor." Adrastia butted in, playing peacemaker again. "Why dont we put away the weapons and partake of guest rights before we continue?"

Nobody had any objection to that and the weapons were laid down on one of the unaltered tables that had been pushed up against the walls. The stewards quickly set down a few loaves of bread, jars of salt and pitchers of wine with goblets before clearing out of the room.

"Those are some mighty fine weapons you've got. Where'd you get them?" Lord Umber asked after guest rights were affirmed, clearly insinuating that they were stolen.

Several people, including Edwyle Stark, gave the man warning looks, but the damage was done.

"Our father made them for us when we became men." Havel rumbled, glaring at the third tallest man present.

"Are they magical?" King Aegon asked curiously.

"Aye." Grond confirmed with a grin.

"Extraordinary." The king said with a smile, turning to Harry. "The craft of spellforging was thought lost in the Doom. Where did you learn it? Asshai? Qohor? Perhaps even the ruins of Valyria?"

"No." He answered blandly.

Aegon waited for him to elaborate, only to be met with a blank stare. It only took a few seconds for the king to look away, unnerved.

"Do you accept commisions?" Bolton asked calmly, changing the subject slightly and setting off a round of interested muttering. Houses Stark and Mormont were the only ones present that could boast having a Valyrian steel sword.

"I might, but you have nothing to pay me with." Harry shrugged.

"You don't take gold?" Bolton questioned.

"It has no value to me."

The smarter lords present were able to follow that statement to its logical conclusion. If gold had no value to him, then nothing it could buy had any value either.

"Perhaps we should get to the matter at hand?" Adrastia suggested.

"Why is she here?" Umber asked rudely.

"Lord Umber!" Edwyle snapped with a glare.

"Why are you here?" Harry asked back, noticing his sons bristling at the insult. The silly boys were rather fond of her, having never been on the wrong end of her games.

The big, hairy man blinked and his brows furrowed. "I was invited."

"Yes, by Adrastia. Make no mistake, this meeting was arranged by her for your benefit as much it was for ours. I would have left you fumbling in the dark." That was a bold-faced lie. Adrastia never did anything for anyone's benefit except her own. If any of her actions benefitted others, it was merely happenstance.

"And the crown is grateful for Lady Adrastia's consideration in this matter." Aegon interjected, taking control of the conversation. "According to her missives, the invasion of Skagos was provoked by House Stane's attempt to reave the burgeoning settlement of Hardhome, which was under the protection of Garm and Grond. We are here to discuss what action will be taken going forward."

"What's there to discuss?" Karstark grumbled. "Skagos is part of the North and the wildlings are attacking it. Either they go back where they came from or it'll be war."

"Then you are saying that the North sent ships to reave Hardhome?" Garm sneered back, obviously irritated at being called a wildling.

"What? No!" Karstark blustered.

"You said Skagos was part of the North."

"The bloody Skaggs never listen to us." Umber groused.

"Then Skagos isn't really part of the North, you're just saying it is." Grond pointed out with a mirthless grin. "Which doesn't make it true, so you have no reason to complain what we do with it."

Harry didn't bother hiding his amusement at the verbal jousting.

"Skagos was made part of the North long ago. They have rebelled several times in the past, most recently during the reign of King Aegon's grandfather, Daeron II, but these rebellions were always put down. They remain part of the North." Edwyle said firmly.

"If you won't disavow them, then you are approving of their actions!" Grond's voice rose in frustration.

"I do not approve of the actions House Stane took, but that does not mean that Skagos is not part of the North!" Edwyle's voice was also rising, but he visibly forced himself to calm down. "I will not say that you were wrong to retaliate against them, but you cannot simply take Skagos for yourself just because one belligerent noble House attacked you. They attacked you, you retaliated, now return home and that will be the end of it."

"So they can try again after they've licked their wounds, and then make a nuisance of themselves until the end of time?" Garm scoffed. "Fuck that. You southrons might not have the guts to put the Ironborn down once and for all, but the free folk know how to handle our enemies."

That provoked an incoherent jumble of indignant roars from the offended Northmen, many of them jumping to their feet. That of course got his sons doing the same and everything degenerated into shouting.

"You just want Skagos so that you can get around the Wall!" Umber's voice rose above the rest.

Harry made a gesture and everyone toppled back into their chairs. "Shh. Settle down, children. And use your indoor voices."

Multiple people tried to shout, but no sound escaped their throats.

"Undo your magic, Sorcerer!" Ser Gerold commanded, almost surprised to find that he could speak, but it didn't stop him from drawing his sword.

