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The Winter Witch by Kneazle
 Harry Potter & Game of Thrones Xover Rated: T, English, Adventure & Fantasy, [Hermione G., Robb S.] Roose B., Words: 281k+, Favs: 3k+, Follows: 4k+, Published: Oct 16, 2017 Updated: Mar 20 2,575Chapter 5: I:V
The Winter Witch V
Robb nervously stood in front of his Lords and Lady Mormont, having called them to a war meeting before he left to Oxcross in the morning. It was late, and many were eager to retire to bed - but he needed them to be here for Hermione's game-changing addition, and for them to practice using the parchments to be confident and comfortable whilst in battle.
"Well, we're all here now," grumbled Greatjon. "What's this about, Your Highness?"
Robb glanced at Hermione, who stood at his side. In her arms were several bundles of loose parchment, and a box full of what she called "self-inking quills." She was shorter than him, but her presence felt so much larger than often times, he felt so unsure around her. This was one of those times he was unsure of what he could say or do to convince his Lords, especially as magic was far from his understanding.
"Lady Hermione brought to my attention something that could aid us while we are out in battle," began Robb cautiously, looking around the rectangular table. There was some skepticism of course; with the exception of Roose Bolton, the Greatjon, and Karstark, and Robb's own personal guard of Daryn Hornwood, Eddard and Torrhen Karstark, or Dacey Mormont, the rest of the Northern lords only had conjecture and rumours of Hermione's powers.
"But first: does anyone here know what Lady Hermione and I are to speak to you about?" asked Robb, meeting the eyes of his Lords and Lady Maege Mormont. Once they all shook their heads, he continued, "Thank you. Lady Hermione will be distributing pieces of parchment to all of you to take with you into battle."
"If we're to send a raven, My Lord," began Wendel Manderly, a round, robust man with a head full of auburn hair and a neatly-trimmed beard but an impressive moustache atop his lips, "the Maesters with us will have parchment."
Robb nodded. "Yes - of course, but these… are different. Lady Hermione has used her magic on them."
"For what purpose?" asked Maege Mormont, a large older woman with thick brown hair, frowning.
In response, Robb turned to Hermione and let her step forward. She placed her armload down on the tabletop, spreading out the parchment and leaving the box of quills open. She took a deep breath, and then squared her shoulders, thrusting them back as she boldly met the eyes of his Lords around the table.
"This parchment is connected to all the others," she said, punctuating her words quickly and enunciating them sharply. "What is written on one will appear on all, instantaneously, anywhere you are in Westeros." She paused. "I think, anyway. I haven't had time to check the distance."
A few of the lords began to mutter, so Robb cleared his throat. "Would someone like to volunteer?"
"With what?" asked Karstark, his eyes moving from the parchment, to Hermione, to Robb, in a circular motion.
Robb smiled, but it was akin to baring his teeth at the man who had offered his sons to Hermione for marriage; even now, the thought didn't sit well with him and he happily indulged in his spiteful side. "Lord Karstark, wonderful! If you could take one of the pieces of parchment and leave the room?"
The man stiffened, the lines in his face deepening as he tried to figure out whether he was being singled out for insult, or honour. However, he strode forward, and with a nod to Lady Hermione, took one of the parchments and left the room.
She turned to him, her amber eyes wide and bright, reflecting the reds and oranges of the fire behind them. Robb did as they had arranged earlier, when she tested the parchment with him in his study. He reached into the box of her self-inking quills, and to the amazement of his northmen, immediately put the quill to paper without dipping it into an inkwell. Black ink spread across the parchment.
Does this satisfy your curiosity, Lord Karstark? he wrote in his scrawl, and then held it up for people to read. A few squinted, the ones in the back, but the closest ones began to murmur. Then, he wrote another line: You can return to the room.
Seconds later, Karstark stormed back into the war room, his eyes feverishly bright and shouted, "I WANT THREE OF THESE!"
Beside him, Hermione preened as the murmurs grew in noise.
