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Men screamed and fell, struck by blows from swords and maces and axes. Harrie stared down at the battlefield from her post at the king’s tent, running her fingers through her hair anxiously.
It had been a while since she’d been this worried about the king.
Aerion had died a few months ago to this day. Daeron had died a month ago.
Aerys, Rhaegel, Aelor, Aelora, Daenora, Baelor, Valarr and Matarys had all died before her time here and. Harrie sighed, her heart rising up into her throat as she watched the king’s party ride out in the lead, bearing the banner of House Targaryen.
“You took the lead?”
Maekar looked at her like she was stupid, the lines on his face more obvious than mere weeks before. His beard was well trimmed as he liked it, his silver hair short and brushed back. He hadn’t taken any time to stall in the morning, preferring to hurry to arm up. He usually spent an hour under her fingers, letting her brush his hair and clothe him and bathe him.
He was vain like that…at least usually. There were the occasional days where he preferred to spend time alone, like on the anniversary of Baelor’s death. Those days…Maekar was…inconsolable. Quiet but still bitter and quick to rise to the temper. Quick to blame himself for any little thing.
Harrie glared at him, arching an eyebrow.
“You are not my lady wife. You are not the Queen and nor are you my Hand.”
Harrie scowled, watching Maekar pace in his armor. “I am the head of your household, my lord, and the only servant that can put up with your temper.”
Maekar glared at her balefully, giving her his own version of a ‘stink-eye’. Aegon would have been proud of that, had he been here. As it was, he was sharing his tent with Ser Duncan. Maekar had been alone on the day they’d received word about Aegon’s older brother, Aerion, and Harrie had been the only one to comfort him.
Harrie took a step closer to him, meeting his violet eyes easily. She poked his chest, letting her fingers linger over the cold metal of his armor.
“‘S not like Westeros would accept a lady Hand anyway,” Harrie muttered, tightening the straps on his armor. Maekar sighed, shaking his head, and turning away, glancing out through the tent flaps. “Besides…Bloodraven makes a damn good one, even if everyone’s scared of him.”
“Don’t tell him that. Wouldn’t do to inflate his ego.”
“What ego?” Harrie retorted, flicking Maekar’s shoulder.
Maekar dropped his hand to the hilt of the blade at his waist. His mace sat on the table behind them.
“You would make a good spy,” Maekar finally said, not meeting her eyes. “Thank you, Harrie, for all that you have done to assist me.”
Harrie blinked, watched as Maekar turned around to face her, walked over to grab his weapon of choice and paused.
Maekar might have been twenty years older than her but he had always been fond of her. At least she thought. He’d never requested a new head of household after she had moved into the position a year ago. Never said a word about his feelings to her but then. Maekar wasn’t the kind to easily speak about feelings.
Maekar’s cheeks were tinged red, something that Harrie had never seen. Not in the times when various ladies had tried their best to seduce the king right before her eyes. Maekar hadn’t chosen to remarry at all. It probably was a result of history, of remembering what the Dance had done but.
Maekar hadn’t even had a mistress or a companion.
He stared at her, uncharacteristically nervous, twisting his fingers about the hilt of the mace.
“Maekar?”
“Take care of Aegon and the girls for me,” Maekar whispered, before turning and walking out of the tent.
Harrie shivered at the memory, remembering how steady Maekar’s voice had been. How Maekar hadn’t looked her in the eyes before leaving. How Maekar had called her by her name. She jerked in place and ran towards the cliff, narrowing her eyes to track the king and his guards.
She spotted Prince Aegon, fighting with Ser Duncan, the knight cloaked finally in the white of the kingsguard. She wasn’t too worried about either of them, knowing that Duncan would take good care of Aegon. Harrie turned to look over the men, seeing mostly men fighting under the Peake banner around them.
“Where the fuck is he?” Harrie muttered, tilting her head, her stomach in knots as she truly realized what she had been missing this morning and the night before.
Maekar…had been saying goodbye.
Maybe he hadn’t even realized that he had been passively suicidal but. Her breath caught when she shuffled over on the cliff, spotting that black armor with that helm of his. The elder wand warmed in her hand as she skidded down the rocky path, keeping her gaze on the king.
Didn’t stop as men around her were injured, as men died in the colors of House Targaryen. Paid even less attention to the men of House Peake, sighing at the thought. One man had brought this upon King Maekar and that man had been dead for years.
If Maekar died today, she’d resurrect Aegon the Fourth and kill him again.
Blood splattered onto her clothes as she waded into the fight, casting blasting spells and shielding spells. Blue light sprang up around her, slicing in between the two houses and separating them.
