Dragonlord Chapter 121: The Water Hammer P1 (Patreon)

“You know, they’ve been talking for a while now. Are you sure Lord Manderly isn’t requesting father for permission to permanently stay in Winterfell?” Harry asked with a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Stay here? Why?” Robb asked with a frown.

“Lord Wyman is like a good fat puppy trying to please his master. If he could help it, he’d never leave Winterfell and hug all the Starks until he becomes one himself.” Harry said with a snicker.

“Don’t let Lord Wyman hear that. I don’t think he’d appreciate being compared to a dog.” Robb said, his face twitching with a smile as they strolled towards the training arena.

“Depends on what kind of dog he is being compared with and whether he’ll get to become an honorary Stark. I tell you, Robb, the man is like a fangirl.”

“A what?” Robb looked utterly confused.

“Forget I said anything.” Harry shook his head.

Robb, as usual, went for training with Ser Rodrik in swordplay while Harry went straight for the archery field. He had expected to see Theon in the archery range, but it was Jojen Reed and Meera Reed on the range instead. They had their bows out and punching holes into the strawman strung on the other side of the range.

“Lord Harrion.” Meera Reed dipped her head in deference.

“Hmm...” Harry hummed as he observed a couple of arrows sticking out of the strawman’s chest area. “You do realise most soldiers might be wearing armour on their chests. Those arrows might be lucky to find a gap in their armour, or else you must hope they are using boiled leather.”

Harry plucked a bow from the arena and nocked a bow on the string. Taking careful aim, he let the arrow fly. To his mortification, the arrow missed the mark and hit a few inches short of reaching the neck area of the strawman. He nocked another arrow, and this time, he took careful aim. He slowed his breathing and let the arrow fly as he released the gathered air in his lungs.

This time, his target was spot on. The arrow found its mark on the neck of the strawman, which made Harry let out a relieved sigh.  

‘Phew. I just escaped a major embarrassing moment through sheer luck.’ Harry mused as he stared thoughtfully at the bow.

“That was a lucky shot.” Arya suddenly said, startling Harry to look behind him and see his sister sneaking into the archery range.

“Oh, come on. You can’t possibly know that.” Harry protested, glaring at his little sister.

‘Robb was right. I must keep my martial skills up to par for appearance’s sake. Even Arya is noticing my sloppy skill with a bow.’ Harry thought.

“Yes, I can. You never train with a bow or a sword whenever you’re here.” Arya accused.

“Ah, but you see, sweet sister, I train daily at Avalon.” Harry smiled indulgently at his little sister.

“No, you don’t.” Jojen butted in as a paragon of truth, earning his ire.

“I distinctly remember ordering you to bring two buckets of hot water to my chambers. Have you done that?” Harry glared at the Reed boy who dared to sell him out.

“But you didn’t...” Jojen started to protest.

“Are you telling me you didn’t follow my orders, squire?” Harry towered over his loudmouth squire.

“I’m sorry.” Jojen muttered.   

“You should be. Nowadays, you’re forgetting a lot of important things happening around you.” Harry said with a pointed stare.

“I… I guess I’m forgetful.”

“Yes, you are squire.” Harry nodded, looking all serious and keeping a lid on his sense of glee at knocking the kid down a peg. “Yes, you are.”

But instead of getting looks of understanding or acknowledging his prowess, he got mean looks from his little sister and Meera Reed.  

“Huh! Tough crowd.”

They spent the next half an hour training in the archery field, during which Harry tried his best not to get embarrassed again. It was an uphill battle to suppress the inclination to use any magical enchantments to meet the mark without fail. But he managed to keep a lid on such thoughts and get the training done, and by the end of it, he learned that he needed to get some more training time if he were to keep his skills polished. Archery was not like using a sword on a battlefield. At least in swordplay, there were a lot of instincts involved. In archery, it was all about keeping a steady breathing and being observant of surroundings.

