Chapter Text
It starts at Harrenhall.
Harry may not have been a Stark, but that didn't stop him from joining their company to the great Tourney. They'd met at the crossroads: him, Ned, and Robert joining the other Stark siblings on their way into the Riverlands.
It was strange to be heading somewhere other than Winterfell at the six-moon mark, but this fete certainly trumped routine.
"Harry!" Lyanna was always the most excited to see him, at least in public. After years of wild greetings, Harry's arms opened instinctively to accept her excited hug.
"Lya, let him breathe!" Her older brother said with a laugh. This was who Harry was most glad to see once more.
"Hey Nev," he grinned. He didn't care about the crass remarks Robert was making behind his back as he gave Neville an equally tight hug.
Lyanna rolled her eyes. "I don't understand where you came up with such a strange nickname for him, Harry. You're never explained how you got 'Nev' from 'Norren.'"
Harry and Neville smiled at her in sync, causing her to huff and stomp her foot in annoyance. "Inside joke, Lya. Don't worry about it."
"Boys," she grumbled and returned to her horse to properly unload her saddlebag.
Harry and Neville watched her go in amusement. "You've heard?" Neville asked him quietly.
"Aye," Harry replied. "Robert hasn't shut up about how him and Ned will be proper brothers now."
Neville stole a glance at Harry. "And how do you feel about it?"
Harry shrugged. "What's done is done."
"Not done yet."
Harry sighed. "Just drop it, Nev."
Nev hummed but let the situation drop in favor of turning him towards the inn they'd arrived at. "Time for that later. Let me catch you up with what you've missed at Winterfell. I didn't tell you in my last letter, but Father had to drag Brandon home from Barrowton."
Harry chuckled lightly. "Barbery Ryswell?"
"Oh yes. A gold dragon says I have a niece or nephew on the way!"
"Bad bet, for sure."
That had been days ago. The two had adequately caught up in the time since then, their horses always found next to each other in the long column that traveled down the well-traveled path. The Northeners had come from the furthest out of most guests, and thus near the last to arrive. Last to arrive, first to leave; this was to give their men enough time to rest but also avoid most of the troubles on the road.
Their camp made him wish for Hermione, not for the first time in this world. He remembered the undetectable extension charm on her bag that had been mirrored after the Weasley's tent, which had been bigger on the inside. He missed it in times like these, when they erected large tents flapping with their house colors. They were still extravagant-- only the best for the paramount families-- but nothing magical, for certain.
The twin direwolf and falcon banners that flapped outside sent a pang of longing through him for a different quartet of colors. He knew from his studies that the red and gold lion was already claimed here, and while he had no qualms with his house of birth… sometimes, he wonders what it would've been like to be clad in Gryffindor colors here.
No matter.
He was pulled from his musings as the Stark siblings left their private "pack gathering," as Brandon jokingly called it, and met him outside. He tried to keep his brows from raising as he took in the formal dress Lyanna had been forced into-- she refused to meet any of their gazes.
Neville followed her closely, so it was Benjen, the youngest Stark, who stopped next to Harry.
"She thought she could get out of it with Father back in Winterfell," Ben muttered. "But Brandon is following Father's orders. He said he'll go to Lord Arryn if he must."
Harry nodded tightly. Even though Lyanna and Robert had met in passing once or twice over the years, they had not had a formal presentation as Lady Lyanna Stark and Lord Robert Baratheon. It would also be the first time the Starks and Baratheons had met, excepting Robert. Harry was along as the Stark's foster, but also because his uncle was Robert and Ned's foster father.
The five lordlings were rather solemn as they walked to the Arryn tent with Lyanna in tow. This first meeting would be on neutral ground. There were familiar guards posted at each side of the tent as well as a further two at the entrance. One ducked inside to announce their arrival.
"Lyanna--"
"Don't, Brandon."
Brandon grit his teeth and turned his back on her to lead the way into the tent.
"…presenting heir paramount Brandon Stark and his party."
