Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, A Song of Ice and Fire belongs to G.R.R. Martin, and the Cover Picture belongs to Bethesda. I do not, nor do I pretend to own the aforementioned IPs. Anything else you recognise from anywhere else is also not mine to own.

~ Chapter 1 - Rebirth ~

A red-gold glow of the morning sun stretched across the courtyard, as the Battle of Hogwarts, and the Duel between the Darkest Lord of the century and the Boy-Who-Lived reached its climax. With the rest of the combatants encircling the duellists with bated breath, Riddle and Harry raised their wands in one final, simultaneous, cry:

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The cannon-like sound echoed over the battlefield, as the green and red spells met in the centre, and subsequently merge into a single golden beam connecting their wands, just like the time in Little Hangleton, and in the skies above Surrey. Both wizards pushed and strained against the other, neither Harry nor Riddle giving any ground. It seemed that true to the prophecy both were the other's equal, despite the age difference, and the gap in magical knowledge. Finally, both Harry and Riddle let out one final roar. As the magical build up from the golden beam reached its apex, a blast tore the courtyard, causing the spectators to look away.

Onlookers waited for the explosion subside, hoping, praying that the outcome favoured whichever side they were on. Eventually, the dust settled, and everyone saw the corpse of Riddle on the ground, a hole where his heart would be. The Light cheered, as the Death Eaters dropped their wands in surrender, but the celebrations were short-lived as Luna, of all people, noted their missing saviour.

"Where's Harry?" she asked to no one in particular. This caused everyone to freeze, as they frantically looked for the Boy-Who-Lived. They would never find him, for the young man was teleported away by a power beyond them, and Harry Potter was declared KIA by the surviving government, becoming a martyr and a symbol for the Light for generations to come.

That said, it was not the end for Harry Potter, as he woke up in a familiar setting; King's Cross Station.

"Huh, back here again," he said out loud. He took stock of his surrounding, noting that he was already clothed this time round, "Wonder what the deal is."

"You are dead, Master," a feminine voice called out from behind him.

Harry immediately spun around while attempting to draw his wand, only to realise he was unarmed. He then properly looked at the figure before him, taking in the features. Before Harry, stood a relatively tall woman, wearing a form fitting black cloak with hood. In the figure's right hand was a scythe, while her left hand held a leather-bound black book with yellowing pages. The hood of the cloak was drawn over her face, leaving it obscured in shadow.

"Who are you?" Harry demanded, before the earlier statement finally registered, "Wait, dead? What? How?"

"You expended all of your magical energy fighting the Abomination that used to be Tom Marvolo Riddle," the figure rather stoically explained, "As for who I am, well, I called you Master. Is it not obvious?"

Harry didn't reply, as his mind was still in shock from learning that he was dead.

"Well, I suppose I can make an allowance for your rudeness, this time, Master. I am Death," the now named Death, exasperatedly remarked.

Coming out of his stupor, Harry finally responded, "Wait, you're Death? But, I don't have the Stone anymore, I lost it in the Forbidden Forest."

"Possession of the Items is irrelevant. I chose you as my Master because you understand that dying is necessary to nature, not something to run away from. When you willingly walked to your death, just like your ancestor Ignotus Peverell all those years ago, you proved yourself worthy of becoming my Master," Death explained, "You are not the first to hold all three Hallows simultaneously. It has happened twice before, but neither person was worthy of being the Master of Death and so I orchestrated their rather swift and untimely deaths."

Harry stood there processing the information that Death provided. Too much was being thrown at him, which left him extremely unbalanced, and he didn't a moment to collect himself. Eventually, he regained some semblance of control and looked back to Death.

"So what happens now?" he asked.

"Now? Well, that is an interesting question. As you are my Master, you are, for all intents and purposes, immortal," Death stated, "As such, I cannot allow you to pass on to the Realm of the Dead."

"So I can never meet my parents, Sirius, or Remus?" Harry asked in sadness.

"You can never join them in the afterlife, no," Death replied, in a surprisingly gentle tone, "However, being the Master of Death does come with its benefits."

She then raised her hand and idly waved, summoning the spectres of four familiar people.