His little impromptu lesson in warfare at least did some good with the Reed children. They were skilled with knives and quick on their feet. This much he knew while watching Jojen train with Jon at Avalon. But it was a surprise to see the Reed children were skilled with a bow. They grew up in the hostile terrain of the swamps contending with crocodiles, lizard-lions, snakes and other creatures that called the Neck their home. So, he was not surprised by their familiarity with weapons, but he was suitably impressed by Meera Reed’s archery skills. He already knew the eldest daughter of Howland Reed was quite skilled with a spear after he watched her spear fish in the Neck.  

If Meera Reed hadn’t been Lord Howland's daughter, he’d have offered her a position on his Valkyrie guards. The Crannogmen were the first line of defence of the North, and they needed every man, woman and child at the Neck. In the absence of Moat Cailin, it was all the more imperative.

While Harry may have struggled with archery somewhat, he was pretty good at handling a spear against Meera. The only reason that he handled himself well against Meera’s frog spear was thanks to his lessons with Prince Oberyn.  

“I really need to up my weapons training.” Harry muttered to himself while watching Meera instructing Arya on how to handle a bow.

While a bow was not his go-to weapon in a fight, he supposed it was something Arya could safely train without injuring herself. His musings were cut short as he felt someone approach him. Turning his head to the side, he found none other than his mother, who looked the least happy.

“Why is your sister holding a bow?” Catelyn asked with a displeased frown marring her face.

“She wants to learn archery, and Meera is good at it. She’s in good hands. You have nothing to worry about.” said Harry.

“It’s not who she’s with that worries me. It’s what she is doing.” Catelyn said, frowning as Arya’s form was being corrected by Meera.   

Harry felt his mother was about to pull Arya out of the archery range. Despite his little sister’s earlier ‘disrespect’, he was not a dick to pull her out of something she genuinely enjoyed.

“It’s just archery, mother. Her arms are so thin. She’ll lose interest once she realises it’s too difficult to properly pull the string.” he said dismissively, “Now tell me, what is Lord Manderly discussing with father? They’ve been at it for hours.”

“I suspect it’s your brother’s betrothal.”

“Really?” Harry perked up, “Does Robb know?”

“Not yet. Nothing has been set. Lord Manderly requested the meeting, and your father is hearing him out.” Catelyn said, casting a look at the Great Keep.

That just sounded like things were more serious than what his mother was saying. It was no secret that there were many betrothal offers for all his siblings, including himself, from the Northern houses and others.

“I remember Lord Manderly has two granddaughters. Don’t tell me you’re trying to stick them with Robb and myself.”

“Do not speak disrespectfully about Lord Manderly’s granddaughters as if they are some commodity that can be given away at a whim.” Catelyn caught her son’s ear between her fingers, but she didn’t press down.

Harry expertly pulled his left ear out from his mother’s grasp.

“I wasn’t insinuating anything of the like.” Harry defended, but he was mindful not to get caught again.

“You better not be.” Catelyn shot him a warning look, “Lord Manderly was interested in matching his eldest granddaughter, Wynafryd, with Robb. But of course, nothing has been decided. Your father will not make a decision without consulting me.”

“And Robb…” Harry said leadingly, to which there was only silence, “You will consult Robb, won’t you?”

“He’ll be told, of course.” Catelyn said with a jerk of her head, which didn’t imbue Harry with confidence in his mother’s promise. “Why are you so interested in the matters of betrothal? You shouldn’t worry about such things.”

‘Yeah, right.’ Harry thought with a roll of his eyes.

The revelation that the lords of the North were now directly seeking his father with betrothal offers for his siblings made Harry alert. After all, he had many plans and could not allow himself to be tied down in marriage to a Northern lady. He supposed it was time to broach the subject of his marriage to Arianne with his father before any promises were made.

*****

Eddard sighed tiredly as he stared out of the window of his solar. Winterfell was bustling with almost all the known houses of the North. The lords and their entourage were cordially received into his home to participate in the celebrations. The sky was turning dark, and his daughters had already arranged for their magical fireworks to adorn the night sky. It was one of the most beautiful magic his son taught Sansa. Then Sansa taught it to Arya. To this day, he still marvelled at how some squiggly lines carved on a stone could possibly create this spectacle in the night sky.

Just then, a brilliant green light filled the night sky with a dull popping sound, and a glowing green wolf’s head could be seen above Winterfell.

