Harry blinks, but quickly shuts his eyes as bright white light harasses him.
A pained groan echoes throughout the strange realm before the wizard covers his face and tucks his face in between his legs.
The last thing he remembers was dueling a dark wizard he needed to take down, being the head of auror's made him more of a desk worker, so he'll let himself off the hook for not dodging the diffindo, though he hopes Hermione doesn't bring him back to kill him again.
"Your thoughts always amuse me master" a soft voice filled his ears.
The instincts honed from a life of survival have him snapping his eyes open forcing himself to adjust to the brightness, and blanches towards the one who spoke and is standing before his person. The height of their being towering over his sitting person.
At least this time he's not greeted by Dumbledore.
However, thinking about the last time he appeared at this…place that can only be called limbo. He shutters as the cold tile presses against his back and sits up. If he remembers correctly, scrunching up his nose and concentrating Harry wills himself to be clothed, dutifully ignoring the pulse of amusement from the being before him.
He feels relief as the robes curl around his form. He has died, now three times.
Sure he'll miss everyone, but after Hogwarts was rebuilt everyone tried to stay in touch, but with everyone being so busy and his relationship with Ginny deteriorating until they split it's not much of a sadness.
The Weasley's drifted away from him after the breakup and he understands that Ginny is the little girl of the family, so he can't fault them for siding with her. He had broken the girl's heart and ended the relationship. He had not been feeling the emotions or connection he had since he came back from Voldemort's Avada Kedavra. Especially when it became clear to him that he was only pushing himself to love her so he could gain a family.
Harry knew it wasn't fair to Ginny.
"Death?…" Harry asks wary, trying to push his thoughts away, instinctively knowing who's in front of him.
"Death that is I and you little one are my Master." The entity says so simply but the intense energy coming from the deity tells him that the personification of death is very much happy.
'Master?' He mentally despairs.
'Not another Doby!'
He jolts upon feeling foreign amusement startles.
He looks towards the deity and calms his mind with unneeded breaths, with clearer thoughts he notices and feels a connection humming between the being and him.
Hermione's rambles come to mind as he vaguely remembers her going on about the beetle and the bard, but with all the actions involving his life, he can give himself some leniency for forgetting about that nor thinking it's anything credible, besides a fable.
Right?
But he's here, and the other is that no one can fake the essence of death, at least his instincts tell him that.
"Dobby the elf who sacrificed himself for you, quite the character"
"Master, it's so good to see you, unfortunate that it came so soon." The deity continues on their form ever-shifting and their voice ever-changing.
'Stop calling me master' he mentally screams
The deity seems to sigh before giving him a look of patience:
"Little one" and now he wants Master back. The endearment coming from such an entity makes him feel mortified. What is that, a smirk?
"You have a peculiar situation being my master" the being continues ignoring the narrowing of HarryMs eyes
He is tired, can't he just rest?
The being hums contemplatory, probably listening to his thoughts.
"Little one," the being says, tapping him on his forehead as he is guided to sit down. "You are my master,"
They turn to him, "You, little one, don't have to do anything, or you can do anything."
"You're not bound by the mort plane anymore. You are me. My person, my extension in the physical realm, should you choose to enact it."
"We are nothing and everything, anyone and no one."
'Everything and nothing?'
"The Beginning and the end spiraling in a never-ending cycle of balance." It comes out of him from nowhere.
"Exactly," the deity seems pleased, " And they say Hermione was the smart one" death teases, and that alone jars Harry.
The fact that the being knows Hermione-
"Death knows all" and yeah he feels stupid.
" Little one" Death says, seeming to sense or read his mind.
Inhaling, and hesitantly he asks, "Can I see my parents? Remus?…Sirius" finished meekly.
He knows that he barely had any time with Sirius, but the man who was one of the first adults gave him hope that there were people who cared about him more than what he could offer as the Boy who lived.
They give him a long look, "If you choose to stay in my realm you'll be able to meet them again" before he can rejoice that the being continues "Unfortunately, Sirius won't be there.
Death continues at his panicked look, "Sirius' situation is more difficult, seeing as the fool fell through the Veil."
"why you mortals think it's a good idea to leave it open so blatantly I'll never understand." The casual mention of one of his greatest regrets causes a jolt to pierce his heart.
"It seems that a group of deities from across the pond have taken your dear godfather wishing to have a wizard in their grasp, foolishly not realizing the man would need a way to channel his magic."
Sirius was kidnapped by the gods.
He never should have rushed into things.
He's so mad at himself. He wishes, no he wants to see Sirius again. While he loves his parents, it's Sirius who gave him the slip of hope that he would have an adult who took his well-being seriously.
