The servant showed them to the area occupied by House Whent. Up into the stands for the lords. The wooden structure was bigger than the houses and huts the smallfolk owned and lived in. It even had a proper roof. They were climbing the wooden stairs to join their host, looking around and taking in the sights of the greater lords of Westeros preparing for the Melee.
The servant nearly sprinted ahead. Apparently he was not able to put enough distance between himself and the foreign people. Or do it fast enough. The group quickly arrived at the uppermost floor and was led behind a yellow curtain, revealing a moderately large room, which had a big window with a handrail to let people easily enjoy the spectacle below.
"My lord, my ladies." the boy bowed to an older man and woman, both sitting on wooden chairs in their box in the stands. Besides the woman sat a young girl about Cersei's age. All had brown eyes, with the girl having common brown hair while the parents had hair going to grey.
"I present you King Harry and his queens." introducing them stiffly, while only knowing Harry's name from his lord. The other names he didn't know. From the displeased looks he got from the women in question he could guess their thoughts. He promptly vanished as soon as he had the chance.
"Welcome, King Harry." The old man that was Walter Whent greeted them with a smile on his face that at least seemed somewhat genuine. "I apologize for the abrupt fashion of my invitation, but I decided I couldn't wait much longer." a look around caused him to say. "I am truly sorry, but I fear there isn't enough room for each of you in our box." it was true. There was hardly enough space to fit seven people, much less ten.
Harry simply shrugged and cast a quick and temporary space-expansion charm on the box. The three walls stretched and grew, together with the opening to one side that showed the melee grounds. "It really is no problem for us." He then conjured a chair for each of his group and sat himself down, ignoring the dumbstruck look on his hosts faces.
Cissy wanted to say it was very much a problem. Not the space, but the way these people treated them. None of them knelt as customary when meeting a king. Not even standing up from their seated positions. An insults as far as Narcissa was concerned. Then again Harry wasn't their king and to seem subservient to a foreign power could mean bad things for them. Even more so if their true king was present nearby and also mad. 'Calm down, you're on vacation and these people are not purposefully insulting you.' The youngest Black sister thought to calm down. Still the training that came with her upbringing was hard to ignore. Cissy also resolved to bring Harry up to snuff as soon as possible.
"What do you want to talk about?" Harry inquired, snapping the Whent family out of their daze with his question.
"Ah, first let me introduce ourselves. The lovely lady beside me is my wife, Shella Whent. Next to her is our daughter Arina Whent and I am Walter Whent. Sadly, our four sons couldn't join us as they are preparing for the melee." the old man explained a bit more guarded and wary after the casual demonstration of magic.
To observe the courtesies Harry introduced his group again. With that finished he looked expectantly at Walter Whent, waiting for the man to start talking. He did shortly after. "Well, you see I wanted to thank you for restoring my castle. It seems as if the very air around it is cleaner. As if a curse was lifted from it."
Harry replied, ignoring the mental image of his wives rolling their eyes. "That's because that is exactly the case." he continued before anybody of the muggles could ask questions. "The castle was cursed by someone to kill every member of a family holding it. The blood of the oppressed people who build this monstrosity mixed into the mortar did not help by binding their spirits to it." which was also the reason they could see these ghosts like the ones from back home and did not need to enter the astral plane to see them like in Chroyane.
"So the rumours were true?" Lady Whent asked with a white face, her hands gripping the arm rest of her chair tightly. It got her thinking about Minisa, who died with her child, trying to give Hoster Tully a second son. Sarya who had been married to that old weasel Frey. That bastard even had the gall to mock Sarya for being unable to have children right into her face, besmirching her memory for all to hear. By the Seven how she hated that man. Of course, there was Wynafrei Whent, also married to one of the Freys. No children to speak of as well. The last two were only married to Frey men because of their supposed fertility. It seemed the curse had been stronger.
Every single female of the Whent line had extreme problems to conceive children. While the men died in battle or by strange accidents. Shella could only hope that it would end now.
More than a bit sarcastic, Andromeda said. "You did see the proverbial storm of ghosts we banished from the castle grounds, right?" some people really needed to open their eyes and see.
Marcella interjected, trying to draw attention away from Andromeda. "I don't know about those rumours, but we saw that kind of curse before, but much stronger in effect." crossing her legs gracefully and relaxing into the chair properly. The curse placed on the position of Defence professor of Hogwarts was stronger and did not need so much time to get results, a year at most. This one took apparently much longer, however that was before the re-emergence of magic. It was entirely possible that the curse would've sped up without their interference.
Interested, but still guarded Walter inquired. "Truly?" he saw magic before with his very eyes, but it was still hard to believe it nonetheless.
"Indeed, everyone occupying the position had one year until the curse claimed them." Narcissa answered, again in her cool demeanour, having calmed down considerably. Not that anyone who didn't know her would notice.
Bellatrix chimed in giddy that the topic was something she could enjoy. "Most simply died, but others had more entertaining fates, much worse than simple death." a grin was on her face that could be described as innocent and blood-thirsty at the same time. She choose to ignore the shudders she caused their hosts. "One lost all of his memories, forgetting all he knew. Be it people, places or abilities he once had." a giggle escaped her at the thought of the punishment the fool Lockhart got. A fitting one for sure. "Another went mad and had to be stopped from killing everyone he saw." that was a professor before Harry's time at Hogwarts.
"The most terrible" She said in a breathy and frisky voice, while rubbing her thighs together at the mere mention of such suffering. Showing clearly that her inner sadist wasn't gone in the slightest. "was when one got his soul devoured by a demon, never to reach the afterlife and to eventually transform into a demon himself to do as was done to him." That was after Harry's time at Hogwarts. When in the Ministry's infinite wisdom the Dementors were sent to guard the school with Azkaban empty. Obviously that had been an idiotic idea of epic proportions as the first time that happened showed. Though nobody ever said Fudge was a quick learner. Or even a slow one.
After all that is what Dementors did once they had your soul, transforming the one in question into a Dementor. While Bella did not fancy that happening to herself she only survived Azkaban due to her strong masochistic and sadistic tendencies. Most of her happy memories were of suffering be it her own or others. Not to mention her insanity. All these factors had the Dementors slightly confused. Still, with how much time she had spent there her happy memories were taken and forgotten regardless, leaving her with little to nothing. It just took longer.
She still had those tendencies, but her insanity transformed into insane devotion to Harry. While her sadist got the odd victim to tor... interrogate, despite them having Veritaserum and Legilimency. Her masochistic side was satisfied through the frequent kinky sex she had with Harry. She just loved to be dominated by him. Sure, he was reluctant at first, but once he got going he was ever so forceful and also gentle afterwards. Always making sure she was well. The sex didn't even have to be painful, degrading worked just as much. Naturally, such things couldn't be done in public or people would get wrong ideas. Well, at least she could not do so in her true form.
Ignoring Bella's quirks Harry steered the conversation to another topic as if the eldest Black wasn't just having a near orgasm by imagining her enemies suffer unimaginable pain.
"Well, no need to thank us, Lord Whent." Harry said with a small upturn of the edge of his lips. "I doubt having a repaired Harrenhal at your command is much better than before." he motioned at the gigantic size of the things around them. " We may have repaired it, but it is impossible to garrison and the maintenance isn't something to scoff at either, I imagine. Even stretched to the end of your means you cannot fill and manage the whole castle." from the looks of Lord Whent Harry hit right in the mark. "Right now your household occupies probably only the lower levels of two towers. The Hall of a Hundred Hearths was most likely only opened for the Tourney and is closed every other time with your family taking meals in other rooms."
Harry could go on, but the essence of what he said was clear. By repairing the thing he didn't do Walter Whent a big favour. It may look impressive, but a white elephant wasn't very useful in the long run. The only real positive outcome was that the walls and battlements were fully functional again. Even if fully manning them was impossible.