"When you gained the allegiance of the Hallows, they merged with you. Now their powers are yours to command, as you see fit," Death explained, "Thus, you can summon the Shades of anyone you desire, in a manner that is much more comfortable than if you were to summon them with the Resurrection Stone."

"Mum?! Dad!" Harry ran towards his parents, and was instantly engulfed in a loving hug. Turning his head, slightly, he then caught sight of his godfather and pseudo-uncle, "Sirius! Remus!"

"Oh, sweetheart! It's good to see you again," Lily said, her eyes welling up.

"Hey Kiddo, we are so proud of you!" James added, beaming at his son.

"I…I guess I scared you. Walking up to Riddle, like that," Harry weakly chuckled.

"I'm not going to lie, dear, and say no," Lily replied, with a watery smile.

"Mhm, but we get why you did it," James added, "You had to get rid of the soul fragment, after all."

"Now we must come to the crux of the matter, Master," Death said, drawing the attention of everyone, "As I said before, you are for all intents immortal, but not in the same sense, as say, the Flamels were.

"You can still die master," Death explained, "But once you do, you will be brought before me once more, and you will not be sent on to the afterlife. Such as the situation you are in, now. What will happen instead, is that you will be reincarnated."

"So, he will cease being our son?" Lily asked, fearful.

"Not as such, Lily Potter," Death corrected, "While he will lose his physical from, each time he is to be reincarnated, he will still retain his memories of every life he will live. In most cases, he will regain his powers, which will either manifest as his magic or an equivalent power, depending on the circumstances of his reincarnation. Sometimes, however, he might not have any power at all."

"I don't want this, though!" Harry exclaimed, "Surely, I get a choice in the matter!"

His mother and the Marauders shared a look, silently conversing, while Harry was fretting over this sudden news.

"Harry, you deserve this," Lily said, drawing her son's attention, "You shouldn't have led the life you did. Take this second chance."

"If you're worried about not being able to join us, then just remember, we're only a dream call away," Remus added.

Harry looked down unable to form words, to which Lily moved forward and grabbed her son's chin, lifting it up.

"Harry James Potter, you listen to me. You have earned this. I don't care what you think, or what the Dursleys' treatment has to lead you to believe. You have earned the right to live a life on your own terms. Take this chance," she said, in a forceful manner.

"She's right son," James added, "While I'm loath to part with you so soon after finally having a chance to talk to you, you deserve a better life. A chance to live for once."

"But…All I ever wanted was to be with my family. To be with you," Harry argued.

"And you will have one," Lily insisted, "Harry, we loved you in life, and we will continue to love you in death. But Riddle took away any chance of us ever having the life you wanted. Since then, you've devoted your entire life to stopping him."

"You were too consumed with what Riddle did to have a life, Harry," James took over, "So hear me now. Forget about us. Take this chance, and have a life with a family that loves you like we do."

"Dad…" Harry was speechless, "I…"

"Riddle already took so much from you, Harry," Sirius added.

"Don't let him take away your chance at happiness," Remus finished.

Harry let out a defeated sigh. He turned to look at to Death and asked, "What must I do?"

"Give me your hand, Master," she replied, extending a hand from her robe, "You will be reincarnated into a world similar to Europe in the Middle Ages. You will be born with your magic, but it won't be available until you are much older. You will also be part of a strong lineage and will change the world.

"In this world, I am known as the Stranger. You may take me as your patron if you so desire. And when you inevitably pass on, you will return here," Death finished, "Be warned, Master, while you will have a pleasant life, it will not be completely peaceful."

Harry took one moment to glance at his family, before reaching out to grasp Death's hand. Suddenly, a white light broke out from nowhere, engulfing everyone, and blinding Harry, who in turn closed his eyes.

"Wha-" he started, before he lost consciousness.

Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell had a grim expression on his face has he rode through northern edges of the Red Mountains of Dorne, with some two dozen men, behind him. Called Ned by his closest friends and kin, his thoughts were scattered as he considered the last two years. Barely a month had passed since the death of Prince Rhaegar, who was slain by his best friend Robert Baratheon at the Battle of the Trident, a battle in the Riverlands that was widely considered to be the decisive victory in a nearly two-yearlong rebellion against House Targaryen.

