05-Bronze and Wildfire

Disclaimer: I don't own HP, GoT or ASOIAF.

Acknowledgements: This chapter was edited by Cataclysmic Moon.

*

Sansa

"Thank you, Ser Davos. I will let you know my decision on the morrow." Jon dismissed the old knight.

As soon as Ser Davos left, her brother asked, "What do you think of them, Sansa?"

"I wouldn't trust either of them. While Ser Davos seems rather reliable, he wasn't a very capable hand to Stannis."

"Aye. But I think the main strength of Ser Davos is that he is honest and has seen much of the world. He does not have the ruthlessness, power, and cunning required for a good Hand, but I wouldn't mind if he stays around to advise. Simply having a third opinion to provide perspective would be useful. And, not to mention, Ghost likes him. Direwolves have incredibly sharp senses. He disliked all the traitors and was on guard around them, but I was foolish enough to lock him up," Jon replied morbidly.

A pang of regret appeared in her heart. If only her own direwolf Lady hadn't died due to her stupidity.

"And Melisandre of Asshai..." Sansa tried to find words to describe the woman, but couldn't.

"...Is far more trouble than she's worth. I would send her away in a heartbeat if it weren't for Shireen Baratheon. If she's successful, I'll keep sending her away on tasks. Preferably to Essos. If she fails, I will dismiss her completely."

Sansa breathed a sigh of relief at those words. The red priestess gave her chills. Knowing that she would not be around for long made her rejoice inwardly.

"Jon, what is so important about Stannis' daughter? Yes, she has had a tragic life, but so did we, and many others."

Jon's face became thoughtful. After a short period of silence, he spoke up. "As you know, I probably have a Targaryen ancestor somewhere, otherwise I wouldn't be able to control, command, and hatch dragons with such ease. This means that, with Rhaelle Targaryen as her great grandmother, the princess is my kin, albeit a distant one. You didn't see her, but she was a kind and sweet girl. Now her mother and father are dead, and she is alone, surrounded by enemies. Does that remind you of someone?"

Sansa couldn't help but nod. She knew well what it was like to have no one and be surrounded by enemies.

"I don't lose anything by trying to help her. House Baratheon has the same enemies we do." Either way, her brother was right. And having the legitimate heir of Storm's End in their hands could be useful later on. Jon coughed and she looked at him "What do you know of Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne?"

What happened to her sworn shield? Sansa just realised that she had not seen the Stormlander woman ever since she had woken up.

"Where is Brienne?" She cautiously asked and placed her hands in her lap.

"I confined her and her squire to the guest chambers." Brienne had failed her in Winterfell, but she did save her from a Bolton hunting party later. Sansa was about to retort sharply, but her brother did not give her a chance. "When I woke in the fire, I saw you almost fully covered with wounds, cuts and bruises, and with a fever to boot, Sansa. I barely recall Maester Luwin's lessons, but after I asked around, I found out that Tarth was in the Stormlands, and Payne is from a Westerlands House, both of which aren't particularly friendly to House Stark. I don't know either of them, I don't know what they've done, or their houses, and I don't trust them one bit. Your sworn shield let you jump into a burning pyre. Both of them are either untrustworthy or incompetent. So, I had them confined to the guest chambers."

She deflated. Her brother was right to mistrust them, after all, when she first met Brienne and Podrick, she did not trust them either. Sansa didn't even think of them until Jon asked her. "They did save me from a Bolton hunting party after Theon and I escaped Winterfell. But if you want to know more, we should ask them ourselves."

"Let's go, then. There is no time like the present." Jon got up, strapped his sword belt on and patiently waited for her at the door.

Sansa threw a fur cloak around her shoulders and followed her brother. She noticed Jon was wearing only a simple woollen shirt and leather breeches. The air in the hallways was frigid, yet her brother did not seem bothered by it at all.

"Jon, aren't you cold dressed like this?" she asked with concern. It wouldn't do to get her brother back from the dead, only to lose him to the cold.

"Ever since I died, the chill and the heat do not affect me anymore. Both only feel pleasant to the touch. "He unceremoniously shoved his hand into the nearest burning brazier, causing her to yelp in shock. She tried to pull him away, but Jon stood unmovable like a mountain regardless of her efforts. A few moments later he pulled his hand out of the fire.