"Nonetheless, I want to thank you for repairing it and removing the curse of Harren the Black." Walter Whent insisted.
From then on a bit of unimportant small talk happened until the Tourney began. Shortly before it did so Harry's group bid the Whent family goodbye and went to look for a place in the stands to make their own. Just as they left the walls on the room shrunk down to their normal size.
Like last time people parted for them, this time even faster than before. The memory of what they had done the evening before still fresh in the minds of the people.
Melisandre and Kinvara wanted to bring Arrax and Meleys. Harry saw no problem with it and so they quickly went and got the two dragons. Both dragon heads could even be used as elevated seats by the red priestesses. Just as they wanted to go on the way back with Meleys and Arrax Narcissa slipped into their tent and got her mokeskin-pouch with all her healing utensils in it.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked once she came out of the tent.
Narcissa secured the pouch at her side, saying. "Well, I thought to use the time to improve our image a bit." she knew how important a public image was and their own could only improve in Westeros.
"But then you won't see us fight." Gabrielle complained. The Veela wanted to show just what she was made of and that she was worthy of Harry.
The response Gabrielle got was a simple raised brow and a shrug. "That's were you're wrong." she disagreed. "You are going to go last, after the Westerlands. That leaves plenty of time for me to heal a few people and show the peasants that we are not demons." Narcissa knew how important good public relations were. It may not be their own kingdom, but good impressions could never hurt. "You can just give me a mental message once your turn comes up and I'll be there in a second."
Harry frowned. "I thought we agreed not to go out alone?" not soon after the words left his mouth he felt Narcissa's penetrating stare on him and he felt like an idiot somehow.
"Really?" she drawled with a slightly dangerous undertone. "Why then did you go out alone as soon as this morning without backup?" she knew he still retained some Gryffindor tendencies, but he at least could've taken one of them with him. They would've just gone with him, but at the moment they had forgotten and other things on their minds.
Harry scratches his head sheepishly, but countered. "You knew where I was the whole time, besides it was early morning with not many people about."
Marcella chimed in with the same exact tone of Cissy. "So? Being out with less people about is more dangerous because there are also less witnesses. Not that many would be bothered by your death." here her voice grew softer together with her eyes. "Except us and all the people in our kingdom. You even went into a potentially dangerous situation without telling us, so we did not know where you were the whole time!"
"Oh." was the only thing Harry could say. Too stunned for anything else.
"Yes, oh." Fleur said softly a significant look levelled at him. "You're important to us, Harry!" it was stated with quiet but strong conviction. One look around saw the feelings mirrored by the rest. "And we worry about you. At least it would be nice if you'd tell us what you were going to do instead of having to pick it up in stray thoughts we get from you."
A bit confused Harry replied. "Why is it such a big deal?" he could understand that they were peeved at him for saying to stick together when he didn't do it himself, but it seemed there was something more. "Nothing happened to me. Besides, that happened all the time during the war." They fought with him in the past mostly because the bond would've killed them at the time should he have died. Making bringing them along a better option than to keep them away. Now that wasn't a problem any longer and he fell back into old habits a little.
Frowning Andromeda interjected. "It is a big deal, because we aren't at war at the moment and the fact that something could've happened to you is enough to make us worry." Harry may be able to accept help now and won't insist to do everything alone. But that did not mean his views on what exactly counted as dangerous were changed. He always had a strange perception of danger when it involved himself. As long as he lived through it it wasn't a big deal for him. That nobody had cared for him most of his life was enough to make him like that or at least helped that along.
To make it more clear so that even Harry's stubborn head could understand Fleur elaborated. "Imagine how you feel when we expose us to danger. That is exactly how we feel when you do something potentially dangerous. Which had been the reason why you proposed that none of us were to go anywhere alone, wasn't it?" at the look in Harry's eyes she knew he understood, but before he could say anything her little sister interrupted him.
"A short message to us what you're up to isn't enough, is it?" Gabrielle asked with pleading eyes. She did not come all this way to lose him to something no one saw coming. She knew he could deal with most things, but that wasn't the point.
"No it isn't" He finally said in defeat. Rarely he got to experience the negative side of having so many wives, with how much the positives overshadowed the rest most of the time. Namely that they could gang up on you and would do so if necessary. Not always and not all of them. Bella, Mel and Kin would let him do whatever the fuck he wanted and call it a day. Luckily, the rest was there to say if he did something stupid. He wouldn't have it any other way. "Sorry for worrying you." the apology was followed up a remorseful and most sincere look.
Relieved that he wasn't more against it, they accepted his apology, knowing it would take some time for him to incorporate telling them when he went somewhere potentially dangerous.
A bit more light-hearted Harry teased Narcissa. "Is that why you practically ripped that poor servant boy a new one? Because you were mad at me?"
Cissy coughed uncomfortably, an embarrassed blush colouring her cheeks in a rosy hue. Though she admitted while attempting to appear unaffected. "I may have gotten a bit carried away in an attempt to let off steam. So that I wouldn't be irrational in our future discussion about your disregard of your safety."
Harry simply grinned and chuckled. "You know I don't mind when try and set me straight when I do stupid stuff."
Marcella teased right back at him. "Well, it is saying something when one man needs eight women to keep him out of trouble" Sauntering up to him she drew circles on his chest.
"What can I say? I always was a magnet for trouble." Harry said as he looked into her silver-violet orbs sitting in black ink. A lopsided grin appearing on his face as he caught her hands with his own.
Leaning up towards him she responded with devilish grin. "Hmm. Trouble isn't the only thing you're a magnet for." Her hands broke free and a moment later they teased Harry through his pants in their search for her favourite toy. In the middle of it she stopped her teasing ministrations. Instead she disengaged from their near embrace, knowing they had other places to be. An impish smile on her face, knowing that she had made him hard without giving him relief.
"So who wants to accompany Cissy?" Harry inquired while he tried to bring his prick under control.
Melisandre proposed to her husband. "Meleys and I can stay with Narcissa, if you want?" she wasn't particularly interested in the melee as long as Harry and her sister-wives weren't in it.
Assuaged that they weren't more angry Harry gladly accepted. "That would be nice, thank you." his gratitude came with a toe-curling kiss for the red priestess, who slung her arms around his neck to keep steady. She took as much time to kiss him as she could, invading his mouth with her tongue to explore, but got interrupted by the rest before she got too into it. Flushed she reluctantly released him and stepped away.
Kinvara choose that moment to comment enthusiastically. "Don't worry, darling. Should they come too late you'll still have me cheering for you." a big grin on her face as she once again grabbed hold of his arm to latching onto it and holding it between her breasts. Since the agreement to let Melisandre and her join Kinvara was even more clingy and affectionate. She also decided on darling as a endearment for Harry. Kinvara knew deep inside her mind that she was probably agitating the rest a little, but couldn't find to care much about it in her bliss.
Harry chuckled at that. "There was never any doubt in my mind that you would." He followed it up with a kiss for the amorous priestess.
With that the group split up. Cissy, Meleys and Melisandre went to set up shop, while the rest returned to the melee.
They arrived just in time for the event. It started the moment they sat down in the stands for the common people, having no invitation to sit with any of the lords or other. They sat directly at the outermost side of the stands so that Arrax could lie beside it and be near his father. While his mother sat on top of his head between his horns.
The Crownlands came first, most certainly due to the royal family living in that part of Westeros. Many Houses participated. Under them House Sunglass, Stokeworth, Rosby, Thorne, Velaryon, Wendwater, Gaunt, Farring, Celtigar and many more minor ones. Of course, one couldn't forget the best team under them. The whole of the Kingsguard plus Prince Rhaegar.