Robert's Rebellion, as the bards had begun to call it, started with the kidnapping of Eddard's only sister, Lyanna, by Prince Rhaegar, the heir to the Iron Throne. Eddard's older brother, Brandon, incensed by the news, rode for the King's Landing, with a group of men that consisted of Ethan Glover, Kyle Royce, Elbert Arryn and Jeffory Mallister. Upon arrival, Brandon, in a fit of impulsive behaviour, rather loudly shouted for Rhaegar to come out and die. However, the Crown Prince was not there to answer the challenge, and the group were instead arrested and charged with plotting to murder Rhaegar. The respective fathers of each man were called to King's Landing, to answer for the charges, and were summarily executed for treason. Only Ethan Glover survived and was imprisoned for the duration of the war.

The deaths of Rickard and Brandon Stark, the former being the then Lord of Winterfell, were particularly horrifying. The Warden of the North had demanded Trial by Combat, as was his right. However, in a fit of madness, Aerys II chose fire as his champion and had Eddard's father suspended in the throne room, over a pit of fire. Brandon has a noose tied around his neck but was otherwise free to try and save his father. What followed was utter madness. As Rickard was in full plate, he was slowly roasted alive. Brandon had strangled himself to death, trying to save his father, which meant that the Lord Paramount of the North died as well.

Immediately after, the Mad King had demanded that Eddard's foster father, Jon Arryn hand over Eddard to the Crown to be executed as well. Instead, the aged Warden of the East summoned his bannermen and instructed Eddard to do the same. Robert, who was Eddard's foster brother, did the same, furious that his betrothed was the one who was abducted. Then, following swift negotiations with Hoster Tully, the rebellion began.

After several battles, some ending in victory, others in defeat, Prince Rhaegar took to the field, in his ruby encrusted black armour.

Once he had broken the siege at Storm's End, instead of returning to the capital, Eddard rode further south, receiving word regarding the whereabouts of Lyanna.

"Lord Stark, why are we here?" Ser Mark Ryswell asked, "Should we not be returning to the capital?"

"With the Kingslayer at King's Landing, Ser Jonothor Darry and Prince Lewyn Martell dead, and Ser Barristan imprisoned, three of the Kingsguard are unaccounted for," Eddard informed them all, "I suspect they are guarding my sister, and I received word that she was last seen in Dorne. And that Prince Rhaegar was last seen near the Tower of Joy."

"I would imagine they would join up with the remaining members of House Targaryen instead of holding your sister hostage, my Lord," Martyn Cassel commented.

"Unless they were following the last command of the late Prince," Lord William Dustin reasoned.

"The Kingsguard obey the King, not the Crown Prince," Martyn argued, "Rhaegar was dead long before the Mad King. He would have had no right to issue any orders to those knights."

"You forget the rumours from Harrenhal. That Rhaegar planned to overthrow his father," Howland Reed, the Lord of Greywater Watch quietly reminded them, "Perhaps these particular Kingsguard were a part of the conspiracy?"

"Sounds likely," Ser Mark remarked, "Considering that the Sword of the Morning was said to be Prince Rhaegar's closest friend."

"Enough chattering, we've arrived," Eddard interrupted them, bringing his horse to a halt. His eyes hardened, as he eyed the three remaining knights in white standing guard at the entrance to the tower. Dismounting, he approached them.

"I looked for you on the Trident," he called out to the knights.

"We were not there," Lord Commander Gerold Hightower answered.

"Woe to the Usurper if we had been," Ser Oswell Whent added.

"When King's Landing fell, and Ser Jaime slew your king with his golden sword, I wondered where you were," Eddard stated.

"Far away," Ser Gerold replied, "or his Grace would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in the seven hells."

"I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege," Eddard then told them, "Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be amongst them."

"Our knees do not bend easily," Ser Arthur Dayne stated, his eyes turning cold.

"Ser Willem Darry has fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him."

"Ser Willem is a good man and true," Ser Oswell said.

"But not of the Kingsguard," Ser Gerold pointed out. "The Kingsguard do not flee."

"Then or now," Ser Arthur said donning his helm.

"We swore a vow," Ser Gerold calmly explained.

Eddard's men moved up beside him, with swords in hand. They were seven against three.

"And now it begins," Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning announced. He unsheathed his sword, Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milk and alive with light.

