“Hold the line!” A voice hollered over the fighting. “Maintain your shield wall, don’t let them thr—GURK!” That was as far as he got as he took a Lightning bolt to the face, the resulting explosion knocking him down into a smoking, dead heap.
“Shield wall?” I said contemptuously as I channeled Lightning into my weirwood staff, the white staff’s runes— a recent addition of mine, with the careful monitoring of Erebus— glowed a bright blue before I swung it like a baseball bat into the shield wall, bending the shields inwards and sending the men holding them flying back, their arms almost certainly shattered from the strength of the blow. “Don’t make me laugh!”
“It’s him! It’s the Blackscale!” One of them said as I grabbed my newest attacker’s sword and pulled him with it, bonking him over the head with the staff. I opened my mouth to reply, before closing it and running through their broken line, Jon following me with Ghost by his side.
Jon was having just as much of an easy time as I was, swinging Ice around like it weighed nothing, tearing through shields, armor and swords with the ease granted by his incredibly superior strength, and the magical properties of Valyrian steel.
That wasn’t to say Jon wasn’t being elegant about it— but, there was only so much you could do when a single swing of your sword broke through your enemy’s defense, and then your enemy himself…
Ghost was having a bit of a tougher time of it, as he attacked opportunistically, lunging when the men exposed any weakness, and making them pay for it with their lives by tearing out large chunks of their vulnerable flesh.
“Argh!” A man who was trying to sneak up on me from the right exclaimed, held in midair by a camouflaged Hestia— something she had learned after watching Ghost’s stealth and my own Disillusionment Charm. The only way I knew she was there at all was the fact that her claws were stained red, and—
She dropped out of her camouflage and roared, showing the fruits of our training as a long and wide stream of flame engulfed dozens of men, their screams and the crackling of the fire drowning out the rest of the battle.
“As I live and breathe… A dragon!”
“This is hopeless!”
The sound of swords, spears, axes, maces, and other weapons hitting the ground was heard as the men laid down their arms in surrender— but not before Hestia killed a few more of them with swipes of her tail.
§That’s enough, Hestia.§ I said, and the she-dragon obeyed instantly. §They’ve surrendered.§
§Oh, that was it?§ She whined with a bored look in her emerald eyes.
§Yes.§ I said, feeling faintly amused at the arrogance shown. §You’ve gotten very good in a short amount of time.§
Hestia’s powers were growing every day, and I wasn’t really sure it was natural, per se. Was it because of my presence near her, speeding up her growth to ridiculous levels?
Or was it simply her normal growth rate?
The information found in books on dragons was compiled by Maesters to try and understand this strange species of animal, with even some speculating that, since they are fire magic incarnate, they need some form of magic in the environment to get stronger; usually through blood rituals, or some such.
And, not to toot my own horn but, I was definitely a great source of magic; magic which Hestia was actively absorbing from her surroundings— I’d checked quite extensively.
It was barely more than a fraction of what little energy my body released subconsciously, but it was there, and the results certainly showed. The fact that she was Balerion’s daughter also helped explain her growth.
And, after gaining conscious use of her energy, she began to channel it to increase the efficiency of her attacks— and I wasn’t simply talking about her roar, which was admittedly impressive considering she wasn’t even half a year old, yet.
No, she’d begun to channel her fire in all her natural weapons— her horned head, her powerful tail, and her sharp claws. She’d even named them, in honor of my own techniques.
Fire Dragon’s Roar, Fire Dragon’s Horn, Fire Dragon’s Claw… If she knew how close the names were to Fairy Tail… The names brought a smile to my face, the pleasant memories coming back to the surface for a few moments.
“You’re oddly happy.” Jon cut through my thoughts and wiped the blood off of Ice as the Lannister men were taken in chains and ropes by Northerners and Riverlanders.
I grunted in response, sheathing the weirwood staff in the makeshift staff holder I had made shortly after I was declared the Lord of the Twins.
I fidgeted slightly in discomfort; the weight behind my back would need some getting used to— it was certainly better, and saved a lot more energy than shrinking and unshrinking it every time I had to go to battle.
It was strange to think about, really. Robb had granted me that title after killing all of the Freys and taking their castle. I supposed it was a right of conquest thing.
In my home world, such concepts were abolished centuries ago as the human rights movements began to make great strides.
Aristocracy had no place there— but it was quite popular, here.
