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"Speech"

'Thoughts'

Flashback

Chapter 1: Ascendance

Unknown time and place

He was awakened by a horrid sounding crack accompanied by the inevitable mild postural tremor due to being awakened after a long period of hibernation. Slowly he stood up straight, his eyes still blurry and irritated because of the long inactivity and hidden from light. Immediately abandoning his dejected posture, he looked out to his surroundings seeking knowledge of the area that he was in and hoped it was some place he recognized.

The truth was that he was on the edge of a painful looking abyss, where the cries of thunder echoed like a roaring crowd at a sporting event. It was all so dark, cold, and hazy. He could not make out anything try as he might and it was with great effort that he was just able to spot a scary looking cave in front of him.

Where he was? Who was he? How did he get there? The last time he was aware of his surroundings, he believed that it was during his last hours among all the stars and planets... YES! He remembered now! He had lived more than nine hundred years thanks to the Elixir of Life! He had surpassed two famous people… Nicholas… Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel! The original two who discovered and were the first to use the Elixir and who died at six hundred years of age.

His name was on the tip of his tongue, Harper? Haden? Harmon? Harry?... YES! His name was Harry, Harry James Potter was his name. He was a…. Magician? No… something to do with magic… a wizard? YES! He was a Wizard that came the closer than anyone has ever come to true immortality. However, he recalled a little somberly, living for a long time has its price, a high price of living lonely and becoming cynical. Harry made a name for himself that was almost unmatched in the magical world, the only close contender being that of Merlin himself. While using an alias, he built a business empire in the non-magic world, impacting a network of entrepreneurship in several important sectors of the commercial world and building a fortune.

After centuries of changing his appearance and name, and living over and over disguised as a descendant of himself, Harry gave up. His apathetic spirit over the years was turning into contempt for the laity around him. It was not arrogance, but only a realization of his ascension past humankind, that his knowledge became equal to Athena's children in the last centuries if he were to make a parallel with the Greek Pantheon of Wizarding Royalty. He married once in the wizarding world, and three times in the non-magical world, creating a legacy of descendants that helped him preserve his financial empire for many years as well as carrying on his family name. For the past two hundred years, he had chosen exile, preferring the company of books and creating new inventions to keep his mind occupied. Finally, he came to a decision: Harry decided to stop taking the Elixir of Life, giving up on continuing to live amid so much mediocrity and rabble with no one around that could challenge him. He was going to climb to the next level; a higher level; it was time for his ascension to the next plane of existence.

Turning rigidly to observe more of the environment, Harry only saw the deep pitch black with uninterrupted thunderstorms, "Where am I?" He whispered looking for signs of what was to come with slow steps and careful gaze he tried to discern anything. Suddenly, he felt pain beyond anything he recalled and fell on the rough ground before a loud ringing hit his ears driving the pain up. He felt a huge pain in the cranial box causing him to writhe on the ground with alternating pain from head to toe for what seemed like an eternity. Now in the fetal position, covering his ears trying to drown out the shrill noise, he suddenly had a feeling of his soul being pulled out of the body he had used for over nine-centuries. For a few seconds, Harry struggled against the pull as he tried to breathe normally, then immediately his senses and mind left him leaving only the darkness with his lifeless body. It slowly drawn over the edge into the abyss as his soul, mind, and consciousness left to somewhere else.

xxx

Vale of Arryn. 298 AC

Harry's Age: 18

A young man hurried his steps, causing noise due to the friction between the soles of his boots and the marble surface they walked. The white stone corridors were heated by thick woolen tapestries in sky blue and white colors giving ornate depicting the stories of great battles, events, and famous people of Arryn house. Although it is summer, the Eyrie felt cold. Especially on the outside, not that it's a surprise, the castle is in the Mountains of the Moon. Passing by one of the windows, he could see a light powder of snow on the outside in the garden and was satisfied because, despite the low temperature, the rich harvest of wheat, corn and barley growing areas was not impaired in the least. Turning his attention to where he walked, he approached a large set of doors waving to the guards with a stoic face as they bowed and opened the doors for him. Harry quickly came in and stepped forward when the door closed behind him.

The Eyrie had undergone internal reform in recent years. The High Hall was now separated into two rooms by four pillars carved and adorned in black Asshai stones. The Throne of House Arryn and Meal Hall were separated end to end in the long, austere corridor. The floor next to the throne was now made of mosaic stones representing the earth circle, symbolizing the lives of animals and plants, and thick blue carpet covered much of the floor. On the ceiling there was a chandelier in the shape of a hawk that weighed 300 pounds, made of brass plated in silver and encrusted with blue quartz. 2000 candles added to the decoration of the chandelier that when lit, illuminated all the hall. The chandelier was suspended by a long chain of iron from the high ceiling with extra supports to hold the weight.