"No," Eddard said with sadness in his voice, "Now it ends."

As if answering to some unseen signal, both Eddard and Ser Arthur met in the middle, their sword clashing, causing a loud crash of steel upon steel. The allies of both combatants moved to assist.

Eddard watched in sorrow as both Ethan Glover and William Dustin fell to the blades of Ser Oswell and Ser Gerold respectively, yet even in his grief, he did not let up with assault on the Sword of the Morning, meeting Ser Arthur strike for strike, blow for blow.

Around them, Ser Gerold made to strike down Howland, but instead struck a mortal wound to Martyn Cassel. Not a moment later, Ser Oswell was killed by Theo Wull, who stabbed the Kingsguard with a thrust to the spine from behind. Wull was in turn killed by Ser Gerold who slashed his dagger into Wull's throat, killing him instantly.

While this was happening, Eddard and Ser Arthur continued their furious duel, neither side giving way to the other. A cry when Ser Oswell was slain caused Ser Arthur to falter, allowing Eddard to steal a swipe at the Dornishman's leg, drawing blood.

"You are good, Lord Stark," the Sword of Morning reluctantly admitted.

"As are you," Eddard returned, "Surrender. The war is lost to you. I simply want my sister."

"You know that I can't Lord Stark. I swore an oath."

"I know," Eddard sighed, "I had to try, if only for your sisters' sake."

Ser Arthur huffed out a laugh, "Aren't you married now, Lord Stark? No matter, it ends now."

The pair renewed their fierce battle, as Ser Gerold made to finish off Eddard's remaining subordinates. Before he could, however, he was slashed on the shoulder by Lord Howland. Normally, Ser Gerold would be able to shrug off the shallow wound, but out of nowhere, he felt a sudden dizziness.

"Poison…" he whispered.

Taking the opportunity, Ser Mark stabbed his sword deep into the Lord Commander's chest killing him swiftly.

Noting that he was the last man, Ser Arthur ignored Eddard and slashed at Ser Mark Ryswell, who fell cleanly in two halves.

Seeing the chance, Eddard struck at Ser Arthur's back, ignoring the fact it was dishonourable and more concerned about making for his sister. Unfortunately, for Eddard, Ser Arthur expected the attack, and turned around and dodged far quicker than his wounds suggest he would be able to. Seeing that the Lord of Winterfell stumbled, the Sword of Morning lifted Dawn, moving to behead his opponent.

Or he would have, had it not been for the timely intervention of Howland Reed, who struck Ser Arthur in the side of his neck. Eddard then stabbed Ice into the Dornishman's heart, killing him instantly.

Staggering back, and resting on his sword, Eddard turned to Howland, "I owe you my life."

Howland simply smiled, "There is no debt between friends."

Before Eddard could insist, a scream from a woman caught the attention of them both.

"Go!" Howland insisted, "I'll handle the dead!"

Needing no further push, Eddard ran up to the Tower, as the Northern Lord took care of the bodies. As he ran, another scream echoed through the tower. Upon reaching the top, Eddard burst into a room, where he saw a bedridden woman holding a boy a little over a year old. With them were two other women, handmaidens Eddard supposed.

"Ned?" the woman whispered.

"Lyanna!" Eddard called out. He placed his sword at the foot of the bed and knelt beside his sister. Lyanna Stark looked to the side slightly, as she met the eyes of her brother.

"Is that you?" she whispered, "Is that really you? You're not a dream?"

Eddard held on to both of Lyanna's hands with one of his own, while the other stroked the side of her head.

"No, I'm not a dream," he replied with a sad smile, "I'm here. Right here."

"I've missed you, big brother," Lyanna said, as her body seemed to sag.

"I've got you Lya. It's okay now, we can go home."

"Oh, Ned. How I wish I could…I can't Ned. I don't know what's wrong, but my time is near…" she coughed before uncurling around the child she held, "Before I was taken by Rhaegar, I spent a night with Robert when he visited Winterfell, and…and I fell pregnant, Ned.

"Take him, Ned. Promise me, you'll take care of him," she gasped clutching at her brother's tunic.