Apparently the Prince had decided to join the melee as well as the joust. 'Probably to prove himself a warrior to his vassals.' Harry thought. It was no surprise with how martial the men of Westeros were.
It was a forgone conclusion in case of the Crownlands. They weren't large and had not many good fighters and those who participated were no match for the Kingsguard. Rhaegar wasn't the one who had to be captured however, seeing that he didn't not wear the bright red surcoat meant to identify targets. Who would risk to injure the prince in front of the king after all? In the end their team won, having eliminated the most teams and captured the most enemies.
Second came Dorne, probably because of the princess being from Dorne. Or they simply went in alphabetical order, Harry doubted the latter though, assuming that Tywin wasn't one to antagonize powerful people needlessly.
The only one Harry was able to identify was Oberyn, who fought expertly with his spear and an agility that spoke of years of experience. There were a few times where his cockiness and unnecessary showmanship got him in trouble, but nothing Oberyn couldn't wiggle out of, being the slippery viper he is. Oberyn's team even won.
Naturally the cocky Dornishman couldn't resist to do what came next. He got handed a bouquet of flower from his squire and threw it directly to Harry together with a kiss. He caught it without problems, but gave no real acknowledgement except a nod with a small smile.
Harry looked down at the bouquet and commented. "How thoughtful of him. Yellow roses mixed with Amaryllis flowers." The Roses were more gold in colour, but he guessed they came from the Tyrells.
"Why? What do they mean?" Marcella questioned curiously. Pretty sure that Oberyn only wanted to say thank you for the healing of Elia.
"Yellow roses mean joy and friendship. Amaryllis flowers mean worth beyond beauty, which is only emphasized due to its subtle and mild, yet sweet and delicate scent." Harry responded promptly, knowing the Language of Flowers due to the work he had done for Petunia from his time there. Normally he would've wondered where Oberyn got these flowers shortly after a winter. However, the seasons acted weird in this world and from the looks of things hadn't affected much of anything further south than the Vale of Arryn this time.
"Huh, I didn't take Oberyn for the type to study the language of flowers. Nor you for that matter." Fleur commented idly, playing with her hair a bit out of boredom.
"Let's say I worked a lot in the garden and my aunt would demand a perfect combination of flowers." Harry replied with a hint of a growl in his voice.
Gabrielle wanted to speak up, though her original words died in her throat as Oberyn threw a second bouquet. Directly towards her, landing in her lap. It were red Carnations. "What do these mean?" The Veela inquired, knowing it could only be something romantic. It was thoughtful, but she just wasn't interested in him in that way.
"Carnations in general have the topic of love and courtship associated with them. Red in particular is meant to convey admiration and that his heart aches for you." Harry responded with mirth in his voice. A twitch of his lips also betraying his true thoughts on the matter. He plucked on from Gabrielle's bunch of flowers and performed a small transfiguration on one of the flowers. Giving it to the Veela, he said. "Here give that back to him. Striped Carnations mean refusal or sorry I can't be with you. It is also seen as a gentler rejection than yellow carnations."
"Merci!" The silver-haired woman thanked her husband. The next moment she did just that, throwing the flower down to Oberyn.
He caught it, having waited for an answer verbal or otherwise. A look at the flower was enough for him to act wounded by the rejection. Though the playful grin on his face said otherwise. A last wave towards them was made before he left the grounds.
Next in line where the Iron Islands. Harry was curious to see how they would fair. The bout of finger dance between Andromeda and the one man Harry spotted amongst the crowd had shown that they were able fighters.
Euron, Balon and Victarion Greyjoy stood together with the rest of their team, which consisted of Andrik the Unsmiling, Dunstan Drumm, Harras Harlaw and Dagmer Cleftjaw. Their team could've been made entirely out of Greyjoy men, but Aeron and Urrigon were passed out drunk from the night before. Balon's sons were too young to participate, but looked on from the stands together with their six-year old sister Asha and their mother Alannys Harlaw.
Dagmer was chosen because of his prowess as a reaver and his loyalty, despite his recent and embarrassing loss against a woman. Balon nearly chose to not include the respected Ironborn, but Euron's manipulations and mocking comments saw Dagmer brought in. Harras was a good warrior and friend of Victarion, who enjoyed trashing him. Another reason was his Valyrian Steel blade Nightfall. Dunstan Drumm was chosen for pretty much the same reasons, but his blade was named Red Rain. Andros was a vassal of Dunstan and seven feet and a few inches tall with arms as thick as small tree trunks. Reason enough to include him for most Ironborn.
Euron chuckled internally. 'I would consider the fact that my brothers are such idiots and so easy to manipulate pathetic if it didn't make duping them so darn easy.'
A few words came to mind when thinking of his brothers. Predictable and stupid were best used to describe Balon and Victarion, though for the latter the word obvious fit well too. Then there was Aeron who wasn't stupid, but weak and soft. As well as having a tight ass. Euron remembered the few times he had visited his younger brother's room at night to have some fun of the Ironborn variety that had nothing to do with the finger-dance, reaving or raiding. But raping. Even if that word had practically no meaning for Ironborn. They took what they wanted from whoever they wanted. Power and Strength were everything and the ones who had it were revered and the ones who did not weren't. Simple as that.
Euron simply had taken what he wanted from someone too weak to resist. That it was a member of his family wasn't really important to him.
Besides in Ironborn culture it wasn't seen as homosexual to fuck a man. Mostly because they did not recognize homosexuals as a category of people. Rather, Ironborn culture was a Top/Bottom dichotomy and as long as you were the one doing the fucking you were manly. The one "used as a woman" was seen and used as such. Basically the one penetrating the other was the man. Such was the state of things in many male-dominated societies, like with the Greco-Romans and the Vikings. After all what was more manly than fucking another man?
Which was also the reason why Ironborn did not see a relationship between two women as something serious, due to their lack of cocks. Without penetration it wasn't sex. Plain and simple. On the other hand most Ironborn deplore violence against women. Not for any chivalrous reason, obviously. Rather women were seen to be no challenge and also insulted a man's pride, Ironborn or not, by wanting to fight them.
Balon's voice full of self-importance interrupted Euron's straying thoughts. "It is clear that I should be the one people focus on by being the target."
No one spoke against it, not even Euron, but he didn't even need to. "I agree." the raven-haired man said with a small mocking grin, knowing how Balon would react to the next words. "You're best suited for it being the smallest among us physically and able to evade better to hinder the enemy in their objective."
As predicted Balon acted like a spoiled brat that wanted to have what others had. Even when it wasn't suited for him. He was no great swordsman, tactician or anything at all really. That much was true. What he was, besides being an idiot, was a coward, proven by the fact that he wanted to hide behind the stupid muscle of Andros, Victarion, Dunstan and Dagmer.
Though, Balon also possessed an ego the size of the Sunset Sea and a constant need to measure his cock with other men. That meant he wouldn't let that indirect insult go. 'Sadly, his dick will fall short every time. Much like my dear brother Victarion's. Though that description sums up about 99% of the Ironborn.' Euron mused in amusement. Euron could admit that he himself wasn't different in the aspects of having a big ego and taking things he wanted, but he at least had the tools to back it up. Unlike Balon and the rest.
Narrowing his eyes in suspicion and using his feeble brain, Balon deduced that anything Euron agreed with was not to be done. He also couldn't let the insult to his prowess as a warrior stand. "No, I meant I, as the best warrior, should defend whoever acts as the one the enemy has to capture. Obviously Victarion is best suited for it." Victarion agreed, but he agreed with anything Balon said, being dumb as a stump himself.
That settled that, leaving Euron to laugh internally. His sky blue eyes smiling with satisfaction and malice. 'Fools.' the Greyjoy thought as the melee began. Possibilities flying through his mind to make his brothers experience miserable and humiliating. It didn't take long for him to smile cruelly as ideas flew through his head that would still allow them to win. Not that he particularly cared to win. He just wanted to have his fun, but participating longer meant to torment his family longer and therefore have more fun.