Harry glared at him and the sword glowed red hot, as if it had been sitting in a fire for an hour or two.

Gerold yelped in pain and dropped it.

"Steel remembers the heat of the forge." Harry spoke to the suddenly frozen room. "Next time you point a weapon at me, it'll be your armor."

"Ser Gerold, we are guests in Lord Commander Rivers' castle and a silencing spell is not an attack." Duncan sternly reminded his junior. "Go stand guard outside."

Gerold briefly looked like he wanted to argue, but in the end simply nodded and left, picking up his once again cool sword as if it was an agitated viper.

"My apologies, Ser Gerold means well but he is sometimes overzealous in the pursuit of his duties." The leader of the Kingsguard said to everyone and went back to imitating a statue.

Harry smiled, amused and a little impressed that one of these clanking armored sheep otherwise known as knights was actually not so much of a sheep.

"I like you." He declared. "You're not terribly smart, but you are much wiser than most people."

"Thank you." Duncan's lips quirked into a brief smile.

XXXXX

Some time later...

Adrastia waited patiently as the men argued in circles.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Then she started getting impatient, because nobody was proposing the obvious idea that she was waiting for someone to bring up.

Neither the Northmen nor Harry's sons were willing to budge an inch, having gotten too deep into a testosterone-fuelled dick measuring contest. Aegon occasionally tried to mediate, but the bleeding heart king had his own agenda and it suited him just fine to let the frustration build up.

Harry had brought out a book and was now reading, ignoring the arguing going on around him.

Eventually, she started trying to catch Edwyle's eye in order to take a peek at his thoughts. That at least didn't take long as he was still infatuated with her and glanced over frequently.

A brief smile and eye contact was all it took to see the problem. He was frustrated and angry at the fruitless argument, but beneath that was a deeper anger originating from the very infatuation she'd fostered so long ago. He wanted her to be freed and it was fueling his obstinance.

Well, it would seem that calling attention to her bondage had an unfortunate side effect. She would have to do a little damage control later to make sure the fool didn't try something ridiculous, like try to use Skagos to barter for her freedom, however unlikely that was. He was probably too much of a stoic dutiful lord stereotype for it, but you never know.

For now it was past time to derail this pissing match, and if nobody was going to propose the obvious on their own then she would nudge one of them along.

Edwyle was out of the question despite being the most susceptible to manipulation. Too much anger in his mind to slip in a stray thought of her own.

So she tried to use his son. It took considerably longer to catch Rickard's eye, but the boy still had a teenager's wandering eye and it eventually happened. An alluring smile brought a flush of color to his cheeks and made it easy to slip the seed of an idea into his mind.

A minute later, he spoke up.

"Why not allow Grond to take lordship of Skagos and swear fealty to the Starks?" Rickard suggested.

In many ways, that would have been a fine compromise. The Northmen didn't respect the Skagosi and saw them as little different than the people living beyond the Wall. They didn't really care who ruled there, they just didn't want to lose face. Having Grond as the lord of Skagos would pacify things and open up a relationship to a burgeoning kingdom that could be of great benefit to their lands.

There was just one problem with the proposal, which Adrastia had been counting on because it would move the conversation forward.

"Become a kneeler?" Grond snarled with his teeth bared. "Fuck you. My father is the only man who may command me."

"Then he should order you to fuck off back to whatever hole you crawled from!" Karstark fired off the predictable response. Quite the prideful hothead, that one.

Harry's sons fumed and everyone looked at him expectantly, awaiting his response.

Harry unhurriedly turned a page in his book as he spoke. "My sons are too old for me to be telling them what to do."

"Their actions reflect on you." Aegon pointed out.

"A coward's excuse for controlling the lives of others." Harry dismissed, finally setting down his book. "Besides, they acted with strength, wisdom and courage. I don't see how that could reflect poorly on me."

The boys visibly straightened with pride at his words.

"Skagos is part of the North and your son is conquering it." Edwyle bit out. He obviously disagreed. "You once told me that you had no interest in conquest."

"And I don't. Garm spoke the truth when he said that the Skagosi would be a problem until the end of time if they weren't handled. Your claim that Skagos is part of the North is a matter of law rather than truth, and you are only insisting on it because you have been taught to never show weakness. Your father and uncle should have taught you that an illusion of strength is only useful if it isn't transparent."

"Then this invasion has your blessing after all?" Edwyle ground out.

"There is a saying where I come from; do no harm, but take no shit." How amusing that Harry would say that, given that he had done great harm without provocation in the past. "My sons didn't start this mess, but I am proud to see that they intend to finish it."

Now the boys looked downright smug.

