Jasmine's Notes! Here it is, chapter 4, and we're starting to get into the meat of things. This is not a heavy Harry/Tyegon chapter, I'll just say that up front, but I had fun looking into the other characters and seeing where they stood. Some interesting things appear in this chapter, but I'm trying to draw things out, rather than just rush through with a chapter equaling an episode of the show. Also, some characters are described as they are in the books and not as the actors portraying them.

Wood met wood amongst the heavy dirt of Winterfell's training yard as Jaime tested his nephew's prowess with a blade. The boy was a mystery to him, and he loved a good mystery, like how his sister came to have a child by her husband that she did not kill in the womb, but rather seemed to care for as greatly as Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen. His green eyes twinkled with amusement as he stepped around a slash of Tyegon's practice blade, and smacked his wrists with is own wooden sword, causing the boy to drop his weapon into the muck.

"You are performance is not as bad as I had at first feared," the blonde man said as he relaxed and waited for the boy to rub the soreness from his wrists before lifting his weapon anew. "Whoever my father found to teach you did an admiral job, though now all you need is practice and experience with a real swordsman," he explained as he readied his blade again and moving toward the black haired youth, his swings slow and calculated to see how the boy reacted.

"Thank you, uncle, I will take that in consideration," Tyegon answered as he blocked another strike from the man, answering with one of his own. The two swung again, letting their blades crash against each other as they continued to danced the song of combat. What neither knight nor prince saw was the queen, standing high above them in one of the small windows of the castle, her green eyes following their movements with a purposeful gaze.

Through haunted green eyes, she could remember bringing her son into the world twice and wondered to just which he truly belonged. How much of Harry Potter still breathed inside Tyegon Baratheon, and how would he have turned out if he had been raised in the world of cars and owls instead of horses and ravens. She knew he still had magic, her father had written to her often for explanations to the things the boy could do while she didn't possess an ounce of Lily Potter's power.

She had thought of sending him to the Citadel and learning the arts of magic from the Maesters, but had quickly put that thought to rest. The Maesters were like men who were just learning the arts of magics and their power were still connected to the world while Tyegon's bloomed within his body, shattering the preconceived notion that the art was all but truly lost to the world. She had also thought of the sending him beyond the Narrow Sea, but despised the thought of being so far from her son once again.

Cersei had tried many times to keep speak to her husband about breaking the oath for the prince to marry the Greyjoy girl but each time she had been rebutted, the last attempt leaving her with a bruised eye for several weeks. The difficult part had been talking Jaime from killing another king, and possibly separating them again not to mention separating Jaime's head from his body. The marriage was not to be stopped in Robert's insane attempt to keep the Ironborn from rebelling again. It was only Balon Greyjoy's defeat that had the proud man agreeing in the first place.

She winced slightly as Jaime knocked the blade from the youth's hand again and once more began to give casual advice as an uncle ought to do. It was a sigh of relief that he didn't feel anger or betrayal at the birth of her dark haired child, but then again, Jaime rarely acted on anger and in haste, unless it was hers. No, not even Lily's memories were enough to get her to end her affair. She had attempted to stop it twice before, once when her father tried to give her to Rhaegar and again when she had married Robert. Both times had wrought havoc on her life.

Her thoughts shifted back to her drunken oaf of a husband and she sighed bitterly. Robert, it seemed, detested her and her children for the fact she was not Lyanna Stark and the children did not have Stark blood in their veins. He detested Joffrey and rarely spoke to the boy while they were home, and hadn't bothered with Tyegon after his return from Casterly Rock, thinking he too had to much lion in his veins.

Lily seemed to think it was poetic though, as Gryffindor, her House while attending school had the same banner and color as the Lannisters. The boy was a lion, no matter is name or world, he was a lion and he had been raised as such. Then again, his father is, was and always would be a stag, even if James could literally become the beast. It was often she wondered if Harry would take up the ability to change into a beast as well and what he would become.

"Your Grace," the Riverrun accent of Catelyn Stark said from the doorway, bringing the queen's eyes toward her. With out preamble, the red headed woman walked into the guest chamber and moved to look down over the training field herself. "It must have been hard," she said after a full minute of observation. "Sending away your child to be raised by your father and then the news of his involvement in Lannisport. However did you get through it?"

"I mostly fed upon my own nails for the days of waiting between ravens," the queen admitted as she eyed the woman warily. There was something different about her today then from the previous night. The woman's back was stiff and her fingers played with the end of her sleeves as if she was worried about something. "When the news of his safety reached me, I cried in joy. I don't think I let any of my other children out of my sight the entire time."

"I don't think I could stand the thought of my own children rushing into battle," Catelyn said with a frown. Her blue eyes seemed to dim at the thought itself before she shook herself. "My apologies, Your Grace, I didn't come to speak of such dark thoughts," she continued. "I came to inform you that lunch would be ready soon, by the time we've reached the dining hall it should be finished."

"That's good," the queen said with a smile. "I was beginning to grow hungry and just now, something warm would really hit the spot," she said with a casual glance back toward the training field and the blonde hair of her brother.