Their group had one advantage in all of this. Unlike the other groups of Ironborn they had at least some teamwork. Due to being the ruling family of the Iron Islands and because their team consisted out of that family to nearly fifty percent. The other teams from the Iron Islands weren't working together even a little bit. More out for their own glory and leaving their targets wide open.
As soon as it began Andros and Dunstan charged into the chaotic mass of fighting Ironborn. Victarion soon followed, forcing Balon and the rest to follow or risk losing.
Up in the stands the royalty from Essos observed the fight below. Though chaos would describe what went down there much better. No team was a cohesive unit and only a fair few worked actually together. Harry even saw a team fight amongst each other.
"They sure do know how to not fight as a team." Marcella commented somewhat amused at the incompetence of these fighters. It was an undulating mass of people, screaming and hacking away at anyone nearby. Heedless of who was nearby or who fought besides them.
Bellatrix observed the action and couldn't contain her glee at being able to fight herself soon. Just the thought of blood and gore splattering on the ground and her face got her own blood racing. "Who cares? The faster they bash each others skulls in the faster we get to fight."
Harry meanwhile also looked on as the mass of people fought. Though one peculiar group stuck together and battled somewhat in unison. They also had two targets captured. Three hulking brutes were doing battle with axes, hammers and fist when necessary. Among the better fighters was the one Andy beat at the Finger-Dance. The most interesting however, was a handsome man with dark hair and pale skin. He was using more than brute force. Not that it helped his companions much, due to the deception being used affecting them negatively half the time.
When the man evaded the blow struck one of his team-mates. When he attacked it wasn't lacklustre but he never achieved anything with it. No, it seemed as if it was a game for him to toy with everyone and everything around him. Though the way he was fighting also hinted at a gifted fighter. One who could anticipate the opponents movement and use it against them or in this case against his team-mates.
"Well, they seem to fight a bit more coordinated than the rest." He said, while pointing towards the group in question.
Looking at them critically Fleur commented. "If you can call that fighting or teamwork, then I suppose so." There was no grace in their movements. No fluidity and certainly no beauty. They hacked and slashed away at their opponents with brutality and a certain savagery, but only a little form and precision were present. Unlike the Kingsguard and a few other knights.
A cry rang out just as Harry wanted to respond. It seemed the handsome man evaded a brutal blow from a mace, causing the one who fought with an axe beside him to take the damage. Unfortunately it also was the one of their team that had to be captured. It was a direct hit to the knee at such an angle that no kind of armour could prevent injury. A sickening crack could be heard up to the stands where they were sitting.
The big and brutish looking man howled in agony as his kneecap shattered.
Euron smiled in satisfaction as his brother went down due to his evasion. 'Ah the sweet agony of someone who knows his time as a warrior is over.' An injury such as this was debilitating if not outright making fighting impossible. His smile only got wider when Victarion glared up at him in hatred. It was a mutual hatred shared between them, though Euron simply smiled mockingly back. Their father Quellon wasn't present at the Tourney, enabling Euron to do as he pleased.
"What are you doing?" Balon screamed impotently as he tried to keep his ground against an axe trying to take his head off.
"I didn't do anything." Euron denied. "Although you have to admit that it will become more than a bit harder for the enemy to capture dear Vicky." The mad Greyjoy continued to fire back with a deranged laugh. All the while evading the predictable blows of his opponents and dealing back his own damage. He briefly thought about to injure Victarion further, but that held no appeal to him. "After all who would be able to drag him away from us in his condition?" Normally the target had to be disarmed, in some cases literally, and then taken to a point on the grounds to hold him captive at the point of a sword or other weapon. That was now pretty much impossible with Victarion unable to walk.
Andros and Dunstan were in the process of dragging back another target, while Dagmer covered both of them. Balon and Harras stood around Victarion to protect him from being taken. Euron did so as well, completing the triangle. However, after his previous display none of the others trusted him to do his part.
Not that Euron cared. Their team had the most captured members. Every other still had only one due to them not protecting their own, losing them to another team and being forced to capture another. That repeated itself several times.
Soon enough the time was up with their team as the victors. Not that it felt like it to them. Besides Victarion's injury, Dagmer got a broken arm and Andros' back was probably black and blue courtesy of a vicious blow from a war hammer.
While the fighters of the Iron Islands vacated the arena the ones from the North made themselves ready.
Not that many were present. Just like with Dorne most Northerners were more concerned with surviving than fancy tourneys. Such things weren't done very often up north or deep in the deserts of the south. Nonetheless there were enough for seven teams to be assembled.
The team Ned belonged to was also preparing themselves. It consisted of Ned and Brandon Stark, Howland Reed, Martyn Cassel, Jon "Greatjon" Umber, Jorah Mormont and his good-brother Ethan Glover, who also was the former squire to Brandon.
"Ready to bust in some skulls, Stark?" The Greatjon hollered in his typical manner at Brandon. A jovial grin on his face in anticipation of what was to come.
Brandon hollered right back at the man towering over him with his seven feet. "Of course. It's just a shame that I have to look at your ugly face while doing it."
That only caused Jon to grin widely and laugh. "Did you hear that Howland?" The tall man addressed the smallest of the group by nudging him with his elbow. Nearly sending a still slightly uncomfortable Howland to the floor. "His Lordship looks at my pretty face while in combat. I'd be surprised, but I somehow always knew him to be a sword-swallower." It was followed by a boisterous laugh with the rest, except Howland, following suit.
"How do you explain all the bedchambers of various women I visited then?" Brandon shot right back. A cocky grin on his face.
Ethan Glover answered the quickest. "I imagine denial was one of the reasons." The dryness with which it was spoken let the laughter erupt anew.
"Probably." Martyn Cassel faux-agreed with a sage nod after he got himself under control. "Although, another could be to exchange information on the finer points of their needlework. Right, Brandon?" A devilish grin was on the man's face as he remembered an incident with a serving wench and the less than good excuse that had been used by Brandon at the beginning of him noticing girls and women. As a vassal serving directly at Winterfell he did not miss much of the shenanigans happening.
Brandon grew red in the face at that memory. "Bah, you're all just envious of my good looks that all the ladies like so much." He countered.
This time Jorah responded. "As you say, my Lord." Mirth was dancing in his eyes. "With how dashing and handsome you look I nearly confused you for one of the southron pillow-biters."
It got a fresh wave of laughter and chuckles out of the Northmen with Howland chuckling a bit. Brandon turned to his younger brother, saying half-accusing and half-resigned. "I guess you have also something to say about that, little brother?"
Ned normally wouldn't do so, but since having met Ashara he loosened up just a little bit. Leaving his solemn face behind for now. "I would love to insult you, Brandon. But I am afraid I wouldn't do as well as nature did." After the rest overcame their surprise at the Quite Wolf's words they broke the silence with laughter, Brandon included.
Done with the pleasantries and also armouring themselves the group made their way to the melee grounds. Sadly neither Jorah or Brandon had their Valyrian steel blades with them. Jorah left shortly before his father went to join the Night's Watch and therefore couldn't take the sword. Not being the Lord of Bear Island at the time. Brandon was much the same, with only his father allowed to wield the blade Ice.
Howland Reed wore the surcoat that signified him as the target. Being more nimble and used to evade instead of confront.
Brandon patted the shoulder belonging to the smallest of their group in reassurance. "Loosen up a little, Howland." A grin was still on his face. "Just do your best."
Howland nodded reluctantly, saying. "I will endeavour to ensure our victory."