"Maybe we should have gone beyond the Wall and killed off all you wildling bastards thousands of years ago, then?" Umber growled darkly.

"If you had the ability to do so, then yes, you should have." Harry gave the man a quizzical look. "Why didn't you? Was it too much work?"

Adrastia had to smother a laugh. Harry's ability to casually insult people was always fun to watch.

"What of the accusation that the conquest of Skagos is merely a way for your people to get around the Wall?" Aegon asked.

"I found the Horn of Joramun years ago. If I wanted to destroy the Wall I could do it whenever I pleased."

The horror that settled onto the gathered Northmen was just too good.

"You find this funny?" Bloodraven asked coolly, apparently noticing her smile.

"Honestly? Yes, yes I do." Adrastia said without missing a beat, even though she was inwardly irritated by the perceptive old man. "The horror on your faces at the thought of Harry breaking the Wall, when it is a large part of the reason for why he likes living beyond it. I tried so hard to convince him to settle somewhere warmer, but the thought of being separated from politics by that giant ice brick appealed to him too much."

"You...like the Wall?" Karstark asked, stunned.

"Don't you?" Harry countered mockingly.

"Father, did we cause trouble for you by starting all this? Uplifting Thenn, rebuilding Hardhome, invading Skagos and everything else?" Sindri interjected, a slight crease of worry on his brow that was mirrored by all his brothers.

"You did." Harry nodded, brutally honest as ever. "Don't concern yourself with it, though. You don't owe me anything."

"But you are their father!" That incredulous exclamation was from the Mormont heir, Jeor. He was twenty-seven and had a son of his own.

"So what?" Harry asked back. "They are not extensions of me. They didn't ask to be brought into this world, that was my choice. I raised them as best I was able so that they would live their own lives, not so that they could serve my interests."

Cute, but he left out the part where he wanted to see how his magic would be passed on. Adrastia thought amusedly.

"We seem to have drifted off topic." She said diplomatically. "The issue was Skagos, not parenting."

"Further discussion would seem to be in vain, my lady." Edwyle grumbled. "I cannot turn a blind eye when a part of my kingdom is invaded, even if it is Skagos."

"Indeed you cannot." Adrastia agreed. "But war is not a desirable outcome, not when we could be friends instead of enemies."

"Friends do not invade your lands." Rickard said stiffly.

"The Skagosi started it and we will finish it." Garm snarled.

"Settle down, boys." Adrastia warned, not wanting another round of shouting to start up.

"Yes, Aunty." The big man conceded with a huff, much to the incredulity of the Northmen and King Aegon.

"As Garm said, he and Grond could not ignore an unprovoked attack on them any more than you can ignore an invasion of your territory." She continued, speaking to Edwyle again. "The crux of this issue is that they will not leave Skagos able to cause trouble for them again in the future and you cannot allow them to take part of your kingdom. Consider, however, the ramifications of the unruly Skagosi remaining under your purview and continuing to act belligerently towards the realm of Angmar in the future."

"Angmar?" Almost everyone at the table chorused.

"Harry's presence is unifying the free folk." Adrastia explained. "Once they lived only in scattered clans and fought against everything and everyone around them for survival, but now they are beginning to feel a kinship for each other the same as the people of your lands. That is how kingdoms are formed and Angmar is the name that the lands beyond the Wall will be known as."

"I see." Edwyle said, looking a little poleaxed at the thought of the 'wildlings' actually becoming a legitimate kingdom in their own right. His vassal lords didn't look any better.

"Quite. To return to my earlier point, as this continues the belligerence of the Skagosi will have ever more dire consequences. Their association with you could spark a war and ruin any chance of peaceful coexistence."

"Don't look to me to stop it either." Harry interjected, reading his book once again. "I am nobody's nursemaid and if people want to kill each other then I'm going to let them."

"Yes, there is that." Adrastia sighed in a put upon manner that she knew only Harry could see through. For the two of them, this song and dance was predictable and transparent. "Harry's style of rule could best be described as 'don't make me come over there'. So you see, it is in all of our best interests to work out a compromise."

"A compromise that sees wildlings in control of Skagos?" Karstark sneered.

"Yes, but you would benefit from it as well. That is what a compromise means." She said, staring down her nose at the distemperate man. "You are all First Men and you worship the same gods. Surely the notion that you could find common ground is not so strange? Is the chance to spare future generations from unnecessary war not worth it?"

"And how do we know that Skagos won't be used to attack the North?" Umber demanded, still stuck on that point.

"You don't." Grond shrugged carelessly. "I can speak for myself that I have no interest in attacking you unless you attack me first, but I can't speak for those who come after me any more than you can. Besides, we could attack you just fine from Hardhome if we wanted to."