Remus was only really a teacher and never crossed the boundaries until it was too late and he had just shut everyone out. Too afraid to lose anyone else, and then he went and got killed too.
He thinks of Teddy for a split second, before remembering how he will have Luna and Neville and will be fine.
He'd do anything to hear that barking laugh again, the laugh that gave him hope for the first time.
"Anything?" Death purrs, interrupting his thoughts.
"Even go to another world?"
"A new universe, You could see Sirius again."
"He's still alive" That makes his heart beat fast.
"How!" He shouts.
"Please he- it's Sirius" he feels tears gather as desperation fills him.
What if he is being tortured at this moment, or-
"Now," the being interrupted, "Sirius has been taken to a very particular realm."
Harry feels intrigued despite his high emotions, "This place has an unusual fixation with death and seems to love fucking my role up, the line between life and death in this world is on the brink of breaking."
Harry isn't even gonna try and grasp the fact that there is more than his universe, almost nothing can surprise him much anymore.
Death continues, "This place, world of you will, that Sirius has landed himself in is so saturated with death that even I can't track the man down any further than the planet he is placed on."
"The deities who took Sirius have been trying to cloak him from me, but the inferior gods of trees had no match to the eyes of death."
"This…place." He pauses, unsure of how to address a whole nother universe.
"What does this have to do with Sirius?" He decides to ask what's more important in his mind.
The being stares at him like they can read his very soul, which is most likely. If he's to be honest.
"Your precious dog-man is currently in one of the most deadly times this strange world has ever seen in over 8 thousand of their years." The deity intones with a seriousness that makes him unconsciously straighten.
"Planetos, the name of the world in which Sirius resides is stuck in what you would call the medieval era, Kings and Queens, slavers, and all the diseases a man could ask for." They end with mock cheer, even going so far as to do jazz hands.
"Slaves?" He can't help but repeat with disgust, watching as the being seems to give him a dark grin.
"Oh, yes." Death is cynical.
"The continent called Essos practically industrialized slave trade." The deity says simply, though Harry can snese a distaste for the 'practice'.
"Fortunately there's hope, for the continent beside them who are against the practice, so maybe they'll figure it out like your world eventually will."
'Will!?'
"Back to your little mutt." Death says waving his hand as if to throw away his rambles.
"If you want to see your dogfather, you're gonna have to step into the middle of a war." The being levels him with a stern glance, "as my physical representation. I have one task for you, should you decide to go,"
"Balance, create some sense of balance."
"You're in a position where you can change the fate of their world should you do it."
"I know it's a lot to ask especially since you've already saved one world, but I think this will be good for you master, both for your wish of finding your silly dog man and because I think you'll find a place in this world that will make you truly happy."
Truly happy?
"What is the place you said that didn't support slavery?" He asks warily, shuddering as the deity grins like a cat who caught the canary.
"Sounds to me that you've already made your decision"
"For Sirius," Harry says determinedly. After those words were spoken he felt a familiar, but more intense tugging sensation than Aparation on his person.
The last thing he sees is Death wiggling their bone-like fingers as he's sent off to the place who knows where, the only thing he cares for is the fact that Sirius is there.
He realized he never asked for more information on the world he's being sent off to, all he knows is the name of a country and the fact that there were castles.
Sounds like Hogwarts all over again.
Blinking his eyes open he squints as everything seems blurry and larger than he's used to.
With great difficulty, Harry tilts his head and tries to around only to pause as strands of silver locks invade his vision.
The face that meets his is of a delicate-looking lady, with beautiful pale silver hair the smile on her face makes his heart flutter despite the confusion.
'Why does she look so big?' Is he the child of a giant?
Or is he a baby again?
"My, aren't your eyes just beautiful my sweet," her soft voice meets his ear as a hand caresses his cheek.
"I'm sure you'd give the Lannisters a run for their money, with how vibrant your eyes are my little rose," Harry scrunches his nose as he looks up at her confused at the Lannister's comment.
He gurgles, yes gurgles when he attempts to speak, of course being a baby makes him incapable. He is interrupted upon getting a sloppy kiss on the cheek for his cuteness, making him marvel as he's manhandled with such care.
His disoriented mind is still adjusting to his new predicament.
"You're so cute!"
"I just know Olenna won't be able to say anything negative about you, my perfect little one." She murmured as he tucked into her breast he would deny that he sought the comfort of the woman, not understanding what was happening.
He can hear the voice of a man speak outside the doors of the room they are in, though the room is surprisingly huge.
Making him wonder just which home he's in.
"My love, Alerie sweetling, I'm so glad you're well." Harry watches as what can only be described as an oaf walks in with a flamboyant step.
The plump man reaches them and leans down to press a kiss to his wife's head before meeting and giving Harry a toothy grin that makes his heart flutter.