Yelling echoed in the air and the ground shook beneath her. Harrie turned her eyes to the hill and mountain opposite her, to where Maekar was fighting. To where he was running over to--
The sound that left her throat then and there was something raw. She apparated right to Maekar’s side and shoved him aside, her shielding erupting out from her wand. Blue shields stopped the giant rocks from crushing them to pieces, the rocks sliding down from the top of the cliffs.
The landslide was loud and violent as rocks fell down the cliff. Dust and rocks collided. Men screamed.
Harrie ended up on top of Maekar, landing on top of his black armor, and glared right into his eyes. Maekar’s eyes were blank, almost passive, that violet gaze lost. Harrie’s heart dropped to her stomach, making her stomach feel like it had so many knots in it.
“You idiot!”
She spoke in Valyrian, having picked it up from Maekar and Aemon. It was close enough to parseltongue that it had come easily to her. And she didn’t want people around her to know she was yelling at their king.
Maekar groaned but stayed still underneath her.
“I meant to…” Maekar trailed off, his breath hitching, his voice faint.
Harrie rubbed her temple and waited for the rocks and very land around them to stop moving. She felt it as her shield stopped another rock, some arrows from above. She wondered if it had actually been an earthquake or if it had been manmade, the Peakes taking their anger one step further.
“You meant to,” Harrie paused, staring down at Maekar’s armor and sliding his helm off, seeing the king flinch. She cupped his cheek, smoothing a thumb over his neatly trimmed beard. “You meant to die, didn’t you?”
“Your grace…”
Ser Duncan’s voice filtered through the haze of men.
“He’s alright,” Harrie called over, not turning away from Maekar’s gaze. “Is the battle over?”
“Aye, it is. You…are rather powerful when you’re upset.”
Harrie snorted and saw a flicker of amusement in Maekar’s eyes. A flicker and then gone. “Come on, Maekar. Let’s talk in your tent.”
Maekar swallowed and took Harrie’s offer of help, letting her haul him up, armor and all.
Harrie waited a moment or two, letting Maekar get his balance back, and followed him as he walked over to the group of prisoners.
“What do you think they’re doing in there?”
Duncan sighed and glanced over at Egg, taking in the sight of his friend. Brother. Prince. He still couldn’t quite believe he’d become a kingsguard knight the week before. He was cloaked all in white, white armor and white cloak and white horse.
“Do you want a clout in the ear? It’s not wise to imagine what the king and his…” Dunk paused, hesitating on what to call Harrie.
Egg rolled his eyes. “‘M not your squire anymore.”
They both watched as King Maekar walked into his tent, followed by Harrie. The woman who had shown up several months ago and stayed by King Maekar’s side. The woman was clothed not at all like a court lady would have been. She wore a thick hide armor and boots that looked suitable for a war zone, comfortable and sturdy.
“Court says they’re fucking on the side,” Egg offered.
“Ten years ago, you’d be blushing like a maid when you said that,” Dunk remarked easily.
Prince Aegon laughed quietly, glancing up at Dunk and rolling his eyes. “Ten years ago I didn’t have any children.”
“Oh aye. Children.”
Maekar sighed, staring right into that green gaze, watching as Harrie stared at him.
Those nimble fingers of hers went to the straps of his armor, slowly unhooking the mail and steel.
“You think I’m stupid.”
“I didn’t say anything,” Harrie replied idly, her hair in disarray, her eyes screwed up in concentration.
“You think I’m suicidal.”
The pauldrons came off and landed on the floor of the tent with a loud thud.
“I think you all but said goodbye,” Harrie murmured, reaching out to cup Maekar’s face with both hands. “I think you miss your brothers and sons and it’s killing you. The throne is killing you.”
Maekar scowled but let her continue to undress him, leaning into her fingers slightly.
“Is Aegon alright?”
Harrie nodded, withdrawing her hands. “He’s fine. Ser Duncan was with him.”
The cuirass was next, dropping to the floor with a thump.
“I… My brother would have known--” Maekar trailed off on a strangled noise. “Baelor--”
Harrie didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. She’d seen the way that he had dropped to his knees the first time he had seen the painting of Baelor. Even a few decades after Baelor Breakspear’s death…Maekar was lost. He’d spent the entirety of his brother’s anniversary sparring with the kingsguard knights, working himself nearly to death.
Harrie had had to call him off, physically pulling him away and to bed.
Even now, the people at court had said that Baelor would have known how to deal with the Peakes. Would have known what to do.
“I don’t want to go back to King’s Landing.”