“You think that’s all of them?” I asked as we moved to a nearby river, where Hestia and Ghost were busy cleaning themselves up.
“I think so.” Jon nodded, kneeling before the river and splashing himself in the face. “It was the biggest group we’ve seen, yet.”
I grunted in agreement, staring over the Blackwater Rush. “To think that they’d made it this far South, though…”
“Aye.” Jon said, getting back up and taking a deep breath. “We’re as far south as Tumbler’s Falls. Robb made the correct decision to cut them off at Stone Hedge.”
A few thousand had immediately fled from south east of Riverrun when the news of the majority of their army had been decisively slaughtered by the Northerners and Riverlanders.
Their plan was to go eastward to Harrenhal, where Tywin Lannister was camped. There, they could reinforce the men he already had— a number between ten and fifteen thousand.
The information wasn’t a hundred percent accurate, but it didn’t have to be. We’d already smashed through twenty five thousand men.
And, with my enchantment of the Riverlanders armor and weapons, that helped them even further.
Anyway, Robb thwarted their plan by directing a few thousand eastwards to Stone Hedge, as well as sending a raven to the Brackens, who’d joined their power with his and cut the retreating army off, which forced them to go southwards. Their army lost dozens every day, and scattered.
Which was why Jon and I were all the way down to Tumbler’s Falls.
“That should be the end of them.” Jon said, frowning in worry. “Hopefully, Robb’s doing well with his own plans.”
“He’ll be fine.” I tried to reassure him. “You know him. He always finds a way.”
Robb was a tactical genius; I remembered looking at those maps and coming up with some feasible plans, but Robb’s plans could dance around mine any day.
Apparently, after further questioning of the men we’d captured, they had revealed that a man by the name of Stafford Lannister had been training up new levies at the village of Oxcross, a few days’ ride away from Lannisport.
So, in a high risk, high reward move, he took ten thousand men, a mix of Northerners and Riverlanders looking for some payback, and left for the Westerlands. At least, he had enough sense to take Geryon with him— I had left him at Riverrun in order to focus more on Hestia and her training.
She was big enough to ride, now. I was surprised at how easy it had been, but then again, Hestia never fought against anything I had suggested, even the concept of me riding on her back.
“You’re right.” Jon sighed.
“We have bigger things to worry about, anyway.” I reminded him. “He’s counting on us to take Harrenhal while he takes care of things in the west. They think they can annihilate us with a double envelopment from the east and west. A solid tactic; it would have worked, if it weren’t for our presence on the field.”
Jon smiled grimly, and we retreated away from the carnage, into a large, open tent, overlooking the Blackwater Rush instead of the dead bodies lying behind us. A few waves of my wand, and we had a table, as well as a few chairs. A few more, and a few sheets were on the ground.
“My Lords.” A few men came in, as Hestia and Ghost made themselves comfortable on the admittedly thick sheets. Behind them were the two Lannister brothers, Jaime and Tyrion.
I nodded and patted one of them on the shoulder. “Thank you, friends. Go, get some rest. You’ve earned it.”
“Thank you, my Lord.” The man said gratefully as he bowed and left, the rest of men doing the same. I stared outside for a few seconds, before turning to Jaime and Tyrion. “I trust you’ve not made any fuss over your ‘imprisonment’.”
Jaime snorted as he and Tyrion took their seats.
“You know what I’m going to do at Harrenhal.” I said as I pulled out my pitcher of wine and enlarged it, as well as a few cups, before pouring some for myself, and letting the others do the same.
“Your father is encamped in it. He stands no chance, between myself, Jon, Ghost and Hestia.” I took a sip of wine as Hestia gave an acknowledging trill at the sound her name.
Jaime angrily got to his feet. “You can’t expect to simply stand by and let you kill my—”
“I expect you to let me finish what I was about to say.” I said acerbically. “I plan on hearing his side of the story, as I’m fairly sure that this whole war is the doing of Cersei.” He flinched at the name.
“And he might be the unlucky dumb shit caught up in her schemes. If he is the source of the assassination on the King and Lord Ned, then his life is forfeit. If he is not, I will spare his life. It’s as simple as that— live or die, Tyrion will rule Casterly Rock by the end of it.”
“If you have a problem with it, then you’re the shittiest knight I’ve ever heard of. So many people have died because of this pointless war. Tens of thousands, just from the recent battles, not even including the smallfolk caught in the crossfire! Are any of them less important than your father?” I asked and threw two large pieces of beef to Ghost and Hestia, before turning back to Jaime.
