AN: This is a crossover between HP and ASOIAF universe. Harry has died in his original universe and reborn in the new one as the second son of Cersei and Robert with flashes of previous memories. He is not the same as he was in the previous life, the royal upbringing has ensured that. The magic in this story will be highly muted compared to HP universe in order to bring it down to the level of this universe. The lead characters will be highly OOC so please don't complain about that. English is like my 3rd language so please excuse the mistakes. Your reviews are appreciated.

Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter nor A Song of Ice and Fire belong to me.

Warnings: Smut, lemons, incest, rape(like) scenes and severe psychological trauma.

Chapter 1

Harry POV

The ride through the kingswood forest left him soggy, sore and annoyed. His clothes and shoes were caked with mud as the party was forced to make haste towards the nearest inn before the last shafts of sunlight receded beyond the horizon.

These were the very forests where the Kingswood Brotherhood once ruled the roost. Men like Simon Toyne and The Smiling Knight ended the lives of quite a few highborn like him. No matter how peaceful the realm seemed, camping out in the open in such a place with a party his size was not an option. He could feel most of his companions unhappy with the pace he set but such was the price for being in the company of the second prince of the realm, Harrison Baratheon.

The reason he was forced to set such a gruelling pace was that the hands tourney. Harrison had received the invitation barely a week before the date due to that ancient snivelling maester Pycelle, likely on his dear mother's orders.

Cersei Lannister, mother above bless her, loved all her children, as long as they were perfect copies of her. The woman adored Joffery, his older brother and the crown prince. She cared for Myrcella, and was fond of little Tommen. But when it came to him, all he could sense from the woman was thinly disguised contempt and loathing. The woman either ignored him completely or belittled him with vile insults.

Once upon a time, her indifference and her loathing may have hurt him, but that time was long gone. Life in the red keep ensured that you grew up fast. The place was a cesspool of intrigue and deceit. Every single person had a hidden agenda and if you didn't learn how to read them quickly, you were likely to be a pawn in their games. Harrison was never going to be a pawn. He had dreams of a time when he had been a pawn, playing to the tunes of his mentor and his nemesis while both of them played their little games.

He remembered quite a few things from those dreams of his. Dragons as tall as the sky, snakes that could kill with a stare, people waving bits of wood at each other and performing the most wonderful tasks.The only way to describe them would be magic. He had tried to replicate those feats but no matter which wood he used, he couldn't feel the magic. He had once asked Pycelle if magic was real. The bastard had scoffed at him and told his father how Harrison was sleeping off in lessons and coming up with outlandish claims. Not that his father had cared either. A light rebuke and his father was once again deep in his cups.

Harrison was used to neglect and apathy from his parents. He remembered in the dreams that even in his previous life, his caregivers didn't care about him much, preferring the fat kid over him.

Moving to Storm's End had given him the freedom he had yearned for most of his life. He was the heir to Storm's End and after one too many fights with Jofferey, his father had decided that it would do him good to learn more about his castle and his people. Thus at the age of 9, Harry had moved to Storm's End.

The first thing he had done in Storm's End was replace the maester with one who had a valyrian steel link in his collar. Alas Maester Garrick wasn't much better than Pycelle. He knew of a few blood magic rituals practiced in far east in Essos but that was the extent of his abilities. In his words, Magic had disappeared from the world since the demise of dragons.

With no proof to the contrary, Harry almost believed him until he visited the weirwood tree at Storm's End. The ancient, gnarled old tree was like a fount of magic. It was under it's branches that Harry had his first brush with real magic. He had managed to summon a few sparks, not much but it was definitely a start.

Since that fateful day, Harry spent hours under the tree trying to get his magic to work. He had improved, albeit slowly. He still couldn't do things on the scale that he had seen in his dreams but at least he could cast a few useful charms that could mean the difference between life and death.

He made sure to practice after dark. It wouldn't do to have rumours of a sorcerer prince to circulate now, would it ? The faith of the seven had a strong view against the practice of magic. Harry couldn't afford to have the faith up in arms against him. Most of the people in the seven kingdoms followed the seven, or atleast those that mattered did. The north men had little stake in the game until his father had decided to slap the badge of The Hand on Ned Stark's chest.

Ned Stark could be a potential ally, as the Northmen prayed to the weirwoods, the apparent source of his powers. He'd have to wait and see for himself the scope of such a partnership. Harrison knew the value of having powerful allies on his side, particularly when he knew he could count on his mother to sabotage him at every chance she gets.

Harrison was broken out of his musings by a celebratory shout coming from his right. It seemed like riding for the day was over as a small inn came into view. His half-brother, Edric Storm had been the first to spot it and point it out. Edric was the result of his father dallying with some florent girl. The boy lived with him at the Storm's End. He was just a couple of years younger than Harry.

Built like an ox, Edric was a perfect copy of his father, save for the floppy ears which he got from the florent girl. Loyal, lovable and hardworking, Edric had taken to Harry the moment he arrived at Storm's End. Always following him around like a lost puppy, Edric was amongst his closest friends. He was quite good with a war hammer and Harry had made sure that Edric got the necessary training to see him reach his potential.

Finally reaching the inn, Harry saw that the place was nothing more than a rundown little cottage with a barn but it would do for the night. He waited on his horse as Edric scrambled to dismount and take a hold of his horse's reigns.

Harry had just recently been knighted by Ser Mandon Moore, his kingsguard protector and trainer. Harry had squired for the man for the last 6 years before earning his spurs. Mandon Moore was a lethal, silent killing machine but that was the sum total of his positive points. Surly, silent and with lifeless eyes, Mandon Moore gave Harry the creeps. He had a sneeking suspicion that he was saddled with Mandon Moore because neither his father nor Jon Arryn cared much for the man and wanted to get rid of him. With his recently developing skill to peep into thoughts of those around him, he had found out that Mandon Moore apparently owed a favour to Littlefinger, the biggest brothel owner of Kings Landing. What the favour exactly was, he couldn't find out but he knew Mandon Moore would never be loyal to him. So he made use of him to better his skill at surviving the ruthless battles of this world while keeping him at an arms length from his private dealings and plans.

Just a moon's turn ago, Harry had finally managed to best Mandon Moore in single combat, earning him his spurs. That very afternoon, Edric had come to him and begged to be his squire. No other knight at Storm's End would take the bastard as a squire, preventing him from knighthood. Harry had taken pity on the lad and accepted his request. He wasn't likely to lose prestige by having a bastard squire as everyone would see it as his love for his half brother and not his lack of fame to have a highborn squire. Besides, the relationship with ones squire was a close one and Edric was more likely to keep his myriad secrets than some highborn ponce with an agenda of his own.

Turning towards Erron, Harry commanded him to look after the horses while the party rested at the inn. The innkeeper was an old man with a toothy smile. Hos eyes lit up on seeing the party enter his rundown inn. Harry had chicken broth and rum served to all of his men while he asked for his food to be sent to his room before retiring for the night.