Brandon waited until they were all assembled behind him before continuing the introduction. "Well met, Lord Arryn, Lord Baratheon."
Harry surveyed the Baratheons idly as Robert returned the greeting and introduced his siblings. "With me are my trueborn siblings: Lord Stannis Baratheon, Lord Renly Baratheon and--"
Harry's blood ran hot and cold all at once as his eyes locked with the final Baratheon, a willowy woman with black hair pulled into a bun. Even all these years later, he could hear her voice echoing in his ears as it had in the Great Hall, suggesting him to be sacrificed to the Dark Lord in exchange for the students' lives.
"Bloody hell," he breathed, and he could tell she similarly swore as well, based on the giggles that little Renly let out from where she held him propped against her hip.
It wasn't as loud as what Neville blurted though.
"Pansy?"
He couldn't believe he'd forgotten his friends' romantic entanglement. The memory was still there of course, but it wasn't something he and Neville had spoken of in many years, not wanting to get their hopes up. Seeing Pansy Parkinson here, next to his foster sister's betrothed, was not how Harry expected this day to go at all.
Let it never be said Slytherins were bad actors. Pansy's brow furrowed as she pouted. "Perra Baratheon, if it pleases you, m'lord." Her words dripped with sarcasm towards the end.
A single glance at Neville let Harry know he was in no shape to respond. "My apologies, Lady Perra. My handwriting is rather messy despite my best attempts, and I'm afraid my letters to Norren sharing stories your brother Robert told us in the Eyrie did not read much like Perra."
He heard a gasp and Lyanna asking rhetorically "Is that where you got the nickname 'Nev'?" but focused on Pansy. At her slight nod of understanding, he felt the tension release from his shoulders.
"Thank you, Lord Baratheon," Lord Arryn intercut before the situation could get further off track. "Heir Stark?"
Brandon stepped forward. "It is my privilege to introduce my siblings: Lord Eddard Stark, Lord Norren Stark, Lady Lyanna Stark, and Lord Benjen Stark; and our father's foster, Lord Harrold Arryn."
Harry tried to ignore the hungry way Robert stared at Lyanna in favor of the puppy eyes Neville was giving Pansy. She was doing a fine job ignoring it by focusing on her little brother, but Harry could still see the flush spreading across her cheeks.
"Why don't you children head back to the Stark camp?" Harry's uncle said, rather patronizingly. "Heir Stark and I will take it from here."
Ned looked like he might protest, but Harry made sure to beat him to it. "Thank you, Uncle, we will." He took hold of Neville's elbow and pulled him out first, knowing the others would follow.
"Harry-- that's Pansy!" Nev choked, stopping in their tracks.
"No shit, Nev," he hissed back.
"Don't be long… boys," Pansy said as she brushed passed them.
"Long boys!" Renly cheered.
"Close enough, little brother," Pansy agreed.
"Isn't my sister the one who's betrothed to your brother?" Benjen asked wryly.
Stannis shook his head like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. In a manner, they couldn't.
Perra Baratheon seemed to understand some of the commotion they were causing, but Norren Stark didn't seem to mind in the slightest. They practically floated across the dance floor, avoiding everyone no matter that their dance didn't match the song.
"Perra calls it a 'waltz,'" Stannis said quietly. "I was unaware it was a dance from the North."
Benjen frowned. "It's not."
They slip from the feast to take a walk under the fading sun, Harry at their side as a chaperone. "You especially need one now, after that spectacle," he laughed to their chagrin.
Pansy turns her nose up, and it's as if they're taking a turn around the great lake in the eighth year once more. "I refuse to dance with another one of those bastards again," she decrees. "Do you know how close I've come to hexing half of them when their eyes and hands start to wander?"
"You seem to have done a good job restraining yourself so far."
"Or maybe I simply haven't been caught."
Neville smiles at her pride. "I've missed you. We've missed you, truly."
Pansy wrinkles her nose lightly. "Merlin, you've gone native." Her face softens slightly as she reaches out to cup his cheek, like she's checking that he's real. "It's good to see you, Nev."