The loud man picks him up with a surprising amount of gentle care.
"Oh, mace I've been through this two times already, and the Maester said this was the most healthy pregnancy he's seen, said we are blessed by the maiden if he was a believer." The woman says with a hearty swoon.
Harry listened to them absently in favor of admiring the fine work on the man's shirt, especially all the intricate weaving of what looked like real gold thread.
"Yes, yes, but you're my wife, and I can't help it if I worry for you, my dear."
"Now who do we have here?" The man holding him asks, bringing Harry's attention to his new father, Mace, as he speaks to Harry.
"Look at those eyes, hah!" The loudness of the man's voice makes him wince but it's nothing in the face of such adoration.
"What's this commotion about some eyes?" A stern voice that rivals McGonagall's speaks up making the man holding him spin making him face to face with the speaker.
The old woman is short in stature, but he can tell that she isn't one to trifle with.
"Ah, mother!" Harry can feel a headache pulse as the exuberant man bounces to the aforementioned mother.
"This is…" Mace pauses looking back towards their wife, while pausing causing him to hold Harry out like a child would present a kitten, by the armpits with his leg dangling listlessly.
"Darling, did you ever decide on a name?" Mace asks, making Harry realize what's happening.
"I thought you'd like to name him since you let me name our other boys," he hears his new mother speak, as that's the only logical conclusion he can come up with.
"Oh, well I don't know, I thought you'd have come up with a name." His new father says with a stupefied look holding Harry to his face as he seems to think hard.
Is Harry imagining steam coming off of the man's face?
"Oh you big oaf, give me the little lad," he hears his new grandmother speak, and the man doesn't hesitate to comply, showing Harry just who runs the house.
He is acquainted with a face of wrinkles that somehow stay elegant despite the permanent frown on the old woman's face that seems to soften as she stares into his eyes.
"I'm half tempted to have you named Tytos, just to see the look on Tywin's face, are you sure you didn't sleep with a Lannister?" The old woman shrewdly asks his new mother.
"Mother!" His new father interjects
The powerful old lady merely titters, "Relax I'm only jesting,"
"Our dear Haedrian has your Buffoon of a father's hair or I'll eat my headwraps." She says gently cascading her fingers through his hair as she walks over to his mother.
"Besides if I thought for a second this baby wasn't yours I'd have had her drinking moons tea before she even knew she'd been pregnant."
After a second of silence and being settled into his new mother's arms he lets the old woman's voice wash over him as exhaustion washes over his person
"…so Haedrian, our little Haedrian Tryell, the new rose of Highgarden" she speaks.
"What will you do?"
"I hope you're not another bumbling oaf like your father."
"Mother," the whine of his new father makes him crack a sleepy smile allowing sleep to take hold of him, enjoying the warmth of his new mother as she gently caresses his back with hypnotic strokes.
'Haedrian Tyrell, huh?'
Could be worse.
Turns out he isn't just simply in a fancy house. The room Harry is currently in is the size of the Gryffindor homeroom alone.
The family apartments or the family wing is set deep within the massive maze of a castle. The tapestries and amount of luxuries surrounding him is a little overwhelming, with all the colors and all the jewels.
Whoever his family is, they must be rich.
He'd love to see Malfoy's reaction to his new humble abode.
His new home is called Highgarden.
He finds that name appropriate when he is able to explore the castle and see its glory on full scale. The great keep is riddled with gardens and thorny shrubs that converge to form a massive congregation of mazes surrounding the entire place. As much as he wishes he could, he never hated the gardening aspect of his chores, even with the beating sun. He knows he'll find himself falling in love with all the flora that surrounds him.
It's been two weeks since his rebirth. He's not certain on the date, as his new family doesn't seem to call the new day anything.
They don't seem to go by an equivalent of the Christian calendar, but instead follow the phases of the moon to tell them when the month is over. They only document things through years not days. This world does have hours, being called an 'hours of the day' using candles to keep track of said time. His personal favorite is the hour of the wolf, striking at the darkest time of the night.
Mainly because it's a connection to his teacher, Remus, who he hopes is at peace with his parents.
He quickly finds out that he is the youngest of three boys, his older brothers being introduced to him a few days after the strange man with a chain of links draping his person stating it was safe. Harry never had siblings so he's curious to see how their relationship will unfold, hopefully he doesn't have another Dudley experience.
His oldest brother by seven years is a surprisingly intelligent boy, in the future he suspects Willas will become a powerful figure when he grows as the heir to Highgarden. The future paramount of the Reach, he learns later that it means his brother will rule over the land their family reigns over.
His second oldest brother is closer to his age by being only three years old to his two weeks. He is a giant compared to his older brother who seems to barely stand taller than the younger boy.