"Screw that!" Brandon scoffed with Jon mirroring the action. The heir of Winterfell yelled out. "We're here to have fun and bust in some skulls while we show these perfumed southron knights how a Northerner fights a real melee. Let's go!"
With that the team entered the grounds proper.
Other than the Iron Islands before, fighters of the North were more disciplined and able to work together without problem. It was decided that Jorah, Brandon, Ethan and Jon would be the ones attacking, while Ned and Martyn were to help defend Howland.
As soon as the signal to start was given Brandon and the Greatjon were off like a shot with Jorah and Ethan not far behind. Engaging the first one in his field of vision Brandon attacked swiftly. His attack was blocked, but his superior strength let the man buckle under the strain. Enabling the heir of Winterfell to use the leverage as he pulled one leg of his opponent out from under him with one of his own while also pushing with his sword. It caused the man to land on his arse and lose shortly after.
Jorah was currently fighting a man or vassal from House Tallhart. Though, the man was no match for Jorah's superior skill and soon joined the others that fell out of the competition. A look to his right showed that his good-brother was doing well with his own chosen enemy. A swift blow with the the pommel of Ethan's sword knocked the man out.
Jon Umber didn't have many problems either. Of course the man was larger than life and couldn't resist to take on more than one opponent. He fought two instead. He parried the slash of one of his opponents and evaded the mace of the second. Using the opportunity Jon bashed the former's face in with the pommel of his Greatsword, disorienting him and causing the man to stumble and fall. The second one tried to bring his mace to bear, but the Greatjon was faster. He countered with a hit of his own, finishing the man with it.
Next the seven feet tall man spotted an unprotected target. A jovial grin sprouted on his lips as he saw that. He looked at Jorah, who was engaging the opponent in combat, and nodded to the heir of Bear Island. Jorah's look in return said it all and soon the Greatjon was behind the distracted target. Jon acted quickly, grabbed the man into a chokehold from behind which saw him unconscious soon enough.
Ethan Glover picked the man up and dragged him back to Howland. Jorah and Brandon covered for him, leaving the Greatjon to battle alone. "Come on you pansies, show me what you got!" the Lord of Last Hearth shouted out. Not a moment later he was attacked by three people. The jolly grin not leaving his face once.
He stormed towards them, meeting the first head on. Jon ducked under the horizontal sword slash coming his way and tackled the man with his shoulder. Knocking the breath out of him and throwing the man into the second one behind him with his massive strength. The third one was greeted by the Greatjon's massive sword. Metal clashed against wood as sword met shield. In wild abandon Jon smashed onto the shield with strength few could match until it was shattered into an unrecognisable mess of a thousand splinters. The next slash took his opponents hand that held the shield. Not that the Greatjon cared. Melees in the North were more brutal than in the south with some people winding up dead more often than not.
While the Greatjon enjoyed himself Brandon was back in the fray together with Ethan and Jorah at his side.
Noticing that they were outclassed in skill many of the other participants started to work together to take Team Stark down.
In contrast Howland, Ned and Martyn had a relatively easy time working together and keeping opponents at bay. Howland and Ned worked excellently in tandem. When the second son of Rickard Stark blocked Howland attacked and vice versa.
That together with Martyn's assistance was enough to defend their position quite well. Howland's choice in weapon also helped. The trident he held helping him to get a bigger reach.
Ned evaded the attack of a warrior belonging to House Manderly and countered with a riposte of his own. Knocking the sword out of the enemy's hand and leaving him defenceless for the next swift blow to the head. It saw the man unconscious on the ground.
Meanwhile Martyn parried a sword from a vassal of House Karstark and followed it up with a shield bash to the head, dazing his opponent long enough to finish him quickly. Though it seemed this one had a bit more in him than the rest, barely evading Martyn's attack. He turned and countered with a horizontal slash, using momentum to generate more force.
The father of Jory Cassel blocked the attack easily and his next thrust finished the fight as Martyn disarmed his opponent skilfully and also quite literally.
Unlike the southron knights northern fighters didn't wear much plate, if at all. They had therefore not so much protection. Though, plate was difficult, nearly impossible to maintain in the North. Due to the snow and rain steel rusted fast and would require too much time and resources to maintain. Not to mention that body heat melts snow, which can freeze the different parts of the armour together when it freezes again in the cold climate. Mail was the exception because the small rings rubbed against each other, which served to remove any rust or frost right away.
Seeing that Howland was safe and defended by Ned and Martyn, Ethan attacked once more. He carved a path through to the next target. The one from the team consisting out of Houses from the Rills and Barrowlands. Their numbers were already low from fighting other teams. Only three remained and two of them defended the target. Still, Ethan was not able to defeat them as easily as the ones before.
Parrying a thrust from the left man Ethan blocked an attack from the right one. He pushed the sword away with his shield and attacked the legs of his opponent at the same time, catching him off-guard. The kick to the knee caused the man to kneel, from where on it was easy for Ethan to deliver a devastating blow to the head with his shield.
Alas before it could connect Jorah's good-brother was pushed away by the third one charging at him with his shield, knocking the wind out of the member of House Glover in the process. Lying on his back Ethan was defenceless, barely evading the attacks by rolling out of the way. Still, the odds of two against one was going to decide the outcome of the fight quickly.
Sadly, by the point Ethan's good-brother was able to interfere it was already too late. Overwhelmed by numbers Jorah's brother by marriage was taken out of the competition.
However, their team was still in the lead, Brandon having captured the target during the distraction. I didn't take much more time for them to win and advance further.
Narcissa was able to set up shop quickly with her magic. First she changed the mud to proper earth, flattened it and built two wooden tables and chairs with Transfiguration out of nearby trash. Her potions cabinet was taken out of her pouch and enlarged. Once open it revealed many phials and flasks filled with liquids of different colours. Bezoars, powders, salves, pastes, potions, elixirs and other concoctions to heal were properly labelled and sorted by type and alphabetically. Another container was her potion's kit with all ingredients she could need and fully stocked.
She had chosen a location among other stalls, but with enough space for Meleys to barely lie down. Around here the people sold everything from food to useless trash advertised as not useless. Someone even tried to sell shit from pigs as Wildfire. The ex-Malfoy had to keep from making a derisive comment, seeing the shit for what it was. It certainly was not the alchemical liquid that was extremely flammable and even burned on water. Cissy had seen Harry produce a bit of that volatile stuff in the past, but it was generally deemed too wilful.
The finishing touch was a sign that read 'Healing Potions and more.'
Melisandre was lounging on Meleys' head looking around for threats, commenting idly as she saw her sister-wife making the sign. "You do know that the people you want to help can't read, right?"
Narcissa frowned at that and thought. 'That's right, we are among illiterate barbarians.' She couldn't help to sigh before she replied. "I forgot, but some hopefully can." To be certain she added a second sign that had a bubbling cauldron on it. "There, that should make it clearer."
Melisandre simply shrugged and went back to scratching Meleys behind the horns, causing the she-dragon to purr in content.
People were plentiful around, but none came even near their stand. Narcissa wasn't sure if it was because of their bad, if false reputation, or due to the dragon sitting nearby. It did not matter one way or another. She was patient.
Some people looked, but moved on. Others whispered and pointed at the them. A third group stopped and openly stared, which only caused Melisandre and Narcissa to stare back without blinking. That saw the fools fleeing quickly.
After an hour, shortly before Cissy was about to abort this undertaking, it seemed their first patient arrived. It was the tall boy with the facial burns stretching over the entire left side of his face, that was a burned ruin that had a stump for an ear. Slick black flesh pocked with craters that oozed red and wet posed as skin. He possessed a twisted mass of scars around his right eye, which was still good. The scars went down to his throat. The right side of his face was in tact, though gaunt with sharp cheekbones and a heavy brow.
His surcoat was yellow with three black dogs on it. A constant dour expression etched onto his face. He shook like a leaf when he laid eyes on the now sleeping dragon.
