Depression and long-term psychological trauma are your kinks, not mine." He countered drily.
"They could be, if you'd just broaden your horizons." Adrastia sniffed, amused. "But it really would be very convenient for me if you could seduce her and even put a few children in her. I was intending to move things along slower, but in one move you've placed yourself within arm's reach of being the next king's stepfather for all intents and purposes."
"I am philosophically opposed to inbreeding." Harry drolled in response, not at all surprised by the shamelessly selfish request. "There are too many retards and genetic failures in the world as it is."
"You aren't even from the same dimension." She pointed out.
"She's inbred enough for the both of us." He assured.
"You know rituals to abrogate the side-effects."
"I am also philosophically opposed to bailing people out of the consequences of their own stupidity."
Adrastia looked at him silently for a while before she spoke again." You find her boring, don't you?"
"Yep." Harry nodded. "Duller than a blank wall."
"Oh well." She sighed. "I will try to see if there is anything interesting under all that depression and training in decorum, and if not I suppose I will still be able to make some use of the situation."
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8th day of the 7th moon, 272 AC. Braavos, House of Black and White.
The envoy from King's Landing recoiled in shock.
"Surely you jest?" He protested, eyes wide. "The price you ask for is enough to beggar the whole of the Seven Kingdoms for generations!"
"The price is equal to the task." The Faceless Man replied serenely. "You wish the gift to be given to a mighty sorcerer in the heart of his power, where he is rumored to see all and know all."
The Faceless Men also remembered the warning given to them years ago, how someone would eventually come to employ them to kill him, and the consequences should they accept.
An unnecessary warning. The price was equal to the task, and giving the gift to the Sorcerer of Dol Guldur would be by far the greatest task the House of Black and White had ever undertaken. King Aerys would have to pay dearly indeed if he wished them to attempt it.
The envoy sputtered and argued, but the Faceless Man remained unmoved and he had to return to King's Landing to report failure. Aerys was enraged and called for war.
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3rd day of the 8th moon. 272 AC. Red Keep.
Aerys awoke suddenly to a feeling of dread, and found that he could not move his body.
"W-what?" He asked fearfully, gaze darting to and fro in the darkness of his room.
"In light of recent events I thought it was time to accept your invitation to visit." A voice said.
"GUARDS!" Aerys bellowed.
"No sound will leave this room. " The mystery man commented, stepping into the moonlight streaming from the windows.
He was huge, at least as big as Ser Duncan had been, and his bright emerald eyes – far brighter than a Lannister's – glowed in the dark.
"Who are you?" The king demanded, covering fear with anger.
"Me? I'm Harry. And you, my very young friend, seem determined to make a pest of yourself." The man spoke as if he was discussing the weather, but there was an altogether dangerous glint in his eye as he leaned over him. "You know what happens to pests when they get too irritating? They get squashed."
"How dare you?!" I AM THE KING!" Aerys roared.
"And this gives you power over me?" Harry asked in the same mild tone, one hand reaching towards his face.
Aerys could do nothing as fingers pinched his nose shut and the palm covered his mouth, making it impossible to breathe. He couldn't even thrash as his lungs began to burn.
Terror consumed his mind and he didn't even notice as he lost control of his bowels. He was going to die!
And then suddenly the hand was gone and he could breathe again, which he did, desperately gulping down air.
"You sent your sister to turn the dragons I hatched into tools for your childish power trips. A foolish endeavour, doomed to failure from the start, so I took her and considered it fair, but you seem to disagree. Now I'm here to propose a new arrangement. Stop bothering me or I'll kill you. Fair?"
Aerys wanted to rage and scream and call for the wizard's head, but fear from his recent brush with death had him nodding meekly. "F-fair."
"I'm glad we understand each other." Harry said brightly, roughly slapping the immobile king's cheek. "You know, I don't usually renegotiate terms, I just kill people when they try to prove how hard they are, but you've already sent out a call to war and there's a chance that all those lordly idiots would decide to go ahead with it for some reason even with you dead. Isn't it funny how you're only still breathing because it's less hassle for me to have you call that nonsense off?"
Aerys felt another jolt of fear travel up his spine as it was made abundantly clear just how little this man, this wizard, thought of Westerosi nobility and royalty. He would cut them all down as if they were mere smallfolk.
He did not reply and the Sorcerer seemed satisfied with that, as he simply nodded and vanished into thin air.
Aerys felt control of his body return to him and he surged out of bed, pacing his room madly. He didn't even notice that his night gown was soiled.
There would be no more sleep for him that day.
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In the following days and weeks, the nobles of Westeros were confused to receive word that the call to war had been cancelled. But then, they had been confused to receive it in the first place as the reasons had not been explained. Many would worry that the king could some day start a war on a passing whim.
If there was one saving grace for Aerys, it was the fact that almost no one knew what had truly happened to Queen Rhaella, as Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan had told only him and he had told only his Hand. Most assumed she had died on the quest she had been sent on, which, while doing great damage to his reputation, was not as bad as them knowing that she had been taken by Harry and insisting that they should make war on him in misguided outrage.