Eddard, gazed at his nephew, taking in his appearance. He looked to be older than his son Robb, by a year or so. He had tufts of black hair, as dark as Robert's. Eddard also noted that his nephew had his mother Lyarra's green eyes, though missed the slight violet sheen in one of them, in his anguish. Much to his surprise, however, the babe was silent, throughout all this.

"His name is Haraldr, Ned," Lyanna continued, her breaths growing shallower, "He is Robert's heir. Promise me you'll raise him to be a good man, Ned…Pro…promise…me…"

"Lyanna, I promise, please hold on, we'll get you a healer. Stay with me, please!" Eddard cried out, all but begging.

"Make sure he knows he's a wolf Ned," she murmured, before her head lolled to the side, her eyes unseeing.

Eddard gently picked up his nephew, who starting crying, as if realising his mother's passing.

"Easy, little pup, all will be well. You have the blood of the wolf, like your mother, yet you are a stag, like your father. I will protect you, little one, no matter what the cost," he gentled whispered, trying to soothe the boy. Eddard then turned to Howland, who had since entered the room.

"We ride for King's Landing, Howland," Eddard softly commanded.

Robert Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm sat on the Iron Throne, in the Red Keep of King's Landing. It had been barely two months since the Sacking led by Tywin Lannister, and his argument with his best friend Eddard, who had left to break the siege of Storm's End before rescuing his sister and Robert's betrothed, Lyanna.

A young man in his early twenties, he stood taller than most, with broad shoulders and chin length black hair. He had dark blue eyes, as stormy as his ancestral lands. His face was covered with a scruffy beard, and his face, and had a strong jaw that gave him an attractive quality. He wore a long-sleeved tunic, dark pants and leather boots, coloured in his House colours of black and yellow. His war hammer was rested at the side of his newly won throne.

Robert thought back to his argument with Eddard. Truthfully, he found the deaths of Elia Martell and her children distasteful, but if he was honest with himself, he knew it had to be done. Anyone left of the cunt Rhaegar's seed needed to die for his reign to be secure, and he was glad someone else did it so that he wasn't painted as the villain by the smallfolk. He was brought out of his musings when a servant announced that Eddard had arrived.

Robert watched as Eddard walked in carrying a young child in his arms. His curiosity piqued, he rose to welcome his friend.

"Ned! Welcome back," he greeted.

"Aye, Your Grace, thank you," Eddard replied, with a small nod, "I have returned from Dorne."

Robert's smile faltered, as he took note of Eddard's grim expression.

"You Grace, my sister, your betrothed has passed away," Eddard said, watching his friend's expression turn into horror before anger appeared.

"How?" he all but demanded.

"I am unsure Your Grace, but it appears she fell ill and her health simply grew worse, without a maester to help her," Eddard explained, his tone coloured with sorrow.

"Oh Gods be merciful on her soul," Robert mourned, before looking at the child, who was staring at Robert in curiosity, "Who is this boy?"

Eddard paused slightly as if trying consider what to say. Eventually, he simply stated, "Your son."

Robert's anger faded and was replaced with shock.

"As I understand it, he was conceived shortly before Lyanna was kidnapped by Rhaegar, and subsequently kept prisoner alongside Lyanna," Eddard explained.

"His name…What is his name?" Robert asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Lyanna named him Haraldr, a name from the Old Tongue of the North," Eddard replied, handing the child over to Robert.

The newly crowned king held his son, wincing slightly as the boy grasped his hair, but chuckled.

"He has a strong grip. Haraldr hmm? A strong name, for the Crown Prince," Robert declared before his face turned thoughtful.

Noticing his friend's face Eddard asked, "What's wrong?"

"Ah well…it's just that, with Lyanna's passing, I will be expected to marry," Robert explained, "Jon explained that it might be probable that Tywin Lannister will offer his daughter, Cersei."

Eddard's expression grew cold at the mentioning of the one who ordered the Sacking of King's Landing.

Robert continued, seemingly ignoring his friend's look, "Anyway, Ned, if it happens that I have to marry Cersei Lannister, I can't raise little Harry, here," he looked at his son, giving him a tickle, causing Harry to giggle, "Cersei won't be a mother for him, so I ask that you foster Harry at Winterfell, with him visiting at least once a year, when he's old enough."

Eddard considered the proposal for a few minutes, before answering, "Very well, Catelyn and I will raise him. My son, Robb, might enjoy having an older brother figure while growing up."