"Can we help you?" Narcissa inquired gently, hoping he wasn't here to just stare at them or the dragon.
Sandor took a bit to tear his eyes from the great beast, but he did eventually answer. "Yeah, I need a Love-Potion." His body was as stiff as a board in the face of Meleys. Not just because of the beast's size, but because of her ability to spew flames hotter than anything.
Cissy immediately shifted her entire focus onto the boy with a burning intensity. "Why?" she demanded, just so controlling herself from letting her words come out too harsh. Her experience with these potions anything but good. "If you can't get a girl to notice you because of your scars, they are removed easily."
The Clegane looked at her funny and shook his head. "I don't need it for myself. I am here to buy it on order of Lord Tywin." Sandor explained gruffly. Not understanding why he had to do this or why the Lord of Casterly Rock wanted to buy something only love-struck idiots bought. It wouldn't work anyway. Then again Sandor hadn't seen them heal Elia with potions. He also had no idea of what they were capable of.
Cissy nearly yelled at him that this did not explain much, but her Occlumency allowed her to suppress the urge. "Why don't you explain in more detail why you want such a potion." She laced her speech with compulsion spells to get it out of the boy quicker.
So Sandor did as he was bid, quickly. The sooner he was away from fire-breathing monsters the better. "I think it is because of the marriage between his son Jaime to Lysa Tully. From the argument I overheard the two have problems getting to the fucking." The youngest Clegane explained bluntly. Growing up with his family didn't allow a boy to keep his illusions concerning knights, love and life.
'So they either have problems consummating the marriage or don't want to. Obviously it is needed to make the marriage valid and build the alliance.' Narcissa mused, knowing how the things like that worked quite well. "I can't give you a Love-potion. Though, I can give you a potion to induce lust. That should give Lord Tywin the results he desires" The difference was mostly that the effect did not last as long and it only produced a near physical need to fuck. No obsession or similar would be produced.
"I don't have it on hand right now, but it isn't difficult to make. You can sit down while you wait for it to finish." Narcissa pointing to the unoccupied chair. Without waiting for him to do so she took out a cauldron. It was made out of copper to drastically reduce the time required to make the potion. It wasn't a problem for her to use it, she was adept enough at potions to do so. "I also could apply some burn-healing paste to your face, if you want?"
"How much will that cost?" Sandor inquired suspiciously and in a voice too rough for an eleven-year-old boy, knowing nothing was for free. Especially not a treatment that would help with his scars. He observed her and looked at all the vials in her possession. That much glass must've cost a pretty penny. Only a second glance revealed the biggest jars to be crystal, showing that these people were truly rich. Glass alone was expensive and difficult to come by, but to make such an amount of vials and flasks out of glass and jars out of crystal spoke loudly that they had money to burn. It only reinforced the impression that she must take more money than he was capable of giving.
"About ten golden dragons for the Lust-potion and two for the paste. I give them to you for free." Narcissa replied absent-mindedly as she laid out the necessary ingredients, filling the cauldron with water and casting a blue-bell flame under the cauldron to start heating it.
"Why?" The offer only made him more wary. "I doubt it you'd do so out of the kindness of your heart, my lady." He accused her bluntly, adding the honorific as an afterthought. No sense in beating around the bush.
Cissy chopped and diced the necessary ingredients, amused at Sandor. "Indeed I don't. However, it should show the other people here that I have no ulterior motive in providing this service." Cissy wanted to make good PR and not gut these people in terms of money. She also doubted the peasants were capable of paying for the potions anyway, with currency anyway. She didn't care a single bit for muggles, especially after the war, and wouldn't shed a single tear if they led a life of pain and misery. This was just a means to an end for her, just like back in Essos.
Cissy may have changed her opinion of Half-bloods and Muggleborn witches and wizards, but Squibs and Muggles were still beneath her. At home in Atlantis the muggles at least showed the proper amount of deference to Harry, her sister-wives and herself.
The youngest Black observed the cauldron and noted that it was time to add a bit of honey and Salamander blood. Seeing it change colour to a vivid red showed that the potion was well on its way. Next it had to bubble for a bit, giving her just enough time to apply the paste.
Cissy picked up a cylindrical jar made out of ivory, containing the burn-healing paste and mixed enough of it with Essence of Dittany to enhance the effect. Without saying anything she put Sandor's long hair out of the way and secured it with a headband. The thick orange balm was put on quick enough, covering his scars entirely. "Don't touch it, no matter how much it itches."
The younger brother of the Mountain just nodded and sat still, waiting. All the while observing the women. The redhead was looking around, occasionally glancing his way and dismissing him entirely by the way her eyes slid right over his form. The other woman hummed a tune while she worked at the bubbling cauldron. Both had a perfect body with golden proportions, smooth skin and perfect beautiful and silky hair. Nobody Sandor had seen before possessed their level of grace, physical beauty and poise above that commonly found. It was only matched by the best of House Targaryen, maybe.
Sandor was glad the salve hid his blush, no matter how small. He was a growing boy at the beginning of puberty and looking at the most beautiful women he had ever seen. It would've been concerning if he didn't have a reaction. Nonetheless, he wasn't delusional enough to think foreign queens would be interested in the second son of a lowly landed knight like him. Still, looking never hurt anybody. Not leering, his brother leered and when there was one thing Sandor hated then it was to be like Gregor. His thoughts were interrupted by a itching sensation on his face. It was like a badger going crazy under his skin. He just so accomplished to heed her words.
A bit less than half an hour later the potion was finished as it took on a pink colour, steaming with white smoke. Narcissa filled it into glass phials, stoppered them and set two aside. Finished with that she looked at her patient. "Let's see how your burns are doing." Promptly Narcissa gently peeled the now dry mass off. It had dried into a single mass with a consistency like jelly. A smile graced her lips as she saw the repaired skin underneath. "Much better. Here take a look." She said, handing him her personal mirror.
Sandor couldn't believe what he saw in it. His face was free of the mess of scars, burns and black flesh. Replaced with new and pink skin. Even his ear was back. Everything anyone had ever done hadn't done much to help him. The Clegane family had not much money, maybe just enough to employ a Maester into their service. Though they never did so. The medicine used by smallfolk did next to nothing. Numb the pain a little, but that was it. Just one of the many disappointments and grievances he had with his father.
'Some father he is, lying about how I got the burns, unwilling to hire a Maester to help me when he could spend it on Gregor instead. All for a little bit of glory and honour.' Sandor thought. Disgusted at his father and brother. Only his mother had been good to him and she had died birthing his sister. A sister Sandor was sure was killed by Gregor. One of the biggest reasons on the long list of things why Sandor hated his bigger brother. His father, ever the coward, refused to punish Gregor. No matter what he did, it was always hushed up to not bring shame on their House. Instead Sandor had to occasionally squire for the monster, obey him like a younger son should the older one and undergo gruelling training.
He was brought out of his thoughts when the witch dangled two phials filled with pink liquid in front of his face. "Here, for Lord Tywin." Handing him the potions, Narcissa explained. "Tell him that for maximum effect he is to take one hair from his son and add it to one potion. The same is to be done with a hair from the bride for the other." Seeing Sandor nod she took that as a sign he understood. "The one with his son's hair is to be given to the bride and vice versa." That should key the recipient in and enhance the effect so that they should fuck their brains out.
"Thank you." Sandor said in a voice thick with emotion. He nodded hurriedly and quickly hopped off the chair and made his way back to his Lord.
"At least it wasn't all for nothing." Melisandre commented, still lazily lying atop Meleys' head.
"Quite." Narcissa replied, sitting down again and waiting for more patients. She didn't have to wait long with how many people had seen her heal grievous burns with ease. They stared a bit and some hurried on. Wounded or sick ones came closer. For them it was either refuse to be treated or die. An easy choice.