He looked sufficiently chastised by my words; hopefully, this would be much less uncomfortable when I was older. Scolding people who were double my age or older felt so awkward.
“There are more important things to worry about than the petty wars between men.” I said ominously. “I can feel the Others’ power growing. A subtle thing, extending its reach slowly, carefully. Days are getting colder, and colder. I’m sure you’ve noticed it.”
“Could simply be winter approaching faster than expected.” Tyrion replied dismissively. In response, I drew Erebus and tapped it on his cup. The wine within immediately froze, and Tyrion let go of the cup, unprepared for the sudden cold which traveled through his palm and into the bone.
The cup broke, leaving a solid chunk of wine on the floor.
“Or maybe their power over the cold is increasing, like my own.” I sheathed my sword as Tyrion rubbed his palms furiously together, trying to get feeling back into his hand. “It feels only slight, but there’s a definite increase.”
“How much time do you think we have?” Jon asked warily.
“I don’t know.” I admitted uneasily. “But I’m trying my hardest to get everyone at their strongest for when they do show their fucking faces—” I turned to Jaime. “—Not that any of you are making it easy for me.”
I took a deep breath, and relaxed in my chair, scratching at the stubble forming on my chin— I’d need to shave that.
“Priorities.” I muttered before getting up, and moving to sit beside Hestia, who circled me for a few seconds, much like a cat would, before laying down in a way which surrounded me.
Overgrown softie, she was. I would never say it to her face, of course.
§You feel it, too. Don’t you?§ I hissed softly as I leaned back into her form, feeling the vibrations of her breathing. §The air is shifting, ever so slightly; but it’s there.§
§Is that what that is?§ Hestia hissed back sounding perplexed. §I’d honestly thought it was you farting.§
One. Two. Thr—
§What?§ I asked in baffled shock. §Who told you that?§
§Balthazar.§ Of course he did.
§When?§ I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose in irritation.
§Last night, while you were sleeping.§ I felt a flash of amusement from the snake/arm/thing.
§No, little one.§ I sighed. §Balthazar is just playing a prank, and a rather terrible one at that.§
§A prank? What’s that?§ Hestia asked, nudging me slightly to the right so she could get more comfortable.
I smiled fondly at the young she-dragon. §Playing tricks on others— though it has to be harmless. Watch.§ I pointed my wand at Jon, who was busy staring solemnly over the Blackwater Rush.
“Rictusempra.” I incanted, and he broke into a fit of giggles.
“Wha— Stark?” Jaime looked away from his cup, taking a moment to stare at his brother in equal parts amusement and nervousness, before turning back to Jon. “Have you gone mad?”
I cut off the spell after a few moments, grinning at the disgruntled youth, who’d immediately fixed a glare on me.
§That’s a prank.§ I explained.
§You made him laugh?§ Hestia asked. §I don’t understand, father.§
§I made him laugh, which caused him embarrassment.§ I explained gently.
§What’s embarrassment, father?§
I kept forgetting that Hestia was so young… No time like the present, I supposed.
§Well, embarrassment is what happens when…§
We talked— rather, hissed— well into the night.
The trip to Harrenhal was quicker than I was dreading, but slower than I was hoping. There were no roads to make our paths any easier. The terrain was rough, mountainous, and quite unforgiving.
Even with my increased vitality and fortitude, I felt the marches tiring me out; I could only imagine how the rest of the men felt.
Luckily enough, not a single one of them complained, as food and drink was always available, and if I’d learned something from my months of living in this backwater world; it’s that a drunk— on booze, I meant— and fed army is a happy one.
I would share with you the details of the trip, but honestly, there really wasn’t anything of note. We woke up at the crack of dawn, fed ourselves, our horses— in my case, Hestia, and in Jon’s case, Ghost— and marched north east.
We had a few Tully scouts lead us there, as we weren’t exactly following a road. I always made sure to cast “Point me Harrenhal” to make sure I was still on the right path; but the scouts went above and beyond, and we managed to avoid a lot of rough— even rougher than what we currently endured— terrain, which saved us a lot of time on the march.
A few weeks of this, and we’d finally made it to Harrenhal in the late evening, where Robb’s men— around fifteen thousand, thanks to my Counting Spell— were waiting for us.