Harry snorts. "I'd forgotten how allergic you snakes are to emotions."
"And I'd forgotten how you didn't know when to shut up," she sneered in return.
"Pot, kettle."
"Rich, Potter." Pansy glanced back at Neville in confusion. "What're you looking at."
"You're beautiful when you're angry."
"For Merlin's sake," she huffed and then threw herself at him.
Harry rolled his eyes, cast a strong notice-me-not charm, and did his best to admire the sunset and ignore the sounds of Pansy and Neville snogging behind him.
They had finished fixing their hair and outfits when Pansy spoke up. "There's something I need to--"
Harry waved her off. "No apologies necessary. It's nice to feel… well, normal for once. Ah, you've got a…" he trailed off, tapping the side of his neck.
Pansy flushed and brushed her fingers over the same spot on her own neck, a whispered concealment charm hiding the dark hickey. "Thanks, but that’s not what I wanted to-"
"There you are!" They jumped as Benjen ran up to them, slightly out of breath. "Excuse us, Harry, Lady Perra. Norren, Lyanna's looking for you."
Neville hesitated, turning towards Pansy. She dipped her chin in assent.
"Lord Harrold can escort me back to my family's encampment," she suggested, but from her pointed stare, it was definitely an order.
Harry bowed mockingly and held out his arm. "Shall we, my lady?"
"Don't push it," she mutters as they start back towards the east side of the grounds.
Harry hummed in amusement. "What were you trying to say earlier?"
She fell quiet. Harry lets her be as they walk, nodding on autopilot as they pass various Northerners and Valemen.
"Can you and Neville meet me tomorrow night by the shoreline, under the willow grove? We have a lot to talk about."
Harry's brow furrowed but he didn't question her. "We'll be there."
Pansy patted his arm in return, and they settled back into their formal manners.
The moment he saw the shock of platinum hair in the crowds of the tourney grounds, Harry knew exactly what Pansy had wanted to talk to him and Neville about.
He'd spent his entire sixth year following that blond bastard from afar. He'd recognize him anywhere.
But then Harry drew closer, and just as the blond head turned and grey eyes met his own, his gaze dropped to their clothing to ascertain what house this not-so-stranger hailed from…
And Harry fell into hysterics as his gaze was met with gaudy red and gold lions.
He didn't have to look up to know he'd been approached by the Lannister. He was surprised to see the girl at the lord's side when he did manage to pause his laughter.
"Yup. We died, because this is officially hell."
"Gods, you're melodramatic as ever," Harry choked out. "This must be heaven! Merlin, you're wearing Gryffindor colors… you're a lion!"
Draco Malfoy did not look amused. "Fuck off, Potter."
"Oh wow. I haven't been told that in a long time. Thanks, Malfoy."
Draco flipped him a rude gesture while the woman on his arm sighed. "I suppose this means the rest of your trio isn't far behind."
Harry flinched. It wasn't that he'd forgotten them-- he never could, even if he'd been longer without them now than when they'd been together, it was as if they were a missing limb-- but he had not had anyone to mention their absence so jarringly. Neville only brought them up in specific situations, when their room was warded and they were several cups deep.
"Ron wasn't there when it happened…" He trailed off, finally cataloguing who exactly was next to Draco. Her olive skin and sleek black hair fit in perfectly with the orange and gold silks dotted with suns, but Harry recognized her face from before. "Should I guess which twin you are?"
The girl extended her hand in greeting. "Mara Martell and Damian Lannister, although I'm sure you were aware of that, Lord Harrold," she says pointedly.
Harry smiled lightly as he brushed a kiss against her skin. "Right then. Hi, Padma."
She huffed and snatched her hand back to cross her arms, very un-formal like. Both Padma and Draco seemed hesitant, like they weren't sure what to say in face of his actions. Harry knew he'd rarely let this side of himself show to other houses while in school, and his memories of after were… fuzzy at best. But the last seventeen years had lifted much of the weight from his shoulders and allowed him to be much more carefree and… happy.
