CH 16: Calm before the storm

30th day of the second moon, 278 AC. Isengard.

It wasn't often that anyone from Dol Guldur called for an assembly in Isengard's town square. Information generally spread through word of mouth, which immediately let everyone know that this had to be important. Given that the only thing of real note to happen in some time was the fighting in Andalos, most people guessed what the news was going to be about.

Conversation quickly ceased when Adrastia took the stage. Most Angmari didn't really know what to make of the dark woman, but they did know that she was favored by the Sorcerer and that she had come beyond the Wall with him. She was not to be ignored.

"I come before you today the bearer of grim news." Adrastia began solemnly, her voice booming with magical enhacement. "The battle in which Harry and his sons fought against the faithless slavers of Essos recently reached a conclusion that none could have foreseen."

People murmured in worry. Though they feared him, they also had great respect for Harry and were now concerned that something had happened to him.

"Seeing the battle going against them, the red priests showed their true colors and sacrificed a large portion of their army to work a great and terrible magic. Harry had to expend much of his strength to prevent their arrogance from doing untold harm to the world and will likely need a long time to recover."

Roars of disbelief and outrage and defiance. The Angmari had internalized that what the red priests represented was completely anathema to them, in no small part due to Adrastia's efforts admittedly. Hearing that the man many already considered a demi-god at the bare minimum was 'injured' because of them was not something they would take lying down, but they were heartened by the implication that he would eventually return.

For Adrastia's part, she was just glad that they were buying it so easily. Harry's absence could be dangerous for a variety of reasons and it was best to muddy the waters as much as possible.

She left them to their cheering and made a mental note to plan a celebration for Havel's return.

Upon arriving back in Dol Guldur, she was met with the rather dubious eyes of those of Harry's family that were present. That meant Luna, Rhaella, Skadi and Verthandi, plus the as-of-yet unnamed newborn held in Rhaella's arms.

"Lying isn't nice." Luna pointed out.

"It may not be nice, but it is necessary." Adrastia rebuffed. "Harry's fearsome reputation has been like a storm cloud hanging over the head of any ambitious fool who might have considered risking his wrath. If it became known that he is... indisposed... we would have to contend with all manner of trouble, ranging from attempts at courting you to probing attacks on outlying Angmari lands. Best to shroud the truth in a cloak of lies until he returns."

"But he will return, yes?" Skadi asked worriedly. Out of all of Harry's children, she had always been more of a daddy's girl than any of the others.

"Yes." Luna nodded firmly.

Adrastia was less certain about that, but knew better than to speak her doubts.

"Hard to believe that he's really gone." Verthandi sighed. "He always seemed invincible."

"Harry always had trouble keeping his arrogance in check." Luna commiserated. "This isn't the first time it came back to bite him right in his firm behind."

"Yes well, you will have to become a little more visible now." Adrastia cut in. "People are used to placing their faith in someone and will flounder if they are not given a replacement. I will also see about spreading the belief that offering offering a small blood sacrifice to Harry at the weirwoods will speed his recovery."

Which would also conveniently perpetuate a cult-like behavior that would persist even after he returned. If he returned.

"Don't do that." Luna scolded. "You know how out of hand these things can get. Prayers and such are fine, but no blood sacrifice."

Adrastia didn't let the twinge of irritation she felt at being denied show on her face. "Very well, no blood sacrifice." She could still do plenty within that restriction. "What about you, are you going to work with me on public relations or must I work around you?"

In light of Harry's blatantly anti-social tendencies, it was often overlooked that Luna tended to disappear into the background. Not because she didn't like people, but simply because she usually didn't do anything that would attract a lot of attention. Although admittedly, the trend of going unnoticed had changed somewhat since she got her new, super-sized body.

"What kind of things would I have to do?" Luna asked, cocking her head sideways in a guileless fashion that had led so very many people to underestimate her intelligence.

"Not much, just a slight increase in public visibility until things settle down again." Adrastia assured. "Essentially, you would be taking over Havel's job as ruler of Isengard and acting as a representative for Harry. I might also need you to give me a lift to various places in Westeros and Essos."

So that she could start spreading conflicting, outlandish rumors about what had happened at the battle and muddling things until the truth was safely lost in the din. The world did not need any more people getting ideas about summoning the avatars of their gods or anything remotely in that category. But that would have to wait for a few days or even weeks, due to the slow nature of information spread in medieval societies.

"I can do that." Luna nodded.

"What should we tell our children?" Skadi asked with a frown. "They'll want to know what happened to their grandfather and I don't want to lie to them."

Verthandi nodded along in agreement.

"The older ones should be able to understand the need for secrecy, but best give the younger ones an edited version of the truth for now." Adrastia replied after a minute of consideration.

"What of the Stark children?" Rhaella asked quietly. The former queen had been silent so far, choosing to focus on the sleeping newborn in her arms. Magical healing had restored her enough that she was up and about already, but she refused to be parted from her daughter due to a near phobia of losing another child, no matter how strong the girl seemed.

"I will handle them myself." Adrastia said with a nod towards the much younger woman, appreciating the fact that there was at least one other person present willing to consider the potential political trouble from this mess.

Lyanna and Benjen would be given a mostly true account of things, merely slanted in such a way as to portray Harry in a more heroic light than he probably deserved. After decades of giving warnings about Ironborn raids from the west and slavers from the east via the carrion buzzards he was so fond of, the near cessation of wildling raids from beyond the Wall thanks to him and her own efforts, the North was ready to believe a story like that. Rickard's own friendship with Havel would also help it along.

"I guess we'd best get going, then." Skadi said, standing up.

"Aye, I feel the need to get some loving from my man." Verthandi agreed with a lecherous smirk that would be more at home on a woman half her age.

"Have fun!" Luna chirped as the door closed behind them.

That left just the three of them in the room and Adrastia turned to address Rhaella.

"What are you going to name her?" She asked, gesturing at the newborn.

"I had hoped that Harry could be here to name her with me." The other woman said sadly.

"He would have wanted that too." Luna assured. "But don't worry, when he comes back, he'll love her no matter what name you choose."

Rhaella looked down at her sleeping daughter's face. She knew that Harry did not think highly of House Targaryen, and her own pride in it had been sorely tested if she were to be honest, but one name was at the forefront of her mind more than any other.

"Visenya, her name will be Visenya."

"A fine name." Adrastia chimed in, hiding a pleased smirk. A child born of Harry and Rhaella with a Targaryen name could represent tremendous political leverage in the right situation.

Of course, she would still have to be careful not to get ahead of herself and run afoul Harry's very subtle protective dad streak. He generally preferred more subtle punishments on the rare occasions that she miscalculated and displeased him, but the bite of the geas binding her was still very fresh in her memory right now.

"It really is." Luna agreed enthusiastically, reaching over to give the former queen a quick hug.

XXXXX

29th day of the 2nd moon, 279 AC. Isle of Faces.

Velka landed on the ground gracefully, scattering her lesser brethren that had recently begun hanging around.

The reason for the sudden increase in the local population of ravens and crows was the same reason that brought her here. It hung from a tree with a spear implaled throught its side, bleeding ceaselessly. Her father's body.

Velka just stared at him solemnly for a long while, still unused to seeing him like this even thought it had been a year already.

A breeze ruffled her feathers and she began talking. "Visenya started walking recently and is already getting underfoot. It takes constant work from Luna to keep Rhaella from worrying herself sick about the girl, but she doesn't seem to mind. I am grateful that you removed a desire for offspring from me when I see that little hellion causing so much trouble. She tried to pluck my feathers just before I left."

Another breeze blew in the clearing and a distinct sense of amusement filled the air.

"Things finally seem to be settling after the battle." Velka continued talking. "As you know, some of Angmar's people decided that they wanted to stay in Andalos. I flew over to talk to Tarkus about it a few moons ago. He said that he only had to crack a few dozen skulls before the more belligerent among them simmered down.

"The foreigners that wanted to come to Angmar with the others had more trouble. They underestimated the cold, like foreigners always do. Still, less than two hundred of them froze to death and the rest have stopped complaining by now."

The great crow stopped and took another long look at the gently swaying body. "There are all sorts of stories going around about you now. People are more convinced than ever that you are a god and I think that Adrastia may have been encouraging that idea. You always said that she was a dangerous schemer and not to be trusted unless you had a boot to her neck. I am doing my best to keep an eye on her and she her actions seem benign so far, but I do worry that I am missing something. Luna does not seem concerned, but then, when does she ever?"