Leather boots moved quickly over the tarred boards of the ship as it speared its way through the waves surrounding the Iron Islands. Long toned legs, built from years at sea, moved quickly as the ship began to make its final preparations for docking. Short black hair was tied out of her face by a thick strip of red cloth, as the captain's jacket was opened at the top, showing off a fair amount of the iron chestplate beneath. Plates of iron were strapped to the captains thighs to crush the cock of any man who thought her easy prey.

A sword swung in its scabbard on her left hip while a string of smaller knives were belted to her right. Her hard grey eyes matched the sea on which the Black Wind sailed as the rain pounded down upon her and her crew. "Move," she demanded one of her sailors as she neared the helm and took it up herself. "I swear on the Drowned God, if you touch this helm again I will personally hold you beneath the waves myself."

"There is no need for such brash actions," Grimtongue said as he made his way up the stairs to the captain's deck. "After all, what would the Black Lion say if he could see his sweet betrothed threatening her men?"

"I neither know nor do I care," she answered through her teeth. "But the next time you call me his betrothed, I'll be sure to remove your cock and balls and let you go in my place," she said with a murderous glint in her eyes. How she hate the thought of being married off to some Baratheon prick and possibly giving up the ship she loved more than any child that could slither from her loins.

She was the daughter of the Kraken and had fought the engagement tooth and nail, even going so far as to giving her maidenhood to the first sailor to try and sweet talk her. She hated the thought of being tied down, she was the sea and liked to think of herself as just as free uncatchable. "The boy's some brash arrogant cub of the mainland. I'd crush him between my thighs before I let him get his cock wet in me."

"And why should you," her crewman replied. "It's not as if it would embarrass your father, and- Alright, alright, just put the sword down," Grimtongue pleaded between his blackened teeth as he felt the cold bite of steel on his throat. His dark eyes tracked the weapon up Asha's arm, saw her snarling face. "Right, right, I'll just stop talking now."

Daenerys sat silently as she watched the festivities of her wedding go on around her. The dark skinned women of the Dothraki moved and danced with sharp snaps of their bodies, their breasts flying free of they teased the men. One of her new husbands fellow warriors had seemingly had enough, as he forced one of them to her knees and began to plunge his cock into her from behind.

Beside her sat the largest man she had ever seen, Khal Drogo, a man who had never been defeated in battle as his long hair indicated. The man was fierce and cold and rarely spoke even in his own tongue, though she didn't believe he spoke her own. He simply watched as a fight broke out amongst his men for the woman being brutally fucked and enjoyed the show. The wedding had been going on all day, starting at dawn and supposedly wouldn't end until night fall.

She had been receiving gifts all day, from Dothraki and men of the Free Cities alike. Another such man was approaching, only he wore armor more suited to Westeros than the Free Cities, and he was bringing a small stack of books. "A small gift for the new Khaleesi, songs and histories from the Seven Kingdoms," he said innocently as he knelt. Daenerys took the opportunity to look him over, with his heavy black beard and balding head, but he seemed rather fit and able.

"Thank you," she said, her voice barely reaching over the sounds of the weddings drums, cheering and fighting going on below. "Are you from my country?"

"Ser Jorah Mormont, of Bear Island," he answered. "I served your father for many years. The Gods be good I hope to always serve the rightful king," he continued with a look toward her brother, who was seated nearby. With a quiet bow he moved away from her and the Khalasar, and proceeded down the steps.

As he did, Illyrio stood, waving his hands towards his own servants to bring his gift forward. Two men moved swiftly, climbing the stairs that led to the newly married couple and presented a heavy chest at her feet. With fast hands they opened it, revealing three oval stones to the purple eyed Khaleesi. "Dragon eggs, Daenerys, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. The ages have turned them to stone, but they will always be beautiful."

"Thank you, Magister," she said in honest awe as she bent and lifted one of the eggs in her small hands, feeling the roughness of its stone shell. She didn't get to admire long though, as her new husband stood to his feet, bringing the chatter, jeering, cheers and drums to a halt. The sun was setting and she knew it meant it was time for the bedding. Daenerys had feared this particular moment she had learned of her arranged marriage to the behemoth of a man she thought as little more than a savage.

Setting the egg back into its chest, she stood slowly as Drogo began to make his way down the steps ahead of her. She hesitated, trying to control her breathing before she followed at a much slower pace. She had known this day was coming and was glad she had outlasted the touches of her brother to be with her husband, she only wished it could have been with someone she loved.

As the Khalasar walked through them, the Dothraki made a wide path, only moving in to fill the gap as she walked slowly behind him. When she finally caught sight of him again, she was taken back by the horse whose reigns he held, as pure white as the clouds during a bright day. She realized right away that this was his way of trying to be sweet, the Dothraki loved and worshipped horses, and Drogo had been thoughtful enough to find one with a coloring so near her own.

"She's beautiful," the new Khaleesi breathed out as she gently ran her hand along the horse's mane. Turning, her eyes found Ser Jorah, a man she had seen speak her husband's language earlier that day. "How do you say 'thank you' in Dothraki?"

"Khaleesi, there is no word for 'thank you' in Dothraki," the knight said with a sad look in his eye for the poor girl.