He focused back on draco. "It's hard to reconcile everything I've heard about Damian Lannister with who I know you to be." He sees Draco tense up, but holds his hands up placatingly. "I mean no offense, just… that you are not a lion."
Draco relaxed slightly but his words still had fight. "I'm both," Draco argued. "I've had a second chance here."
"I'm glad to hear it." Harry gestured for them to walk together. "I have a mother and brother here, y'know. Biological ones."
"Lady Belmore and Elbert Arryn?" Padma confirmed.
Harry grinned. "He's back in the Eyrie as regent for our uncle, Your Grace. And your twin… Princess Myriah?"
Padma acquiesced, now that he had shown he could act proper. "Is Parvati," she confirmed. "Our siblings-- Doran, Elia and Oberyn-- they know of our magic, but not of the others."
Harry nodded. "Elbert knows." He raised a brow at Draco.
The blond pursed his lips. "No. they're Lannisters, not Malfoys."
And from everything Harry knew of this world and theirs, he understood completely.
They spoke of this world as they walked through the tourney grounds, collecting stares and whispers as they went. The children of two lords paramount and a princess of Dorne-- they were the closest thing to royalty until the Targaryens arrived. And while Damian Lannister and Mara Martell were known to be betrothed, never before had an Arryn been seen in their presence.
The rumors swirl about them, but the three children of houses paramount don't seem to notice.
Harry didn't see Neville until that evening's feast, and by that point his friend was once again orbiting Pansy. He rolled his eyes and stayed by Benjen, Lyanna and Stannis for most of the night, the four of them making merry and teaching Stannis popular Northern dances to his chagrin.
Harry pointedly sidestepped any attempts from Benjen to have him and Lya paired as dance partners.
"Why won't you?" Benjen asked as Lyanna and Stannis slowly whirl about.
He ruffleed his foster brother's hair. "You're my family."
Ben pouted. "I think you'd be happy together."
Harry laughed. "Ben, I'm already happy."
His little foster brother's shoulders dropped even further. "She's not."
Harry's grin faded, for what could he say? He was never one for politics, and for as long as he's known Neville was here, for as long as there might be others, he has had one task: survive.
Harry wanders off to the willow tree. He gets there first, guard down as he's sure what to expect: Draco, Padma and Parvati. They're Pansy's big secret.
But then he sees red hair in the distance. He thinks for one second that it's her… but the shade is wrong, and hers never curled. Still, this person was familiar.
And then he could see it: the flash of smile was the same when she cast her first Patronus, the golden retriever bounding about the room and playing about. The way her grey eyes flashed as she cast cutting curses at Death Eaters. Her straightened shoulders as they took on the Wizengamot together.
"Susan?"
That grin was back, straight out of his memory. "Harry!"
He opened his arms and she ran into them. He couldn't believe it. Here was his friend after so many years, across lifetimes.
"By the Gods, I can't believe it." She clung to him even as she pulled away, eyes roving his face. "Even the scar?" Her fingers hovered above it, afraid to touch.
He smiled wryly. "Tripped and fell as a toddler. No evil wizards this time."
Her laugh was slightly choked. "Sometimes it feels as if it was only a bad dream, you know? Other times it feels like it was only yesterday, and I still turn around with a protego on my lips."
He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead briefly against hers. "Yeah, I know what you mean."
"The others?" She asked him. "It was the curse rebound, wasn't it?"
Harry nodded. "That's the conclusion I came to as well."
They jumped apart at the sound of a gasp on the edge of the clearing. "Susan! I can't believe you of all people--"
"It's not what it looks like!" Susan yelped, pushing him away from her. Harry tripped on the edge of her dress and fell onto his arse.
The girl who came under the willow branches was dressed differently than Mara Martell had been today, clad in burnt orange silks instead of golden. He'd teased Padma earlier that he couldn't recognize the difference between the Patil twins, but he knew Parvati. They'd been housemates for seven years and spent many a night playing cards by the common room fireplace, or days in the sun by the black lake finishing their homework. She stood by him at the Yule ball despite the arse he'd been, he'd stood by her at Lavender's funeral as she and Ron cried for similar but different reasons.
