Disclaimer: I do note own Game of Thrones, A Song of Ice and Fire or Harry Potter.

Authors note: So a few amongst you might recognise this story as Arthur Stark: The Snow Prince. I encountered a few plot holes and stumbling blocks in my plan for the story, blocks that would be cleared by making this a Harry Potter crossover. Plus if I'm being perfectly honest I just love Harry Potter crossovers so I find it gives me greater enjoyment and satisfaction to write it like this. And at the end of the day isn't that what every authors writes for?

The pairings will be Harry/Multi. That doesn't mean a harem, only that he will have multiple partners over his journey with one final one pairing near the end. You can guess who one of them will be from the description but there will be others as well. Those I will leave as a surprise.

Please do note this is rated M for a reason, expect violence, descriptive gore, swearing and maybe a few cheeky sexual innuendos. Oh who am I kidding, it's Game of Thrones, of course there is going to be sex and fair warning their is gonna be a higher than normal amount of it when Harry grows up. Not turning this into a smut fic or anything but be warned non the less.

With that out of the way I hope you enjoy.


Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it

-Tyrion Lannister to Jon Snow


Hogwarts was in ruins.

It's great walls laid rent open and it's towers had been reduced to charred ruin. It's bridges were torn down and it's corridors nothing but rubble. Bodies laid amidst the carnage, both student and Death Eater, dark dusty cloaks and black school uniform making identification at first glance almost impossible. Not a sound echoed through those halls with the fighting now over, the silence feeling almost oppressive in the sundered halls which had once echoed with the sound of chatting and laughing school children.

Soon, the first light of dawn began to pierce the darkness, it's sweet rays landing upon the ancient castle and it's inhabitants. The sun beams broke through the dust hanging in the air, shining upon torn paintings, shattered suits of armour and finally the dirt streaked face of one Harry Potter.

One very much dying Harry Potter.

This was really not how Harry had wanted to go, not at all. When he had seen Voldermort fall dead to the ground, he had been overjoyed and filled with relief. That joy has quickly turned to horror however, as racked with awful pain, he looked down to his stomach. There was not much of it left, nothing but a gaping bloody hole where Voldermorts final spell had carved through him. He fell to the ground, his Phoenix wand and the Elder wand slipping from his fingers as he held his stomach tightly, futilely trying to stem the flow of blood.

Harry barely noticed the figures swarm around him, one with bushy brown hair, another with fiery red. Others soon joined the two, shouting his name and at each other. He should have been scared, panicking, worried at the very least at his condition. Yet he felt nothing, nothing but a peace and calm he had not known at any point in his life. His duty was done, the prophecy complete, would it be so bad to finally rest?

His eyes slowly closed as a great desire for sleep overcame him, fully willing to embrace it to escape the terrible pain that racked him. The only thing that prevented him was the figure on his right, Hermione, he recognised dimly, shaking him roughly. She was shouting something, though to Harry it sounded like she was speaking through a tunnel, her voice echoing and distorted.

His eyes were drawn from Hermione as he saw movement behind her. The early morning shadows seemed to roll and writhe, their forms, congealing, twisting and turning until eventually a figure stepped forth from the dark mass. It was a person, or what appeared to be one, wrapped in an almost ethereal grey cloak and black shawl. No skin or part of their body was exposed, making it almost impossible to identify their gender. Harry watched wide eyed as the being seemed to focus on him, its hood dipping to the side. Slowly, it began to walk towards where he lay, moving with an almost inhuman grace as the shadows at it's feet seemed to reach out and coil around it's body like smoky serpents.

As it stopped behind the group, none of those around him seemed to react to the strange beings presence as it gazed down upon the dying Potter. It's face was hidden, the shadows clinging to it's form also concealing it's visage from view despite the early morning light. Harry looked up at the silent looming figure, eyes wide. The voices of his friends seemed to fade away, the world around him losing some of it's vibrancy and colour.

'Is this Death? Has he come here to take me away?'

With great effort Harry lifted his arm from his torn stomach, reaching out to touch the being through some unknown desire. The stranger's cloak lifted, and a pale androgynous arm reached out slowly taking Harry's bloody hand in theirs. A dozen voices suddenly filled his mind, the voices of all those he had lost, his parents, Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore, Tonks, Cedric, Dobby, all of them speaking at once but separately at the same time, each with their own message of love, gratitude, pride and remorse. It was both strange and beautiful at the same time. Two sets of hands reached out to take his own, Ron and Hermione, both of them looking at him with tear filled eyes, both unknowing of their friends unseen visitor.