Another long pause preceded another change of subject. "Prince Rhaegar has also been bethrothed recently, to some Dornish princess or other, Elia I think her name is. Rhaella wants to meet her before they marry, but not until Visenya is a little older. She also wants you to meet her. Luna thinks that she is attempting to completely displace Aerys from the family and replace him with you, even if she is not aware of what she is doing."

Velka stopped again, closing her eyes so that she was almost able to pretend that the two of them were talking while perched on some high place as they had done so many times before.

"We all miss you, Father." She finished somberly. "Come back to us soon."

Another breeze swirled around the grove, carrying with it a promise that he would.

XXXXX

7th day of the 9th moon, 279 AC. Red Keep.

Oberyn Martell did not like being at the Red Keep. Being at the Red Keep reminded him that his sweet sister was bethrothed to Prince Rhaegar.

He had nearly begged Mother to refuse the offer – more of a command, really – from King Aerys that Elia and Rhaegar were to be wed, not liking the rumors he had heard about the man's sanity – rumors that had been amply confirmed upon his first sight of him. Unfortunately, his mother had both not wished to offend the king and been eager to place Martell blood on the Iron Throne again, doubly so as Queen Rhaella had been a friend of hers. Even Doran had been in favor of the marriage and as the heir, his word carried more weight then Oberyn's.

Now here he was, acting as a chaperone for his sister. At the very least, Oberyn could say that Rhaegar was courteous and gallant. Elia certainly seemed to like him, even if he never would. Nobody would ever be good enough for his sister, especially not a man with a lunatic that had sent his own wife to her death for a father.

Currently, he and Elia were going to the gardens of the Red Keep, Rhaegar having suggested a walk through them. Oberyn was hoping for an excuse, any excuse at all, to storm off in a rage and break the bethrothal. Thus far, Rhaegar had not provided.

They found the Silver Prince easily enough. He was with Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard – a fine Dornishman – and talking to two women, one of which held a young child in her hands.

Oberyn's eyes slid over the two women and the child, noting their presence but immediately dismissing them as unimportant.

"Prince Oberyn, Princess Elia." Rhaegar greeted as they approached. "A fine day, is it not?"

Oberyn wanted to say that it had indeed been a fine day until now, but alas, one was rarely able to speak their true feelings. "It is indeed, Prince Rhaegar. Such clear skies always remind me of Dorne."

"My prince." Elia said with a sweet smile.

She was too good for him.

"Allow me to introduce you." Rhaegar said, drawing attention to the two women and the child that Oberyn was shocked to realize he had completely forgotten about already.

"Luna, the Lady of Dol Guldur. My mother, Rhaella Targaryen and my young half-sister, Visenya."

Oberyn could only stare with his jaw hanging open. There was an otherworldly seven foot woman right there. How had he not noticed her? And how had he not noticed the supposedly deceased Queen of the Seven Kingdoms? He barely even heard the introduction of the child in his shock.

"It is good to finally meet my future gooddaughter." Rhaella said warmly, handing her child to Luna and stepping forward to take Elia's hands into her own.

"Your Grace." Elia stuttered, staring at the supposedly dead queen with wide eyes.

"Please, just call me Rhaella, or even 'Mother'." The older woman said with a smile. "I am not a queen of anything anymore."

Oberyn was still speechless. All he could do was look between the giant woman, the missing queen and the little girl with night-black hair and brilliantly purple eyes without comprehension.

"Are you okay?" Luna asked him, her moonlight eyes full of concern. "You look a little pale."

Given the context of the question, Oberyn assumed that 'okay' meant 'alright', but only one thought was on his mind. "How?"

And so Rhaella explained the true outcome of the doomed mission to tame dragons that Aerys had sent her on, her decision to go to Dol Guldur, and how she came to bear the Sorcerer's child.

Oberyn had been able to regain his wits during the explanation and now had to resist the urge to laugh. He feared that if he started, he may not be able to stop. Aerys sends his wife of all people on a suicidal quest to tame wild dragons, only to have her cuckold him with the very man who'd hatched them. Then she has the absolute gall to bring the resulting child to the Red Keep in full view of a member of his Kingsguard. Who, of course, could not say anything lest he wished to cause an huge uproar and possibly even a war.

Oberyn decided then and there that he liked Rhaella Targaryen. That she was a gracious lady who was plainly happy to have Elia as her gooddaughter – a sharp contrast to Aerys, who consistently snubbed her even though it was by his command that she was marrying Rhaegar – only solidified his opinion.

"So, where is the man you ran off with?" He asked with a wide smile. "I would like to meet him."

And seduce him, because he sounded fascinating. Surely a man like that could not be limiting himself to only women? He'd heard of the Sorcerer before of course, most notably during his time at the Citadel from Archmaester Marwyn, who had been his student at one point, but this was an entirely new side of the man that he was hearing about.

He had also heard some decidedly bizarre rumors from Essos. Something about the red priests killing the army they put together with a terrible ritual. The Sorcerer of Dol Guldur was said to be there as well. The whole thing was strange and the accounts confusing. The only certain thing was that there had been a battle at the Angmari colony of Highwater, now widely known as the Battle Where Wood Conquered Fire, which had ended with a decisive victory for the defenders.

Rhaella's face fell slightly. "He is...unavailable."

"He'll come back eventually, but it could be a while." Luna added.

"That is unfortunate." Oberyn said with genuine regret, smiling at the warning glance he got from Elia. She knew him so well. "You must miss him terribly."

"He has been good to me, and it grieves me that our daughter will not know him." Rhaella admitted.

"Come on now, don't be like that." Luna soothed, giving the former queen a hug that smothered her in breasts. "Harry isn't dead."

Oberyn did not know what exactly was keeping their man away, but he could understand why Rhaella would be affected so. The poor woman had by all accounts suffered much grief before taking up with him.

"What about you, my lady?" He asked of Luna. "Do you miss him?"

"Of course." She replied with a tone that was far too cheery to be believable, if not for the fact that it was also completely sincere. "He's still with me, but I am going to miss his penis. Sex just isn't the same without it."

Oberyn's interest rose sharply. Especially when he saw Rhaella's pale cheeks flush pink. What an interesting woman!

"If it is a male member you require, I would be happy to volunteer my own." He offered suavely, ignoring Elia's horrified look and Rhaegar's disapproval. He would not be Oberyn Martell if he was not reckless.

Luna patted him on the head as if he was an adorable little dog, somehow managing to be utterly condescending and utterly sincere at the same time. "You seem like a nice boy, Oberyn, but I like to share people I have sex with with Harry and the only penis he likes is his own. You can have this animated picture of me to masturbate to if you want, though!"

Oberyn bemusedly accepted the picture she pushed into his hands, finding it to be an unbelievably lifelike portrait of the naked giantess that was indeed animated. The Luna in the picture was doing a strange jumping exercise that set her impressively large and firm breasts to bouncing enticingly.

"My lady, I do not know what to say." Which was the gods honest truth. Truly, he was rendered speechless. And aroused. What an odd use of sorcery.

"If you really really want to have sex with us, then you could ask Harry to turn you into a girl when he gets back." She suggested helpfully. "He might be willing to have sex with you then."

Apparently Oberyn only thought he was speechless before. There was a corner of his mind tallying up all the insults to his masculinity she had managed to squeeze into a mere few sentences and gestures while sounding as if she was honestly just trying to be helpful. It was actually rather inspirational, as Oberyn considered himself something of a master at mocking people.

Then there was the offer of having his gender changed. How intriguing! He'd always wondered what life was like from the other side.

Elia's giggle brought him out of his thoughts and he smiled at seeing her holding little Visenya in her lap. She would be an amazing mother.

His good mood dissipated, however, when she began coughing. A ragged, pained sound that never failed to make Oberyn want to rage at his own helplessness and at the gods for doing this to his sister.

Rhaella was quick to take her daughter back, while Luna placed her hand on Elia's chest and began rubbing it. Much to Oberyn's relief, it seemed to help.

"Thank you." Elia said, her voice still hoarse from the coughing fit.

Luna hummed and looked her over with what Oberyn recognized to be the professional eyes of a healer.

"Is there anything that your magic can do for my sister, Lady Luna?" He asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"Maybe." She said. "When did these troubles start?"

"I was born more than a moon early." Elia said, shaking her head. "My health has always been frail."

"Ah." Luna nodded in understanding. "Well, it seems your lungs didn't form properly because of the early birth, so they haven't been able to pump enough oxygen into your blood. As a consequence, your body had to prioritize critical organs like your brain and heart, leaving everything else weakened."

Oberyn was startled to find himself recognizing what 'oxygen' was. Marwyn had spoken of it once, a part of the air that all living things needed in order to live? Regardless, his question had still not been answered.