He saw the way her jaw dropped when he turned fully toward her. "Oh my god, Harry?"
"Hey Vati," he said sheepishly.
Parvati stared at the two of them before she began to laugh and approach them more sedately. "Of course you'd be here," she giggled. "Nothing like this would happen without you, would it?"
"I might have been told something similar before," he said.
She stopped before him, offering a hand to help him up. "Now I see why Padma was so insistent I come."
"I saw her and Draco earlier," Harry confirmed.
She waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, they're best mates here."
"Aren't they betrothed now?" Susan asked. She gripped Harry's wrist like she was afraid he'd disappear.
Parvati rolled her eyes. "For political gain is what they'll say. I remember when we went to Casterly Rock that first time. Our mother and Joanna Lannister wanted to betroth our sister Elia to one of her sons. Padma and Draco offered themselves to be betrothed in her stead." She trails off. "We thought we were alone here, back then. This gave a reason for us to stay in contact with Draco."
"I get it," Harry said. "I did something similar."
"With who? You're betrothed?"
"What? No!"
"I didn't think to ask who you were here," Susan admitted.
"Harrold Arryn. My older brother Elbert is heir to the Vale."
Susan's eyes went wide. "Bloody hell. I think my father wants to betroth me to your brother."
Based on her dress' colors and the Weirwood vines embroidered across her bodice…"You're Susanna Blackwood?" Harry furrowed his brow. "Wait, I thought my uncle wanted a Tully girl for Elbert."
"He wants someone to bring him the might of the Riverlands as a contingency plan," Susan corrected him. "Other kingdoms may not like it, but the Tullys will never have uniting power over the ancient Riverland houses, not truly."
"Houses like the Brackens?" Parvati joked.
Susan glared at her. "Fuck the Brackens, but yes, even they have more legitimacy than the Tullys."
They fell quiet as the bows rustled with someone's approach.
"Why are we speaking of the Tullys?" Pansy's nose scrunched like she smelled something foul as she pulled an awestruck Neville behind her. Both Parvati and Susan greeted him with hugs and happy tears. The group that had hidden out in the in the room of requirement during that hellish seventh year became closer than most. Susan had been Neville's right hand once Ginny didn't return from Easter break.
Pansy moved next to Harry as she watched the happy reunion with a critical eye. "Hmph. Gryffindors."
Harry sighed. "Susan's a badger."
"With her red hair and those pagan trees her family here worships?" Pansy snorted. "Yeah, sure."
He ignored her. "Who else are we waiting for?"
She shrugged. "Just a few more."
"Draco and Padma?"
"Yes," she said. "And…" She looked up. "Her."
She was the first to look different than he remembered her, but it was only because her platinum locks were now caramel in color. Her cool green gaze remained the same-- Harry remembered it because she was the only other year mate who had green eyes like him. Daphne Greengrass, the Ice Queen of Slytherin, no matter how much Pansy Parkinson complained it was her.
"Potter, good to know you're at the center of all of this too," she said calmly, eyes flicking between Harry and Neville. "Not…?"
"I'll explain later," he cut her off as he stepped forward, taking her hand and giving it a brusque kiss. "Well met, Lady Daphne."
She watched him with amusement. "I could've mistaken you for a pureblood with manners like that," she teased. "Charmed, Lord Harry."
"You kept your name as well?" he asked.
She hummed in agreement. "Flowers go along with the family name."
He made a guess based off of her emerald green silks that peaked from beneath the gray cloak. "Ah. Tyrell?"
Daphne smiled. "Thankfully. Wait until you meet my mother-- she's a warhorse."
He grinned. Even he'd heard of Olenna Tyrell’s cunning.
Still, despite the joy of being surrounded by his friends, something… wasn't right.
"This wasn't everyone in the Department of Mysteries that day," Daphne voiced her agreement to his unspoken question.