"What kind of benefits could equal the worth of Skagos?" Edwyle questioned while his two vassals glowered, curious but also skeptical.

"Well, that is what we are here to talk about, are we not?" She smiled at him brightly.

"That's why you invited us all." Manderly suddenly realized. "If it was just about Skagos then only Lord Stark and perhaps King Aegon needed to be here, but you wanted all of us to be present, so that we could establish a relationship between the North and ...Angmar."

"Well spotted, Lord Manderly." Adrastia complimented.

"It was a trick?" Havel asked, his heavy brow furrowing.

"Yes and no." Harry answered with a shrug. "Both of us knew that it would eventually come to this, letting you shout at each other for a while was simply the best way to get the initial hostility out of the way."

"That's rather dishonest." Bolton said, expressionless as always.

"You're one to talk, Bolton." Harry snorted. "You've spent half the time wondering if flaying my skin and wearing it would give you magical powers. It wouldn't, by the way. Even now you're only saying it's dishonest because you're trying to get as much leverage as possible."

The already pale lord of the Dreadfort managed to pale further as his fellow Northmen stared at him, although his expression didn't even twitch. "You can read minds?"

"I can do a lot of things."

"We have been talking for some time already." Aegon interjected into the sudden tense silence. "We should break for luncheon and continue with fresh minds."

There was a murmur of agreement around the table, but Lord Umber was apparently not quite done.

"Pardon me, your Grace, but there's something I have to ask first." He said, staring at Harry. "You've been planting a lot of weirwoods all over the North and even further south. Why?"

"Actually, my wife planted more of them than me. And she did it because she likes them."

Adrastia smothered another smile. Now there was some dishonesty. Harry had always had a particular aptitude for lying by omission.

"What about the people going missing?" Umber pressed.

"Some become Green Men." Harry shrugged. "Others simply find living in the forests preferable to the villages and towns."

And there was another heavily abbreviated truth. Harry had in fact relocated a few of the Earthsingers down below the Wall to train the new Green Men, and the dryads occasionally killed people that might threaten them.

The Northmen were understandably shocked. The Green Men had been the closest thing to clergy that the faith of the Old Gods had, a mysterious order dedicated to the care of the weirwoods which had long since passed into legend.

"I've received multiple complaints from septons in the Riverlands of a resurgence of the Old Gods." Aegon commented, once again preventing the silence from stretching on.

"Priests whining about the competition? Who could have possibly seen that coming?"

This time it was the Northmen smothering smiles, some of them at least.

"They claim that faithful followers of the Seven are being murdered."

"Killed, not murdered." Harry corrected. "There's a difference."

"You admit it?" Aegon blinked in surprise.

"I admit to killing any stupid zealot that tries to cut down a weirwood. It's part of the pact I made with the Old Gods."

"You made a pact with the Old Gods?" Edwyle asked, amazed. "What are the terms of it?"

"Nunya."

"Nunya?" Edwyle was baffled.

"Nunya fucking business."

Poor Edwyle looked like he didn't know how to deal with the harsh shut down, and his son was more than a little indignant as well.

"Is that why you've been warning us about Ironborn raids?" Mormont asked shrewdly.

"It's part of it." Harry admitted.

"Well, whatever your reasons, I am grateful." Glover said a little awkwardly. "Having advance warning of the scum has spared my smallfolk much grief."

Mormont and the other lords whose lands were on the western shore voiced similar sentiments.

All in all, Adrastia thought the preliminaries had gone well.

XXXXX

The break in negotiations wasn't meant for a meal alone, it was also so that the lords could confer and discuss in private.

That was why King Aegon was currently making his way up to the ravenry of Castle Black. He had been informed that the sorcerer was there.

And indeed he was. He had one of the ravens perched on his shoulder as he moved around the room, handing out treats to the others. The black birds were curiously well behaved, patiently waiting their turn and doing no more than letting out soft croaks every so often.

"You have a way with them." Aegon commented when it became clear that the sorcerer would not acknowledge him.

"You could say that we have a lot in common." Harry replied humorously, as if he knew an amusing secret that he wasn't inclined to share. "What do you want?"

Aegon's lips quirked into a small smile. He hadn't been spoken to in such a manner since the early days of his squireship to Duncan, back when no one had really known who he was. It was nostalgic.

Then he thought of how his father and other predecessors would have handled it and the smile faded. Not well, most likely. They had all been raised in privilege and never spent any time with the smallfolk. Always royalty, never just people, and always so ready to take offense. And what of his descendants, who were the same?