Garlan is an exuberant one, reminding him of Ron if the brash man was a small child. He knows from the few interactions he's had with his new siblings that he can see the way his brother, Garlan, is smarter than he portrays, having a serious knack for being able to manipulate the staff into catering to his wants.
Harry only knows cause he could see the smug smile as the small boy ducks his head when they bend to his demands.
He already loves them, despite the short time he's been with them. He can feel and tell how excited they are to have him, it causes a warm feeling to erupt every time. Especially when Garlan declares he'll become the greatest knight so he can keep his baby brother safe from all the monsters in the dark.
He turns his head upon hearing the door click open into his room.
The size of it he finds to be obnoxious for a baby, but he's not gonna complain when he's being treated with actual decency this time. Even despite his reservations against having servants he can admit it's very helpful with his lack of mobility.
The servants are so kind with how attentive they are. The young maiden, he thinks that is the proper term that his new dad called the blushing girl is currently rewinding his little baby mobile.
The flowers dangling on it being made out of jewels and metal that he knows cost more than the staff's entire wardrobe.
The thing is able to spin for about an hour, he knows having counted out of boredom.
He turns his attention towards the small girl as she finishes with the task only to speak in a hushed voice. "The maiden sure has blessed our lord with you little one."
"Especially with those eyes of yours," The girl, only ten and four, stares down at the baby barely lit by the candle in her grasp. If she was just a little more aware she would have seen the intelligence behind said eyes peering back at her through the slit.
"I pray to the stranger, he doesn't take you too soon." She murmurs with a sweet smile full of kindness. One given by those who have experienced the worst and still don't let it destroy. She backs away never noticing the small babe who pulls himself up to stare at her retreating back. More specifically at the scars littering her shoulder peeking through the light fabric worn in the more humid climate of Reach.
Harry severely hopes those who caused those nasty scars on the sweet child's back are dead, because if he ever finds out who they aren't, he'll kill them personally.
After hermione was almost raped by that dirty scum bag disguised as a wolf in human form he has gotten a very particular hate towards those who force themselves on others.
Not to say he wouldn't have stopped them before, just it's personal for him now.
He remembers every panicked breath she would have when waking from a nightmare.
Harry took great pleasure in personally putting down the rabid thing himself, having caught Fenrir when he was trying to flee the country having used the distraction of Voldemort's demise to escape. The alpha was in sure shocked when the famed golden boy used a nasty crucio on him. He felt it was his due.
He actually can understand why Tommy boy liked using it so much as he watched the big bad alpha wither and piss himself under the curse.
Even he didn't do that.
His only regret is not using it on Bellatrix, but figured it wasn't worth the risk of being labeled the next dark lord.
Harry had always had a darker hidden aspect to him. He just always knew those precious to him wouldn't like the more unsavory part of him. The parts that would do anything to protect what he loves.
It had been easy with the Dursley's giving him great practice, forcing him to mold into a perfect chore boy. When in Hogwarts he just tweaked it to keep himself in the image that they wished, the golden boy who would be reckless in his quest to survive.
If there is one thing he knows is he doesn't have to worry about anyone being scared of his darker qualities in this world. Men get their hands chopped off for stealing bread. It reminds him of England during the feudal days.
He suspects if he requested a man to be hung they would just because he's the lord's son no matter the crime, or lack thereof. Not that he'd ever condemn an innocent to death, but he isn't the kind eleven year old boy looking for friendship and more anymore. He is achingly familiar with the fact that death will always be a factor when there is war.
Too exhausted to fight his instincts he lets the gentle chiming of a lullaby lull him into unconsciousness.
Harry lets out an impatient sigh as his mother who is swelled with a new child sits next to him on a floral accented bench, while he sits on the floor, absently playing with the blocks. He uses it to keep his body occupied while he listens to the conversation over him.
The rhythmic sound of the needle being threaded as his mother uses her nimble fingers to stitch what looks like a rose in attached to a ringlet holding the cloth tight.
Looking towards his two older brothers, who are getting lessons from the maester, he can't help but feel useless. His father had left for war a little over three moons ago. He worries for the oaf, despite the obnoxiousness, Mace is still his father and Harry has slowly come to adore the man and his antics.
The two years he's had with his new family has been so shocking, being a Tyrell he is coming to learn isn't something that is forced. The family is one of love, which is rare for a noble house.
His grandmother loves Mace despite his shortcomings. It is obvious, she just uses jabs as a love language.
The old woman is sharper than Dumbledore he swears.
"Good mother, is everything alright?" The delicate voice that accompanies his mother makes him pay more attention, keeping his ear on the conversation.