"Can you heal her?" He repeated.

"I can fix the deformation of her lungs, but I can't do anything about the rest of her body. The damage there is more subtle" Luna shook her head. "Harry is the one who plays with things like that. I'll ask him to when he comes back, though."

"Thank you." Oberyn said sincerely. While it may not be the complete cure he had been hoping for, just fixing Elia's lungs was a great thing that he would always be grateful for.

And if the Sorcerer came back and brought Elia up to full health, then he would forever have a friend and ally in Dorne.

XXXXX

3rd day of the 12th moon, 280 AC. Dragonstone.

Rhaegar had to smile at seeing pudgy little Arianne Martell giving out orders and being humored by the much older Obara Sand and the adults watching them.

Oberyn was visiting again and this time he had brought his niece and his brood of bastard daughters along. Rhaegar suspected that the last was meant at least partially as an insult towards him. He was not blind to the Dornishman's quiet dislike.

The children seemed particularly fascinated by Luna and the tall sorceress seemed extremely fond of them in turn. She was happy to do small magic tricks to keep them amused and participated in their childish games eagerly.

His half-sister Visenya was of particular interest to Rhaegar. He knew that she had been born on the day of the Red Comet. It was a sign, and he had to act on it.

So he turned to his mother, who was watching the children play with a happy smile, and quietly made his suggestion. "Mother, would you be open to bethrothing your daughter to a son of mine?"

He did not mention that he was beginning to think that it was not him who was the Prince That Was Promised, but a son of his yet to be born. Rhaegar would name such a son Aegon and intended to bethroth him to both Visenya, who was born of ice, and Rhaenys, who was born of fire. They would be the Conqueror and his sister-wives come again, the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen. The signs were clear.

He had expected his mother to be enthused about the idea, but she looked at him with horror.

"Absolutely not!" She refused firmly and immediately, staring at him as if she could not believe he had just suggested that. "Have you learned nothing from history? Incest has done our family no favors."

"It has kept our blood pure." Rhaegar argued, confused. His mother was making no sense.

"Son, even the most uneducated smallfolk in the remotest corner of Westeros know that you do not breed cattle siblings together if you want to keep the herd strong." Mother sounded exasperated. "Why would you think it is any different for us?"

Comparing Targaryens to cattle...honestly. She had clearly spent too much time in the cold. "We are the blood of the dragon."

"Do not take that tone with me, Rhaegar." Mother warned, her lips thin with restrained anger. "I have spent the past eight years living in a tower full of sorcery and knowledge you could scarce imagine and I did question Harry about the Valyrian practice of incest. He has told me that while yes, the dragonlords had a ritual to protect against the dangers of inbreeding, it was still akin to deliberately drinking from a muddy spring instead of a clean one just because you have the means to cleanse it. And I will remind you that the ritual in question is lost to House Targaryen."

"Does Dol Guldur have a copy of it?" Rhaegar asked, keeping his thoughts on her bad metaphor to himself.

"Perhaps, but it matters not. House Targaryen will never again practice incest. I forbid it."

"You forbid it?" Rhaegar repeated incredulously. "That is not for you to decide, Mother."

"Someone has to decide it and your are clearly not intending to do so."

Perhaps the worst thing was how completely calm and immovable she sounded, while he was barely able to keep his voice down so as to not be overheard by anyone.

"Who my children marry is my own choice." Rhaegar said lowly, trying to impress upon her with his tone that she was overstepping herself.

"As long as it is not each other or any other close family member." She 'agreed'.

"Mother, be reasonable." He sighed.

"I am being perfectly reasonable, you are the one wishing to continue a foolish practice that has caused our family nothing but harm. Do you not find it strange that House Targaryen still feels separate from the rest of Westeros even after nearly three hundred years? It is because most of our ancestors always so diligently avoided making blood ties to the rest of Westeros. Instead of twinning our roots together and becoming one of them, we have remained foreigners."

Rhaegar could concede that his mother had a point, the value of marriage alliances was certainly not in dispute. Still, the fate of the world was at stake and had to take priority over such mundane concerns. Aegon would need his Rhaenys and Visenya to help him fulfill his destiny. He had to make her understand that, but the Sorcerer had poisoned her mind against prophecy, so he would need to be careful with his words.

"With Visenya and Rhaenys by his side, my son could uplift House Targaryen, all of Westeros, to new heights. They would do great things together, I am sure of it." He said.

Mother simply stared at him for a long while. Long enough to become unnerving, actually. When she spoke, her voice was carefully neutral. "Rhaegar, you do not even have a son yet and you are already dreaming of him being the Conqueror reborn. You have always liked books, but I will warn you to not get caught up in the legend of Aegon the First. He was a great warrior, but not much of a ruler. Further, if your prospective son needs to be wed to his sister and his aunt in order to be great, then he will have no greatness in him. No one has ever found greatness outside of themselves. And lastly, do consider the future as well. Multiple wives will just confuse the issue of inheritance, or have you forgotten how easily Maegor the Cruel usurped the throne?"

Rhaegar was becoming frustrated by his mother's resistance. "Would you not wish your daughter to be queen?"

"Not to her nephew." Was the prompt response. "If Visenya wishes to be a noble lady or even a princess then I am certain that something could be arranged for her, but I will permit no incest."

This was going to be more difficult than expected. Truly, it was a curse to be the only one with a clear view of what was required.

XXXXX

5th day of the 1st moon, 281 AC. Dol Guldur.

Adrastia ran the brush gently through Lyanna's hair, smirking at the tension in the girl's shoulders. She'd been like this ever since her most recent visit to Winterfell and it looked like the stubborn chit was finally going to crack and talk about it. On the very day that they were going back to Winterfell no less.

"Ned's last letter said that Robert was coming with him to Winterfell before we head down to Harrenhal together." The not-quite-fifteen-year-old said, seemingly out of the blue.

"Rickard took your suggestion to heart, then?" Adrastia asked rhetorically. "Good, very good. Robert will be on his best behavior as he tries to impress his prospective goodfather. It is an ideal time to lay the foundations for your relationship."

"I still do not like him." Lyanna admitted. "Ned's letter also said that he already has a bastard daughter in the Vale."

"Even better. You will be able to hold that over him for the rest of his life."

"I do not want a husband that dishonors me at every turn."

"He is not your husband yet, so there is no dishonor." Adrastia pointed out. "And if he does it will only serve to increase the power you have over him."

"Power." Lyanna echoed bleakly. "But what about love and respect?"

"If you want a devoted husband, then you will have to steer him in that direction. The future is yours to shape as you please."

Adrastia knew full well that Lyanna didn't have it in her to be a black widow. The girl was romantic to the bone despite her tomboyishness and now that her body was ready for breeding and the associated instincts were kicking in, the old plans of simply using the lord of Storm's End as a means to an end were no longer so appealing. If Lyanna stubbornly tried to push forward with them she'd end up being a miserable shrew that was constantly angry. Probably also one that categorically refused to admit it was her own fault, even to herself.

"I just wish that Father and Ned had at least asked for my opinion before bethrothing me to that brute." Lyanna huffed. "Father is thinking of the political benefits and Ned thinks it would be grand if his best friend became his goodbrother. I feel like a cow being bartered over by smallfolk."

Drama queen. Adrastia stealthily rolled her eyes in exasperation, knowing that in the manner of bratty teenage girls everywhere, Lyanna could substitute for oxygen with unnecessary angst. "Your father and brother love you and believe that Robert is a good match for you. You know very little of him at this point, do not judge until you meet him."

"I know that he has trouble keeping his cock in his trousers." Lyanna grumbled, once again picking at that issue. The girl would make an excellent nagger once she was married.

"Don't slouch." Adrastia reprimanded, causing the girl to stiffen her spine instinctively. "And that he has some experience with fucking can only be good for you. Not only is it a good lever to control him with, but it will also mean that there will be less fumbling on your wedding night. Trust me on this, a stiffly honorable man like your brother Ned would be a much worse alternative."

"I do not know if I can do this." The girl confessed, staring at her lap and fidgeting with her hands.

"You can." Adrastia assured, putting away the brush and placing her hands on Lyanna's shoulders. "I have taught you all the skills you need in order to succeed. Your brother has already done much of the work for you by filling Robert's head with tales of you and my own research into him says that he is a simple creature. You will have him worshiping you in no time at all."

Adrastia's hands slid down the girl's shoulders in a rather more intimate manner, making Lyanna's breath catch in surprise. She then put her lips to the girl's ears and continued in a far more seductive tone. "And if you ever find yourself needing a little help to encourage good behavior in him, remember that I am here for you."