He would have to warn his son about Harry's disdain for tact if he ever had cause to interact with him. Aegon knew that he was old and would be gone before long, but the sorcerer would apparently stay young forever. The realm and its people should not suffer the horrors of war over wounded pride.

"You told my envoys that if I wished to speak to you that I should come myself." He said. "I am here now."

"So you are." Harry agreed. "But that doesn't tell me what you want."

"I want to improve the lives of my people." Aegon said firmly. "I have managed to enshrine certain rights and protections for the smallfolk into law, but not nearly as much as I would have wished. My lords fight me at every turn."

"Sounds like a hassle."

Aegon ignored the dry – and accurate – observation. "I need the power of dragons to force them to accept the changes I want to make. Do you know how to hatch a dragon egg?"

"I do." Harry nodded.

The sorcerer's bluntness had never seemed like a greater boon. Anyone else would have been evasive and coy with such knowledge. "Will you teach me how?"

"No."

"If you fear having the dragons turned against you –" Aegon was quick to try and assure.

"Fear the dragons?" Harry interrupted, amused. "Boy, I've killed many a dragon in my time. Most recently I encountered one while I was plundering what's left of Valyria. I believe you might have known of that one, a vicious black bastard by the name of Cannibal? I still have his bones in my tower."

Aegon knew it was undignified of a king to stare with his jaw hanging, but he couldn't help it.

"Tell me, what do you think would have happened if I had come to Westeros a few decades before Aegon's Conquest?" The sorcerer continued.

Aegon considered the question and could come to only one conclusion. "He and his sisters would have wanted to add you to their dominion." He could not imagine Aegon the Conqueror being willing to leave a burgeoning kingdom with a sorcerer-king to remain independent. Dorne had only been left to its own devices after they had succeeded in killing Rhaenys and her dragon, Meraxes.

"And they would have failed." Harry said with a nod. "The incest trio would have been killed, unless I found the women interesting, in which case I might have kept them for myself. Rest assured, my magic is more than a match for some fire-breathing lizards and their riders."

"Visenya was rumored to be a sorceress herself." Aegon replied, familial pride making him want to argue.

"Not much of one. Not only were the Targaryens a lesser family of dragonlords, but those that fled to Dragonstone were also a cadet branch of it. Visenya's magic was little more than the dabbling of an uneducated novice."

"I had not heard that we were descended from a cadet branch." Aegon frowned.

"Of course not, what need did they have to admit that after Valyria was gone? There was nobody left to contradict them. Still, if they had been from the main branch then they would have had more with them. More Valyrian steel, more dragon eggs, more books on magic, more everything."

"You make a compelling argument." Aegon was forced to admit. It did seem unlikely for a proud lord to abandon his family's ancient holdings, no matter what prophecy of doom was brought to him, but the head of a cadet branch would have much less to lose.

"I try." Harry drolled.

The Lord of the Seven Kingdoms chuckled. He didn't often get to experience banter like this anymore.

"If you have no fear of dragons, then how can I entice you to share the secret of hatching them?" He asked. "My brother and Great Uncle Brynden made it clear that gold, lands, titles or royal marriages do not interest you."

"You can't." Was the blunt response. "Besides, even if you had dragons to force your lords to accept the reforms you want to make, how long do you think that would last? Your children don't value the same things as you."

It was a concern that Aegon had himself. All his children had defied him, except sweet Rhaelle. Duncan had renounced the throne for love and the next in line, Jaeherys, was quite traditionally-minded. He may keep the reforms his father had instituted out of respect, but what about vain young Aerys? What of those who came after him? How long before another cruel or arrogant man sat the Iron Throne and decided that the smallfolk didn't deserve any consideration and that Aegon the Fifth's decrees should be undone?

"Perhaps it will not last," He admitted. "but I must try regardless."

Instead of mocking him as he'd half-expected, Harry merely nodded. "True, there is no surer path to failure than to let uncertainty defeat you before you even begin."

"Then I must also try to persuade you to aid me."

Harry grinned, the scars covering the left side of his face twisting the expression into something far more sinister than it likely was. "By all means, give it your best."

The hitherto silent raven on his shoulder croaked out what sounded suspiciously like a laugh.

XXXXX

Meanwhile...

Rickard Stark was old enough to be considered a man in Westeros. As an only child, he was acutely aware that the survival of House Stark rested on his shoulders, which made him serious beyond his years.

Despite all that, he was still a seventeen-year-old teenager and thus drawn to anything that might be considered cool.

Of course, Rickard didn't think of it that way. No, all his teenaged issues and urges were buried so deep beneath the surface that not even he was aware of them.