Harrie turned back to look at him, staring right into those purple eyes. Maekar stared at her before turning away, his nostrils flaring. Sweat poured down his forehead and bare shoulders. He looked like those words had cost him to admit aloud. Harrie slid his gauntlets off next, revealing his hands and wrists, revealing just how tight he was holding onto his mace.
“I don’t want to be king but it’s my…”
Harrie ran her fingers through her hair, sparing a glance to where the king’s bed was. “Maekar…if Baelor had lived, he would have forgiven you. Or must I keep telling you that?”
Maekar swore under his breath, his fingers still tight around the mace. Tight enough for his knuckles to have gone white.
“You didn’t know him.”
Harrie flipped him off even though he wouldn’t understand her gesture. “I know enough.”
Maekar glanced down at her fingers and huffed, his nose wrinkling at her gesture even though he didn’t know what she meant by it. He understood it even despite not understanding the vastness of her background.
A tendril of a plan began to form in the back of her head. She shook her head and sighed, slipping her fingers over his.
“Easy. It’s alright,” Harrie whispered, curling her fingers through his and unhooking his from the weapon. “Fight’s over. Aegon’s safe. Dunk’s safe.”
Maekar shook in place, trembling on his feet as Harrie slipped the weapon from his palm. She dropped the mace back onto the table in the tent and inched her hand up to grip Maekar’s shoulder.
“Come on, old man..”
Maekar scowled at the words. Harrie grinned faintly, knowing the gentle ribbing would spark something within the man.
It was a quick cleaning, compared to what Maekar usually liked. Harrie helped him dress in light, comfortable clothes as the evening drew on, eating companionably together as the company cook took them food.
Harrie watched as Maekar sat with Aegon at dinner, having invited his son into his tent.
Dunk stood guard at the tent entrance, as well as three more knights of the kingsguard.
As soon as Maekar was asleep in his cot, Harrie sighed and peered down at the man. Maekar was 58 years old and probably felt like one hundred. He was the only child of Daeron and Myriah still alive. Aegon and Aemon, as well as Rhae and Daella, were the only children he had left.
She pulled her hair into a tail and sat down, putting a hand on Maekar’s shoulder and began to whisper under her breath. Her magic thrummed in her veins, warming her very body, making her heart thud against her ribcage.
Power erupted into the tent, spilling out from her body, and surrounding the two of them. Harrie shivered and continued to chant, threading power through Maekar’s mind, through her own. Separating the two. Forcing her mind and body somewhere else, other than Maekar’s destination, temporarily. Wouldn’t be forever but.
She’d been wanting to test something out.
Maekar woke up with a jolt, his breaths coming fast and hitching. He swallowed hard as he took in his surroundings. His knees didn’t ache and nor did his back. He was in a chair, hardbacked chair, and the hall he was in was not King’s Landing. He was not on the Iron Throne and he wasn’t in Summerhall. Wasn’t at Starpike.
“You must needs find a new device, ser.”
“I will. Thank you, Your Grace.”
Maekar shivered and opened his mouth to speak, his blood thundering in his ears.
“Brother.”
“You…” Maekar trailed off on a high note, something raw and desperate in his own voice.
That was Baelor, sitting in the center of the table. His brother.
Maekar twitched, blinked and rubbed his eyes, fearing… “I must be dead.”
The ghostly Baelor turned to look at him, now that Ser Dunk was gone and.
“Brother, you are not dead.” Baelor’s lips twitched before he rubbed his forehead. “I know you do not like this. Father bade us come so here we are. Do not--”
Maekar’s eyes widened. He glanced down at his hands, at his body. He… Maekar flinched and pinched his thigh. The sharp spike of pain shot up through his leg, telling him what he thought was untrue.
He really was here, back in Ashford, back before he had--
Lord Ashford left them after Baelor dismissed the man.
“You’re alive,” Maekar croaked out.
Baelor arched an eyebrow, his mismatched eyes softening a little in worry. “Brother? Of course I am alive.”
Maekar shook in place, gripping his thighs tight, wondering when this dream would end.
Baelor the ghost stood up and walked over towards him, ending up between Maekar’s legs. Maekar gasped, spreading his legs willingly and easily, wishing this dream--for that was what it was--wouldn’t end. Mayhaps he had actually died and reunited with… “Dear one. What is the matter?”
Baelor reached out and cupped his face in his warm palms, tipping Maekar’s chin up. “I am here, Maekar. What is the matter?”
The whine that left his throat was something he would deny to any and all involved. Or perhaps he wouldn't. This was his dream after all.
“You died. You’re dead and I killed you and-- They killed me at Starpike and I’m here now,” Maekar croaked out, leaning into Baelor’s palms like a drowning man. He had forgotten how warm Baelor was, how sturdy he had been. How larger than life his brother had been. The paintings had not done him justice at all. “I almost forgot what you looked like. Truly.”