Groups broke up then: a few meandered towards Hermione, who took the parchment Robb had and was demonstrating with a crowd, with Karstark's lying side-by-side near the far end of the table, each giddy with the implications.
Bolton and Karstark, however, stood near Robb along with Greatjon, Lord Mallister, Lord Halys Hornwood, and Lord Robett Glover.
"Quite the ingenious idea, Your Majesty," said Karstark, the white of his beard trembling under his jaw as it moved when he spoke.
Robb turned his head slightly towards the man, all the while keeping Hermione in his sight as she enthusiastically waved one of the self-inking quills around. "It was Lady Hermione's idea, my Lord."
Above his head, Bolton, Karstark, and the Greatjon shared a looked. Lord Mallister, a Riverlands Lord sworn to Robb's mother's family, as well as his Northern lords, Hornwood and Glover frowned.
"Are we sure it is wise to trust this witch?" asked Glover in a low voice.
"You think her parchments and quills will ensnare and bewitch us?" jeered Greatjon, eyeing the man that his family had a minor feud with, his lip curled back.
"She's a witch," protested the other Lord, spitting out the words. His eyes were dark in the flickering light of the fireplace and torches on the walls. "Who knows what they are capable of?"
Robb nearly recoiled at the venom in the man's voice, blinking in surprise. Lady Hermione has given us something that will aid us in battle - more secure than any raven, and something that we can use to our advantage over our enemies. How is this something bad? His eyes narrowed on the man, and Lord Glover, sensing the shifting mood of those around him, especially three who had seen the witch's abilities previously and liked her, cleared his throat.
"My apologies, Your Majesty," smoothly replied Glover, although still ill at ease and he shifted from foot to foot. "I meant no disrespect."
Robb's eyes remained on the man, and he finally, slowly, imperiously, nodded. "Granted."
The man disappeared from their small cluster, winding his way around the crowded war room until his form was enveloped by some other lords.
There was a low scoff from someone who remained by Robb's side. Then, he heard, in a low voice, Karstark caution, "He will make things difficult."
For you, Robb heard. For showing favour to Lady Hermione.
Robb frowned, and thought, I know.
Hermione was never left behind, before.
It was a rule - an unspoken one - in all her years at Hogwarts by Harry and Ron's sides, from the moment she invited herself along with them and Neville, and nearly dying due to their midnight romp to the Forbidden Floor and Fluffy - Hermione was never left behind.
So it was decidedly odd to stand next to Lady Stark, who stood stiffly as they, along with Maester Vyman and several Tully bannermen including Edmure remained behind, watching the long line of the royal procession ride one by one out of the gates.
Robb ought to have been one of the first through, but he lingered with Dacey, Eddard and Daryn at his side, along with his Great-Uncle, the Blackfish. His horse was prancing in its spot, eager to move along, and Grey Wind was sniffing the air, his tongue lolling out of the corner of his mouth in anticipation.
His eyes were on his uncle, solemnly appraising him and saying, in his kingly voice, "Hold Riverrun, Uncle."
Edmure, although he had the same hair and eyes as his nephew, had such a different expression on his face that Hermione nearly snorted out loud. His long face went shallow and pale, and his Adam's apple bobbed thickly in his throat as he nodded.
Weight on your shoulders, thought Hermione, eyeing him curiously, and a smidge of pity. he was like a first-year Neville. One day you'd be Lord Tully, of Riverrun, but for someone who is in his thirties, you're nowhere ready for this and what's to come.
Then, Robb's eyes were on the tall, broad-shouldered man at Hermione's side - just behind her. "You'll watch over her?" he asked, his voice friendlier, but still as fierce as when speaking to his uncle.
Hermione scowled, disliking the implied sexism. "I can take care of myself, thankyouverymuch."
Robb ignored her and kept staring at the man. Torrhen shifted, his eyes glancing between the irate witch and his King. "Erm. Yes. Your Majesty."