"But where are they if they aren't here? It can't be coincidence that we were all born into noble houses here, and there isn't one of importance not coming to Harrenhall."
Daphne frowned lightly. "Perhaps our purpose isn't served with us all in noble houses."
"Have we considered that they might not be here at all?" Padma's voice cut through the contemplative silence.
"Well you certainly know how to set the mood with an entrance," Pansy grumbled.
"I think they're here," Harry said quickly, hoping to stop the argument before it could begin. "But this is a large world, and it won't be easy to find them. I hate to say to leave it to fate, but…"
"Potter's right," Draco said, pushing through the willow fronds behind Padma. Harry noticed him throw a security perimeter charm up without a wand, only because the brush of magic that washed over them was one well known to him. "For now, we work on pooling our knowledge and building our power."
"Is that Draco Malfoy and did he just agree with Harry?" Neville whispered to Parvati, who elbowed him in the side when it was clear everyone heard.
Draco huffed out through his nose. "It's Damian Lannister now, Longbottom. And from your dreary garments…"
"Norren Stark," he answered cheerfully. "Grey's an excellent color to hunt in the Northern snows with."
"Oh." They all looked to Daphne, who seemed embarrassed that she had spoken out loud. "You haven't realized it?" She rolled her eyes, very unladylike. "Neville is Stark, Harry is an Arryn, Draco is a Lannister, Susan a Blackwood, Pansy a Baratheon, the twins are Martells, and I'm a Tyrell."
"We're of the seven kingdoms," Harry murmured in understanding, eyes wide as his gaze darted around the group.
"That's significant," Susan agreed. "We can't overlook this."
"What does it mean though?" Padma asked. "For magic to have rooted us in the great houses of each kingdom… that seems an ill omen."
They fall silent at this. They know their meeting is no coincidence, but there is nothing imminent on the horizon. There are no wars, no famines, no plagues. As a whole, Westeros sits in a time of peace and stability.
"We do as Draco suggested," Daphne firmly said. "The Reach is the breadbasket of the realm; I've been collecting potions and ingredients under time stasis charms. Many of our common ingredients are found here, although some have different names-- I have a small greenhouse where I cultivate plants from other kingdoms as my art."
"Harry and I have learned runes," Neville said. "The North and the Vale still have many who trace back to the first men, and while they are rare, we have tomes and scrolls written in the text."
"Bronze Yohn tutored me on my visits back to the Eyrie," Harry added. "Runestone and Winterfell both are covered in runes."
"Healing and rituals. I stumbled upon it by accident," Susan said. "The Riverlands are fertile, but the earth itself screams in pain from past wars. After the first scoured land, I realized the ritual healed the residents as well. The people are the Riverlands, no matter how often our borders and crowns have changed."
"Transfiguration," Draco admitted. "Mostly metals and jewels… and I do not think I am the first to do so in Lannister history. The mines below Casterly Rock…" He sucked in a breath. "There is something not natural about them."
"It is the same with the Martells," Padma said, Parvati nodding alongside her. "Our people came from the Mother Rhoyne in Essos, and Nymeria led her people across the oceans on less than seaworthy crafts. They should not have made it."
"We also have Targaryen blood, and the Valyrians used blood magic," Parvati whispered. Blood magic was one thing Westerosi were overwhelmingly aware of, as it caused the Valyrian Doom. "Dorne fell Rhaenys Targaryen, and Dorne did not allow her to bring any secrets to her grave." She turned to Pansy. "You are a Baratheon, and your grandmother a Targaryen. It is likely you can do the same."
Pansy winced slightly. "She gave me her dragon egg."
A tense silence fell. They all knew what had happened at Summerhall.
She glared at them defensively. "It's not like I've done anything with it! The Targaryens made us acutely aware of the consequences if it goes wrong. I wouldn't put my baby brother at risk."
"We weren't accusing you," Harry said carefully. "But do you think-- did she know?"