Baelor’s nose wrinkled at Maekar’s words, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not dead, brother. I am not dead either. You did not…kill me.”
“And Starpike? You are in Ashford,” Baelor whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to Maekar’s forehead.
Maekar’s eyes filled with tears against his will and he let out a watery sob. Baelor inhaled sharply, looked around the hall, before tugging him up and into a tight embrace. Maekar’s breath hitched and he burrowed into Baelor’s arms, into his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his doublet was. He inhaled deeply and sobbed, trusting that his brother would hold him up.
Baelor’s breath stuttered as well and Maekar shivered as he felt his brother cup his neck.
Harrie jolted back to awareness a moment later, shivering at the cold stone floor underneath her. Her body tingled with power, with magic that she had never used before, and she shuddered, laying down fully and throwing her arm over her eyes. Her body ached and hummed all in one, the product of throwing both herself and Maekar back in time.
And for herself…doing more than just coming back to before the tourney Ashford.
The quiet sobbing made her heart clench even as she refused to get up, wanting to give Maekar some time. She was at least glad that it was just her, Maekar and Baelor in the hall, no servants to disrupt the reunion between brothers.
She could faintly hear Baelor whispering words in Valyrian, hear Maekar’s wet gasps.
Her trunk had landed right next to her, the insides of it looking quite different than before she had thrown the two of them back in time. She’d taken Maekar into it a month ago and he had walked right out, refusing to go back in.
Harrie sighed happily, knowing that Maekar was right there and being looked after by someone he loved. And who loved him back. Her trunk rocked a little bit, the echo of something inside making her laugh. She knocked on the metal of the trunk, hissing back.
A throat was cleared above her and she finally glanced up, removing her arm from her eyes.
The man that stood above her was not King--Prince-- Maekar.
“You must be Prince Baelor,” Harrie started, staring up at the heir to the throne.
Baelor looked down at her with wide eyes. Maekar had told her that the painting had done little justice to his brother but… Baelor Breakspear really was handsome in a quiet way, a man with a large presence.
“Pardon me but who are you?” Baelor asked, his voice quiet, a little curious. “And why are you on the floor?”
“Is Maekar alright?”
Baelor’s nostrils flared at her question before he dipped his head in a slow nod. “Yes. Why do you--”
“Brother…she is a friend,” Maekar interrupted, his voice low, watery, and probably he was blushing like a tomato right now, if she was any judge. She knew he hated being vulnerable. “More than. Lady Harrie Potter meet my brother, Baelor. Baelor, meet Lady Harrie Potter.”
“And I am on the floor because time travel is exhausting,” Harrie said, turning her head to look over at Maekar, who was seated at the end of the table. “You fought it at least a little bit.”
Maekar’s eyes were red with shed tears, his fingers clenched in his clothing. He was now much younger in appearance than he had been in, looking more like he was in his early thirties and not in his late fifties. Fewer lines in his face and his eyes were much less haunted. “Time travel. Gods be good, woman.”
Baelor looked between her and his brother, his eyes widening with every passing minute. He pinched the bridge of his nose before holding out a hand towards her.
Harrie smiled faintly and took his hand, shivering at how warm he was. He easily helped her up, letting her lean on him a minute as she caught her balance. “Oh, so we’re back to woman, now, huh?”
Maekar snorted.
“I have a name.”
Her stomach growled even as she pulled back from Baelor, feeling the heat in her cheeks.
“I will call for food,” Baelor remarked, smiling easily at Harrie’s objecting expression. “It is no trouble. My brother seems to like you and for Maekar, that is a feat. Even more so since I do believe I have never met you.”
Harrie watched as Baelor walked over to the doors, to where Dunk had disappeared. She walked over to sit down on the chair next to Maekar and poked his shoulder. “We have to talk.”
Maekar stared at her like she was a goddess, his violet eyes wide, his gaze awestruck.
She poked his shoulder again, uncomfortable with that expression.
“You…I had thought leading a household was the most you could do,” Maekar started slowly.
“It’s not.”
Maekar stared at her for several moments. Baelor walked back over to them, looking between the two of them rather expectantly.
Harrie sighed and ran a hand through her longer hair, the dark strands running down to her shoulder blades. It would need to be pulled back somehow, strands kept on getting into her face and being a pain. “Among other titles that my people gave me--”
“Titles?” Baelor echoed.
Harrie grimaced. “Much like ‘Breakspear’, my people named me the Girl-Who-Lived. Or I suppose after the war in my world, there was ‘Lady-Who-Conquered.”