The first to do so was a young woman with an infant in her arms. The little thing was squirming and crying its lungs out. "What can I help you with?" Narcissa asked the approaching mother.
"I jus' need somethin' for ma boy. He don't stop screaming an' nothin' I do helps." The woman said, clearly distressed at her child's declining health. Normally she wouldn't even be caught within ten feet of the beings she saw as demons, but the castle's Maester didn't even deigned her important enough to speak with. The Hedge Wizards or Woods Witches hadn't helped either. Not that she had the money to pay for the treatment anyway. Still, she had been willing to pay with work or otherwise. Her last hope before coming here had been the Septon, who only told her that it was the gods will for her son to be sick. Deeming that insufficient she now found herself here. Only the concern for her child giving her the courage to approach this ethereal, but demonic woman.
After deciphering the mangled mess this woman called language Narcissa responded. "Did you notice anything wrong with him? Does he have difficulty sleeping, for example?"
"He have trouble nursin', is hotter than normal, sleeps fewer an' cries much more." The woman explained frantically, still trying to console the crying baby.
Narcissa inquired calmly, ignoring the woman butchering the English tongue. "Hmm, may I hold him?" It would allow her to inspect more closely and give possible proof for her theory.
Clearly indecisive the woman hesitated for a bit, drawing the babe closer to her bosom. Motherly concern won out in the end, however.
Holding the infant in her arms Cissy checked for increased temperature and other signs that told of a simple cold. Finding such in form of a runny nose and the occasional cough she held her hand over it's body to cast the standard diagnostic spell at the small boy. Just to be sure. A blue light went from the top of the head down to the little ones toes. It only confirmed her earlier suspicion together with the general irritability of the infant. "He just has a cold. Nothing that can't be fixed quickly." Luckily the woman came in time and the infant hadn't developed a blue tinge around the lips or refused to nurse.
With the child still in her arms Cissy picked up a bottle of Pepperup potion. Under minor protests Cissy managed to get him to drink a good mouthful, causing the typical steam from the potion's effect to come out of his ears. Shortly after the infant settled down.
Giving the babe back to its mother Cissy asked. "Your first babe?" Magical mothers didn't have nearly as many problems as muggle mothers, especially poor ones unable to pay for the medicine or possess House-elves. Not to mention not knowing what to do.
The woman stared at Narcissa and her child in equal measure. "Aye, m'lady." A bit more at ease now that her child was healed and well again.
Narcissa nodded, having expected that. "Let me give you a few other things to help you." She transfigured a box out of nearby rocks and began filling it with phials and a few small clay jars containing balms. Ranging from Bruise removal paste to Vitamix Potion. Everything a new mother could need for her child. She explained the uses for each one and sent her on her way. Waving off the woman's gratitude in the process. She had an abundance of these potions.
From then on more people came to her with various illnesses, diseases, maladies and other wounds. Under them infected cuts, broken bones and teeth, rashes, bruises, burns, as well as common diseases and even a face full of boils. Most of these things were normally debilitating if not deadly.
The youngest Black sister was just in the process of vanishing the rotten teeth of a crofter when a new noble patient appeared. It was a tall man in armour with a kraken-shaped helm, looking like your typical brute. He was hobbling towards her stand like a drunk, pushing peasants harshly out of the way as he swayed along. His legs seemingly unable to support him. From the look of things his knee had been crushed. Why the idiot was walking here on his own instead of treating his leg with care was anyone's guess.
"Woman, attend me!" Victarion bellowed like an angry bull as he swayed and finally sat down on the unoccupied chair. He was still humiliated and furious at his brother's actions. Too angry to care for how he treated this healer, or to notice just who she was.
Cissy ignored the rude man and instead focussed on her current patient, giving him a glass of Firewhisky to disinfect his gums before regrowing his teeth. "Rinse and spit it out or drink it." She instructed the forty-year-old man.
He did so quickly, burning the bacteria out of his mouth. His eyes watered from the strong magical liquor that surpassed every sludge that passed as alcohol in this land in flavour and quality. Narcissa waited for him to finish coughing before she took hold of his jaw, wrenched it open and inspected it. Satisfied she traced a finger over the gums, casting. "Densaugeo." One tooth after another grew back until only straight and pearly white teeth remained.
"Finished." Without even waiting for a response Cissy sent the man on his way, turning to the brute. "What can I do for you?" She wasn't rude, but her facial expression told everyone who saw it just how much she thought of the Ironborn man.
Victarion grunted, suppressing a pained moan as agony seized his leg. "My knee was injured in the melee." Victarion barked out, eyeing the Essosi woman with distrust. The Iron Islands had no Maesters or other healers. Medicine and healing meant to treat the wound with fire and seawater. If you died then you simply were too weak to live. Unfortunately, his wounds were internal and couldn't be treated that way.
Like with nearly all things, the Ironborn were hypocrites in that regard. They were allowed to plunder, rape and pillage, but when that happened to them and their land it was a crime. Not to mention that the words 'What is dead may never die' lost their meaning once they were staring potential death in the face. No one bent the knee faster than a defeated Ironborn. They looked down on, farming, reading, mining, trading, medicine and healing, things essential for a proper working society. And, weirdly enough thought themselves superior to the rest. To acknowledge their shortcomings was too painful to admit.
Such was the glory of the Old Way.
A perfect eyebrow raised, Narcissa asked. "Any particular reason why you stressed your leg instead of getting here another way?" She actually couldn't care less why this man, who looked as dumb as a stump, did so. But somehow her mouth was faster than her mind.
"It doesn't hurt." The brother of Balon Greyjoy bit out as his knee ached, feeling like molten fire was coursing through it.
Rolling her eyes at having to deal with an idiotic macho man, Narcissa replied. "Well, if it doesn't hurt to walk then it can't be so bad, can it?" Acting as if inspecting the still armoured leg she followed up with. "It also doesn't look bad at all. A bit of rest should be enough, I'm sure." A completely insincere and poisonous smile was directed at the Ironborn. It was the same smile that convinced Harry to stop ignoring his injuries and come to her or suffer the consequences of his foolishness. "Now, if you'd kindly move aside for the people with real medical problems."
Surprisingly, the fool tried to stand up and move. Only to collapse as he tried to walk away. His leg finally giving out like a snapped twig, after the abuse it had been put through by him walking to her. He grunted in pain, his face a grimace of bale. Still, his pride did not let him accept help, so he tried to stand up. Obviously he couldn't do so with his ruined leg.
Taking pity on the fool Narcissa levitated him on the empty table and removed the armour together with the clothes below the thigh of his injured leg. Her actions revealed his knee, showing the sorry state it was in. Black and blue it was, as well as a ruin of flesh with bone sticking out. Without warning him Narcissa cast a healing spell. "Ossio Emendo." Pale blue light hit the knee and started its work to fix the bone. She ignored his screams with an ease born out of treating people for a long time. That done Narcissa inspected it and followed it up with another healing spell for good measure. "Episkey."
The Greyjoy couldn't even get out a protest as he was picked up by an eldritch force and deposited on a table. A second later Victarion was no longer able to repress his howls of agony as the bones reset. Fiery Needles pushed themselves into every inch of flesh on his leg. At the same time small insects seemed to crawl under said skin to move the bone in the correct place. It felt like an eternity later when the pain vanished and was replaced by relief. A look down showed his leg as it was before the melee.
"There, it's fixed." She pinned him down with her silver-violet eyes. Hers was an impressive stare, combining disdain at him, haughtiness and her personal superiority all in one. "I suggest the next time you don't try to play it off." Lastly she reattached his clothes and armour.
Victarion could only nod dumbly at that as he left.