Naturally, no student of hers was going to be let out into the world without a thorough education in sex. Lyanna had not been receptive at first, but just because Adrastia specialized in seducing men didn't mean that she was incapable of turning her charms on women, especially inexperienced, curious little girls fresh into puberty.

"I am sure that will not be necessary." Lyanna stammered, but went only slightly pink.

"Indeed." Adrastia agreed. "Come, let's go see if Gerd and the boys are ready."

She hadn't had much to do with Benjen's fostering and that was by design, but she wasn't going to miss out on an opportunity to get him together with one of Harry's granddaughters. Gerd was Skadi's youngest and was the most compatible with Benjen by her estimate. Nothing formal of course, in keeping with Angmari custom, but getting a couple of teenagers interested in each other wasn't that hard.

Rickard had recalled Benjen so that he could go to the tourney at Harrenhal and see the south and Gerd had decided that she wanted to go with him. Two of Havel's sons, Hagen and Brok, had also invited themselves along. Ostensibly it was to see the south and look after their cousin, but their 'secret' intent was also to see their grandfather.

Adrastia couldn't feel Harry's presence in the world like Luna could, but she could see his influence. Craftsmen and thinkers were being noticeably more...inspired, dreams now contained hinted solutions to various problems, gut feelings had become vastly more accurate and most notably, people deep in prayer at the heart trees sometimes reported seeing images of a man hanging from a weirwood with a spear shoved through his side. She barely even had to do anything to encourage cults to spring up – it was starting to happen across the entire continent all by itself.

And Harry's influence wasn't limited to just Westeros.

Adrastia couldn't be absolutely sure about it, but the galvanization of the anti-slavery movement in Essos seemed just a bit too conveniently timed. It took a lot for downtrodden slaves to develop spines of steel and rebel against their owners over and over, but for it to happen en masse all over the continent? No, it was definitely Harry's doing.

The Free Cities were in chaos, fighting a low-key civil war that they had no hope of winning since every person they enslaved became a new enemy. Adrastia gave it twenty years at the most before slavery was either abolished or the Free Cities were destroyed.

One could rationalize it away as a consequence of Tarkus and his brothers so decisively winning the battle at Higwater after Rh'llor had been summoned, but a rationalization was all it would ever be.

Harry was definitely still out there.

XXXXX

7th day of the 1st moon, 281 AC.

Rickard looked down on the training yard with pride. The whole Stark family was gathered together for the first time in years and it was a joy to see.

Brandon and Lord Robert were currently having a spar and exchanging japes. The two young men, being of similar age and disposition, had quickly become friends.

Hagen and Brok, both men bigger than the Umbers, were heckling them from the side.

In contrast, Ned was merely watching quietly as was his wont, looking ever so slightly amused at the show his brother and best friend were putting on.

Next to him was Lyanna, conversing with the much taller Lady Gerd, who was herself holding hands with Benjen. There was a time when Lyanna would have demanded to participate in the sparring, and glared sullenly when she was refused.

Rickard was thankful that he had allowed her to travel to Angmar.

He had not done a good job raising his daughter and he knew it. He had been too lax with her and allowed her too much, then he had feared that he would have to command her obedience when the time came to do her duty. With Lyanna being as wolf-blooded as Brandon, that was sure to cause her to resent him, perhaps even defy him.

"I feel I must thank you, my lady." He said, turning to look at the mysterious dark-skinned woman standing next to him. "You have taken my daughter in hand and taught her what I could not."

Lady Adrastia favored him with a beautiful smile. "Think nothing of it, Rickard. I could never stand to see a young woman setting herself up for unhappiness."

The lack of formality with which the Angmari spoke still felt strange to him, but Rickard brushed it aside and nodded.

Indeed, Lyanna's stubbornness could have ended very badly. Her vehemence and pride could have led her into all sorts of foolishness, but that had now been tempered.

"I had feared for her." Rickard confessed. "When she first heard of my intention to accept Lord Robert's suite for her hand, there was such outrage in her eyes, as if I had betrayed her somehow by arranging the bethrothal."

"You were not the one who had to listen to her screaming and crying about it." Adrastia said ruefully. "The fool girl had somehow convinced herself that Robert would keep her locked in a tower while he ran around, bedding every woman in the Stormlands."

Rickard could only shake his head in exasperation. Honestly, the things his daughter came up with. Yes, Robert could be a little brash and wild, much like Brandon in fact, but he was a good man. "How did you manage to make her see sense? I know Lyanna can be even more stubborn than Brandon when she puts her mind to it."

"Now that is a woman's secret." She teased and swiftly changed the subject. "Will you be going to Harrenhal with us?"

"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell." Rickard shook his head.

"A pity." Lady Adrastia hummed. "I hear that Prince Rhaegar may be using the tourney as a cover for speaking to the lords of Westeros about deposing his father."

"You know this? How?"

She smiled mysteriously. "A lady has her ways."

Spies or sorcery? Rickard wondered. Both?

"Have things truly deteriorated to such an extent?" He asked instead, knowing that pressing her on the matter was useless. News from King's Landing was slow to reach the North, and when it did it was often incomplete, but the worsening madness of King Aerys was well known to all by now.

"Indeed." She confirmed. "The king jumps at every shadow and sees treason even in the slightest disagreement, be it real or imagined. People, both nobles and smallfolk, being burned alive in wildfire has become a common spectacle in court. Most worrisome of all, he has become paranoid about the 'threat' of the Old Gods because of Harry's late night visit years ago and is being swayed by the High Septon's promises of divine protection from the Seven. It does not help that his Hand always counsels against showing too much favor to the Faith, so he increases his support just to spite Lord Tywin."

Rickard's thoughtful frown deepened further. He had heard about the 'missing' Queen Rhaella living in Dol Guldur from Benjen and Lyanna, and had it further explained to him by Adrastia yesterday. That entire sequence of events was ridiculous and had so much potential to go awry, particularly with the king's senses abandoning him. It really was looking like deposing Aerys might be the best thing to do.

"I will warn Brandon and Robert to pay close attention to Prince Rhaegar's words." He said, knowing that the prince would not be able to bluntly ask for support in deposing his father.

"And I will try to keep Hagen and Brok from insulting him too much." Adrastia said wrily.

Rickard snorted in amusement. While not as wild as Brandon or Robert, those two also had no care for propriety and wouldn't hesitate to snub the prince if they didn't like him. They had already insulted Robert almost as soon as they met, which was fortunately taken in good humor by the lord of Storm's End. In fact, he was so fascinated by the notion of a land where respect had to be earned that he'd already professed a desire to visit Angmar himself.

XXXXX

20th day of the 2nd moon, 281 AC. Riverlands, the Kingsroad.

Lyanna would admit, grudgingly and only if left with no other choice, that Robert was not nearly as bad as she had expected him to be. In truth, he was very much like Brandon and she did love her eldest brother. Most of the time.

When Father had first told her of the bethrothal, she had hated it. Hated the very idea that she would be married according to someone else's whims, hated what would be expected of her as a wife, hated Ned's presumption in proposing it, hated Robert for being a stupid southron that could fall 'in love' with a maid just by listening to her brother's stories.

If not for Adrastia's firm mentoring, that hatred might have gotten away from her and taken on a life of its own. These days the only thing she hated about Robert was his wandering eye.

As for the rest...well, Adrastia had taught her how to get what she wanted. Gentle persuasion had bent Father to her will in where shouting and stubbornness had only made him more immovable. She was allowed to train with weapons and ride horses and do other things she enjoyed now, all in exchange for a promise to not go looking for danger. A desire that she no longer had.

Lyanna sometimes wished she could forget the event that had led her to abandoning all dreams of adventure. For a long while, she had clung to those dreams despite nodding her head at Adrastia's warnings, but the dark-skinned woman had seen through the act and eventually lost patience with it. The resulting dunk into the device she'd called a Pensieve and the horrible memories held in it still haunted her sleep from time to time.

Remarkable, how quickly she had learned to appreciate the protection of her station instead of being angry at the responsibilities it carried.

In light of that experience, Robert was...mostly acceptable. He had raised no complaint when she had revealed the riding leathers she had smuggled along for the trip, even laughing at Ned's scandalized sputtering – honestly, Ned had been more annoying than Robert. He did not seem opposed to her desire to keep up her training with a sword when she had carefully sounded him out on it. In fact, he had been almost sweet, in a clumsy, lumbering sort of way, and was fascinated with her stories of Angmar and even made some mutterings of visiting after they were wed. And he was admittedly very handsome.

Now if only he could stop ogling every pair of tits that passed by him.