"See? Unburnt. The cold doesn't bite me either," Jon said with mirth dancing in his eyes.

Her heart was beating like a drum. She took deep breaths, trying to regain her calm. Sansa had gotten good at observing people, but her brother kept surprising her. Her wits and courtesies had been her only weapons for a long time, and she had grown proficient in their use. It was easy to notice that Jon had changed greatly and was no longer the broody and sullen boy she knew. Now, he was calm and confident, with a small amount of mischief hidden underneath.

She sent a half-hearted glare at him and they continued walking. Jon acted nonchalantly as if nothing of note had happened.

The door to the outside was guarded by two wildling women. They nodded to her brother respectfully. It felt strange to be looked at with something other than pity, disgust, or malicious cruelty.

As they moved outside, she schooled her face into a neutral mask and carefully observed the people in the yard. It was mostly empty, but a few men could be seen. Both the brothers of the Night's Watch and the wildlings were all looking with great respect toward Jon. There was also a small measure of fear in their eyes.

They quickly arrived at a small wooden tower. The entrance was guarded by another two wildling women. After a quick nod, they entered. Two doors later, they were face to face with Brienne of Tarth. The stormlander threw a sharp look at her brother before turning to her.

"My lady." Brienne bowed and spoke up. "I would have been guarding you, but your half-brother had us imprisoned here."

"Aye, I didn't know you or your squire. You claimed to be the sworn shield of my sister, yet I found her in my funeral pyre, covered by wounds." Brienne's defiant stare wilted at her brother's words. "To me, it seems that both of you are either incompetent fools, or liars. And since my sister was unable to vouch for you, I placed you here."

Brienne looked like she wanted to retort, but Jon continued relentlessly. "How can I entrust my sister's safety to you, when I do not know anything about you? You are the heiress of House Tarth which is a long way south in the Stormlands. How did you even end up coming to Sansa's service?"

The Tarth Heiress took a moment to compose herself then replied, "I was a member of King Renly's rainbow guard. After my liege was assassinated by a shadow wearing the face of Stannis Baratheon, I was about to try to avenge him. However, Lady Catelyn Stark managed to dissuade me, saying that I wouldn't be able to avenge Renly's death if I died charging at Stannis' army alone. I swore myself into the service of Lady Stark and we escaped. Later, she charged me with finding her daughters and bringing them home. I've been looking for Lady Sansa and Lady Arya ever since. I even managed to find Lady Arya together with Sandor Clegane in the Vale, but she ran away while I was fighting Clegane, after seeing the Lannister ornaments on my sword."

Joy and hope blossomed in Sansa's heart and she exclaimed, "You were right, Jon, Arya lives!"

"Aye, now we know for sure. We'll find her, one way or another." Her brother nodded happily. "And how did you get a Lannister Valyrian steel blade?" Jon turned to Brienne.

"Jaime Lannister was going to be killed in Riverrun after trying to escape, so Lady Stark sent me off with him to King's Landing, in the hope to exchange him for your sisters. I wasn't allowed near Lady Sansa. They claimed that after Eddard Stark's execution, the greatsword Ice was remade into two new blades. One went to King Joffrey, and the other to Jaime Lannister. But, when Lady Sansa escaped, Jaime Lannister gave me his Valyrian steel sword, a full set of armour, Podrick Payne for squire, and sent me off to find and protect her."

The ancestral sword of House Stark – stolen and destroyed by their enemies. It was blatantly done, and probably nobody even thought of returning Ice to them. Instead, everyone seemed to go to great lengths to attempt to kill every Stark out there. Fury was bubbling in Sansa and she wanted to shout and scream at yet another injustice done to her family.

It took her a few minutes to reign in her anger and she finally asked the question that was gnawing at her from the inside. "Brienne, it was you who sent a message to me that you will help me escape, should I light a candle in the abandoned tower. Do I remember truly?"

"Yes, My Lady."

Sansa felt her fury return in full force, and spoke slowly, trying to keep her voice even. "Then where were you, when I risked my life to light a candle in the broken tower? WHERE WERE YOU WHEN I HAD TO JUMP FROM THE WALLS OF WINTERFELL IN THE SNOW TO ESCAPE?"

Brienne paled at her outburst and for the first time looked genuinely remorseful.