Robert grinned, "Excellent! I'll find a wet nurse for the boy, and we'll go celebrate the birth of my son, Crown Prince Haraldr! A true Baratheon!"

"Indeed, it's finally happened, a child of Stark and Baratheon blood. Jon will want to meet him," Eddard chuckled. It had been something they had discussed during their fostering at the Eyrie.

While the two friends celebrating their victory, and mourned the loss of family, Haraldr, or Harry as he was nicknamed, regarded his father and uncle.

'So this is what Death meant by a 'Strong Lineage'. So much for a quiet life. It seems I will have enemies here as I did in my last life. Joy…'

All the way in Casterly Rock, one Tywin Lannister was pacing in his study, as his brother Kevan watched him. Usually, the former Hand of the King would be the epitome of calm, yet the reports his spies sent him, had Tywin having to rethink his plans.

"This changes things. The whole scope of the Game has to been altered," he muttered.

"What worries you, brother?" Kevan asked.

Tywin turned to the one person he trusted, to some extent, without reservation.

"It would seem that that the newly crowned stag has a fawn, by way of the she-wolf."

"Speak plainly, brother, I don't care for riddles," Kevan retorted.

"King Robert has a son, by way of his betrothed Lyanna Stark. The boy was conceived before the Rebellion and kept captive along with his mother in Dorne.

"While the babe may not necessarily be trueborn, Robert was, and I suppose, still is enamoured with Lyanna Stark. Enough that he would not hesitate to legitimise the child as his heir," Tywin explained, "And with Robert's currently popularity, the rabble won't care about the it's background, so even if Cersei were to marry the King, a child born of the union would never sit upon the Iron Throne."

"Can you not simply assassinate the boy?" Kevan inquired, even as he cringed at the thought. Though Tywin had set a precedent, if one considered his actions with the regards to the children of Rhaegar Targaryen.

"I could if it wasn't for the fact that the child is tied to four Great Houses. Not to mention if word were to link the assassination back to me, our House would be doomed to extinction," Tywin replied, his face an expressionless mask.

"Even so, the King will need to remarry, so if Cersei were to produce more heirs, and this child were to die before siring children of his own, then a Lannister prince would sit on the throne," Kevan offered, "Better yet, if we exert enough influence in court, the child could be betrothed to a Lannister anyway. Cousin Stafford has a daughter."

Tywin turned to his brother, with an approving look.

"Yes, both are suitable plans," Tywin began, "However, until such a time, there is a more immediate problem. House Stark grows in power and influence, and, according to my informants, the boy is to be initially raised in Winterfell until he is old enough to periodically visit King's Landing. We may yet have the opportunity to gain some influence in court."

"We could have the boy fostered here?" Kevan suggested.

"Perhaps. Unlikely, however. Eddard Stark would not allow it," Tywin replied, "His disdain for our family is well known by now."

As the brothers continued to plot, an interested party elsewhere also took stock of the situation.

An heir, you say?" said an amused voice, in the catacombs of the Red Keep, a voice belonging to none other than Illyrio Mopatis. Alongside him, was the Master of Whispers of the Mad King's Small Council, Varys the Spider.

"Indeed, a child born of the wolf and stag. A curious, if a dangerous combination," Varys confirmed, "A prince I believe would be good for the realm. If he survives to manhood, that is."

"Yes. However, I doubt the Lions took such news well, however?" the magister asked.

"Not well at all, it would seem. Apparently, the Lioness raged for a day, upon hearing that none of her children would initially sit on the Iron Throne."

"I wonder if this prince would be a threat to the dragon." Illyrio mused.

"Viserys is young and without any steadfast allies of his own, unlike his late elder brother. Not to mention he is beginning to show the same signs of madness his father had," Varys commented, "I would sooner leave the Iron Throne in the hands of the Baratheons than allow for a second Mad King to ravage the realm.

"And Queen Rhaella has yet to give birth, so we do not know whether babe is a boy or a girl," the Spider further added.

"But what of the boy?"

"Safe, and hidden away," the eunuch replied, "He will be raised without knowledge of his heritage. Only when we know that the Madness has not affected him will we reveal his birth right. Perhaps I shall arrange for Connington to find him."