"Is it over? Is this it?" Harry spoke out loud, startling those around him. Death's head tilted to the side and the voices of his loved ones spoke out in unison, a strange note of regret filling each word.

"Not yet Harry. Not yet."

Then the being pulled, and Harry knew only darkness.


If looks could alone could harm and destroy then the great keep of Winterfell would have been laid to ruin as Eddard Stark stared holes into the dark wall opposite him. He winced as he listened to his wife's cries, a particularly loud one ringing out. Not a year after the end of the rebellion and he was to be gifted with another child, a brother or sister to his firstborn Robb who was peacefully sleeping in his and Catelyn's chambers. His personal guard, Jory Cassel, laid a consolatory hand on his lieges shoulder. The man looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"It shouldn't be too much longer now my Lord." he spoke hesitantly.

"Oh? I didn't know you were trained as a midwife Jory? You must be wise to know when a woman is close to birth." Eddard joked half-heartedly, glad for the distraction. The man blushed. Eddard released a tired smile and then winced as another cry rang out. He stood and began pacing.

"I should be in there with her, not standing outside like a fool." he growled with frustration. His son Robb had been born before he returned from the war, conceived on his marriage night with Catelyn. He had not been there for the birth, nor had been forced to listen to the pain that women went through to bring life into the world. The same for his...bastard Jon. Absent at both births.

'By the Old Gods I would rather be back at the tower facing Arthur Dayne and the other Kingsgaurd than be sitting through this.'

"Women are stubborn when it comes to these matters Lord Stark" He said "Unless you're a Maester, you're more liable to be thrown out into the snow than be let into the room."

They both shared a chuckle at that and Eddard felt himself relax ever so slightly. The two of them turned as a guardsman wearing Stark colours entered the room looking nervous. It was Avery Causer, a new recruit in the guard of Winterfell. Eddard made sure to learn the names of all his men.

"Milord, I know you said you did not wish to be disturbed but you have visitors. They said it was important and insisted on seeing you right away."

Eddard's teeth clenched. The arrogance of some people that would seek to draw him from his wife's side as she was about to bring their child in to the world. He contained his anger, the sounds of his wife's distress had him on edge and it would not do to agitate his Lady further with the sounds of raised voices outside the door.

"This is hardly the time or place. Return to them and tell-" Before he could finish he was interrupted as two men moved through the door and past the guard, shaking snow off their fur cloaks. Eddard blinked as he recognised them. Lord Howland Reed and Lord Hewelin Sealgair, two of his closest friends.

"No need to bite the poor man's head off Ned, we insisted. We're not here to cause trouble at such an occasion." Hewelin said with his usual small smile.

"Howland? Hewelin? How...why are you here?" Eddard asked in surprise. Last they had seen each other Reed had returned to his people in the marshes that stretched across the neck and Sealgair to his ancestral lands in the mountains bordering the bay of ice. He had not expected to see them again for years.

"For none other than the young baby boy that is about to grace us with his presence my Lord." Howland replied, ever the polite one.

"How did you even know Catelyn was in lab-wait...did you say boy?" Eddard asked, eyes wide.

"Aye, that I did, we'll-" Howland's words were drowned out by a commotion in the other room and then a piercing babies cry. Excitement filled him and Eddard immediately swept what they had said from his mind. His friends and their mysterious purpose could wait, his duties as a Husband and Father came first. He knocked hesitantly on the door and he heard gentle mutterings inside as they calmed and cleaned the mother and babe. After a minute Luwin, his Maester, opened the door. He looked tired. Eddard stepped past him to see at an exhausted Catelyn holding a bundle, surrounded by doting midwives.

"Congratulations Lord Stark you're the father of a-"

"Son" Eddard whispered, not looking away from his wife and child. Luwin looked startled and looked at his Lord strangely.

"Why yes, a healthy baby boy, actually one of the easiest I have ever delivered." Eddard glanced at the man incredulously. From what he had heard through the door it had sounded like battle was taking place, not birth. The old Maester smiled at the new father's expression.

"Yes, deliveries can last anywhere between a couple of hours and a day but he was out within three hours, quite extraordinary." the old Maester mused. Eddard nodded and stepped past the man only to see his view blocked by the women attending to his wife. Luwin moved over to them and spoke quietly to the midwives who were finishing clearing up, asking to give the Lord and Lady some privacy with their new son. Satisfied the mother was now comfortable the ladies stepped out with some reluctance, the Maester close behind.