"Robert..." Lyanna said in the tone of chilly disapproval as just such a thing happened, mixed liberally with quiet anger and implied promises of domestic hell, a tone Adrastia had had her practice to exhaustion.

The young Baratheon lord hunched in on himself like a cat that had been grabbed by the neck and looked at her guiltily. "My apologies, Lady Lyanna."

There was an odd sort of thrill in seeing the usually boisterous man awkwardly muttering apologies like a young boy caught stealing from the kitchens.

"Do you even want to get married?" She asked with mostly real exasperation. "You know that we can still break the bethrothal if you would rather continue chasing skirts? Father would be disappointed, but he would understand."

"No!" Robert protested immediately, looking quite alarmed at the thought of disappointing Rickard Stark. "No, I do wish to marry you, my lady."

"Yet you cannot seem to control yourself around other women." Lyanna pointed out. "I will say nothing about the women you've bedded and the bastards you've sired before, but I will not have you if you intend to dishonor me at every turn."

She wouldn't say anything about those things, no, but she would certainly make sure to obliquely mention them every so often.

"Come now, Lyanna, that is being a little harsh." Adrastia broke in teasingly from where she was chaperoning on her own horse. "Robert is a virile young man, full of vim and vigor. There is no harm in looking as long as he knows who his cock belongs to."

"I suppose." Lyanna conceded with feigned reluctance, hiding her amusement at the embarrassed flush on her bethrothed's face. This was a mummer's farce they were putting on in order to 'train' Robert into being a proper husband. "I just worry that looking will lead to fucking."

"It will not!" Robert swore earnestly, taking no note of her foul language. Another point in his favor.

"Can you truly make such a promise?" Lyanna asked skeptically. "We are not to be wed for two more years. I find it difficult to imagine you holding back that long."

"Have some faith in your bethrothed, Lyanna." Adrastia chided gently. "I am certain that his love for you is sufficient to sustain him until your wedding night."

"Perhaps..." She replied dubiously.

"I will prove it to you." Robert swore again, obliviously falling into the trap that he didn't even see. Adrastia was right, most men were terribly simple creatures. Now that he had staked his pride on that boast she would be getting what she wanted no matter what he did.

The dark-skinned woman winked at her from behind his back and silently mouthed 'my tent, tonight'.

Blood rushed to her cheeks at the thought of what would most likely be happening in said tent. Lyanna was sure that even the finest whores in Lys didn't get an education in the bedroom arts as thorough as what Adrastia made her learn. Not that learning them was unpleasant, but Father would surely have a fit if he knew.

Robert grinned at the blush, believing that Lyanna was impressed and pleased by his declaration.

XXXXX

11th day of the 3rd moon, 281 AC. Harrenhal.

Lord Walter Whent was exhausted. It felt like he had been doing nothing except greeting people for days. It was his own fault for hosting such a grand tourney and it was certainly better than the embarrassment of a lackluster attendance, but it was exhausting. The lords, ladies, knights and what have you blended into each other in his memory, with only the more important ones truly standing out.

"Robert Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End!"

Walter straigthened in his chair upon hearing the crier. A House Paramount deserved to be greeted with more attention than what he'd given the stream of petty lords that had come before.

Young Lord Robert was a man of impressive stature, like his father before him. Lord Steffon would have been proud to see his son grown, although he likely would not have been pleased by the warhammer he had slung over his shoulder. Coming before your host with such a weapon in hand was simply not done and could be considered threatening, although Walter didn't mind.

"Lord Baratheon, be welcome in my halls." He said amicably, clasing forearms with the younger man. Bread and salt would usually be offered, but they could hardly do that every time for the hundreds of visiting nobles.

"Glad to be here, Lord Whent." Robert grinned broadly, nearly bruising Walter's arm with the strength of his grip.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries before the Baratheon lord moved to the side, clearly waiting for someone. Most likely the Stark contingent from what Walter had heard.

Sure enough, the crier's next announcement confirmed that assumption.

"Lord Stark's son Brandon, Heir of Winterfell. Lord Stark's sons Eddard and Benjen. Lord Stark's daughter Lyanna."

This new generation of Starks was interesting. Brandon was as charismatic and easy to like as Robert, Eddard was quiet and serious, Benjen looked a little uncomfortable but not frightened and Lyanna was a beautiful young maid that had a hint of wildness peeking through her impeccable manners. Lord Rickard had raised some fine children.

Once the greetings were done, the Starks moved to join Lord Robert, Lyanna in particular standing close to him in a way that confirmed in Walter's mind that the two were bethrothed. That would be a powerful alliance between two of Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms.

Still, who else were they waiting for? Jon Arryn had already arrived and Walter knew of no other noble family that the Starks or Baratheons were particularly close to.

"Lady Adrastia, retainer to the God-King of Angmar. Hagen and Brok, sons of Havel the Rock, grandsons to the God-King of Angmar. Gerd, daughter of Skadi, granddaughter to the God-king of Angmar."

Walter froze at the crier's somewhat fretful announcement, distantly noting that everyone else in the hall had reacted the same way.

What was Angmar doing here? The recently established far northern kingdom in the frozen lands beyond the Wall had little to do with the rest of Westeros, aside from perhaps the North. They did a brisk trade in certain items, but otherwise kept to themselves.

Walter supposed that he had invited everyone who wished to come to his tourney, so he could hardly turn them away. He could only hope that nothing would go dreadfully wrong. Angmar was said to be a place of sorcerers, skinchangers, alchemists and all manner of strange folk with even stranger customs. A people that had not long ago been nothing but savages, raiders, rapists and cannibals. The septons claimed that they were but heathens damned in the eyes of the Seven, but then the septons often said that about the Northmen as well.

Then there was no more time to consider as the Angmari contingent entered the hall.

They were certainly not what Walter had been expecting. The Summer Isles woman that had to be Lady Adrastia looked tiny in comparison to her companions, although a closer look would reveal that she was actually rather tall for a woman. Added to that, the richness of her garb made it abundantly clear that she was not struggling to eke out some pitiful existence on the frozen roof of the world, but thriving. All four of them were dressed rather finely, in fact, despite the lack of House sigils.

The two men were absolutely enormous. Walter had seen Ser Duncan the Tall once in his younger years and would say that Hagen and Brok were at least half a foot taller than he had been. Their hair was as black as night, their eyes as green as the finest emeralds and their beards kept in elaborate braids. They also carried weapons as inappropriate as Lord Robert, an axe and an even larger warhammer, respectively.

Their cousin, Gerd, was smaller than them, being 'only', about the same height as Lord Robert, whom Walter judged to be about six and a half feet tall. Though she likely still had some growing to do, as despite her great height, she looked to be about the same age as Lady Lyanna. A pretty enough girl, although her looming height distracted from her looks.

Gods, had the Sorcerer been breeding with giants to have grandchildren so massive?

"Lord Whent, I thank you for having us." Lady Adrastia said, perfect white teeth standing out starkly in contrast to her dark skin.

She gave a small bow that drew attention to the tantalizing swell of breasts displayed by her dress and Walter found his gaze drifting there almost against his will. An exquisite necklace with the characteristic ripple pattern of Valyrian steel inlaid with an equally exquisite and rather large teardrop amethyst rested in the valley between the dark mounds. A piece of jewelry like that had to be worth more than a king's ransom, and she was a mere retainer. Possibly even a slave if rumors were to be believed.

A long moment passed before Walter realized that he needed to say something else he began looking like a fool.

"We are honored to host representatives from the mysterious kingdom of the far north, my lady." He said, his training in etiquette allowing him to quickly settle on an appropriate response. "Did you travel with Lord Baratheon and the Starks?"

"Indeed, we set out together from Winterfell. Benjen has been fostering with Havel, you see, and may take Gerd as his wife in the future." The Summer Isles woman explained.

A fostering and wedding in Angmar? Lord Rickard was a far more ambitious man than Walter had given him credit for. Fostering his second son with Lord Arryn, a bride from House Tully for his heir, a marriage to the Lord of the Stormlands for his daughter and now this. Had his own daughter not already been betrothed, he would have tried to match her with young Eddard on the spot as a way to get in on that web of alliances.

"Then I will make sure you have quarters close to each other." Walter promised courteously. "Is there anything you require immediately? I confess that they ways of Angmar are unknown to me."

"We are not so different, Lord Whent, our needs are the same as that of anyone else." The dark lady laughed, her voice reminiscent of the sweetest music he had ever heard.

"Boat." Hagen suddenly spoke up, his cavernous voice as jarring as a rock thrown through a glass window.