Robb's eyes narrowed some more but Hermione sighed loudly and crossed her arms across her sweater. "Honestly, Robb, don't you have somewhere to be?"
Beside her, Catelyn - Lady Stark - inhaled sharply and muttered, "Lady Hermione - this is your King - don't disrespect-!"
Hermione grit her teeth and resolved to speak to Robb's mother shortly to find out why the woman disliked her. "Not my King," she muttered in response, and then smiled brightly at the woman.
Robb, who had heard the exchange, stifled a grin. "Keep that spirit, Lady Hermione! It won't be long that we'll be gone, I think - Oxcross is not more than a week's ride, and Ashemark little more than a few days from it. The parchment you've charmed for us will ensure that the castle is well-defended."
"I have no worries about that," said Hermione, mentally thinking, I can always add protection wards and proximity alerts, as well as Muggle Repellant wards if I must.
Robb grinned at Hermione and Hermione smiled back. The sun glinted off his auburn hair - a much deeper and darker red than Ron's orange had ever been - and the corner of his blue eyes crinkled up.
Their eyes held for a moment, and then he wheeled his horse around and was galloping across the grey flagstone of Riverrun, his personal guard (now the Kingsguard) charging after him. There was a whoop and a laugh and then they passed through the main gate, and were gone.
Silence descended on those who remained.
Eventually, Catelyn Stark sighed and turned around, back into her childhood castle, with Maester Vyman on her heels, mumbling about ravens and letters. Edmure followed behind as well, a pensive frown on his face as he realized that Robb left him in charge of the castle and riverlands defense. Hermione stood a bit longer in the afternoon sun, tilting her head back and looking up at the fluffy clouds. The air was nippy, a winter chill already in the air. It wasn't as cool as autumns in Scotland at Hogwarts, but it was enough that Hermione's sweater barely kept her warm.
"My lady?" inquired Torrhen quietly. "Shall we go inside?"
Hermione turned on her sneaker, and followed the tall, broad-shouldered and brown-haired Karstark inside the hold. She had a library to read her way through.
For the next week, Hermione spent her time in Riverrun's library except for when she slept (which was in the assigned room she was given, but with her tent set up in the living area of the room, so she continued to sleep in there), and for when she ate (which was one meal a day, when Torrhen found her and dragged her out of the library to socialize at dinner in the Great Hall with those who remained at Riverrun).
The library at Riverrun was vast, full of knowledge and lore, some mundane and others, arcane. Hermione learned quite a bit about the Great Houses of Westeros, as they were called; about the Tullys of Riverrun, the Starks of Winterfell, the Lannisters of Casterly Rock, the Arryns of the Vale, the Martells of the Water Palace in Dorne, the Greyjoys of the Pike in the Iron Islands, and the Tyrells of Highgarden. There were the near extinct Baratheons of the Stormlands, the family that had the throne last and lost it - along with the accusations of incest and therefore, illegitimate claims to the throne without the King's bloodline on its seat - and then the minor Houses and Lords that served under the Great Houses.
She learned about the Targaryens and where they came from - a place called Valyria in Essos that suffered some cataclysmic event (Hermione was certain it was a mass eruption of several volcanoes in the area), that not only destroyed the prominent houses there, but also destroyed many of the dragons from the area, as well.
Dragons, she grimaced, thinking back to the TriWizard Tournament as well as her daring Gringott escape just a year previous. And these aren't the Norberta kind, either.
No, the books in the Tully library wrote about giant, fearsome beasts that were only controlled by their Targaryen masters, commands shouted in High Valyrian, a language Hermione was beginning to learn as she translated portions of scrolls and scraps. These dragons weren't cute little green-ridged Norwegian Ridgebacks or the deep, ruby red of the Chinese Fireball.
These dragons were dangerous.
And, apparently, one of the last Targayens - a young woman name Daenerys, the same age or just a bit younger than her and Robb - was rumoured to have three. Three dragons under her dubious command, Hermione learned, from gossip spread in the Great Hall one of the evenings.