“We’ve made sure none of them attempt to escape, Lord Stark, Lord Potter.” Jason Mallister called out as our ragtag group of men approached the sieging army. He looked a little weathered, but otherwise just as resplendent as when I’d first met him.
He dismounted his horse and approached us, clasping arms with us while shamelessly staring at Ghost and Hestia, who stared right back at him.
“Will we witness the second coming of the Burning of Harrenhal, then?” Lord Mallister gave me an odd look.
“To an extent.” I confirmed with a grim nod as we began to settle ourselves in the camp. The men stared at us in wonder— funny, how I’d grown used to the attention, once more— as we went in further, and deeper into the camp. “Though…”
§Hestia, stealth mode.§ I hissed lightly, and she complied, her blue scales shimmering slightly before she went transparent. §Follow me to a tent.§
§Yes, father.§ She hissed back, as I turned to the astonished looking Lord Mallister. “Do you have any tents big enough for us?”
“I—” He said, before shaking it off. “Yes. Follow me.”
I nodded in thanks and followed him to a rather large tent. “We’d prepared this for you, in advance. King Robb has ordered that you be the commander of this mission, as you’re uniquely suited for it.” Lord Mallister said wryly as we entered, closing the entrance behind us.
“Exquisite accommodation.” Tyrion said sarcastically at the practically bare tent. There were six beds, a large table at the center, and some chairs.
Aside from that, absolutely nothing.
§Okay, you can disengage from stealth mode, Hestia.§ I hissed, and Hestia shimmered back into view, circling me affectionately before staring at Lord Mallister.
“Remarkable.” He breathed in admiration. “I never knew dragons were capable of such feats.”
“Interested in dragons?” I questioned.
“Indeed.” Mallister replied, giving me a hopeful look. “Every boy’s dream was to have a dragon to command and ride… May I?”
“Hm.” I considered his request. “It’s not for me to decide.”
§Would you let this one pet you, Hestia?§ I asked.
§Okay!§ She replied and chirped, approaching the wary, but excited human. Lord Mallister extended his hand slowly, eyes wide with anticipation, and a little bit of fear. He shook as his hand brushed against her blue scales for a few seconds, before she leaned into it.
I rolled my eyes as Mallister’s face broke out into a full blown grin.
Then, Hestia growled suddenly, making him jump back in terror at the smoldering gaze she’d sent him.
And then, came the strangest sound I’d ever heard. It was a strange, musical trill that suspiciously sounded like a laugh. Hestia’s shoulders shook in mirth as she watched the baffled human try to make sense of the situation.
“I— Wha—” Lord Mallister was at a loss for words.
“I think, my Lord Mallister.” Jon smiled in amusement. “That Hestia has played a successful prank on you, just now.”
“Your face, man.” I grinned and patted the she-dragon proudly on the head. “Priceless.”
Even Jaime was somewhat amused— though he covered it up with his unhappy frown. I supposed he had the right to be upset at everything, with what was about to happen to his father’s army, and his father.
I sighed and wiped the moistness out of my eyes, before telling Hestia to go play with Ghost in the corner for a while, and taking one of the many seats.
“Have you eaten, Lord Potter? Lord Stark? Lords Lannister?” Mallister said the last part with some disdain.
“Yes, a few hours ago, while on the march.” I replied easily, leaning back into the chair making it groan slightly at the pressure. “What news do you have of the situation? You mentioned King Robb?”
“Yes.” Lord Mallister nodded. “The last we’d heard from His Grace, King Robb, was that he’d found a secret pass in the mountains around the Golden Tooth, and that he planned to sneak his army to the other side and smash the levies being trained by Ser Stafford Lannister.”
I nodded, idly noting that Jon’s face relaxed slightly at the news. “Good. I was hoping he’d figure out a way to avoid the Golden Tooth. That should make things easier for him, and his men. And, Harrenhal?”
“Tywin’s encamped in that monstrous castle with enough provisions to last quite a long time.” Lord Mallister said. “We are unsure of the exact amount, but it would be safe to assume they could last for a year, at least— and with the Ironborn attacking…”
“Ironborn?” Tyrion cut in smoothly.
“Yes.” Lord Mallister said in irritation. “Seagard repelled their invasion force, but the Westerlands ports have been ravaged. Even the North has suffered their attacks, though they were mostly concentrated at Barrowton, Torrhen’s Square, Deepwood Motte, and Bear Island.”