Eddard smiled at his wife as he walked over, Catelyn smiling radiantly back. Though clearly exhausted, she was almost glowing with happiness. Her expression softened Eddard's heart. It settled his doubts and fears he had, marrying his dead brother's betrothed. As long as she was happy, he would be content. His attention turned to the small bundle in her arms, the source of their new joy. He sat down on the edge of the bed and gently turned the blanket to the side to see his son's face. Wonder filled his heart.

He had a soft chubby face, as was to be expected of a babe and had been gifted the dark brown hair of the Starks. But his eyes were what shocked the Lord. They were a much lighter shade of the usual grey, an almost luminous silver. The babe seemed unusually alert for a newborn as well, looking curiously up at the strange man who had entered his view. Despite how Eddard tried, he couldn't tear himself to look away from his Son's startling eyes.

"Isn't he precious?" Catelyn whispered, joining her husband in studying the babe. Their son suddenly giggled and wriggled his chubby arms out of the blanket, reaching up to them with his little fists. They each put a finger in each of his hands and he pulled them towards him, cooing and playing with the digits. Eddard couldn't help but grin at the sight, Catelyn watching him with a smile. It was so rare to see such a look of open happiness on her Husbands usually stoic face. She made sure to commit it to memory.

A soft knock came from the door. "Come in" Eddard called out, having a good idea who it was.

Howland and Hewelin quietly entered and stood a respectful distance away. They smiled and gave Catelyn greetings and congratulations which she received as gracefully as she could. She motioned for them to come forward and meet the new member of the Stark family. They inspected the newborn and Eddard observed them as they did. Their eyes widened and they both glanced at one another.

"Silver eyes, just as you foresaw" Hewelin whispered to Howland upon seeing the baby, the man nodding back. Catelyn did not hear, too focused in rocking her newborn to sleep and singing a quiet Tully lullaby. Eddard however took note and looked towards his friends with narrowed eyes.

"My love, I must talk with our guests, I will return soon." He said gently. He had several questions for his friends. He would know what was going on and how they knew details of his son before he was even born. His wife however had other ideas.

"I have laboured for three hours to bring our son in to this world, you will not just leave now" She said eyes blazing. Eddard opened his mouth to protest and then noticed the rather scary look on his wife face, a look that he so rarely witnessed. He nodded reluctantly but smiled on the inside.

'Looks like the fish is turning into a wolf. A year ago she would never have done such a thing'.

To be perfectly honest he didn't mind, Stark men had always had a penchant for strong women, fortunately or unfortunately depending on your perspective. Her growing confidence with him almost reminded him of...no...no, better not to continue that thought. It was too painful to think of still.

"Very well then, let me just direct them to their rooms. I will be but a moment."

With a satisfied nod from Catelyn he turned to his friends, motioning to the door to show them out. Howland nodded politely and made for the exit, Hewelin close behind. The Sealgair made no effort to hide his raised eyebrow at Catelyn's swift rebuttal. Eddard scowled at him and followed them out. No doubt he would be hearing much on the morrow about it.

"I shall meet you at the Godswood at noon tomorrow where we will discuss this. Jory will escort you to the guest quarters." He instructed them. Howland nodded.

"Of course."

"If you would follow me my Lords?" Jory said, stepping forwards, hand outstretched to the door. Both men followed him out.

Eddard closed the door and undressed to his under garments as he made his way to the bed. It wasn't his chambers but he wouldn't suffer his wife to move so soon after the labour. As he climbed into bed he noted how crisp and clean the bed felt. The sheets had evidently been changed after the birth and he was comfortable as he pulled the covers over his family.

"Have you decided on a name? You get to choose the boy's names after all." Catelyn asked sleepily as she brought her sleeping newborn between her and her husband.

Eddard thought about the name he had decided on. Initially he had thought of Brandon, however with the past at the forefront in his mind these past few days he had decided on another. He would save Brandon for his next son. There had been another name that he had been contemplating for a while anyhow. He told his wife his choice and hoped she agreed.

He got a dainty frown in return.

"It sounds quite nice...Harrion." She said, as if rolling the name around in her mouth. "Is there any reason why you chose that?"

"That would be because it is." Eddard said quietly, mind lost in the distant past. "Though Jon Arryn taught Robert and I much, I learned some of my most valuable lessons from one Harrion Hardyng, the master at arms and our mentor at the Eyrie. How to fight, how to watch and listen rather than rush in, how to be humble. A pity Robert didn't listen to him more often."

That got a soft giggle from his wife who had often been regaled by her husband with tales of Roberts more innocent antics.

"Are you sure then?" She asked and Eddard nodded firmly.