He told himself that he was only going to the top of the Wall because it behooved a future Warden of the North to see what one of his duties would be when he succeeded his father, not because it was so impressive.

And he certainly didn't ask twenty-seven-year-old Jeor Mormont and fourteen-year-old Wyman Manderly to come with him because he wanted friends to share the view with. No, it was because they were fellow heirs and it was important to make connections.

And he definitely wasn't worried about what Adrastia wanted to do in private with his father. Edwyle Stark was an honorable man and would never shame his wife with an affair.

To be fair, that last one was actually true, for the most part...

XXXXX

Elsewhere...

"The grey in your beard suits you, gives you a distinguished look." Adrastia said, stroking her hand across his cheek.

Edwyle closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath, grasping her hand in his. "We cannot do this, my lady. I am married."

Her chiming laughter made his heart flutter in ways his wife had never managed.

"Don't worry. I'm not trying to seduce you, no matter how handsome you are." She teased. "I asked to speak to you in private because I want to help you."

"Help me?" Edwyle repeated, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief at her words. He wasn't sure if he would have been able to resist her if she invited him to share her bed again.

Adrastia smiled, a perfect bow of full lips, white teeth and sparkling dark eyes. "Yes, help you. Harry concerns himself little with worldly matters. He will not care if I nudge things in your favor."

"Would he not wish you to work to the advantage of his sons?" Edwyle had to ask.

"He will trust them to do so on their own." She replied. "And I will help them as well, of course. I watched those boys since they were children and am quite fond of them after all, but that does not mean I can't help you at the same time."

"Adrastia, are you happy?" Edwyle asked, still holding her hand. He hated the sight of the collar around her neck.

"Don't worry about me, Edwyle." She said with another breathtaking smile. "I have carried these chains for much longer than you've been alive. They aren't so heavy once you get used to them, and their weight is made easier to bear because I am able to use my position to help good men like you."

Edwyle closed his eyes again and took another deep breath. Here was a lady whose grace passed understanding. Even held in eternal servitude to a sorcerer and she still tried to help others.

XXXXX

Back with Rickard...

The view from the top of the Wall was incredible. Rickard had hoped that he would be able to see Dol Guldur from it, but it was not to be. Still, the sight of the Haunted Forest as it had been since the Dawn Age somewhat made up for the disappointment.

"Lord Rickard, over there." Jeor said softly, gesturing to their left.

Rickard turned to look and blinked in surprise. The largest of the sorcerer's sons, Havel the Rock, was there, and beside him was the giant crow that was sometimes seen flying over the North. How had he missed them?

The huge, giant-blooded man had his poleaxe in hand, which made all three of them wary, but Rickard straightened up and reminded himself that they were all under guest rights.

"Come, let us go speak to him." He said to his fellow heirs.

Havel seemed to be in conversation with Velka, but she launched herself away before they reached the two.

"Hello." Havel rumbled once they were close enough, his voice very deep but not hostile.

"Hell-o?" Rickard repeated with a slight frown.

Havel's long, braided beard twitched as he smiled. "A greeting from Father's homeland. Aunt Luna uses it often and the habit has rubbed off on me."

"I see." He said, although he didn't really see.

"Did you want something?" The question was polite and mild even though it lacked any recognition of his noble status.

"No." Rickard admitted. "We merely wished to see if your father's tower was visible from the top of the Wall."

Havel chuckled. The sound reminded him of rocks grinding together. "I once asked Father why we could not see the Wall from the top of Dol Guldur. He explained to me that the curvature of the world hides it."

"But the world is flat!" Wyman exclaimed in disbelief.

"It is not." Havel asserted. "The world is round. Well, mostly. In truth, it is more like a misshapen sphere."

"If that is true, then the people on the other side would fall off." Wyman argued. "If the world isn't flat, then what is keeping them on the ground?"

"And what is keeping us on the ground?" Havel asked back, obviously amused.

That stumped the young Manderly. To be fair, it stumped Rickard as well. He had never considered that question. Down was down, wasn't it?

"But then that would mean that it is possible to sail west and eventually arrive back where you started." Jeor said.

"It is." Havel nodded. "Although it would take many years and the journey would likely kill you."

"I wonder if that is what happened to Brandon the Shipwright." Rickard spoke his thoughts aloud. "Did he eventually reach some distant corner of Essos in the Further East and meet his doom there?"

"Perhaps." Havel shrugged. "But the Sunset Sea is vast and he was going into the unknown. More than likely his fleet got lost and ran out of supplies before ever reaching land."