"Ah yes, of course." Lady Adrastia said in realization, giving him a slightly apologetic smile. "Could we trouble you for a boat journey to the Isle of Faces? It is a place dear to the Old Gods and my companions have not had the chance to see it yet."

"Certainly, I will tell the boatman to expect you." Walter agreed graciously. People wishing to visit the Isle of Faces wasn't a common occurence, but it wasn't unheard of either.

"Thank you." She smiled and he found himself briefly entranced by her beauty once more.

The Angmar contingent started moving towards Lord Robert and the Starks and Walter relaxed minutely, only to tense up again as Brok stopped right in front of him and looked down with thoughtful eyes.

"Yes?" Walter questioned, keeping his voice composed.

"You're alright." The huge man nodded and moved off, leaving the Lord of Harrenhal slightly bewildered.

XXXXX

"Hmm, this could be a problem." Adrastia mused, looking at the boat.

Robert agreed. The ten of them would never fit onto that dinky little thing. And they'd already paid the boatman for the use of it, too, even sending the man away.

"Are you going to use magic?" Lyanna asked with sparkling eyes.

"Magic?!" Ned exclaimed in alarm.

"Yes, Eddard, please do loudly announce to all and sundry that I am a witch. That cannot possibly end badly." The dark-skinned woman retorted drily.

Robert couldn't help himself, he started guffawing wildly at the embarrassment on his friend's face. Brandon and Benjen joined in and even the Angmari chuckled. Well, not Gerd, she giggled. He was a bit wary of magic himself, but Ned's squawk and Adrastia's dry rebuke was just too fucking funny.

Lyanna, however, just looked annoyed. "Be more careful, Ned. You know what southrons are like about magic."

That was true. Robert could easily imagine a bloodthirsty mob forming if it became known that Adrastia was a witch. They'd passed by Harrenhal's septon on the way here and the man had the most sour expression Robert had ever seen on his face as he stared at the Angmari.

Bloody septons. Robert had met a few pious ones that kept their noses clean and looked after their faithful, but those types tended to stay out in the villages. Towns and castles attracted the political type of holy men, which were usually not very holy at all in his experience.

"My apologies." Ned said, still red-faced. "I was merely surprised."

"No harm done." Adrastia said graciously, smiling at him...which caused him to go red again.

Robert couldn't blame him for that one. The Summer Isles woman was utterly beautiful. If he wasn't bethrothed to Lyanna he would spare no effort to get into her skirts so that he could rail her like a battering ram. Just listening to her voice was enough to get a man's cock hard.

She was also a damned fine chaperone, he hadn't been able to sneak off with Lyanna for even a single moment. If she was a witch then that might explain her ability to always be exactly where she needed to be.

Strangely, he didn't mind too much. Robert had some experiences with chaperones, usually bloody annoying septas that always hovered around looking like they disapproved of everything. Contrary to that, Lyanna's mentor had been so charming that he had not once resented her presence and the lack of privacy, despite his desire for it.

"Can your magic help?" Hagen asked, hefting the axe that he'd refused to part with on his shoulder.

"Indeed it can." The dark-skinned woman said, drawing a pale stick – or perhaps a bone – from the sleeve of her dress. "Watch and learn, boys."

With a little wave and a muttered word, the small boat expanded until it was easily big enough to seat all of them. Another wave and the single oar became four.

Robert gaped in shock. Sure, he'd known that the Angmari knew magic, but nothing could prepare a man for actually seeing it.

They all filed into the boat and he found himself with one of the oars in his hand, the other three going to Hagen, Brok and Brandon. Rowing wasn't really something that the lord of a Great House should be doing, but Robert forgot all about that when Lyanna smiled at him and looked at the way the muscles on his arm flexed. He would gladly keep rowing all day and night if it made her smile like that.

"Are we going to see the Hanged Man?" Brandon asked suddenly, looking at Benjen, Lyanna and the three Angmari shrewdly.

"You know about the Hanged Man?" Adrastia asked back with a raised eyebrow.

What was this nonsense about a hanged man?

"I had a vision of him while I was praying at Winterfell's heart tree." Brandon admitted. "Somehow I simply knew that he was here, at the Isle of Faces."

"Who the bloody fuck is the Hanged Man?" Robert demanded, tired of apparently being the only one that didn't know what was going on. Even Ned looked like he suddenly understood everything!

"Our grandfather." Brok answered.

"...Isn't your grandfather the Sorcerer of Dol Guldur?"

"Aye." Hagen, Brok and Gerd all chorused.

Robert was confused and looked at Ned, only to see that his friend was back to looking puzzled.

"All will be reveled on the Isle of Face. " Adrastia cut in. "For now, you big strong boys just focus on rowing."

She gave him a thoroughly appreciative look that had Robert's trousers feeling painfully tight, but his first reaction was to look at Lyanna, fearing that she would be upset.

The beautiful she-wolf smiled again at his attention and Robert relaxed, realizing that he had been worried over nothing. Lyanna wasn't some high-strung woman from the Reach, looking for the slightest excuse to be outraged. Having her mentor flirt with him a little wouldn't bother her, although Robert decided it was better not to push his luck by reciprocating.

The rest of the boat journey was made in silence and once they came ashore, Robert looked around at the countless weirwoods with carved faces warily, fingering the dagger at his waist for reassurance. It was too quiet.

In comparison, the Northmen and Angmari looked far more at ease here than they had since they'd crossed the Neck. It made Robert realize that this place still belonged to the Old Gods and the First Men, despite being part of the Riverlands.

Without a word being spoken, everyone except him and Lady Adrastia set off deeper into the island as one. Bloody creepy. Still, he jogged up to Lyanna so that he could walk at her side.

Robert soon noticed that there were a rather lot of ravens and crows perched on the trees, staring after them in silence. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but Lady Adrastia moved to his other side and put a finger to her lips.

"Shhh." She hushed and they continued on in the eerie silence.

It unnerved and confused him. Why was everyone except him and the Lady Adrastia acting like they were half-asleep all of a sudden? Robert dealt with confusion and fear by getting angry at them, but there was no enemy to clobber, so he just stewed in his irritation.

His anger was wiped away in an instant as they came before a truly enormous weirwood tree that should have been visible since before they had reached the Isle of Faces, yet somehow wasn't. And from one of its many branches hung a man with a spear impaled through his side, black hair obscuring his face and fresh blood still dripping down the spear shaft in a steady trickle. The ground below him was a puddle of bloody mud and there were so many fucking birds everywhere that the boughs of the weirwoods looked black instead of red.

"What in all the hells!?" Robert exclaimed loudly. "We came here to see a dead man?"

The others looked at him as if he'd just told a septon to go bugger a goat. A peculiar combination of indignation and amazement at his gall. Robert knew the look because he actually had told a septon to go bugger a goat once when he'd had a bit too much to drink. Jon Arryn had not been amused.

"He isn't dead." Lady Adrastia said.

Robert looked at the man that was both hanged and impaled and then turned skeptical eyes on the dark woman.

"He is only mostly dead." She went on, unperturbed.

"How can you be only mostly dead?" He asked skeptically.

"Magic." She shrugged.

"Right..."

"I assume you've heard of the battle that occured two years ago, the Battle Where Wood Conquered Fire, as it were?" Lady Adrastia changed the subject.

"Aye." Robert nodded. He had indeed heard of the battle and at the time lamented that he couldn't be part of it. So many sellsword companies and those Volantene cunts against the Angmari settlers in Andalos. The halfway legendary Black Iron Tarkus and his brothers against slavers, Dothraki and red priests. It would have been glorious to be part of it, cracking skulls with his warhammer and plowing cunts with his cock after.

Though the stories of how the battle was resolved were confusing and made no sense. The best he and Ned had been able to work out from the rumors was that the red priests worked some great magic that backfired on their own army and they quickly broke afterwards.

"Harry was there." Lady Adrastia continued with her explanation. "The red priests conducted a fell ritual under the light of the Red Comet, summoning their bloodthirsty god into this world. Harry pulled it inside him and then hung himself here to contain it. He will return once R'hllor is destroyed, but when that will be none can say. It could be days or it could be centuries."

"But if he has been here for two years already, why is he still bleeding?" Robert asked, knowing that men stopped bleeding quickly once they were dead. For that matter, why was he not rotting?

"I told you, he is only mostly dead." She reminded him pointedly. "Harry will continue bleeding for as long as he hangs here. It is a mystical matter, do not look for logic. Also, it would be best if you did not mention what you saw or heard here to anyone. Despite appearances, he is far from powerless and anyone attempting to do him harm in this state would meet a sticky end."

"So, uh, did you want to cut him down?" Robert asked of the Angmari, deciding to leave that alone.