He watches as Olenna raises her stern eyes and stops writing to focus on his mother, the frown lines on her face deepen as she reveals her frustrations, "It's nothing truly dear, your oaf of a husband has stated he's been successful in his siege of Storm's End."
"Unfortunately someone had been able to smuggle onions of all things into the castle so the siege will most likely hold out for another fortnight or more," she speaks more to herself than his mother.
"I see, so he's not gonna be back in time for the babe?" He lets his eyes close slowly as his innocent mother focuses on that, more than the fact that this needless war is being further prolonged.
"If you weren't my sons wife," he can hear the exasperation in his grandmother's voice as she goes on to placate his mother, who is vastly different from his past life's mother, Lily.
Who was said to be one of the brightest.
Lets just say his parents are two peas in a pod.
"That stupid Prince, all he had to do was gather the lords, but nay he goes and runs off with that pup trying to be a wolf."
He lets out a snort at the words of his grandmother, always fond of her wit.
"Oh," he hears mirth in his grandmother as she continues, "were you listening to me Haedrian?"
"Come here, little rose," his grandmother encourages, using the chair's ability to spin to lean down next to her desk, holding out her frail hands.
Glancing at his mother he sees the soft spoken woman has distracted herself with her needlework.
"Gh'ma," he gurgles, the slurring he can't overcome yet.
He excitedly pushes himself onto his feet, flapping his arms when he loses his balance. He pushes himself out of the servants reach not wanting the pretty lady's help. He wants to show his grandmother he can do it on his own. She scoops him up with praise and a surprisingly amount of ease for her age, propping him on her lap. The softness of her dress and headwrap brushing against his head as it dangles onto her bosom.
Tilting his head up he is greeted with a toothless smile mimicking his own two toothed one, "I'm glad you and Willas aren't like your father, if only Garlan lucked out." She muses her potent breath fanning his face, but he ignores it in favor of savoring the affection he was deprived of.
"Bah!" He says smacking his hand onto her chest in defense of his brother.
His grandmother gently pinches his nose, "Insolent brat, I don't love Garlan any less little one," she speaks always as if he can understand her. it's probably the only reason he's not gone insane.
"I just wish for him to have a head when he is grown because this world isn't kind to idiots."
"Especially kind ambitious idiots." She says with a wistful tone.
His brothers arguing drags their attention towards them.
"Yeah!"
"Well, I'm gonna be better than Duncan the Tall!" He hears Garlan declare pointing toward Willas with determination as he stands with a scowl.
"Oh Yeah!" Willas scoffs.
"Well I'm gonna be better than Ser Aurthur of the Morningstar." Willas declares with just as much passion his lanky frame is only slightly taller than Garlan.
"Boy's not in my room, go outside if you want to be hooligans." Olenna interrupts the stuttering fool that is their maester who was failing to attempt to dissolve the situation.
"But-"
"Ser Grant, please escort my two roudy grandchildren to a more appropriate place to be loud, as you can see our dear lady of the house is currently taking a nap." She says, making Harry turn to look at his mother who had fallen asleep on the bench she had been sitting in.
"Yes, my lady, little lords this way please," the aforementioned knight gently guides the two out of the room leaving Harry alone with his grandmother.
His sleeping mother was not forgotten.
"Now, how about we come up with a letter to Lord Tywin, I'm curious to see why the big bad Lion hasn't helped his best friend and king in this dire time." Olenna muses, resituating him on her hip while calling a servant for some fresh parchment paper.
"A Stark must always be in Winterfell," the young boy mutters. His long face is decorated with a ferocious scowl. He spoke with a mocking tone towards his brother who stated that as he left him to babysit his new wife and soon to be child. Laying in his room he glares up at his stone ceiling imagining his brother's face. He
understands why, but feels useless just standing here while they fight for revenge.
He's tired, and angry.
He thought he was through with dealing with this, finding out his brother had been strangled trying to save their father from being burnt alive, it made him think back to the time from before.
Chasing after the stupid rat instead of making sure his godson was safe.
He regrets a lot of things, but he will most regret not letting Harry know he sees him as Harry and not just a replacement for James. Harry was the only reason he caught the oppressing aura that the dementors push onto you.
He pushes forward despite the temptation to just end it and join his friends.
He lives and endures, pushing on.
"Harry, I hope you're happy." He whispers still not used to his younger voice despite being in this world for ten and seven years.
He hopes Harry lives a long life and finds happiness.
Dreaming is something Harry both loved and loathed, he loved the good ones but hated the nightmares. The ones that cause sweat to cover his body and dread settling in his stomach long after waking up. The nightmares are the normal ones, involving his many counts of near deaths and true deaths. The mundane ones.
This one is different, as the first thing he registers in this dream is the sheer coldness. A biting cold that teeths into your skin like frosted daggers made of winter prickling down your spine.