The entire experience left Aerys' mental state more precarious than ever, however. He banished all his mistresses in a fit of suspicion, ordered that the castle's ravens be watched for any 'suspicious behavior', needed at least one of the Kingsguard to be in the room with him overnight or he was unable to sleep, would often consult with Pycelle on what foul scheme the Sorcerer may be conducting and became obsessively pious in the hope that the Seven could protect him from said schemes.
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16th day of the 4th moon, 275 AC. Winterfell.
Today was the day. Benjen had recently had his eighth nameday, which was the usual age at which boys were sent to foster. Havel had accepted his proposal and Rickard was pleased. Everything was going well.
"If Benjen can go why can't I?!"
Except of course, for his willful little she-wolf of a daughter that wasn't happy about being left all by herself in Winterfell.
Rickard sorely regretted ever telling her about how things were in Angmar. Specifically, he regretted mentioning that women could train to fight if they wanted without anyone voicing even a hint of disapproval. It was encouraged even, as the Angmari placed great value on self-reliance.
He could almost hear his beloved wife laughing at him from beyond the grave for not seeing this coming. Even as a little girl, Lyanna had been almost as wild as Brandon, and had always wanted to play with swords instead of learning how to sew. He should have expected this.
"Lyanna, daughter, the arrangement was made for Benjen, I cannot simply send you along as well without asking." Rickard had little faith that his argument would sway her, but he had to try.
"Then ask." Lyanna said petulantly, crossing her arms with an angry pout.
He could just order her to drop the matter, but she reminded him so much of Lyarra that he had always indulged her. Which was probably why she was being so bratty now.
A guardsman entered the room then, looking a little out of breath.
"My lord, the envoy from Angmar, she is here!" The man said urgently.
She? Rickard wondered, but that thought was quickly wiped from his mind when his little fiend of a daughter got a certain glint in her eye and dashed towards the courtyard.
"Lyanna!" He shouted, only to be ignored.
Rickard ran after her, but his longer legs were apparently no match for a nine-year-old girl's energy.
The worst part about these visits from Angmar might actually be the lack of warning. It was impossible to prepare if your guests could travel so fast that they outpaced any news of their arrival.
By the time he made it to the courtyard, Lyanna was already being cradled in the arms of an enourmously tall golden-haired woman with eyes of luminous moonlight and a corresponding silver crescent moon marking on her forehead. She seemed completely unconcerned with the guardsmen pointing weapons at her from a few feet away or their orders to release Lyanna.
To be fair, Lyanna didn't look at all distressed. More like awed, even. It was just terribly improper to be handling the daughter of a noble House like that.
Typical of Angmar.
"Father!" Lyanna shouted excitedly when she saw him. "This is Lady Luna, she says she came to take Benjen to Isengard on her flying cloud! And she said that I could go too if you agree."
Luna?! Rickard could only stare with a slack jaw. He'd met Harry's wife during his one and only visit to Isengard and she had certainly not been taller than Lord Umber back then. How does a grown woman gain nearly two feet in height?
A nervous shuffle reminded his household guard was still pointing weapons at her.
"Stand down, men." He ordered belatedly, hoping that his blunder would go unnoticed.
"Hello, Rickard." Luna greeted cheerfully, setting Lyanna down and striding towards him.
Rickard was only slightly surprised when she pulled him into a hug, but he was very surprised to find himself unable to stop her as she mashed his face into her much enlarged breasts.
"It's so good to see you again." She cooed. "I'm sorry about your dad. Edwyle was a good boy."
Rickard was embarrassed beyond words. Luna's habbit of hugging people had been bad enough when she stood at 5'2'', now it was just outright humiliating.
It didn't help that he could hear the guardsmen and even his bloody steward sniggering at him after they got over their shock.
They were magnificent breasts, though.
"Thank for your kind words, my lady." He said with whatever dignity there was left to be salvaged, trying to pull away from the embrace. "When Havel said that someone would come to take Benjen to Angmar, I was not expecting such a distinguished escort."
"It would be silly to spend almost two moons traveling when I could just fly him there in an hour or so." Luna said brightly, finally letting go. "We're friends, after all."
An hour. Nearly a thousand miles lay between Winterfell and Dol Guldur, and they could traverse it in an hour. That just might be the most terrifying thing about Angmar that Rickard had heard to date.
"Indeed." He gave a strained smile.
"Can I go, Father?" Lyanna cut in, staring up at him with sparkling grey eyes.
Rickard felt his resolve crumble. Had he not hoped that Benjen would find himself a bride among the Sorcerer's grandchildren? Even if Angmar disdained arranged marriages, such a thing would bind their two kingdoms closer together. If Lyanna went as well, then that would double the chances of it happening.
But he also could not be seen to favor Angmar too much, lest he upset his vassal lords. With talks underway about a bethrothal to Hoster Tully's eldest daughter for Brandon, he was already taking a risk in that direction.
And it would be highly irregular to send a girl to foster.
"Lyanna, as my first and only daughter, there are things you need to know that you can only learn in Winterfell." Rickard prevaricated.
"I could just bring her up for visits." Luna offered helpfully. "She could stay for one week, er...tenday out of every moon."
"Please, Father." Lyanna pleaded, somehow managing to look even more imploring.
"I...very well." Rickard sighed, conceding defeat. What was the worst that could happen?
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