The walls of the hall were white marble marked with runic inscriptions in blue that seemed to glow in the candlelight. Also along the walls were aarrow arched windows, among which, Dragonstone sconces complemented the design. Ahead, a small set of five steps covered by a blue carpet stretched directly to the throne of House Arryn. It was the same seat that was sculpted from Weirwood. Beside the throne was a sculpture of a carved male figure standing on Asshai black stone, holding a bow in his hands. The great detail of the work of art was apparent: the man had a hawk's head with eyes in distinct colors: a gold stone embedded in one eye and a silver stone in the other eye. The eyes representing the mystical marriage of the Sun and the Moon as the statue stood six feet high. Harry idly mused that it looked like the statue of Ra he saw in Egypt once.

Taking his rightful seat on the throne, Harry then turned his attention to the people within the hall, "My Lords, my Ladies, may I have your attention!" The young man greeted everyone present in the High Hall while he sat elegantly on his throne. Holding in his hands a thick leather-bound book with a sky-blue falcon soaring against a white moon against a sky-blue field emblazoned on the front.

The young lord glanced briefly at his vassals and servants, who looked mournful and saddened in their appearance. The forlorn looks and funeral emotions of the environment didn't surprise him, no doubt wishing to continue their mourning before their new lord began his business. Harry understood since not even a week ago, the body of the ancient Lord of the Eyrie and Hand of the King was put to rest inside a tomb in the arms of the Stranger (the Seven). His lord and father, Jon Arryn, was buried after being escorted from the capital to the Vale among a funeral procession worthy of the highest nobility. His body was followed by knights, vassals, lords, members of the domestic guard, and the care of several Silent Sisters.

It was no great surprise to him or anyone: His father was respected and loved by many in the Vale of Arryn.

Killed not on the battlefield by a worthy foe, but by an illness in the stomach that attacked without mercy. The Grand Maester Pycelle gave him poppy milk, so that his father would not suffer for long. 'That was a small mercy.' The King had told him in a letter sent with the royal seal and written in the handwriting of Robert Baratheon the First, himself. The Lord of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros and the head of House Baratheon of King's Landing.

'Stomach disease'. The young man thought and scoffed contemptuously as he thought about the true cause of his father's death. Although he was a prudent and wise man, at the same time, the late Arryn was extremely overconfident, believing that he did not leave traces in his investigations and inquiries. King's Landing is a city full of vipers and rats with eyes and ears in every alley, hole, and chink of the capital. Everyone is someone's informant in that cursed city. If you have a good nose, you can also smell the betrayal, lust, and greed in the air... that is… if you can smell past all the shit!

"The seed is strong". It was what his father had written to him a moon before he died, referring to what he learned about the Baratheon lineage while studying Malleon's book. Unfortunately, it was too late. Jon Arryn, Hand of the King, did not have time to gather evidence and present them before the King, the evidence showing that his three "legitimate" children were the product of incest between Queen Cersei and her brother Jaime.

With each passing day the Lannister influence grew more in Westeros and continued to increase the distance of his power with the other houses. Even within his own House Arryn. It would not be surprising if King Robert soon appeared dead, suddenly and without warning. If this were to happen, it would be perhaps the worst news for the kingdom as many would make their bid for the crown. The young Mr. Arryn lived close to many of the Lannister during his childhood, while following his father to and in King's Landing. He even got to meet the queen herself, who he saw as an intelligent but equally unbalanced woman, which made her fitting for her king in some ways. The kingdom under the regency of the Lannisters, should the King die, would be a corrosive chaos over a damn tyrant absolutist monarchy. He met the prince, Joffrey Baratheon, a boy that had an uncontrollable temper not unlike his mother Cersei and an uncontrolled sadistic trait. This was in addition to being ambitious and not that bright.

'Enough of that for now,. I gathered my vassals here for a reason.' The young man thought after emerging from his absorbed state. He looked at his servants with an uncompromising stare. Realizing that they were awaiting his announcement resignedly. Well, he would not let his father's death be in vain, 'I'd never agree to bend my knees to some bastard either. I am Harry Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie, Defender of the Vale and Warden of the East. I have faced enemies worse than a lion and have lived long enough to look at Olenna Tyrell and Tywin Lannister as if they were two spoiled children.' The one now known as Lord of the Vale thought knowing that he would show them why he was to be feared and respected.

End of chapter

Harry was born in 280 AC. In this edition he has no Blackfyre ancestry. Now he's a pure Arryn.