"…Possibly. I wouldn't be surprised if so. She gave it to me and not Robert or Stannis. Otherwise, I wrote down the spells I remember, but I expect we all did."
"Oh!" Neville slid something familiar out of his sleeve. "That reminds me. I have a wand, but Harry didn't need one."
Susan blanched and slid her fingers into her bosom, pulling out a similar ivory stick. "This cannot be coincidence… yours is Weirwood as well?" She paused at their stares. "It wouldn't be easily accessible under my skirts, and I don't have sleeves with this dress to hide it!"
Daphne revealed one as well, but it was strapped to her calf under her skirts, which were much silkier and fewer in number than the more conservative styles of the Riverlands. "Mine was from the Three Daughters itself, in the heart of Highgarden."
Pansy, Draco, and the twins all shook their heads. Just like Harry, their magic had been wandless in this new life.
"So what now?" One of them asked, but all of them were thinking it.
"We become friends, and ready our houses to become allies." Padma's tone was firm, and Harry wondered what he had missed in the years the others had known each other in this world.
Neville seemed to agree with his confusion. "And we need allies because…"
Padma looked ready to snap, but then realized who had asked and explained more patiently. "There is a faction moving into position again to remove Aerys from the throne in place of Rhaegar. They failed at Duskendale-- he's only grown worse since then."
"Well… it won't be the first time we've helped with a coup," Susan said with an amused roll of her eyes. "We might as well do it here, too."
Harry sighed. "As long as there's no prophecy about me this time, I'm in." Clearly things had been in motion beyond his knowledge, and he wasn't entirely against it. He hadn't heard anything good of King Aerys in the years he had been alive, and certainly not after Tywin Lannister was removed as the Hand of the King. He'd make sure to speak of it to his uncle once they'd left Harrenhall, where they were less likely to be overheard.
Pansy groaned. "Chances are, you just jinxed us."
The whispers start when the Lannister heir and Stark spare are seen sparring in the practice grounds of the tourney field. The North and Westerlands have little in common, save for a dislike of Ironborn, and none can remember the last time the two houses were seen together.
The two fight to a draw, which is an impressive feat. Damian Lannister scoffs while Norren Stark gives him a sarcastic bow, and the onlookers are sure they are about to see an explosion of anger. Instead, the Lannister knocks Stark's shoulder playfully, as if they are old friends.
A Lannister and Stark have never been seen together amicably in recent history.
The White Rose of Highgarden has been seen before with the Storm Lady, but never before have they been joined by one of the twin princesses of Dorne. The Reach and Stormlands have always been in a push and pull of skirmishes with Dorne over contested territory. To see the daughters of the paramount houses of the three regions together sends tongues wagging.
One of his bannermen tells Robert Baratheon of the trio before they enter the main tent for the evening's feast. He grins and warmly greets his sister's new friends. They are of noble standing like herself, and he knows she has taken care of Renly -- nay, all three brothers-- since their parents passing. He is glad to see her among other fine ladies such as herself.
Olenna Tyrell's eyes narrow from her place seated among the reach lords. The Baratheon boy thinks in the moment and may not worry, but she can see the vines begin to twist and twine and the repercussions this public display of amity may have.
It is one thing to see a Dornishwoman wield a weapon. Many in the other kingdoms mutter, but the behavior is not new and thus accepted begrudgingly. The Dornish tend to keep to themselves, and everyone remains content.
To see her joined by a lady of the Riverlands… still, the lady in question is a Blackwood, and it isn't long before the rumors are reminded of the several warrior women that house has yielded since the unification. Black Aly's reputation is upheld now, even over a century later.
When they are joined by the Arryn spare, however-- a page is sent running to inform the Lord Paramount of the Vale. The Dornishwoman was fine. The Riverlands woman was pushing societal acceptability, but still within its bounds.
For a man to spar them, a lordling of such a noble house?
None would forget this spectacle.
"You nearly had me on that bout," Myriah Martell says with a grin, spear held under Harrold Arryn's chin.