“Why?” Jon asked in irritation.
“They’re the Ironborn.” Mallister spat to the side. “Damned Balon Greyjoy and his obsession with the Old Ways, and paying his damn Iron Price.”
Oh, the Iron Price. It was the idea that warriors acquired all of their possessions by taking them from their defeated enemies, instead of trading with gold. Pure rubbish.
“At least, that Greyjoy boy, Theon, has a head on his shoulders.” Lord Mallister mused. “Heard he took charge in the defense of Seagard, smashing their ships with ease, and that he plans to help the Northern ports and towns affected by these attacks.”
Jon and I smiled. Theon had definitely come a long way from the idiot I’d humiliated in Winterfell.
I nodded and addressed everyone. “They picked a bad time to attack us, but it’s not so bad— they’re also attacking the Westerlands, which is pretty much going to destroy their influence over the Seven Kingdoms even more.”
Tyrion grunted, though he and Jaime looked a unhappy. Oh well.
“This makes thing simple, actually.” Jon agreed.
“Aye.” I replied, having picked that particular response from all of the Northmen I’d been marching with for the past few months. “Robb is likely smashing the levies at Oxcross, and he left Harrenhal to us.”
I turned to address Lord Mallister. “Have the men ready to battle, Lord Mallister.”
He stared at me for a few seconds, before nodding. “As you wish.”
“Likely, when the inside of Harrenhal gets set on fire, the men will flee.” I elaborated at his inquiring gaze. “We’ll wait for nightfall, and then, Jon, Hestia and I shall infiltrate the castle.”
“I see.” Jason nodded in understand. “You plan on attacking them at their weakest.”
“Essentially, yes.” I confirmed. “That’s why I had Hestia hide herself quickly.”
“The damage was done, though.” Jon shook his head. “Many have already seen her arrive with you.”
“True.” I concurred. “Meaning that tonight is our only chance. They’ve been holding the castle against invaders from the land, but I doubt Tywin Lannister is foolish enough to not expect an attack from the sky the moment news of our arrival reaches him— and it will reach him.”
“Well said.” Lord Mallister said, giving Tyrion and Jaime strange glances— more Tyrion than Jaime, as Jaime looked suitably upset, while Tyrion merely looked impassive. “He is one of the most dangerous men in Westeros for a reason.”
I nodded, though I didn’t really agree, as we’d smashed through every single one of Tywin’s armies with ease— though that’s more due to Robb’s tactical genius, and my own enhancements to the men’s equipment, weapons and supplies.
The next few hours were spent hashing any details out. Where Mallister’s men would wait, which formations to assume, whether or not to take prisoners, etc.
We waited a couple of hours longer, before Jon and I exited the tent, Hestia following behind us.
“You ready?” I asked as we stared at the castle. It was hard to believe that medieval humans built this place. It had five towers of dizzying size, with monstrous curtain walls. It was easily several times larger than Winterfell, even as a ruin. I could only imagine how monstrous the original castle was.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Jon nodded.
I pulled out my wand, tapped him on the head as he shimmered out of view, the Disillusionment Charm taking hold, before applying it on myself.
We both got on Hestia, who also shimmered out of view.
§Let’s go.§ I said simply. Hestia trilled, and took, the flapping of her wings silent from my use of the Silencing Charm, though I could still feel the displacement of air from the motion, itself. §You remember your part, right?§
§Hestia.§ I hissed when she didn’t reply.
§Yes, father.§ She sounded a little scared. §Breathe fire on anything I see when I hear the signal.§
§And, what’s the signal?§ I pressed.
§A loud boom?§ She tried.
§Yes.§ I smiled, patting her on the head as we rose over the monstrous Harrenhal’s curtain walls. §You’ll do just fine. Just remember—§
§Stay away from arrows and whatever they throw at me. Yes, father.§ She sounded a little irritated at the end, there.
§I’m proud of you.§ I hissed. Hestia didn’t reply instantly.
§Thank you.§ She said, before she hovered in mid-air for a while. §Where do you wish for me to land, father?§
§Hm…§ I considered the area around me. §Bit to the right, no, we went too far. Go a little to the left— there. Straight down.§
Hestia complied and lowered herself until we were a few feet above ground, her flapping wings creating a cloud of dust, which was waved off as strange wind by the nearby patroling guards, who relaxed and went back to their nightly patrol.