Their exchange was cut short as Drogo lifted her easily onto the filly, his powerful arms moving her through the air with no trouble what so ever. Her terror grew inside her chest as she watched him take her new filly's reigns and climb upon his own steed. He didn't wait for her to say goodbye before he thumped his heels against it's side and began to make his way deeper into the mountains.

They did not stop until they reached a cliff over looking the sea to watch the sun set beyond the horizon. Drogo dismounted quickly and offered his hands to help her to the ground, a move she found astonishing after the display she had seen for their wedding. With her hand in his, he moved away from the creatures his people held in such high regard and moved her to face the setting sun.

He stood behind her, his thick strong hands moving through her hair as tears began to fall from her eyes in fright, realizing she was bout to be raped. Drogo must have felt her tense as his hands stopped playing with her hair and he moved to stand in front her, her eyes only level with his chest. His hand moved toward her face and her breath caught in her throat, before he wiped away her tear. "No."

No? No what? He didn't want her to cry for the bedding ceremony? Did he want to hear her cry out the word as he forced himself on her? "No."

"Is, is that the only word you know," she asked tentatively as her purple eyes moved up his powerful chest to his bearded face, and saw his eyes watching her.


It came to her, as she looked into her husband's eyes what he was trying to get across. Even as his hands moved to undo the straps on her dress she held her tongue. He would stop if she asked him too, would put off his desires until she was ready. It was more than she expected, far more than she had learned to anticipate from her own flesh and blood.

She said nothing as he moved to let her dress fall to the ground, her hands reaching for her breasts to keep her modesty, but they were met by his own, gently pushing them away. He moved her to the ground, on her hands and knees, before he began to unbuckle his own limited armor, and she understood. The Dothraki made love like their horses bred, a life time of companionship between man and beast had taught them something she had never even thought about in her wildest dreams.

Soon enough her tears fell anew, not from fear, and certainly not from love, but from pain as her maidenhood was taken. Despite it all though, a new feeling seemed creep inside of her chest, replacing the terror and doubt about her new marriage. As Drogo's hands found her breast, and both of their breathing became labored, she felt safe, safer than she ever had under her brother's care.

Robert Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realms gave a great sigh as he climbed the steps to mount his steed. After so many years he was finally going to spend some time with his best friend in the world, his brother in all but blood. This boar hunt would give them plenty of time to speak and for him to hopefully get Ned to agree to take the position of Hand of the King.

This would also mark his first hunt with his second son, the only one of his children to come away with his own coloring and escape his mother's Lannister womb as a stag. It was only to bad the boy had been taking to the lion's den and raised as one of their own. Of course, it had left him time to spend with his heir, if only Joffrey hadn't been such a disappointment. He would have long ago abdicated his throne if he hadn't worried about what his wife and child would do with it.

By the seven he had gotten himself into a mess all those years ago. He had wanted the woman he loved returned, only for her to die seconds after being found. He hadn't wanted the throne for his own, not really. He had wanted to ride the countryside with Ned at his side, drinking, whoring and hunting, to have no real responsibilities, but that was where he had ended up.

He had often questioned if he had done the right thing, than he thought of her, Lyanna, and Ned's father and brother, and knew that the Mad King had to be put down and Rhaegar's lust put to an end. He had started the Rebellion for love, love of the woman he could never have, and love of a brother who had been so terribly wronged. Now he paid the price, with a swollen gut, a rotting cock and a family of predators itching to take the Iron Throne for their own.

His dark eyes looked to his son's who rode quietly nearby. While Tyegon looked excited for the chance to hunt some boar, Joffrey looked greener and greener the further they got from the comforts of Winterfell. He would never understand how a child born from his loins would end up such a woman for comfort.

"A dragon for your thoughts," Ned's voice chimed in from beside him and he twisted in saddle to better the conversation.

"Ha," he said, burying his pain and worries as he smiled at his friend, feeling once again the rush of youth as he rode beside his friend. "I was merely remembering all those plans of my youth," he said with a grin. "I've done most of them, I can barely remember the last time I wasn't drunk and I dare say, I've slept with a different woman for every night of my reign, sometimes more than one," he said with a hearty belly laugh.

"So I've heard," Ned said with a grin as he thought to all the songs and tales he had heard from his men when he had a chance to join them on patrol of his lands. "I dare say, many of your exploits have become the thing of legend, sung by men who revere them as the testament of what makes a real man."

"Well now, I'll have to hear some of those," the king said with a grin. "They might even replace A Cask of Ale as my favorite," he joked.

"My King," one of the men who was riding in front them suddenly called back. Robert eyed the man, as if trying to remember if he was one of his own men or one of Ned's before he simply let it go. "We've come upon some fresh tracks, a sounder by the looks of them. Shall we make camp for the night?"

"Yes, yes, we need to get moving already before they get to great a start on us. Ned you're with me," Robert said as he slid from his saddle and his feet impacted the hard ground, sending shudders through out his boy. "Joffrey, Tyegon, come along," he called out as he took his spear from one of the banner men. "Come one boys, we got us some pigs to slay!"