"You know of Brandon the Shipwright?" Rickard asked in surprise.

Havel nodded again. "It was part of Father's and Aunt Adrastia's history lessons."

This, more than anything, made Rickard realize that he was not dealing with wildlings anymore. These were not simple savages out for rape and plunder, but men whose education likely exceeded his own if the brief discussion on the shape of the world was any indication.

"Your weapon does not look like Valyrian steel." Jeor noted, breaking the slightly awkward silence.

Rickard agreed. The poleaxe reached slightly above its wielder's head, making it a truly enormous weapon. The shaft was oval-shaped with a spike at the bottom, and had a ribbed texture for a better grip. It was also not made of wood, but of that same almost bronze-looking metal. There were several notable rings on it as well, most likely to aid in parrying weapons. The head was a fearsome thing indeed, a wide axe blade on one side, a flat hammer on the other, and a long spike at the top. Some kind of wyrm-like creature coiled around the head, looking almost alive.

What it did not have was the characteristic smoky ripples of Valyrian steel.

"It is not." Havel confirmed. "Father considers the Valyrian method of spellforging to be too limiting."

"But Valyrian steel weapons are the finest in the world!" Rickard exclaimed, thinking of his family's heirloom greatsword, Ice.

"Valyrian steel has never had any competition." The giant of a man shrugged and turned his poleaxe around as if to show it off. "My Hellslayer is just as good, if not better, than any Valyrian steel."

Rickard guessed that Hellslayer must be the name of the poleaxe. It certainly matched its fearsome appearance.

"Why not a sword?" Wyman questioned. "You can hardly carry a poleaxe with you everywhere."

"Why not?" Havel asked, looking down at the far shorter Manderly heir quizzically. "A weapon is a weapon, what does it matter whether its a sword or a poleaxe?"

The three noble heirs exchanged looks, none of them quite sure how to answer that question. Lords were permitted to carry swords and daggers with them when meeting with other lords, but nobody brought polearms to such things. It just wasn't done.

They were spared from answering as a raven alighted on Havel's shoulder and let out a few croaks before flying off again.

"We should return to the castle." The big man said. "The discussion is set to continue."

"You understood the raven?" Jeor asked, stunned.

"Aye." Havel nodded, as if it was of no importance, and started walking back to the elevator.

XXXXX

Aegon had tried everything he could think of to convince Harry to help him hatch dragons.

A royal decree giving him unlimited access to every library in the Seven Kingdoms, as well as a royal pardon for stealing from the Citadel?

"There isn't much in those libraries that I don't already know. Nice attempt at guilt tripping me, though. Very backhanded.

An offer to extend royal protection to the faith of the Old Gods and the weirwoods?

"All that would do is get the septons and the sheep that listen to them riled up. I'll protect the weirwoods myself, as I've been doing so far."

More such abstract offers were given and rejected, so Aegon decided to try an indirect approach. Instead of appealing to Harry, he attempted to get to him through his children. That didn't work either.

"What does that have to do with me? If you want to make offers for my children then go talk to them."

As frustration built, the urge to resort to threats reared its ugly head. There were so many threats he could make. A counter-invasion of Skagos, marching on Isengard, a royal denounciation against his killing of the faithful that tried to harm a weirwood and many more.

But Aegon knew that those threats would be hollow. He could not in good conscience start a war against the rising Angmar with another Blackfyre Rebellion brewing in Essos. Even without that, starting an unnecessary war just to get his way was not something he could do, even if victory was certain, which it was not. And he could denounce Harry's actions all he pleased, but if he couldn't do anything about it then it would only serve to make him look weak.

Still, that left him floundering for ideas.

And then Duncan opened the door.

"Your Grace, it is time." He said.

"Come on, I'll let you try again later." Harry said good naturedly, apparently amused by his attempts to find an incentive that would suffice.

Aegon had not felt such an urge to throw things in a fit of pique since he was a child. He suspected that much of the sorcerer's amusement came from knowing exactly how frustrating he was being.

XXXXX

The negotiations between the North and the newly-named Angmar dragged on for several days and involved a great deal of shouting.

Another round of yelling ensued over who was in the right before they even properly got started. Harry and Adrastia were amused and shared a mental image of hyenas snapping at each other over a carcass. Skagos was much like the carcass in the way it was being fought over without any input from the Skagosi themselves, but they were the only ones that noticed that bit of hypocrisy coming from both sides.

Eventually, Adrastia managed to get the men talking about a compromise. That set the stage for more yelling as insults were hurled back and forth about what they could possibly want from each other. Usually it would be trade agreements or gold exchanging hands in this kind of thing, but the free folk were still on the barter system, so things were a bit incompatible at the moment.