Jon and I hopped off of the she-dragon, making no sound as we touched down.
§You know what to do.§ I told Hestia. She remained for a few moments, before flying up with mighty flaps of her wings, causing even more dust to fly in the air, though, my application of the modified Bubble Head Charm saved us from any choking fits.
The patrol of guards, on the other hand, wasn’t so lucky. They all began to hack as the unexpected dirt entered their lungs. They never got to clear their lungs, as they were all felled by Jon, whose Disillusionment Charm failed as soon as he attacked.
I winced; I hadn’t applied the charm well enough.
I called him over, before tapping his head with my wand once more, re-initiating the spell, and watching his form shimmer into nothing, once more.
“Try to use Ice a little less.” I said. “Its magical power seems to interfere with mine, so, for the sake of stealth, try to avoid using it?”
Of course, that was pure speculation on my part, but it was just as likely that the use of a dagger would cancel the spell, as well. There was no way to tell.
“Sure. I’m going to scout the castle out, see where everything is, so I can set it on fire, later.” Jon allowed, before stalking away, judging from the footprints he left in the sand.
I pulled out my wand after a few moments, and incanted. “Point me Tywin Lannister.”
The wand veered to my upper right, pointing to the tallest of Harrenhal’s towers. It was lopsided beneath the weight of slagged stone, with an arching stone bridge which connected it to another, shorter tower.
I stifled a groan. If only I’d used the spell before Hestia dropped us off, I would’ve been on that bridge quickly.
Oh, well, no use crying over spilt milk.
I snuck around the edges of the huge courtyard, where a few men were having mock battles to pass the time, as a few more told stories to their fellow soldiers, though those who were listening were bored, as if they’d heard the stories hundreds of times before— which was probably true, all things considered.
I entered through the base of the largest tower, blindly navigating through the maze inside for at least ten minutes, until I found the stairs.
“Okay, good.” I thought to myself, before pulling out my wand and casting “Point me Tywin Lannister.”
The wand pointed up, with a small incline to the left. He was still up there— “perfect.”
Ascending was a long, boring, and breathtaking experience. I had to stop and press my body to the wall as a few Lannister patrols passed me by, but the trip was uneventful— easy, I told myself.
I made sure to recast the spell every few floors, just to make sure I hadn’t went too far, until I reached the correct floor— technically I overshot it by one level, but that’s beside the point!
I made my way through the halls, following my wand’s direction until I reached a door which was guarded by two men in Lannister armor. Disposing of them was quick and easy; a muttered “Silencio!” followed by a single cast of Diffindo, aimed just right to slice through both of their necks, their headless bodies dropping silently onto the ground.
Another wave of my wand, and the bodies vanished.
I took a breath, and approached the door.
A wave of my wand, and the door silently swung open, revealing a somewhat lavish bedroom— though the bed was unoccupied. Tywin Lannister stood in front of the window, looking down at the men below as a breeze rolled in, likely due to the door opening.
He turned, frowning at the open door with green eyes, speckled with gold. He was tall and broad shouldered, and, though he wore nothing but night clothes, his frown was intimidating enough.
He began to move to the open door, likely wondering why the guards hadn’t ensured it remained closed.
“Stupefy.” I muttered and pointed my wand at his form, red light erupting from it and engulfing him. Tywin Lannister dropped unconscious.
§Well, that was easy.§ Balthazar quipped as I grabbed the man and carried him in my arms, bridal style— I couldn’t wrist tearing him apart with my wings of Lightning, if I’d decided to carry him over my shoulder.
§Yes.§ I replied, setting the man down on the floor and pointing my wand outside. “Periculum!”
A large, blue spark shot out of the window, before detonating in a very loud explosion.
I wasted no time and grabbed Tywin again, and channeled my Lightning to form wings. I winced as I heard the sound of tearing cloth as my Air Raid went in effect, filling the room with a bluish white light.
I heard Hestia’s shriek as I hopped out of the window and flew away from the humongous castle. My Lightning wings flapped and quickly carried me away from the range of any possible arrows the Lannister men might have fired at me— though, I figured they were too busy dealing with the sudden fires that had broken out everywhere, as well as the young she-dragon overhead.
She spat out flame on the stables, the carts, carriages— anything that looked flammable, she set it on fire. Flashes of blue from another part of the castle were seen as that section also erupted in flames.