The barren winter land before him doesn't draw his attention, no what does is the three eyes upon the raven above him perched on the tree closest to him.
Their red eyes of theirs peering into his own green ones.
After a moment of silence, the creature tilts its head before cawing as it takes flight only to land on his shoulder. He mentally thanks Hedwig for his expertise and experience with birds perching themselves on his person unexpectedly, naturally shifting his shoulder to accommodate the clawed foot of the strange raven clutches his shoulder.
"Fool," the blasted thing dares to caw to him in greeting, making him quirk a brow.
"I don't need a dream raven to tell me I'm a fool." He states dryly, lifting his hand to shove the thing off.
"I had enough of that in my past life, what is it you want?" He asks, watching as the creature squawks in the air indignantly as it retreats to its perch, ruffling its feathers. The dramatics make Harry want to roll his eyes, instead, he takes in his surroundings more thoroughly. A densely wooded forest surrounds him while the tree with red leaves and a face that isn't much to be desired is carved on the trunk, an ugly face with red sap seeping from its eyes.
"You fool, you fool." The thing repeats the distorted tone making its mockery eerie.
The screeching is getting on his nerves so with great concentration Harry closes his eyes trying to think of a new scenario, hoping his mind will cooperate with him.
"Still here." The thing caws smugly as Harry opens his eyes in dismay, seeing the same surroundings.
"pretender." The thing caws.
"Fake child."
"Too much power," The raven's red eyes flare as it screeches these words, their tail feathers flick in agitation.
Harry straightens at that, truly looking at the bird. An oppressive feeling rises in the air as his magic pools in anticipation towards its master's will, "and just how do you know this?"
"And this one?" The nameless Maester brings him out of his reminiscing. Harry will admit he's not taken the time to remember the maesters name. The old man asks him about one of the noble houses while pointing towards their sigil.
Focusing on said sigil he takes in the figure of a red-clothed man standing with a bow drawn, surrounded in a green field.
"The Tarly's?" He states dutifully, thanking his adult mind for being able to retain the information much easier. Truly between his adult intelligence and the elasticity of a child's neurons, it makes him able to retain anything he learns, likening it to pseudo photographic memory.
Makes for a weird experience.
"Very good, young lord." The dull reply makes him withhold a bored sigh. He wishes he didn't have to sit through these lessons, but understands the necessity.
Pressing his cheek to his palm as the man drones on, Harry turns his gaze back towards the window looking down into the courtyard where his older brothers are practicing. He watches with envy as they train for the upcoming tourney.
"Young lord, I know this isn't of interest to you, but you must learn these things." The man speaks his aged voice thinly veiling his impatience as he continues with a placating tone.
"If you can tell me the next three houses, I'll permit you to leave lessons early." That makes him perk up, looking over towards the aged man as he gives Harry a prude smile.
Truthfully, nothing beats classes with Snape in terms of disparity.
"Alright, Maester." He pushed extra excitement hoping the man would let him go after two houses.
"Come on! Is that all you got?" Willas says, his willowy frame dodging the incoming thrust from his younger brother's wooden sword.
Willas a lanky teen of ten and four easily stepping out of the way of Garlan's swing brutish. The pudgy boy, who soon will eventually turn the chub into pure muscle and be a maiden's wet dream, is not giving up despite his brother's advantage in both height and agility.
"Gah!" Willas feels a grin stretch at the frustrated growl coming from his younger brother. Especially as he continues to step out of Garlan's reach, while playfully smacking his sword against his brother's undefended areas.
"Dammit, Stop fucking moving!" Garlan whines as he slams his sword into the ground where Willas had been moments ago.
Language," Willas chides, bringing up his sword to protect his face when Garlan throws him a particularly nasty swing in retaliation.
The vibrations from catching his brother's blade rippled up his arms as they stood in a stalemate. Willas is more agile than Garland, but his brother has a surprising amount of strength. Looking past his sparring partner he lifts his gaze to lock on the approaching mischief that is Haedrian, or Harry as the family affectionately calls him.
Harry is being escorted by one of their house's servants. Which isn't a surprise, the whole castle is absolutely enamored with his brother. Not that he can't blame them, feeling the same swell of affection but amplified as the young boy's face lights up as he catches sight of his brothers, Willas and Garlan.
Willas can understand just how easily those bright eyes can entrap someone, having been a victim of them for plenty of time.
He swears they even work on grandmother.
He steps back Garlan doing the same as he turns and notices what he had gotten distracted, both turning their attention to the fiery young boy whose compassion and heart outshines all others.
"Willy! That was awesome!" Willas flushes, he can't help it.