His sword point is inches away from her chest. "I could say the same to you," he responds with a laugh. "But I believe Lady Susanna has us both at her mercy." Their gazes both shift to the dual short swords buried between their spread legs -- this was the winning kill shot of their sparring session. It took a master marksman to aim so carefully with moving targets. In true battle, it would have easily been the main blood vessel in their groin.
Such is clear to the gathered tourney onlookers as it is to the fighters themselves.
"it was well fought by you both," Lady Susanna says demurely as the two relaxed, allowing her to retrieve her weapons. "to defend from two directions is a high-level skill. Shall we go again?"
"Perhaps another time," Lady Mariah stepped back, gesturing toward the parting crowd with a jerk of her head. Lord Harrold and Lady Susanna both turn to see Lord Arryn himself striding forward, but many are surprised by how… excited Lord Harrold seems.
"Uncle! Come meet my friends-- it has been long since I've had such a fun challenge in combat."
Friends? How rare to hear one from such a high family use a term, and publicly at that.
Lord Arryn's expression is polite but only just, and likely due to the company they held. "Enlighten me, nephew."
"Lord uncle, may I introduce you to Princess Myriah Martell of Dorne, and Lady Susanna of House Blackwood. Myriah, Susanna, this is my uncle, Lord Jon Arryn of the Vale."
All present notice the relaxed form of introduction, but only some seem to understand the implications. The four in the middle certainly do, and the bystanders that are aware begin to spread word to their neighbors.
Lady Susanna mutters something that only Lord Harrold can hear, and his shoulders set back confidently. Lord Arryn speaks lowly as well, doing his best to keep his censuring private in such a public setting, but Lord Harrold does not allow him to.
"’Improper?’ They are trained warriors such as myself, uncle. What honor would I have to ignore their training and skills and treat them otherwise? You know that I now defeat most of our guard after all these years of practice-- Princess Myriah and Lady Susanna have done the same with me. I am honored to have sparred with them this day."
Silence reigns for several heartbeats as Lord Arryn observes the strange trio. All three meet his gaze head-on, a bold feat in itself.
"My apologies, Your Grace, my lady. My nephew is… correct, in this instance. You all fought well. I expect this routine to be kept to the sparring grounds, however." There will be consequences if this behavior is repeated in the tourney, was left unsaid but still heard.
"Many thanks, Lord Arryn," the princess and lady replied, the former nodding while the latter curtsied.
"Harrold, a moment?"
The order was clear, and Harrold Arryn gave a wry smile. "I will catch up with you both at the feast, Princess Myriah, Lady Susanna." With a proper kiss to both of their hands, Lord Harrold walked off with his uncle toward the Vale encampment while the girls returned to their earlier one-on-one spar.
"Well?" Uncle Jon was Lord Arryn in his tone now, but it mattered little to Harry.
He smiled benignly. "It is as I said before, Uncle. The princess and lady are both skilled fighters. If I were to treat them otherwise, it would be disrespectful to the years they have spent on their craft."
His uncle looked caught between annoyance and defeat. "There are not many who agree with that belief."
"Then there are many who allow prejudice to cloud the truth from them," Harry shot back with a shrug. "And I would challenge them to bring their concerns to Princess Myriah and Lady Susanna on the training grounds."
Jon Arryn was a stern man, but even he had his jovial moments. Harry nearly sighed in relief when his uncle cracked a smile at his rebuttal.
"I am sure by now you know I had been considering Lady Susanna's hand for your brother," he said with a chuckle, "but perhaps I should consider her for you instead."
He dipped his head in obeisance. "I defer to you on this matter, my lord." Susan was his friend, and he was sure that either option would be fine in the long run. His brother was a kind man and would be good to her, and either way she would be close.
"Now, tell me how this sparring match between the three of you began…"
When Lord Arryn approaches the Martell and Blackwood tables at that night's feast, the rumors ignite and spread like wildfire. Suddenly, this unexpected collection of spare lordlings, ladies, and princesses have become the center of attention.
The Targaryens arrive the next day.