She simply smiled back and then settled down, finally succumbing to sleep after the exhausting labour, her husband quickly following her. The two parents unconsciously wrapped protectively around their sleeping son, Harrion Stark.


The next day Eddard woke early to deal with the morning business, regretting that he could not stay with his family a while longer. The feast would not prepare itself however, and so once dressed, he immediately went down to the keep to give orders to the cooks and servants to prepare a good meal to celebrate his son's birth. He also sent a herald to the winter town to proclaim the feast would be open to all, something he was sure would be well received. Unless they were entertaining foreign guests it was customary for his family to invite the smallfolk to such occasions.

After he had finished with the organization, and happy that the matter could be dealt with without him, he made his way to the godswood to gain answers from his friends. He found both where he had asked them to be. Howland was sitting by the Heart tree whilst Hewelin was standing by the pool, staring in to its depths. Eddard paused just out of sight at the edge of the grove and examined the pair.

Howland Reed was a small man, hair and beard a dirty blonde. The two of them went back to the Great Tournament at Harrenhal. His sister had discovered Howland being bullied by a trio of squires. Outraged at the sight of one of her Father's vassals being attacked, she had driven the trio off armed with a tourney sword. Afterwards she brought him to their table where he, Benjen and Brandon immediately made friends with the Crannogman. Whilst timid and shy at first, the Starks friendly welcome had allowed him to quickly relax. Later, as he and Eddard fought in the rebellion, the Lord came to rely on him as a smart and courageous friend.

It was later during the relief of the siege of Storm's End that Eddard learned that Howland was a Greenseer, a person able to receive prophetic dreams. Any record of Lyanna's location was lost and the men who might have known were either dead or missing. Eddard had almost given up hope when Howland had decided to seclude himself in the Godswood of the mighty castle. Emerging after a day he had informed his Lord of his missing sisters location, a lonely tower in the mountains of Dorne. Though ultimately the journey there had ended in death and tragedy, the Stark was forever grateful to his friend for giving him the means to see his sister one last time.

Hewelin Sealgair meanwhile was the complete opposite of Howland in appearance. Black haired, tall and well muscled, he had been forged by the merciless environment of the Northern mountains. The two of them had been close friends since childhood, the Sealgair coming to stay with the Starks after his family had died from a Wildling attack. Their contact had been broken when Eddard went to be a ward to Jon Arryn, however Hewelin immediately rallied to him when the Rebellion began. The man was something of an oxymoron. Much of the time he appeared to be the most outgoing of the three, relaxed, courteous and always ready to help regardless wherever it was asked for or not. However when the situation called for it, he demonstrated a cunning and viciousness that Eddard sometimes felt uncomfortable with. Much of the Rebellions strategy came from the man, Hewelin becoming so infamous for his mastery of the strategy of war that he become known as the 'Shadowcat' to the loyalists, both for his cunning and elusiveness. What he wasn't known for was his ruthlessness, a trait that Eddard hid by virtue of having to put his foot down on some of Hewelins more extreme plans, several of which would put the worst of the Southerners to shame. That said however he knew that Hewelin did only what he thought was in the North's interest and he could not ask for a more loyal or faithful friend.

Ultimately both men had been his constant companions through Roberts rebellion, faithfully fighting at his side in every skirmish and battle. Outside of his family there was no one he trusted more. He stepped from the treeline and into the grove, both men turning to him. Before Eddard could speak however he was stopped by Howland's raised hand.

"I know you have questions my friend, and we will answer them all." He looked to Hewelin who nodded back.

"I have received a vision of your son."

Eddard's eyes widened and dread filled his heart. He may not be experienced in these matters but the Crannogman would not have received such a vision if Harrion was to live a peaceful, happy life.

"What did you see?" Eddard asked, almost not wishing to know. Howland looked troubled as he spoke.

"War. Death. Chaos. The vision was one of the most powerful I have ever experienced. Words alone would not do it justice. Rather I must show you." Eddard looked at him curiously.

"Show me? How?"

"Alongside our ability to see the visions themselves, I also possess the ability to show them to others, to...to…enter you mind if you will." Howland said hesitatingly. Realising what he was being offered Eddard felt uneasy. He was not comfortable at the thought of someone poking around in his head, friend or no. His unease clearly showed.

"I would not see your memories or hear your thoughts, that is not how it works. I would only be opening your mind to mine so as to share this vision. Hewelin, you went through this, tell him." Howland asked, turning to the man.

"He's speaks the truth Ned, he did the same with me when he first received this vision." Hewelin agreed. "I was just as wary at first I admit. But as unusual as it was, it wasn't painful or intrusive in anyway."