He isn't one to be boastful. Even as he allows the swell of pride to spring forth, the feeling happens whenever his family praises him, but it's Harry especially whose approval he adores.
"I can't wait till I'm able to wield a real sword!" Harry exclaims, upon reaching them the servant bows and returns to their task. Trusting and knowing the knights can keep them safe. Willas gives his brother a blank stare watching as Harry puts on an innocent face acting like they haven't stumbled upon him practicing with steel. They only kept it secret because they weren't able to deny their brother anything.
The strange weapon he was using was a silly needle-like sword that couldn't do much in real combat. Their brother called it fencing, something about it being suitable for fine-tuning his dexterity. Such an odd term, then again their brother isn't the most normal child.
Not that it matters, the Tyrells have always been eccentric and put family above silly things like religion. It's why no one bats an eye with their uncle and his friend, who are more than meets the eye.
Waving his hand he motions for Harry to join, giving Garlan that says, to hold back his swings, as they are going to let their little brother join their mock spar.
"Wanna join?" Willas asks, not bothering to turn back as he hears the excited 'yes!'
Oberyn lets his gaze turn from the flickering banners of roses, the sigil of the Reach, of the Tyrells.
Sitting on the giant horse that dwarfs the young little lordling. One, who he guesses is barely growing his chest hair. The lad is even smaller than his figure at ten and four years old. The shine of the boy's armor gleamed like a fresh babe, bare to the word, showing everyone just how green the boy was.
'Not a single mare is on the child's armor.' He wishes to be facing actual competition, not a tragedy waiting to happen. Looking past the pale-faced boy, he sweeps his snake-like eyes across the viewing section.
He catches sight of the fool who has allowed this to happen, wearing his infamous house colors, the plump form of Mace. The imbecile seems to be boasting about the poor child he's facing if the man's hand movements are any indication.
Mace's flamboyant gestures almost smack the unfortunate lord who's unfortunate enough to be sitting next to the oaf lord, in the face. Though it's not the fat lord who keeps his attention.
No, it's the anxious bright green eyes that seem to pull him in. He can't help but give the young boy a small smile, wondering how he'll react since Oberyn is his brother's opponent. To his surprise, he receives a deep calculated look, a look that is too old for such a face, though it disappears in light of a solemn smile.
Unfortunately, the Fat King drags his attention away before he can analyze why such a look entered the young boy's eyes.
the king's loud voice carried across the area, the serving girl on his lap winced at the volume, "Hurry it up!"
Oberyn has to restrain the urge to shove his spear into the fat pig's gut, the only consolidation is how miserable the royal couple seems.
"Begin!" The king shouts, and with that, he proceeds to ruin a child's future. He can practically see the moment the boy's arm falters as the weight of the lance becomes too much.
The jolt of the horse overpowered his undeveloped frame, with a curse Oberyn tried to aim his lance at the least lethal area he could find, hoping the boy's armor would shield the fragile frame of the boy. A boy who's younger than his daughter, his precious Obara.
The sickening sound of his lance hitting the boy's chest will resonate in his head for a long while, haunting his dreams. Oberyn can only watch with numbness as Willas, a brave boy who he will give the respect of a warrior.
Willas crumbles onto the ground with his leg bent at an awkward angle. Everyone is silent as they all stare at the broken form, laying still the horse he had been on coming to a stop just as it passed Oberyn.
"WILLY!" The scream jolts him out of his shock.
He watches as the even smaller boy seems to leap over the railing separating the audience from the ring, showing impressive agility by landing in a crouch before sprinting towards his, 'willy.'
He can see the other brother staring in disbelief, before following his younger brother, almost stumbling in his haste to reach his unfortunate victim. Despite the sour situation the love displayed before him is heartwarming.
If there is anything Oberyn understands is the love of family.
"Father! Someone, help him!" The desperation is blatant as he cradles his brother's head.
The boy's cries resonate throughout the field. That seems to break the spell as the fool of a father snaps out of his stupid expression, just as Oberyn reaches the two children.
The scared hiccups of the smaller boy hurt his heart.
Mace scrambles out of his shock, screaming, "My boy!"
"Someone get a Maester here, Now!" Oberyn can hear the King shout, but his attention is focused on the gentle muttering of the smallest brother who is trying to be comforting.
Gently placing his hand on both boys' shoulders, he pulls them both back just as the healers rush in, surrounding the unconscious Heir.
"Get your hands off my boys, haven't you done enough." The snarled words of Mace make his hands flinch away.
He straightens and turns towards the fool who spoke, his opinion at the tip of his tongue, fortunately, the youngest seems to get fed up.
"Father! Willas, will he be okay?"
Oberyn doesn't know it, but Haedrian saves him from a headache from the potential screaming match when the oaf of a lord immediately turns his attention towards consoling his children.