"Jon Connington would die for any child of Rhaegar," Illyrio remarked, "A loyal and steadfast protector could not be found elsewhere."

Varys hummed in agreement but usually unflappable spymaster had a rare troubled expression on his face.

"Does something trouble you, my friend? About Connington?" the Pentoshi merchant inquired, concerned.

"Not about Connington, no," Varys replied.

"Then, what?"

"I pride myself on knowing everything that happens in the Seven Kingdoms," the Spider explained, "Events, both high or low profile, do not happen without my knowledge. Especially a meeting between Lyanna Stark and Robert Baratheon."

"Could your birds have simply flown by the…liaison?" Illyrio queried, raising an eyebrow.

"That is very unlikely. However, it matters little. For now, the Great Game has changed, with new pieces on the board," Varys giggled, "Alas, I do what I do for the good of the realm, regardless of who sits upon the Throne."

"I see. Well, I shall be seeing you, old friend," Illryio bade Varys farewell before taking his leave.

"Indeed you shall," the Spider tittered, leaving the tunnels.

Nearly a week later, Eddard Stark had finally arrived at Riverrun, the seat of House Tully, and his lady wife, Catelyn. Catelyn Tully was to be wed to Eddard's older brother Brandon, had he, along with his father Rickard, not been killed on the orders of the Mad King. Then, when the Vale of Arryn declared Rebellion alongside the Stormlands and the North, Hoster Tully declared that his daughters needed to be wed to the Lords of a Great House, as his price for siding with the Rebellion.

In a quick ceremony, Eddard married Catelyn, while Jon Arryn married Lysa. Robb was conceived on the night of the wedding and born while Eddard was away. Now, he returned victorious from the War and was looking forward to meeting his son for the first time.

Carrying his nephew, who fell asleep during the ride, in one arm, while carefully holding a cloth bundle in another, Eddard made to meet his wife.

"So, this is the Crown Prince then, my lord? Our nephew?" Catelyn asked as she took Harry into her arms.

"Aye, Lyanna named him Haraldr, an old name in the tongue of the First Men, though Robert took to calling him Harry, when I introduced them," Eddard replied.

"A good name for the boy," Catelyn regarded her new nephew, "I take it, that he is to be fostered at Winterfell?"

"Until he is old enough to travel to, and from the Capital, yes," Eddard confirmed, "He'll also be periodically travelling to the other kingdoms as he grows older so that he is well rounded."

Catelyn then turned her face to the bundle in Eddard's arms, before looking askance at her lord husband.

Opening the bundle to a new born babe, Eddard looked at his wife with an ashamed expression, "This is Jon Snow, my baseborn son."

Catelyn's face turned cold in fury, "You mean to raise your bastard alongside my children, and the Crown Prince?" she asked, her tone frigid, causing Eddard to flinch, but remained steadfast.

"Shortly before this whole madness began, I travelled to Starfall to visit Ashara Dayne," Eddard began, in a quiet tone, "I had intended on marrying her, and start a cadet line of House Stark, and rebuild Moat Cailin, and we were intimate during my stay. I had no idea Ashara was with child, during the War."

"That explains where the boy comes from, but why isn't Lady Ashara raising the boy?" Catelyn asked, her anger fading slightly, but still speaking coldly, after finding out her lord husband wasn't technically being unfaithful.

"She is dead," came the flat reply, "When I delivered the body of Ser Arthur Dayne, and when Ashara found out I was married to you, she threw herself off the Palestone Sword Tower. I will not abandon him, my lady. It's a greater insult to ignore one's own blood."

"I see," Catelyn said, her eyes narrowing, "Don't expect me to be his mother. I will help raise the prince as a courtesy to your late sister, but I will only tolerate your bastard, at most."

Eddard watched as his wife carried his nephew to her quarters, no doubt to find a bed for Harry. He then closed his eyes in thought, 'Things are changing quickly in Westeros. Winter is coming.'

Author's Notes: Right, so I've basically abandoned my earlier Pokémon stories, 'cause I have no clue where I'm going with them. This is the beginning of my series called The Travels of the Master of Death. Hopefully, you'll enjoy it, so please leave a review, and I'll see you next week for an update.