Sansa was still heaving in fury; she had been very close to death many times that day. A strong hand settled on her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly, letting her calm down. "Please answer my sister, Brienne of Tarth." Jon asked with a slight edge in his voice.

The Stormlander woman hesitated for a bit before finally answering with a clenched jaw. "I heard that Stannis arrived with an army, so I left in search of him. After his battle with the Boltons, I found him. He admitted to killing Renly with blood magic, and I executed him for kin and king slaying."

Jon shrugged and whispered in her ear. "You decide, Sansa. She's going to be guarding you, after all."

Once again, Sansa was the second choice. She never came first. Anger and resentment bubbled in her gut again. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself and think. She managed to put on an unreadable expression. Yes, she came second, but in truth, her previous obligation to Renly had been completely cleared. Brienne's fealty was now hers and hers alone. She couldn't afford to send someone as capable as Brienne away when they had enemies in every direction. She was still feeling furious deep inside, but she knew she couldn't afford to make stupid mistakes.

"You did swear to be my sworn shield Brienne, and I accepted your fealty. Do you still stand by your oaths?" Sansa asked icily.

"Yes, My Lady." Brienne kneeled.

"Arise, Brienne of Tarth, and serve by my side once more," Sansa uttered with a bitter feeling in her mouth.

*

Jon Snow

Just as he was heading towards the Armoury to continue with his experiments in spellforging, Dolorous Edd pulled him aside.

"I was with you at Hardhome. We saw what's out there. We know it's coming here! How can you leave us now, when it's the time we need you the most, Jon?" Edd pleaded desperately.

"I did everything I could as a Lord Commander. You know that."

"You swore a vow!"

"Aye. And now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. In case you missed it, I was very much dead recently," the former Lord Commander patiently explained.

"I pledge my life and honour to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come!" Edd countered.

"Edd, my own brothers killed me. I am the second Lord Commander in a row killed in a mutiny. I simply have no desire or reason to stay here any further. And regardless, I died and am free of the burden of those oaths." The dour valeman sighed in resignation. "It's not like we can defeat the Night King and his army with the strength of the Night's Watch alone. We have less than a few hundred brothers left, mainly split amongst three castles. Not even all of them are fighters. While the wildlings might have helped us man the rest of the keeps along the Wall, they ran away from the dead when they had ten times the numbers. And you've seen – the south does not give a flying fuck about the Night's Watch, and would not lift a finger to help us. Stannis did try, but he was on his last leg, and he's gone now ."

"So, this is it then, you give up?" Edd asked incredulously.

The truth was that the Night's Watch would fall apart and die on its own. It had been in a steady decline ever since the Conquest. Jon Snow originally had a somewhat biassed view towards the ancient and supposedly honourable order, but Harry Potter had the experience and wisdom of a very long life and could read between the lines.

The Watch almost wholly depended on the North, and after the Targaryens came into power, they methodically chipped away at the economic and military powers of the North. Giving away the fertile lands of the New Gift to the Watch had been a very insidious move, greatly reducing the ability of the North to feed itself and making them lose valuable population over time. The Watch itself was burdened by too much land and too few men, stretching them thin, and could not utilise the Alysanne's Gift. Now the New Gift, and most of the Old Gift were reclaimed by the wilderness. Not to mention the practice started by King Jahaerys. By sending the most common criminals and the members of the disbanded Faith Militant to the Watch, he subsequently caused great problems for the North and began to change the vision of the Night's Watch from that of an honourable Order to the one of a Penal Colony.

That greatly reduced the interest of second and third sons to seek glory or success at the Watch, now filled with common criminal scum or zealous religious fanatics, which also deterred smallfolk from volunteering to work in the Gift. And with less available food and land, the North could poorly afford to take care of the Night's Watch when they could barely make do by themselves. And now with the North spent after getting dragged in a southern war and subsequently invaded by ironborn, the Watch was on its last leg, they simply didn't know it yet. Maybe if Jon took back control of the North, he could divert some aid towards the Watch. He did decide to allay some of the worries of his friend.

"I didn't give up. But I'm done with the Night's Watch. I will take back the North from the Boltons. Hopefully, I'll find dragonglass, and when my dragons are grown, the Night King and his army will meet their end. But I cannot do any of this while I'm stuck at the Wall."