That was something that Adrastia was keen to change. Bartering was all well and good on a small scale, but as soon as people began living together in large enough numbers it became cumbersome and impractical. Having an outsider to trade with would speed the process.

With a trade agreement seemingly fallen through, the discussion reverted back to purposeless bickering, but Adrastia had never expected anything to get agreed upon so easily. It was only supposed to get the idea out there so that it would be easier to accept later.

The next proposal came from the Northmen. All of them coveted magical weapons and they hinted that they would be more inclined to let go of Skagos if they received such weapons. Adrastia had even carefully let slip that Harry had numerous Valyrian steel blades collecting dust in his vaults.

But Harry wouldn't go for that. He flatly shut down that line of discussion, saying that he wouldn't hand out that kind of gift to just anyone and that they were in talks with his sons rather than him anyway.

That offended the Northmen and delayed things for a whole day.

The next time they had exhausted themselves, Adrastia proposed her true selling point. The North would concede Skagos and in return, they could send their craftsmen to Isengard to learn glassmaking.

That generated a great deal of interest. In this world, only Myr knew the secret of glassmaking and they charged ruinous prices for it. Having glassmakers of their own would be a tremendous boon for the North and Westeros as a whole, well worth the loss of one island that they never interacted with.

Adrastia neglected to mention that Harry would have taught anyone that wanted to learn if they came to him looking for knowledge. Nobles were so used to other nobles hoarding every possible advantage that it never occured to them that they could have gotten for free what they just signed away a piece of their kingdom for.

And Edwyle gave her a look of such adoration that it took real effort on her part to restrain the urge to break his heart. His despair would have been glorious. Pity that it was still too early to play games like that, but maybe she could find herself some well off merchant in Essos. She was overdue for a vacation.

They returned to trade agreements after that with much cooler tempers and more amiable attitudes.

Harry himself didn't need anything from anyone, but that didn't apply to anyone outside of Dol Guldur.

With Adrastia's help Havel, Garm and Grond were able to negotiate a tentative trade agreement – Thenn being too far for Sigmar and Sindri to really participate this early on – but it wasn't all smooth sailing. The aforementioned incompatibility between a money-based system and a barter-based one were still there, but now there was actual motivation to surmount that instead of just getting angry.

The biggest issue turned out to be taxation. It was simply a fact of life in any civilization, death and taxes were the only two things that were assured.

Harry's sons and even Harry himself disagreed. The boys roared that it was theft and nearly called the whole thing off. To be fair, they weren't completely wrong. Taxation was akin to rent – a fee one paid for living and doing business on someone else's land – and in return they would be protected by the owner of said land. That was the theory at least.

The problem was that the free folk rejected the idea that a man could own land and scoffed at the notion of needing someone else's protection. If you couldn't protect yourself then you got robbed or killed and that was that. Not preying on their own clan was about the only reprieve from this.

Harry didn't agree with them out of any such principle. No, he vetoed any notion of taxation because he knew it would create a power structure that would be difficult to dislodge. He wanted instability and a Darwinian 'survival of the fittest' type of society, and the accumulation of money through taxation would have allowed the chaff of humanity to end up living in unearned privilege through an accident of birth. He wanted any leaders to constantly be in danger of being overthrown by someone younger, smarter, stronger, even his own sons. That was, after all, the reason that he had placed a spell of worthiness on their weapons instead of locking them to their bloodlines.

Resolving that mess took up a solid two days, at the end of which Harry's sons were convinced that they couldn't cling to the old barter system anymore. All of them had already experienced the complications inherent in it, but were simply reluctant to adopt anything from 'kneelers'.

A few of the Northmen even hinted at marriage alliances, no doubt seeking further advantage or magical heirloom weapons for their family, but Adrastia was quick to head that bit of foolishness off. Subtle matchmaking was one thing, but proposing an arranged marriage to Harry or any of his children would only lead to harsh shut downs.

Through all this, King Aegon preoccupied himself mostly with attempting to somehow get the secret of hatching dragons out of Harry. As momentous as the occasion was, the rise of Angmar had little to do with the Seven Kingdoms as a whole at this point and mostly only concerned the North. His presence was largely superflous and it sometimes made him wonder if he had been invited only as a precaution.

He never considered that it might have been part of a multi-generational public relations ploy. Just like the Northmen never suspected that they had been played.

XXXXX

I know what some of you are thinking: "But it's too early for Tormund to show up!"

That would be true for the TV version, but the book version is much older. Just take a look at his picture on the wiki.