Jon had started, as well.
A minute later, I touched down in front of Lord Jason Mallister, who stared at my wings in open shock— heh, get it? Cause my powers are electric… Never mind— and dumbly took the ‘most dangerous man in Westeros’, nodding when I ordered him to keep Tywin away from his sons, for the moment.
At least, until Harrenhal was ours.
“I’ll have the men ready for battle, my Lord Potter.” Mallister bowed deeply, before turning and barking several orders to his men, who nodded and took Lord Tywin away.
I gave a nod, before flying right back to Harrenhal, where the party was at.
I flew over the wall, and landed in the courtyard I had dropped in initially, before reining my Lightning back in. A quick “Reparo!” had my shirt ready for battle, once more, though I didn’t re-apply the Unbreakable Charm around the repaired spots, this time— even if the men around me seemed more intent on trying to quench the flames than fight.
The whole situation was a repeat of what I’d done to the Freys, really. You didn’t really need any amazing spells to cause havoc and mayhem in tight spaces. Just a simple, diligent spam of the Fire Making Spell.
“Incendio!” A chair.
“Incendio!” A bed.
“Incendio!” Empty buckets which could have been used in the fire fighting effort.
“Incendio!” Some tapestries caught fire, falling on a group of men who panicked and ran into walls, doors, other men, and even stables, tearing away good chunks of the flaming tapestry.
Hell, they were doing my job for me, at this point, I thought grimly as I set fire to any Lannister soldier who seemed smart enough to avoid the craziness— though those were few and far between.
The bodies began to pile up as Jon and I joined forces as Hestia rained hell from above.
“Okay, I’ve got an idea.” I said as Jon cut through a few men with Ice, before taking his hand off of the hilt and pointing it at a few men who were attempting to escape, engulfing their forms in his powerful blue flames. They screamed loud and hard for a few moments before collapsing, the fire licking at their bodies, and filling the air with the stench of burnt leather, human meat, and metal.
“What?” Stopped for a moment to look at me.
I held out my hands. “Take my hands, this is going to be good.”
Jon gave me a strange look, but complied.
I smiled and initiated my Air Raid, stifling a sigh as the Lightning spewed out of my back, through the un-enchanted parts of my shirt— it was probably better this way, as I wouldn’t have to channel any excess energy to simply manifest my wings. Unbreakable Spells were hard to beat, as the entire point of their existence is to be very rigid. The answer was literally, in the name.
Anyway, I pulled Jon up to the peak of the highest tower, taking a little while to do so.
§Hestia!§ I hissed out as we reached the top. The slagged stone floor beside me shook as Hestia landed on it, staring at it intently for a few moments— “the work of Balerion, her real father”, I thought to myself— before acknowledging my call.
“Okay, you two.” I switched to English, knowing the she-dragon could understand English just as well as Parseltongue, though she could not speak the former. “I want you to shoot your flames down. Your strongest streams of fire you can manage.”
“Will those even reach?” Jon frowned. “We’re very high, up here.”
“Don’t you worry about that.” I smiled. “That’s where I come in. Just do as I say, all right?”
Jon nodded, deciding to trust me.
I turned to Hestia and stared at her, until she nodded, before smiling grimly.
“Yes.” Jon replied as Hestia trilled.
“Do it.” I said and waved my wand in a spiral, before jabbing it in the same direction as the flames that Jon and Hestia had just shot out.
“Ventus Maxima!” I incanted.
It was a simple spell I had learned in my third year at Hogwarts, called “Ventus”. The Wind Jinx; at its best, it only served to push heavy logs and knock Malfoy down on the ground— the latter was always more fun to cause, or witness.
But then, I added the modifier “Maxima” to it. What did that mean, exactly? A modifier never changed the base effects of the spell, only the intensity by which it worked. Its directional vector, and amplitude were decided through different modifier phrases, like “Minima“, which drastically lowered the effects of a spell, “Separatum“, which split a spell into many different parts, etc.
So, what did the “Maxima” modifier do?
Strong gale force winds shot out of my wand and into the flames, increasing their intensity and range at least ten fold. The small streams of flame turned absolutely monstrous as the entirety of the ground floor— and a few of the upper floors— of Harrenhal was submerged in blue and crimson fire, roasting all of the Lannister men alive.
Maybe having Lord Mallister’s men be ready for a battle was pointless…