"Absolutely not!" Gerd snapped, once again glaring at him along with her cousins as if he'd suggested turning a sept into a whorehouse, which was something that he'd almost done after having to listen to a particularly tiresome septa talking for too long.

"We only wanted to see him and honor his sacrifice." Hagen explained, leaning on his axe. "Grandfather will return to us when he is ready, until then he must remain here."

A warm breeze blew through the small clearing, seeming to wrap around them. Robert felt a chill go up his spine and had the most unnerving sensation of being watched.

Robert frowned and looked towards the sun in confusion. Had the world just turned grey? And where had all this bloody mist on the ground come from all of a sudden?

"You are not one of ours."

Robert jumped in fright at the raspy voice, looking with wide eyes at the hanging corpse. The corpse whose green eyes were now open and alert.

"What?" He blurted out, reaching for his dagger and finding only air.

"The line of Durran Godsgrief turned away from us long ago." The corpse answered, its lips not moving. "You are not one of ours."

Robert quickly looked around and saw that he was alone, the others vanished without a trace.

"What have you done to them?!" He demanded angrily.

"You are dreaming, Robert."

"Dreaming?"

"A waking dream, but a dream nonetheless. It was the only way for us to speak to you."

"Why would you want to speak to me?" Robert asked warily. "As you said, I don't keep to the Old Gods."

"You intend to marry our daughter. We wanted to take the measure of you."

"You are the Sorcerer of Dol Guldur, are you not?" He asked, bewildered. "Lyanna is Rickard Stark's daughter, not yours."

"We are Harry, yes, but we are also Lyarra Stark and Edwyle Stark and all the Starks who have gone before, as well as many others. When Rickard dies he will join us also."

Robert swallowed thickly. He'd been raised in the light of the Seven, but he'd never given the gods much thought.

Being confronted like this by the gods that Lyanna worshiped...well, if nothing else he'd be a lot more respectful towards the heart tree in Storm's End.

"I will treat her right." He said firmly, quickly regaining his courage.

The corpse seemed to chuckle again, although its lips still did not move. "You better, we will be watching. Now wake up."

"Robert!"

"Huh?!" Robert jerked awake, staring around him with wide eyes. The colors were back and the mist was gone.

"Did you fall asleep standing up?" Lyanna asked incredulously.

"Err..." How to explain this without sounding crazy? "I didn't sleep well last night."

She didn't look like she believed him, and Adrastia just quirked an eyebrow in that knowing way of hers.

Still, nothing more was said and they soon left the isle of Faces, much to Robert's relief. Gods and magic and goodfamily from beyond the grave...all things he'd be happier without.

XXXXX

12th day of the 3rd moon, 281 AC. Harrenhal.

"Your pardon, my lady, might I have a moment of your time?"

The polite question had Adrastia turning around with a charming smile. "Ser Kevan, I always have a moment to spare for you."

The lesser lord she'd been talking to previously harrumphed, but still offered a courteous platitude before leaving. He knew better than to pick a fight with a Lannister, even under the effects of the pheromones she was putting out due to the mild lust potion she'd imbibed earlier.

The aging knight's perpetually formal demeanour softened in a multitude of subtle ways, his baser instincts screaming at him that this was a prime mating opportunity. "Thank you, my lady. I wished to introduce my nephew, Ser Jaime Lannister."

"A most handsome young man." Adrastia purred, giving the fifteen-year-old a look that had his cheeks going pink.

What a delicious little snack he would make. She could already imagine seeing his spirit slowly gutter out after a few years of being toyed with, until he was a broken shell of a man whose only remaining hope was a dignified death.

But no, that would be too noticeable. A nightly visit or two to mellow the next Lord of Casterly Rock out, however, would not go amiss. It wouldn't even be a bother with how pretty the boy was.

Oblivious to her plans, Jaime got his wits about him and greeted her properly. "It is an honor to meet you, Lady Adrastia."

"Likewise, Ser Jaime." She returned with a smile. "You are Lord Tywin's son, if I am not mistaken? He must be very proud to see what a fine man his son is becoming."

The boy's blush returned in force, the pheromones affecting his body far more powerfully than they did his aging uncle.

Said uncle also saved him from having to reply.

"My brother is indeed very proud, and eager to see how Jaime has grown over the past few years." Kevan said, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "He may also wish to speak with you."

"Oh?" Adrastia feigned surprised curiosity, as if she hadn't been dropping hints since her party's arrival.

"I have heard tell that your king's sons have magical weapons, and that he even travelled to Old Valyria in the past." Kevan admitted. "Tywin has ever been keen to recover Brightroar, our family's ancestral blade, or failing that, gain a new one."

"I am uncertain if Brightroar is among the many curiosities held in Dol Guldur's vaults." She lied demurely. "My master is somewhat careless in his appropriation of ancient relics, and if they do not immediately catch his attention he tends to simply toss them into a corner and forget about them."

"Would he be willing to part with any?" The old knight asked hopefully.

"Perhaps." Adrastia prevaricated. "You must understand that a sorcerer such as he no longer covets mortal prizes, but he does sometimes allow me to negotiate on his behalf. I would need to speak to Lord Tywin first before I could say any more on this matter."

"Of course, I shall apprise my brother of this once he arrives with the king's party." Kevan nodded in understanding.

Adrastia's genial smile froze on her face. "Is the king not staying in King's Landing? I had heard that only Prince Rhaegar would be attending the tourney."

"It would seem that King Aerys had changed his mind." Kevan explained.

"I see." This was...not good. Aerys was so unhinged that things could very easily spiral out of control.

"Is something wrong?" Jaime asked curiously.

"Not as such, I was merely surprised." Adrastia hedged. Since they'd travelled the slow way all the way from Winterfell in order to get to know each other, they'd also been cut off from information.

They conversed for a few minutes longer before she disengaged and tracked down her party. Fortunately, they were still sticking together, with Robert apparently explaining the finer points of tourney events to the three Angmari. Again.

"I need to talk to you about something." She said without preamble, instantly gaining their attention.

"Yes?" Hagen asked cautiously, recognizing the serious tone.

"Aerys appears to have decided that he wants to attend the tourney after all." Adrastia said, giving meaningful looks to Harry's grandchildren. "It would be best if you could refrain from insulting him. In fact, it would be best if you managed to avoid him altogether."

"Surely that is not neccesary?" Eddard asked dubiously.

"Oh, but it is." She countered drily. "Aerys is known to be a prickly man and these three can be as abrasive as their grandfather. I would rather not see any wars started over petty insults."

"Hehehe, t'would be a sight to see, though." Robert chuckled.

Yes, no doubt it would, but Adrastia would rather not be at ground zero when it happened. She didn't need the attention that would cling to her if she was present at the event that kicked off a war between Angmar and the Seven Kingdoms.

Not to mention that she might actually have to use magic to bail the oversized brats out of danger. Harry might be unwilling to act as a permanent get-out-of-jail-free card for his offspring, but he would likely not be pleased if she left his grandchildren to die while she fled for the sake of her own convenience.

"I do not believe it will be possible to avoid the king's attention for long." Brandon pointed out. "Lord Whent is certain to tell him that a party from Angmar is here and he knows that Queen Rhaella was taken by the Sorcerer."

"Indeed." Adrastia sighed. "If it would not seem cowardly I would suggest we return home. As is, we have little choice but to ride the situation out."

"Bah, what can King Scab do except bluster?" Lyanna scoffed. "From what you say, he is a hairsbreadth away from being deposed by his own son."

"Lyanna!" Eddard squawked in shock.

"Everyone knows he's mad, Ned." Robert snorted, receiving nods from all the others.

"But to speak ill of the king..." The second Stark son protested.

"Be that as it may, he hasn't been deposed yet, meaning that he can still cause trouble." Adrastia spoke over him.

"What should we do, then?" Gerd asked, squeezing Benjen's hand.

"We cannot be seen to be the instigators of any altercations. Aerys' position is precarious enough that few will be eager to obey him blindly, but we need not give him any legitimacy."

They nodded their agreement, but Adrastia still had a general bad feeling about this whole thing. Lunatics had the annoying habit of breaking society's unspoken rules at the worst times.

XXXXX

That evening.

Jaime was just about to change into his night clothes and go to bed when a knock sounded at the door to his chambers in Harrenhal.

For a moment, he debated with himself if he should grab a dagger, but in the end decided that whoever it was was unlikely to mean him any harm. It was most likely just Uncle Kevan anyway.

He blinked in surprise when he opened the door. It was not Uncle Kevan.

"Ser Jaime." Adrastia greeted with a smile. "May I come in?"