Cissy sighed as she saw the long line waiting for treatment. The next one was a man in his sixties. He had a lean frame, grey hair, possessed warm brown eyes and looked like anyone's favourite grandfather. He wore a black robe that was poorly sewn. "Good day to you, My Lady. My name is Qyburn."
"You don't seem injured or like you have a disease. Why are you here, Qyburn?" The youngest Black demanded imperiously. Her patients for fools and illiterate people was running out fast. Still, from what she felt this man seemed to possess the same degree of magic as Marwyn. Enough to make potions and work with rituals and runes, but not nearly enough for proper spells.
"I am healthy as far as I know." He replied. "I am a healer myself and wanted to offer my services to you and maybe learn more about my craft from your capable hands." To emphasize the point he showed her his own medical kit. Full of medicine and other equipment.
Looking once more at the line of people, Narcissa wasn't about to deny a helping hand to get it done quicker. "Very well. Show me what you got by helping to heal these people and if I like what I see I think about it." With that non-obligatory statement she went back to work.
Determined Qyburn went to work. Having seen ghosts being summoned by these people told him they knew much more about the things he desired to learn than the fools in the Oldtown did. He remembered the time he had seen a woman in a chair, knew she had been there. Only for her to vanish a moment later with no way to go he hadn't seen. Her scent had lingered in the air, the cushion had been dented and the cloth had still been warm. Qyburn was sure with these people he'd learn and uncover many secrets.
Lord Tywin was waiting and pacing. He had sent the younger brother of one of his more useful vassals in terms of strength and brutality to fetch a potion to help with a few problems. Sandor he believed the lad's name was. It seems his son couldn't get it on with his new wife. If it was because Tywin and the Septon were sitting in the room or not was irrelevant to Tywin. The Septon was there to confirm the excuse Tywin came up with for what they all saw in the Sept.
Namely the story of how Cersei seduced her brother with a love-potion she bought from the Essosi nobility. It would solve the problem of his son's credibility, save his honour, get the marriage going and would discredit the people who had laughed at him. NOBODY laughed at him and got away with it. Cersei was already cowed into submission and confirmed his story in front of the Septon. She would do a Walk of Atonement on the morrow of the next day.
Now he just needed that potion. Thankfully one of these women had set up a stand to heal the peasants. Tywin didn't bother to find out the reason why she did so. Only that it played into his hands. There had been enough charlatans promoting love-potions for foolish girls, but it wasn't a big leap in logic to assume they were truly capable of producing such things.
His son and his future wife, if Tywin had anything to say about it, waited in the room nearby. Still in bed and entirely embarrassed. Thankfully the mummer's farce during the wedding ceremony fooled Lord Tully, the Blackfish and their family.
Just as Tywin sat himself down opposite of the Septon, to try and relax, the tent flap opened. Sandor walked in with two vials in hand, containing a pink liquid. Though, that wasn't the thing the Lord of Casterly Rock noticed first. No, the first thing he saw was that the boy's face was healed of his horrific burns. Assuming that one of the Blacks healed it Tywin ignored that for now and asked. "Do you have it?"
Sandor nodded obediently answering. After all the difference between love and lust wasn't so big in his mind. "Yes, she also gave me instructions on how to use it." Seeing the look on Lord Lannister's face Sandor explained it to the best of his ability.
"Truly a vile concoction." The Septon ranted and raved. Everything to do with magic or foreigners was bad in the man's eyes. Not that Tywin minded that at the moment. He would use the Faith of the Seven to prevent these people from getting influence in Westeros to the best of his ability.
The Lord of Casterly Rock just nodded absent-mindedly. "Still, we have to test it to be sure." 'Also to validate this marriage.' He added inside his own head.
"Of course." The fanatic agreed.
With that Tywin walked into the separate room, where his son was. No even announcing himself he walked straight in. Jaime and Lysa sat under the covers, red in embarrassment. Lysa even had tears in her eyes. Tywin sighed at that, fearing the future Lady of the Rock was a weakling. 'Nothing to be done about it now.' He thought irritably. "Son, good-daughter." He nodded to both in greeting. "I have sent for some wine." He sat himself on the bed besides his son to better reach for the hairs on the pillows. "I am sure you'd like some." It wasn't so much of a offer as an order.
Jaime only nodded, while Lysa's slender, delicate and pretty frame was buried under the blanket, but she too nodded.
Successful in acquiring the hairs he marched back to the adjacent room and prepared the potions according to the instructions. It caused the potion to change colour from pink to a red reminiscent of a Dornish red wine. Tywin poured the brew into goblets and immediately went back to the bedchamber to get things under way. "Here, maybe this will take care of your problem." he said, careful to give the correct potion to the right recipient.
Jaime, thoroughly humiliated saw nothing wrong with getting as pissed as possible. Now he would never see Cersei again, reason enough to drink and never stop. He swigged it down fast. Failing to identify the taste of it completely.
Lysa wasn't any different. Only that she had been robbed of her dream wedding to her darling Petyr. She knew her father wouldn't budge on it and was also terrified about Lord Lannister finding out that she was no longer a virgin. Having given it to Petyr on the night Catelyn's marriage to Brandon was announced. She remembered it fondly, even if Petyr didn't do anything of that nature again. Lysa was sure he would reciprocate her feelings in time. Now that was just a dream with her on the other side of Westeros as Lady Lannister. So, she too swallowed the wine. Not noticing that it tasted much sweeter than wine should.
Lysa felt herself getting wet, the nipples on her firm breasts grew hard as her eyes clouded with lust and a fire ignited in her core. She was compelled to look at Jaime and as she did so she saw him do the same. Emerald eyes looked into sapphire ones and a moment later the daughter of Hoster Tully couldn't prevent herself from rubbing her thighs together to release some tension. Normally she was shy, timid and prone to being tongue-tied. The potion's effects removed those obstacles.
"Jaime, darling. I need you." She said with aching need evident in her voice. It was accompanied by a lewd moan only a wanton woman craving sex was capable of. Petyr was banished from her mind and replaced with Jaime. His handsome face, gorgeous eyes, broad shoulders and muscular frame. He was everything she had ever dreamed of as a girl in Riverrun. Catelyn could have that brute Brandon. She would have the heir of Casterly Rock as her husband.
Not five seconds later after drinking the wine the sheet in Jaime's lap rose a good seven inches as his cock grew as hard as steel. His breathing got more shallow and his body seemed to be heating up. He looked at his future wife and couldn't help thinking how beautiful she looked, how kissable her lips were and that her teats were practically begging to be sucked on, just as the crook of her neck. Cersei didn't occupy his mind any longer. In is tunnel vision only Lysa, her sweet scent and soft and freckled skin existed. His cock twitched and his balls ached the moment he heard her heavenly voice. How could he deny such a simple request from a goddess?
Both met in the middle in a frenzied and passionate kiss.
Finally satisfied with the results Tywin left the two alone. He had to set the Faith onto these foreigners. Even if it was unlikely to come to a confrontation, due to the Faith not being allowed to carry weapons. And Tywin wasn't so stupid as to do that. However, it would lay groundwork to make it difficult for the Blacks to get a foothold in Westeros.
What neither, Tywin, Jaime or Lysa knew was that the potion wasn't an ordinary lust-potion. Due to Lysa drinking the potion with Jaime's hair and vice versa both got an instinctive understanding of each others bodies, weak spots and preferences during the potion's duration and beyond.
Jaime would be lucky to have any energy left for the Melee. And Lysa would be lucky being able to walk normally when the week was out.
Their future was altered irrevocably. Both had been in love with people who couldn't even grasp the concept of love, much less respond appropriately. Both would've devoted their life for another and gained nothing from it. Now they had a chance at a better future. It wasn't love, yet. But when there was one thing teenagers confused most often with love then it was lust.