("But what does that mean?" she asked Torrhen.
He shrugged. "It means that I pray to the Old Gods she doesn't come to Westeros anytime soon. People remember her father, and they remember Harrenhal.")
So she looked them up: Mad Aerys Targaryen, who brutally murdered and tortured his subjects, including Robb's uncle and grandfather barely two decades previous; whose father went to war with Robert Baratheon to avenge his aunt Lyanna Stark. A whole country thrown into chaos and a new regime installed after it was all over.
She looked up Aerys' obsession with dragonfire - green wildfire so similar to Fiendfyre that Hermione was certain that there were magic users of her kind somewhere on the planet, at some time - and shivered in disgust and fear.
And then she read about Harrenhal.
The great castle in the south, not too far from them in Riverrun. And during the Conquest, when the first Targaryens came to Westeros, it burned under dragonfire. From what the text said, Hermione gathered the great castle was never truly rebuilt to its former glory under the Targaryen rule, because melted and blackened stone were descriptors from the recent Tourney - the one where Aerys Targaryen's son and heir crowned Lyanna Stark his Queen of Love and Beauty, and began the whole mess.
Delving into the history of Westeros was enjoyable, and far more interesting than anything Binns could have presented on the Goblin Wars of this-and-this year. But there was a lot not said in the texts Hermione read: how far did Essos actually go? How south did the Sothoryos actually go? How many Islands were there? What was Ulthos - an Island or Continent? How much land was there beyond the Wall, and what kind of name was "the Land of Always Winter"? How could it be Always Winter?
The more she read, the more Hermione was convinced that the people of this planet were either not intellectually curious or terra incognita worked into the fantastical structure of maintaining the status quo for many of those in charge. Anyone who explored these uncharted territories disappeared; there was not much incentive to send more people out to discover the whys and hows of this world.
And without that information, Hermione was - potentially - stuck.
She needed coordinates, similar to longitude and latitude, to plug into her Arthimacy equation. But they had to be exact - she needed to know the size of the planet, its orbit around its sun, how many other celestial bodies there were around (asteroid belts, gas giants, and whatever else) to pinpoint the galaxy she was in, or near enough.
She needed to know and discover how magic worked in this strange, new world: they clearly had magic, with dragons and giants. There were spells and magical weapons, but it was so shrouded in mystery and hyperbole, Hermione wasn't sure what was real and what was made up.
Dacey had told her it would take years to gather the information she might need to go home, and Hermione was beginning to think the other woman was right.
So, despondently, Hermione decided against remaining in the library a week later after Robb and his men left for Oxcross, and wandered Riverrun, peeking in rooms and generally nosing about.
She passed one of the partially open doors when a rough, frustrated sigh caught her attention. There were two guards in Tully blue standing outside of it, but they were 1) ornamental, she was coming to realize; and 2) didn't stop her as she stepped up the door and knocked on the heavy wood.
The room was an office, similar to Robb's that they spoke in, but it had a different view and was far messier. There were torches on the walls, flickering, and others on flat surfaces around the room: the desk, the side tables, all to give more light in the fading afternoon sunlight.
By the desk, eyes bloodshot with dark bags under them, sat Edmure Tully, his hair as messy as Harry's. He was slouched, elbows on the table and his head in his hands as he looked at the desk - at some paper, but looked up at her knock.
"Lady Hermione," he said, struggling to rise. "How may I help you?"
Hermione stepped into the room with the implicit permission, and sat herself primly in the chair in front of his desk, curiously looking at the parchment and scrolls. As she sat, he did too.
"You look exhausted," she said instead, peering at him. "Are you okay?"
Edmure grimaced. "It's nothing."
She raised her eyebrows in response, and he sighed. There was a drawn look to his face, and underneath it all, she saw how pale he was.
He's ill prepared to be Lord Tully, she thought. Why hadn't he been trained or taught this role?