Her perfume invaded his nostrils and seemed to rush directly into his head. His heart sped up, banishing the day's exhaustion.

"Of course." He said automatically and stepped aside before he could even consider refusing her.

She glided in, clutching a large black cloak around her shoulders so that it concealed everything. In her passage, more of her scent spread through the air.

"Why did you come to see me so late in the evening, my lady." Jaime asked, just now realizing how inappropriate it was. Despite his best efforts, his cock went hard as he began imagining what this beautiful, exotic woman might want.

"I was hoping we could get to know each other a little more...intimately." Adrastia purred and dropped the cloak to the floor.

Jaime's mouth went dry as he saw what she was wearing beneath it. A transparent purple silken chemise that hid nothing at all and only served to emphasize every curve and swell of her perfect body.

"My lady, we shouldn't..." He stammered.

"You needn't worry." She assured huskily, stepping closer until he could feel the heat of her body and the smell of her filled his nostrils completely. "I won't tell anyone if you won't."

Staring into her dark, dark eyes, Jaime briefly thought of the last time he'd been with his twin sister, Cersei, and the plan they had concocted in order to stay together. But that had been moons ago when he passed through King's Landing and Adrastia was right here and oh-so willing.

"It isn't proper." He protested weakly, acutely aware of what a hypocrite he was. Fucking your own sister was hardly proper either. Still, love and loyalty for Cersei forced him to say it even though his resistance was rapidly being eroded.

Adrastia laughed, a tinkling, melodius sound that made him shiver. She placed one hand on his cheek and leaned in further. Her flesh was almost scalding hot.

"Both Angmar and the Summer Isles have different ideas on what is proper." She said, placing her other hand on his chest and slowly sliding it downwards. "Nothing will be expected of you for this, Jaime. We are just a grown man and woman finding pleasure in each other's bodies, nothing more."

A weight seemed to fall off his shoulders at those words. For as long as he could remember, everyone had always expected things from him, the son of the great Tywin lannister. Jaime found himself kissing the dark woman almost before he knew was was happening, the thought of being able to just be himself and have a good time breaking his already failing resolve.

Her hand reached down into his trousers and grasped his manhood, giving it a few strokes.

Adrastia broke the kiss and murmured into his ear. "Very nice."

Jaime attacked her neck with his mouth and slid his hands under the chemise, reveling in her soft moans. Soon, even the chemise began to feel in the way and he impatiently tugged it over her head, fully exposing her gleaming dark skin.

Adrastia was taller than him by a good margin, so he found himself almost face-to-face with a pair of the most perfect breasts he had ever seen. They were round and firm, shapped perfectly and topped with large, dark nipples currently hard with arousal. Even Cersei's didn't compare.

Her hands went to his hair and pulled him towards them. Jaime didn't even think to resist and began suckling on one eagerly, encouraged by her soft cries of pleasure. His hand, meanwhile, found themselves squeezing her incredibly firm buttocks.

He was simultaneously disappointed and relieved when she pulled him away. Disappointed, because he had been greatly enjoying himself and relieved, because she was removing his tunic.

"Very nice indeed." Adrastia murmured, running her hands across his chest. "Why don't you finish undressing and join me on the bed?"

It was phrased like a question, but it was more of an instruction. She stepped away from him and walked over to the bed in a swaying gait that drew attention to her wide hips. Then she climbed on the bed on all fours with her back to him, shaking her rear end enticingly. Then she went even further by stretching herself out, lowering her head, arching her back, thrusting out her arse and exposing the glistening pink slit of her womanhood.

"What are you waiting for?" She asked in a hoarse, breathy tone, using her fingers to spread her slit open for him.

Jaime snapped out of the trance her movement had put him in and began fumbling with his trousers and boots, almost falling over in his haste.

Much to his disappointment, she turned over onto her back before he could finish undressing.

Then she spread her legs wide apart and began rubbing rubbing herself.

"Please hurry, Jaimeeee." Adrastia moaned, obliterating his disappointment. "I need you inside me."

Fortunately he'd been nearly finished with his second boot, or else he might have lacked the dexterity to get it off. The trousers came off quickly after that and he quickly climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between her legs.

Jaime groaned in pleasure as he sank into the furnace-hot depths of her tight silken folds, collapsing atop her as his arms aprutly lost strength from the intensity of the sensation he was feeling.

Legs that felt like steel wrapped in velvet encircled his waist. Similarly strong arms grasped his head and torse, pulling him against feverish ebony skin.

"Yeeeesssss." Adrastia hissed into his ear. "Fuck me, Jaime. Fuck me hard."

Unable to even contemplate refusing, Jaime began slamming his hips against hers, drawing a pleasure cry with every thrust that goaded him to keep going faster and harder.

In no time at all, he felt his climax approaching, but he couldn't slow down or stop. Her legs squeezed tighter and Jaime surrendered to the inevitable, releasing his seed into her scorching depths with a groan. A feeling of pure rightness filled him at her resounding cry of pleasure and then he collapsed, panting, on top of her.

Adrastia cooed into his ear and stroked his sweaty hair as he regained his breath.

Once the rush of pleasure faded, Jaime felt deeply ashamed. He hadn't even lasted half a minute.

While he was hoping that his embarrassing performance wouldn't be remarked upon, Adrastia rolled them over so that she was on top and gazed at him with smouldering dark eyes.

"I hope that you still have strength left to make a few more passes in our joust." She said huskily.

Jaime could hardly say that he didn't, so he put on his cockiest smirk, earlier embarrassment gratefully left behind. "My lance is ready for you, my lady."

"Good." Adrastia purred and kissed him hungrily, which quickly brought his flagging manhood back to the readiness he claimed it was at.

The next two 'passes' lasted longer, but he was left panting and exhausted at the end.

"The joust goes to you, my lady." Jaime conceded defeat with a dazed grin.

"You fought well, Ser Jaime." Adrastia responded gallantly, making him chuckle.

Jaime settled against her with a relaxed sigh, feeling incredibly mellow. As he slowly drifted towards sleep, he idly recalled the times he had lain with Cersei.

His twin was beautiful and he loved her, but she always ruined the afterglow by complaining bitterly about everything under the sun. During their last time in the Red Keep, it was about Rhaegar being married to Elia Martell. The time before that was in Casterly Rock, about one or another of their father's decrees.

It was an uncharitable thought to have about his sister, but Jaime was feeling too good to feel guilty. Moments later, the heat of his bedmate's body lulled him to sleep.

XXXXX

Adrastia slipped out of the bed and stretched with a self-satisfied smirk.

The young ones were always so much fun, and this one had also let slip a few naughty secrets to her Legilimency.

Plowing your own twin sister? Letting her lead you around by the cock? Plotting with her to get inducted into the Kingsguard in defiance of your father? For shame, Jaime.

She'd figured that the young knight would be an easy mark. With a father as demanding as Tywin Lannister was purpoted to be, the poor boy was sure to be wound tighter than a steel cable. That had certainly been true, but the incest had come as a surprise.

Cersei Lannister seemed to be quite the monster even by Jaime's incredibly biased second-hand account. Adrastia couldn't wait to meet her in person. While she appeared to be a rather stupid monster, she might still have her uses.

Until then, Adrastia resolved to visit Jaime every night to break some of that unhealthy sibling attachment he had and replace it with an unhealthy attachment to an older woman. Even if the twins' amateurish plan for getting the boy into the Kingsguard worked, having a lovesick puppy in that organization could be useful. Not as useful as having one ruling the Westerlands, probably, but you never know.

XXXXX

Kingsroad, a ways south of Harrenhal.

At approximately the same time that Jaime Lannister was getting thoroughly cougared, King Aerys Targaryen lay awake in his tent, tightly clutching a seven-pointed star medallion with eyes flitting fearfully at every shadow.

"Slay anyone who attempt to enter!" Aerys shrieked.

"Yes, Your Grace." Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Oswell Whent affirmed, long since numbed to the man's ever-worsening paranoia. Such orders were shouted at them every single day.

Aerys tried to relax, but sleep would not come. He didn't sleep much anymore. It had started when the Sorcerer had invaded his chambers in the night and been exacerbated by the evens at Duskendale.

Naturally, the lack of sleep did not help sooth his disposition or delusions. Many nights were spent fretfully clutching the medallion of the Seven and praying for protection.

What if the Sorcerer was at Harrenhal? What if he was plotting with Rhaegar to overthrow him? What if Rhaella had whored herself out to win him over to her cause? For all these reasons and more, Aerys had mustered the courage to leave the Red Keep and make this journey.

He would find out who the traitors were and have them burned alive!