Edd sighed and nodded in resignation.

Jon smiled mischievously and patted his friend's shoulder. "On the bright side, Edd, now that you're Lord Commander, you can delegate latrine duty to the others." And he headed towards the armoury, leaving a stunned Dolorous Edd behind.

*

Four days passed in a blur.

Brienne of Tarth turned out to be somewhat trustworthy in the end. A bit too idealistic and naive for his taste, but she was loyal and decent enough with a sword. Since she had sworn to Sansa, her loyalty was assured. Knowing that Ice, the ancestral Valyrian steel greatsword of House Stark, was melted and reforged into two blades for House Lannister made his blood boil. This was both an insult and a declaration. Declaration that House Stark is done for and defunct, and an insult to their ancient House.

This was akin to openly stealing and claiming the Potter family cloak in his old world. And such a deed would make Harry payback with death and blood. At least one of the swords was now defending Sansa Stark.

Podrick Payne was rather shit at fighting, but he could get better with practice. He was stubborn and loyal enough, despite or maybe because he was from a branch of House Payne. After the trial of Tyrion Lannister, King's Landing wasn't safe for him anymore. Podrick was the page of a known kinslayer and kingslayer, so Jaime had him sent away with Brienne of Tarth.

Their confinement was now over, and they were back in service of his cousin. He saw her anger and the feeling of betrayal at her abandonment at Winterfell, but she had managed to reign her emotions in and smoothly accept them back into her service.

His routine stayed largely the same as before, aside from visiting Sansa, whose health was quickly returning. He spent the nights snoozing on a chair in Sansa's room, to avoid a repeat of the previous evening. She didn't protest at all and was even relieved when he showed up in her room after the sunset. Sansa managed to get fewer nightmares each night and respectively sleep better. And he was physically attracted to her, probably because of Jon Snow's attraction to redheads.

Harry Potter had only found solace from his nightmares in the embrace of his wife, who had also been his third cousin. After her death, he was skilled enough in occlumency to control his subconscious mind to avoid them. Who would have thought that mercilessly slaughtering Voldemort's Death Eaters as a teen who had an abusive childhood would give him many sleepless nights? Oh, he didn't regret killing them one bit, especially after seeing their handiwork, or how they would use their money and influence to avoid imprisonment multiple times. But while he was merciless, taking so much life was not something a teen would be able to deal with easily, regardless of reasoning. Once he grew up, however, he had no such problem after slaying his enemies.

Relationships were like kinslaying in Westeros. It was okay between cousins. The wizarding world was no different, and there were many arguments about how inbreeding had affected magical society, yet the often married their relatives, both close and distant. But on the other hand, in Westeros, all of the nobility had been intermarrying for thousands of years, and valyrians wed sister to brother for millennia without any trouble. If things here were the same as on earth, the nobility here would long be unable to reproduce, and if they did manage, they would look like something straight out of a horror movie, an even more grotesque version of the last Gaunts. For whatever reason, that wasn't the case. Jon heavily suspected some sort of magic at play.

In the original world, there were supposedly known ways to avoid the consequences of inbreeding, but they had been banned after the formation of the Ministry of Magic over time. The knowledge of them had slowly been forgotten and faded in history, just like many other magical branches and disciplines.

In the end, Jon had absolutely no intention of acting on the feeling of attraction, though. While his body was at the peak of youth, his mind was old. He knew that things like romantic relationships made things far too complicated. From experience, he knew that sex never ended up being with no strings attached in the long run either. Additionally, Sansa was abused and his only family left, so he was unwilling to muck things up.

He had also started trying to skinchange for an hour every day to explore the limits of his new ability. Jon could easily slip into the mind of his dragons or direwolf regardless of the distance, but attempting to do so with random animals without prior connection was very taxing on both his mind and magic. And the further away the animal travelled, the weaker the connection. He could fly away for twenty miles at most as a bird before completely losing the connection. After four days of practice, it slowly increased to twenty-five miles.

Jon even attempted to form a weaker version of the link he had with the dragons, to expand the range, but no matter what he tried, no connection would begin forming with any other animals. He would have completely abandoned this ability if it didn't strengthen his mind. And no matter how he tried, he still couldn't split his mind to control both his body and an animal at the same time, despite being able to slip into the mind of all three of his dragons simultaneously. Thus, the ability would be mostly useful for scouting and spying if he managed to develop it. For combat, his own body and magic were his greatest weapon.