"May I ask you something?" she tentatively asked, leaning a bit forward.
Edmure nodded.
"I understand that in Westeros there are Great Houses - and Tully is one of them - which means you have a lot of responsibility," she began, wondering how to breach such a topic without offense, "What kind of training does someone who is an heir to a Great House receive? We have nothing like this where I am from."
Edmure leaned back in his seat, the leather underneath him creaking a bit. He looked a bit pleased at the distraction of speaking with her, and took her question seriously. "Well, each House does it differently. I had specific lessons with Maester Vyman, and my father, Lord Hoster Tully, taught me others years ago."
"So, you shadowed your father?" clarified Hermione.
"Shadowed?" echoed Edmure.
Hermione nodded. "Followed him around to meetings, was asked scenario questions on how to handle specific things, was given more and more responsibility as you got older…? That's how CEOs do it, I suppose."
"C.E.O.?" repeated Edmure, confusion lacing his voice as he said each letter individually with precision. He shook his head. "Ah, no - my father was very much still in command of the everyday in Riverrun. And when he fell ill, many of those duties fell to my Uncle, the Blackfish, as he has the experience."
Hermione made a face. "Then how are you supposed to gain the experience? Trial by fire?"
Edmure looked at her sharply. "I beg your pardon?"
"Oh, sorry!" Hermione hastily backpedalled after the poor turn of phrase. "It means being thrown into a situation and then having to learn on the go."
Edmure relaxed. "Ah, well. Then - yes." He waved a hand around the room with a grimace on his face. "This is my - 'trial by fire,' as you call it."
"Running Riverrun?" asked Hermione, sitting back in the chair and crossing one jean-clad leg over the other.
He nodded. "And an order from Robb."
Hermione perked up. "He's using the parchment?"
Edmure paused, looking at her, but then wordlessly handed her one of the many pieces on his desk, and Hermione, touched by his sharing of the military communique. On the linked parchment, in Robb's handwritten scrawl, were several orders. Each order began with the person's name, and then a list of duties. Edmure's read Hold Riverrun. Tywin Lannister is preparing to leave Harrenhal and make for you.
"What does this mean?"
Edmure tilted his head and nodded at the parchment as Hermione handed it back. "It means Riverrun will be going to war, shortly. Scouts spotted the Lannister forces over a week's ride away, and I've already given orders to prepare to leave tomorrow."
"Where are you going?" asked Hermione, frowning, "Didn't Robb say to hold Riverrun?"
"That would suggest a siege," replied Edmure, looking at a map hanging on the far wall, "And while Riverrun could easily hold it, the Fords is a better place for a battle as it stops the Lannister from coming further into the riverlands. It stops him from attacking villages along the way."
Hermione turned in the seat to look at the map as well. She stood and then crossed to it, her eyes finding Riverrun easily after spending so many time at it and staring at known maps of Westeros, Essos, and beyond. She traced the direction of Harrenhal north-west to Riverrun, finding the Ford Edmure was talking about nearby but more towards the halfway mark between the two castles. Oxcross, where Robb was currently, was beyond them, behind a mountain range.
"What did Robb write specifically?" she asked, without turning back to Edmure, her eyes narrowed.
"Ah," replied Edmure, and she heard shuffling papers. "He said, 'Hold Riverrun.'"
Hermione turned around. "That's awfully specific, don't you think?"
"Specific?" repeated Edmure, wrinkles appearing between his eyebrows.
Hermione nodded. "'Hold Riverrun.' Not, engage Tywin Lannister in battle. Not, prepare for battle at the Fords. Hold."
Edmure's wrinkles deepened as he looked down at his desk. "He… wants Tywin Lannister to engage with us."
"Yes," agreed Hermione, turning partially back to the map and pointing her finger closer to Riverrun. "But here - to draw him in."
"But why?"
Hermione shrugged. "My battles were fought as skirmishes, quick and dirty and often over within minutes. The longest battle I was in took place over a single day, and our enemy even gave us time to collect our wounded and dead, although that was more a psychological tactic to demoralize us."