‘Brilliant.’ Eddard thought.

The celebrations were still ongoing, and Eddard pulled back from the festivities to get some peace of mind. His head weighed a ton after all the talks with his fellow lords. Unlike in the past, there was much to talk about in these gatherings. It was akin to a harvest feast, but then again, those were a joke these days.

The harvest feasts Eddard remembered in Winterfell were usually a muted affair compared to the southern houses. The harvests in the North were usually not as bountiful, so the celebrations were also limited in their opulence. It was usually a gathering of lords to ensure they were prepared for a long winter ahead and a venue to make proper deals in case a region of the North failed to gather sufficient quantities of grain and other food stocks.

But these days, no such worries plagued the North. Ever since his son Harrion had cast his magic on the North, the harvest from the Neck to the Wall was plentiful. Therefore, the harvest feasts in Winterfell usually devolved into taking stock of the excess grain the lords held in their castles and deliberating selling them to the south or in Essos.

But the current gathering was not about a harvest feast, nor was it for a wedding. Instead, it was a feast to celebrate the construction of the Sunset Canal and the different constructions launched in the North. Winterfell had undergone a remodelling, as had many of the North’s roads. The kingsroad was now twice as wide as before and fully paved from Moat Cailin to the Wall. A straight paved road now stretched from Winterfell to White Harbour. There was the widely acclaimed Wolfswood road, which connected Winterfell with Avalon and Deepwood Motte. There were already plans to expand that road from Deepwood Motte through the western coast all the way to the Wall.

Some of Harrion's plans gave him endless headaches and wonder, not necessarily in that order. There was that ludicrous plan of building roads through giant holes punched through the Northern Mountains.

But then again, if his son could cut a canal through the neck and make ships fly, anything was possible. Sometimes, he wondered whether his son was even a mere mortal or one of the Old Gods in the mortal flesh. The last time he met Lord Umber, the man was talking about some of the northernmost villages of his lands worshipped Harrion as a god and considered him a vessel of the Old Gods.

Of course, he had immediately ensured such talks didn’t spread in the North or beyond the Neck. There were already enough enemies for House Stark in the world, and he didn’t want to give more reasons to the religious fanatics out there to harm his son. While he personally disliked the actions of Harrion in Myr, he hoped that blatant display of power might scare away any of the enemies circling his second son.

But too much fear was also a problem. It was one of the reasons why he approved of the feast. He also planned to hold another one in Moat Cailin even though the castle was not completely rebuilt. The constant rain and flooding of the swamps had slowed the pace of construction, which was a shame because he’d have loved to see the restored Moat Cailin as soon as possible. But he supposed he could wait a few more years.

Suddenly, his musing fled his mind when he heard a knock on the door.

“Father, may I come in?”

Eddard raised an eyebrow upon hearing Harrion’s voice.

“Come in.”

The door swung open, admitting his son to his solar.

“Are you busy, father? If you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss something with you.”

Now, that gained his attention.

“I’m not busy at all. I was just taking a small break from the celebrations.” Eddard smiled at his son and pointed to a seat in his solar, “Please, sit. What do you want to talk about?”

“I was told that Lord Manderly reached out to you with a betrothal offer for Robb.”

“He did. Are you so concerned for Robb that you’d come to speak with me even before Robb himself?” Eddard asked with an amused smile.

“I’m not concerned for Robb. Wynafryd Manderly is a good political match for Robb and House Stark. House Manderly is wealthy and commands a sizeable fleet and men at arms. She is also the heiress to White Harbour after her father, Ser Wylis Manderly. If Ser Wylis don’t have a male heir, the seat of White Harbour would belong to Wynafryd and her children.”   

“I see.” Eddard eyed his son with keen interest, “You came here to offer your approval of this match.”

“No.” Harry shook his head, “I merely said what I know to be true. In the end, the decision rests with you and Robb.”

Eddard stared at his son, who did not make much sense regarding his intentions.

“You want to say something. Did you do something untoward?” Eddard asked curiously while preparing himself for the bad news.