A hollow pointless victory.
He leaves them to their own.
His heart was heavy with guilt for this unnecessary incident, if he hadn't seen the genuine concern in the stupid man's gaze he'd have thought Mace was trying to kill his son.
Willas groans as he comes to consciousness. He reaches up to rub his eyes, wincing as his shoulder pops and pulls in a painful way making him stop his attempt.
Squinting in the soft glow of the candlelight, he can tell it's either nighttime or evening.
"Willas?" The timid voice of Harry makes him realize he's not alone on his bed.
He tilts his head down towards Harry on his left side. Harry has his head tucked into Willas uninjured side pressing his nose into his ribs. He can't help but let a smile form as the figure of Garlan shifts on the other side of Harry before a snore echoes throughout the room, making them both giggle quietly.
"What?" Willas croaks out after a moment, the dryness of his throat makes itself known, but he's too relaxed and sore to try and even think of getting out of bed and doesn't feel like having a servant in his space at the moment.
"I'm sorry," Harry says, a hitch in his voice as he burrows into Willas' good side.
"I'm sorry," he repeats, his voice more muffled. Willas shifts when tears start seeping into his shirt as Harry cries solfy.
He lifts both his arms and ignores the pain in his right shoulder as he curls both around his precious brother. Letting a shush noise he presses his mouth on top of Harry's wild hair, taking a deep breath he allows the scent of his brother to soothe his mind and body, "This isn't your fault, I knew this was a possibility when father insisted,"
Sadly, his gentle reassurance seems to go to death's ears as the boy pushes off of him with care.
"No, it's not alright, look at you, Willy!"
"You're leg," Harry hiccups at the end.
"What about it?" Willas asks casually, though internally wincing when looking at his leg, which is wrapped and rested.
At least he can still feel his toes, so he counts that as a win.
Harry lets a scowl form as he gently punches Willas's chest, "How can you be so calm? What about becoming a knight?"
"What about it?" He asks about feeling dissociated from the situation as he watches various emotions go through his brother's eyes. Harry is good at keeping a calm face, but his eyes give away his feelings.
His mind finally clicks onto the issue, and he lets his head dip so he can meet Harry's gaze with seriousness, "Harry, you tried your best." That makes his brother contort with fear as he realizes Willas knows of his secret.
Before his wayward brother can panic he gently flicks him in the forehead, "I know I would be dead right now if it wasn't for you, baby brother."
He felt his soul slip from his body and even heard the snap of his neck as he slammed into the ground, then everything went dark. Reaching up he cups the back of Harry's neck letting a frown form as his brother flinches from his hand. Softly and slowly he guides Harry back into his embrace, enjoying the soothing heat.
"You're my brother, nothing and no one will ever change that. You could be the most vile creature and I'll still love you. That is what family is. In this dark world, we have to hold our own zealously. You having the touch of the stranger is nothing in the face of you being my brother." He states firmly. He runs his good arm across his brother's back mentally willing Harry to relax out of his tenseness and rigidity.
"Nothing, absolutely nothing in this world will ever make me think less of you, you could wish to conquer all of Planetos and I'd support you." He whispers, his voice fading as exhaustion creeps up, he allows himself to relax as Harry relaxes.
"The first time I caught you doing whatever it is you do," the colors alone were mind-boggling, the tales of magic were never as amazing as what he'd seen Harry do.
"I couldn't help, but smile, you were speaking to a snake of all things, a harmless garden snake but a snake still."
"At first I thought you were just being a fearless child, but then I saw the snake obey you." Now he's just rambling for Harry's sake.
"Athena," Harry mumbles into his chest, Willas keeps quiet but tightens his arms showing he's listening.
"That's her name, well what she allowed me to call her." Willas can hear the smile in Harry's voice making him smile in return, he meant it when he told Harry he could conquer the world and he'd support him. Willas knows his wayward brother just wants to be free, like a bird, or maybe a dandelion letting the wind guide him his merry way.
"She sounds lovely, may I ask why you named her-"
"Can you two just shut up? I'm trying to sleep," the grouchy voice of Garlan startled them.
"Harry," Garlan calls sitting up.
"You are our brother, just because you can sprout fire out your ass doesn't change that, and Willas would never blame you for something that is out of your control."
They both just stare at the dark figure of their brother, who seems to be scowling at them. Satisfied Garlan plops back on the bed, before stating, "Now can we go to bed?"
It's quiet for a second, and then Harry's laugh rings throughout the room.
'Thank you' Willas mentally thanks Garlan, who has that effect on them. Sometimes he envies Garlan with his ability to just go with the flow, unlike both Harry and him, who tend to overanalyze.