In the meantime, Bloodfyre and Stormstrider grew to the size of a large dog, and Winter was already as big as a small pony. They started going out to hunt for their own food during the night. Their growth was so ridiculously fast that he had to carefully mediate and inspect what was causing this. By clearing his mind and extending his senses, Jon finally found the reason. The dragons were pulling and feeding from the magic of the Wall itself. He had sensed that magic from the Wall itself had been sucked into the resurrection ritual, but he did not think it would create such a link to the Dragons. The Wall itself was teeming with magic, so the small stream that the hatchlings pulled wouldn't affect it one bit. That would probably change once they started gaining on size, though.

His practice in the yard wasn't neglected, and he kept pushing himself to the limit fighting multiple opponents at the same time. The resistance runes worked wonders, and he now felt fully comfortable in this body, even though he still pulled half an inch in height.

What made a difference in smithing was a text about casting bronze weapons written by someone named Lugh. Bronze had a quite lower melting point compared to steel, and the molten liquid could also be cast into moulds instead of heated up repeatedly and forged by a hammer. It had turned out that shaping a clay mould was far easier compared to hammering a weapon into a proper shape repeatedly.

Bronze was also softer, far more brittle and less durable compared to steel. But if you had bronze at hand, it required much less skill to craft a functional weapon. Not to mention that it was a better conductor for magic. Aside from his usual training, Jon had poured every free hour experimenting with casting bronze weapons and attempting different ways to imbue them with magic permanently. Every drawback of bronze could easily be removed if he managed to work out a proper way to spellforge the alloy.

*

King's Landing

Any unrest in King's Landing was completely quelled with twenty thousand Tyrell swords stationed inside, twenty thousand more camped outside, and with the harsh Lord Randyll Tarly for a justiciar and master of laws. People could safely walk the streets, and the sparrows stopped causing trouble.

Sadly, upon walking around the Street of Steel, Dickon Tarly was accosted by a group of men dressed like in rags with carved seven-pointed star on their foreheads and beaten to death.

Upon hearing that he lost his perfect heir to the Faith Militant, Randyll Tarly was understandably furious. Seeing the broken body of his prized son made Randyll finally lose his legendary composure. Exploding in rage, the Tarly Lord ordered the death of every member of the Faith Militant, unsheathed his ancestral greatsword Heartsbane, and charged towards the nearest Sparrow.

If he had waited to send word to every soldier under his command, he could have slaughtered all the Sparrows, Swords and Stars without much trouble. Yet all reason had fled him at the sight of the mangled corpse of Dickon Tarly, and with less than fifty men at his back, he attacked the Sparrows.

After their lives were ruined by war and famine, most of the poor and hungry smallfolk in King's Landing and even beyond had been enticed by the reformation of the old religious order, and they numbered in the tens of thousands. Once they were attacked by the City Guard and Randyll Tarly's retinue, they retaliated in turn. Seeing that the Faith Militant was attacking their commander, the nearby Tyrell soldiers joined in the fighting. Soon, complete chaos and fighting enveloped the streets of King's Landing. Aside from Randyll Tarly and his fifty men, most people did not even know what the fighting was about but joined the fray at the sight of their comrades fighting. Some hedge knights, sellswords and local crooks simply took advantage of the chaos and started looting corpses or attacking inns and wealthy shops. The streets ran red with blood. At some point, someone had set a shack on fire in Flea Bottom, which quickly spread to the nearby buildings. Due to the strong winds, the fire spread to the nearby neighbourhoods, eventually nearing one of Aerys Targaryen's buried caches of wildfire.

*

Myrcella Baratheon

King's Landing could be seen in the distance. She felt bad, but Myrcella was inwardly glad that her brother Joffrey was dead. He had always been arrogant and annoying, and at moments – outright cruel. A part of her wondered if her mother would now actually pay attention to her, now that Joffrey was dead. But deep down Myrcella suspected that Cersei simply didn't care half as much about her or Tommen as she cared about Joffrey.