“Nothing untoward has happened, father. I merely want to discuss with you about any betrothal offers that came for me.”

Eddard stared at his son comically before he let out a chuckle. Sometimes, he just forgets how young Harrion was and the worries that come with that age.

“If you’re worried about me accepting any betrothal offers on your behalf, you don’t have to. I don’t think this is the right time…”

“I want you to accept the one that came from Doran Martell.” Harrion suddenly spoke up, making Eddard’s eyes widen in surprise.

Eddard stared at his son for a long moment, and slowly, a calculative look overtook his features.

“You want to wed Arianne Martell?” Eddard inquired curiously.

“Yes.”

The fact that his son said that with a straight face didn’t surprise him one bit. Harrion was so unlike normal children. His son’s thoughts were at a level that was beyond his siblings and any other children his age. He knew his son’s sudden interest in wedding the Dornish princess had nothing to do with Harrion finding the Martell heiress attractive.

At least, that wouldn’t be the sole reason, he amended. Any boy in his son’s age would be enamoured with a beautiful woman. It was only natural.

He was also reminded that Dorne now hosted Prince Aegon. That piece of information was shared by his son, and he still found it difficult to accept that one of Rhaegar’s children was alive and safely living in Dorne.

But Eddard needed to know more before he said anything.

“Is this why you visited Dorne? You wanted to meet Princess Arianne.” Eddard prodded.

“That is one of the reasons. I also wanted to meet Aegon Targaryen with my own eyes to see whether he was real or merely a mummer.”

“And what do you think?” Eddard prodded even though he felt like someone put a block of ice over his heart.

“I can’t be sure. The Martells seem to think the boy is Elia’s son. He is well-spoken and a good swordsman.”

“Did you tell Jon?” Eddard asked, looking searchingly into his son’s stormy grey eyes.

“Not yet.” Harrion admitted. “I haven’t confirmed whether this Aegon is Rhaegar’s son or a puppet in a plan made after Robert Baratheon took the throne.”

“I see.” Eddard bowed his head and silently gazed into his palms, deep in thought.

He knew Harrion would not take an action without a reason. There was more going on in the background of his son’s interest in the Dornish princess. He already knew his son’s ambition of Northern independence. But he couldn’t fathom how that ambition correlated to Dorne.

Dorne was too far away from the North, and it was a desert principality, making it an inconsequential place for the North. He could not see any martial advantage either since Dorne would undoubtedly oppose Northern independence if they intended to support Aegon Targaryen to claim the Iron Throne. It was one of the reasons why he didn’t even consider the betrothal offer much thought when Doran Martell broached the subject.

“You met Arianne Martell at Dorne. What was she like?” Edward asked.

“She is tall, bold, beautiful,…” Harrion trailed off awkwardly.

“There is something else you’re not telling me.” Eddard observed before his eyes narrowed in worry, “Don’t tell me you’re planning a Targaryen restoration!”

“No, I’m not.” said Harrion with an incredulous look. “Why would I try to restore a Targaryen to the Iron Throne?”

“What else am I supposed to think when you say you want me to approve a betrothal between you and the Dornish princess?” Eddard asked, pinning his son with a hard stare.

“There are other reasons why I want this to happen.” Harrion muttered.

“And those reasons being…” Eddard looked expectantly at his son, which launched a half-hour-long talk about Dorne and all the little crooked plans his son had in store for the desert principality.

Eddard watched his son leave his solar with a sigh and rubbed his temples as he could feel a headache settle in. Once again, he felt like there were too many needless plots and this time around, Harrion was using himself as a tool in a game of shadows. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, but at the same time, he was starting to see something more clearly.

‘My son may have inherited the looks of a Stark but his mind is all Tully. Hoster Tully might be so happy that at least one of his grandchildren inherited his acumen in playing the great game.’ Eddard thought.

After spending a few more minutes in his solar, he left for the feast hall, where the bards and jugglers entertained the guests. There were arrangements to be made regarding the travel to Moat Cailin, and he needed to ensure his men were ready to host all the guests at the castle for the big event. The bards were already calling it the Water Hammer, and everyone in the North was going to the Neck to see it happen before their eyes.