"Demoralize," muttered Edmure, coming around the desk to stand by Hermione and look at the map. His eyes moved from Harrenhal to Riverrun, along the Red Fork, to Fairmarket to the north, and Acorn Hall to the south. "I can't have the Lannister forces reach Riverrun - we were just besieged by the Kingslayer. We could persevere until Robb returns, but…"
His eyes moved back to Harrenhal. "...but we don't want Tywin too close to Harrenhal either that he can retreat."
"What about a feint?"
"A feint?" repeated Edmure, and a flash of annoyance, of constantly repeating Hermione, crossed his face.
She shrugged. "Present a smaller force closer to Harrenhal, with the rest of the actual army further back. Pretend to be decimated in battle for a strategic retreat. Lure him in."
Edmure blinked in surprise. "And then?"
"Smash him," she said. "From everything I've heard of this man, he's smart. He's cunning. But he's also sure in his power and strength, so he has ego. He'll be rightfully cautious about Robb - he did manage to capture his heir - but you're an unknown."
Edmure looked pleased by Hermione's words, looking back at the map, clearly thinking. "Yes," he murmured, "Yes, I think that can work."
Hermione smiled brightly. "Great! When do we leave?"
Edmure said "no."
Torrhen refused her, as well.
Maester Vyman looked at her like she was crazy.
Hermione scoffed. It wasn't like there weren't women in Robb's army - the Mormont women were strong warriors! And she had a wand! Besides, she wasn't going to be leading the charge - that would've been too Light Brigade for her. She was happy to remain behind at a command tent, monitoring the parchment communications and then lending a hand with the wounded soldiers.
"The battlefield is not the place for you, Lady Hermione," argued Edmure feverently. They were standing in the same inner courtyard where Robb had said his goodbyes, Edmure's Tully force ready to exit through the main gate. "Robb would not be happy with me if I allowed you to come!"
Torrhen, nearby, nodded.
Hermione scowled back. "You know, I could follow you, right?"
Edmure looked at her skeptically. "How?"
Hermione looked around the courtyard. Catelyn Stark stood above them, on the second-floor balcony that protruded from a tower, watching her brother and his men. The distance wasn't far - no more than a flight of stairs up, but the entrance was inside the castle and therefore, currently inaccessible by those in the courtyard unless they had a ladder to scale.
Unless someone had magic.
Hermione pictured the balcony beside Catelyn, having explored it once before, and pictured it in her head. Then, she turned on her heel.
There was a loud pop and she reappeared beside the startled woman, who shrieked and stepped back, her scarred hands at her throat in surprise. Below, Edmure and Torrhen, as well as the few soldiers who lingered in the courtyard, let out shouts of surprise.
Hermione leaned over the balcony and waved.
They let her join them.
AN: See. Marking. I have final assignments to mark and I write fanfic instead. A few notes:
I done goofed. Bolton was supposed to be leading a separate force south towards Harrenhal, and therefore he could not have appeared at the Battle of the Whispering Wood when Robb first met Hermione, nor did he have time to return to Riverrun in the few days between the first meeting and him joining Robb to ask for Hermione to join him. So, instead, due to continuity errors I wrote in later, I created an OC right-hand-man of Bolton's named Vargos in his place; Bolton himself returned to Riverrun a week later in time for Robb's coronation.
As for the guest who asked: "If Jamie had beheaded Hermione's father, would she still treat him the same?" HELL NO. Hermione is, and can be, hypocritical, especially younger Hermione in the earlier books. If she thought something was right, then she would do it come hell or high water, regardless of who it pissed off along the way (sneaking out, the Firebolt incident). BUT that being said, Hermione's also cruel and vindictive (Marietta and her canaries attacking Ron), so I can see her saying one thing but easily doing another later on. Especially if people hurt her, or hurt Harry. Maybe eventually this will also extend to Robb...?
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