Baelor tilted his head, his gaze sharpening.
“I honed myself into a weapon. When I met you, Maekar, I wanted…to be more than that,” Harrie offered, turning to look at Maekar. “And you seemed like you needed help.”
Maekar scowled, half of his body turned to his brother. Harrie wondered if he had noticed it. “Help. Bah.”
“This was my gift to you,” Harrie spoke, talking in Valyrian.
“You speak our language?” Baelor asked, leaning forward.
Two servants trailed in through the door and set down plates of food. It wasn’t a feast, wasn’t at all close to the food that would be fit for a meal, but it would get her and Maekar to dinner time. A few plates of sliced fruit and bread.
“Gift.” Maekar stared at her, switching to Valyrian as the servants set down the plates. “Are you a goddess?”
“No. And I picked it up from your brother,” Harrie answered, her stomach rumbling louder and hearing Maekar’s stomach growl as well. The servants left as quickly as they had come and she switched back to the common tongue here. Though Maekar made no move to grab food. “Eat. Having a ritual done on you will drain your strength.”
Maekar scowled at her. Harrie arched an eyebrow at him, pulling over some food to her plate and began to snack.
“Eat, brother,” Baelor urged, reaching over to grasp Maekar’s shoulder and giving him a pointed look.
Maekar continued to scowl before he sighed and helped himself to some food.
“I would like an explanation, please,” Baelor said, turning to meet her eyes.
Harrie dipped her head in a nod, staring at him for several minutes. He spoke quietly to her and Maekar both, though with Maekar there was more familiarity. “He and I… His mind and mine, as well as my body, came from the future. 24 years in the future, to be precise.”
She spared a glance to where her trunk was and stood up, gathering up an apple slice and eating it on the way. Something roared inside the trunk and she grinned faintly, swallowing the last bit of apple as she walked back to the table. The sound echoed in the otherwise quiet room.
Both Maekar and Baelor were staring at her, their gazes flicking between her and the trunk.
Harrie made a handwavy gesture, shrugging. “Time travel. I brought my trunk with me. Anyway…”
“Who were you to my brother?” Baelor asked, inhaling sharply.
Harrie stowed her trunk right by her feet and cleared her throat, licking away the juice from the fruit that had dribbled out. Maekar tilted his head, his violet eyes darkening just a tad.
“His head of household. No one else would have put up with him,” Harrie answered, her cheeks reddening a little bit.
Baelor’s lips twitched in amusement. “I do believe that sounds right.”
Maekar scowled. “Brother. Harrie, that is entirely untrue. Everyone else could fuck off.”
“Oh, just because I didn’t treat you like a--” Harrie stopped, swallowed. “I didn’t treat you like royalty.”
“What were you about to say?” Baelor said, interrupting whatever Maekar was about to say in reply. “You did not treat him like what?”
Harrie exchanged looks with Maekar, seeing rough pleading in his eyes, a kind of thing that she had seen a few times before. Thought about what had happened to him before she had met him.
“You will have to ask your brother yourself,” Harrie finally said, sighing and running a hand through her hair. Baelor let out a hum, half considering, half careful, and turned to look at Maekar, who shivered, his cheeks tinged with pink. Harrie would be worried about that look but for her history with Maekar. And for the way Maekar’s nostrils were flared, the way his breathing had hitched. “Oh, I also…have another gift. For your family.”
“Woman, what other kind of gift could you have brought us? You already brought me back to my brother and family…” Maekar trailed off, his eyes widening. “My family. Everyone’s…”
“Yes. Everyone’s alive,” Harrie finished, grinning at him, her heart thudding against her ribcage at the look in Maekar’s eyes. “That’s a part of what we need to talk about.”
“I had something I wanted to test out,” Harrie continued idly, turning to look at Baelor. “Something that I think…will change the future of Westeros.”
Baelor blinked.
Harrie reached over to her trunk and slid the lid open, hissed into the trunk. The creatures inside chirped loudly, eagerly, one of them racing up the stairs and right up into her arms.
“They don’t have names yet. I figured you lot would like to name your own.”
The dragon’s wings fluttered and its claws dug into her arms, making her grateful that she had made leather arm guards.
Baelor’s mouth dropped open at the sight. Maekar’s eyes widened until she thought they’d fall out of his skull.
“They’re about a month old,” Harrie commented, stroking the baby dragon’s neck.
Maekar opened his mouth and then closed it.
“Gods be good.” Baelor inhaled sharply, his fingers curling and uncurling.
“You should take her as a wife, brother,” Maekar whispered shakily.
“Or you should,” Baelor croaked out.
Harrie snorted. “We can talk later about details.”