Truth is, she hated King's Landing with a passion. It still stank of shit and piss, and most of her memories were of Joffrey lording over her or tormenting her. Both Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister hadn't taken any interest in her at all. And the sad fact was that she most certainly came out better for it. She had seen first-hand the result of Cersei's undivided attention on her elder brother. And the less said about Robert Baratheon, the better.

She idly ran a finger through her new scar. Myrcella knew that her beauty was one of her greatest strengths, and now her face was permanently marked by Darkstar's sword, not to mention that one of her ears was gone. Would her mother even care about this at all? Her betrothed, Trystane Martell, had visited her only once since she got the scar and he even then had even left quickly as if she was on fire. She had a long time to contemplate on this, but the only true reason she could think of was that her betrothed wasn't very interested in her anymore, now that her face was marred.

As she was lost in thoughts, they neared the docks of King's Landing. Nymeria Sand was sent to take a place in the Small Council and also escort her back to visit her brother Tommen. She snorted inwardly at the thought. Knowing her mother, she would never return to Dorne after getting almost grievously wounded there. And the Baratheon princess hoped that she would get away from Nymeria as soon as possible. The woman always looked at her with cold and sometimes even angry eyes. Myrcella tried to stay away from her company as much as possible.

As soon as the ship was docked, the princess followed Nymeria and her small retinue of Martell guards.

"Did we mayhaps arrive too early? There is nobody to receive us. I guess we should make our way to the Red Keep on our own." The Sand Snake asked and after a short moment of hesitation led her retinue through the River Gate. The gate was opened and there weren't any men guarding it, for whatever reason.

The road to the Red Keep was mostly empty, although they could hear a commotion nearby.

"On your guard!" Nymeria suddenly shouted and drew a hidden dagger from underneath her lilac robes.

The sound of fighting quickly approached. The road to the Red Keep was blocked. Smallfolk, dressed in ragged clothes, were armed with spears, swords and even spiked clubs. Most of them had the seven-pointed star carved on their forehead or chest. Their opposition was a motley crew of hedge knights, sellswords and city guards and even Tyrell soldiers, which were even fighting amongst themselves. The fighting was bloody and chaotic and the road to the Red Keep was blocked completely. The small streets around were also filled with the sounds of clashing steel and the cries of pain and death.

"Fall back to the ships, before they block our way!" Nymeria shouted and started running back to the docks without any hesitation. The Martell Guards quickly followed her, and Myrcella was knocked to the ground by one of the running guardsmen.

As she fell to the ground, the princess felt a sharp pain in her elbows and tears started swimming in her eyes. But the sounds of fighting drew closer and dread filled her heart. She didn't want to stay here. Gritting her teeth, Myrcella stood up and started running back towards the docks as fast as her dress allowed her. She could see the Martell retinue far in the distance, and they were only getting further away. She was only fourteen name days old and as a princess, she never was allowed or had needed to run in her life before. It was a small miracle that she only slipped and fell once more, bruising her knees and hands in the process.

In a few minutes, her lungs felt as if they were on fire and her legs felt heavy, but the River Gate was close. Myrcella's running speed slowed down drastically but she stubbornly preserved and kept on. A minute later she was at the docks, heavily gasping for air. Her eyes were stinging from her dried tears, but to her horror, the ship with the Martell banners had already sailed away and could only be seen in the distance.

She stood in a daze for a few painfully long heartbeats, unsure what to do, until the approaching sounds of fighting jolted her back into focus. Myrcella wildly looked around the docks as the chaos spilt out of the River Gate. There was only one ship at the harbour. She covered her head with her hood, mustered the last vestiges of her strength, and hurriedly ran towards it. The ship was getting ready to depart, and she desperately jumped on the deck.

Relief flooded her as soon as she landed on the ship. Myrcella found herself face to face with a burly man with dirty brown hair and a long, bushy beard.

"A cabin costs 10 moons." The man's voice was deep and had a familiar accent she couldn't put her finger on exactly.

Thankfully her money pouch was still on her belt. She wordlessly gave the man ten silver coins with a moon etched on them. Myrcella was then guided towards a small cabin. She felt extremely tired. With every step she took, her legs became heavier and her eyes were already closing. The princess quickly locked the door and uncaringly crashed on the dirty bedding and fell asleep ignoring her wounds and bruises.

In the distance, King's Landing was engulfed in green flames, and Myrcella did not know that this would be the last time she would see the capital.