"And how did you get involved in this in the first place?" Eddard asked Hewelin with with a raised eyebrow.

"I was visiting Howland. I've always wanted to see this floating castle in the swamp he was always so proud of. As we were in the godswood he collapsed and had this vision of his. If I hadn't been there he would have drowned because his head landed in a pond." Hewelin said with a small smirk. Howland blushed in embarrassment.

"Yes, well, that aside I couldn't hide it after what happened so I decided to show Hewelin as well." Howland said, trying to move the conversation on. "After that we both decided to come straight to you. So, will you let me show it to you?"

"Could you not just tell me?" Eddard questioned, crossing his arms, feeling conflicted. Trust in his friend and a desire to see what dangers the future held warred with the very human fear of the unknown.

"I could." Howland said quietly looking his Lord directly in the eyes He looked his Lord intently in the eyes. "But tell me, if you tried to explain the Battle of the Trident to your lady wife, the carnage, the chaos, the knights dragged off their feet and drowned in the raging waters...would you be able to do it justice? Make her feel the same fear and courage we all felt that day? This vision is just as vivid...and just as terrifying and incredible to behold."

Eddard looked down, somewhat shamed. Howland was right, his choice was clear, he shouldn't allow such a petty fear to control him. He had to see what they had seen, witness it with his own eyes. Only then would he truly understand what worried his friends so.

"Very well. Show me." Eddard commanded, steeling himself.

Howland nodded and directed him to sit down before the heart tree. The gaze of the face in the tree pierced him and the Lord felt a sense of gravity that he had not felt before in the peaceful grove. He tensed, wondering how it would work or if it would hurt.

"Relax Eddard. Nothing threatens you here." Howland soothed. The Crannogman turned to the Lord of the Northern Mountains but the man just nodded, already guessing what Howland would ask of him.

"Don't worry, I'll keep watch over you." Howland nodded in thanks as he kneeled in front of his friend and liege.

Eddard breathed deep, trying to relax as Howland placed his hands on his shoulders. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of the glade around him. The quiet gurgling of the pond, the birds singing in their nests, the wind in the leaves of the weirwood which so often sounded like whispers, the Old Gods speaking to those. Nothing seemed to change, the ground was still cold and it felt like Howland had removed his hands from his shoulders. Growing impatient he opened his eyes to ask if anything was wrong. When he looked up however he was not greeted by the sight of his friends and the Godswood. Instead he looked upon a vision of ice and fire.

Before his eyes Winterfell was burning. Dead bodies littered the streets and screams rang through the air. Figures ran around outside the walls, torches held high, the light reflecting on the drawn swords in their hands. The strong granite walls held but the wooden structures and great hall burned easily, setting the sky aflame with the inferno.

Panicking, he tried to move and help his beloved city but could not move or even look away. It felt almost like he possessed no body at all.

'Is this what they spoke of? The future that awaits us?'

He forced himself to relax, desperately holding faith that this was the vision his friends spoke of and not reality. Suddenly a flock of crows rose from the library tower which stood strong even as the fortress burned around it. The flock soon reached him and began whirling around, blocking his sight. He could not even bring his arms up to defend himself from the cawing mass of black feathers.

The dark wings soon disappeared to reveal him floating over a raging battle. It was unlike any he had witnessed in his life before, quite possibly because everything fighting in it was some sort of animal or beast. Wolves and Lions fought viciously, the bodies of dead Stags lying around them. Only a single Great Stag still stood, swinging its strangely burning antlers at any Lion that came near, though it sometimes fought besides the Wolves. Both sides avoided the river, tentacles rising to grasp any beast who drew close to drown them in its icy depths.

Looking around further, Eddard spotted yet more species, all of whom fought on one side or another. Eddard began to realise that the animals represented the hundreds of Houses of the Seven Kingdoms, and he desperately tried to memorise who thought who. Most notable of the other animals we're those that didn't join the fighting at all, those that sat around the periphery of the battle and simply watched. Snakes, great vipers and cobras watched the brutal combat from the safety of dark spaces, and Hawks the size of dogs gazed down from the tree tops besides the ravens that brought him here. Most notably was the terrifying great kraken in the distance far separated from its fellows at the shore and rivers, form silhouetted against the setting sun with only its blood red eyes visible from before, the sea around littered with the corpses of Ravens floating in the water.

Ultimately the fighting began to draw to a close. The Lions were too numerous and began pushing the Wolves back until there was only a large group left, all of whom were centered around a terrifying Direwolf the size of a horse. A Direwolf with luminous silver eyes. Silver eyes that he had first seen the day before, sitting besides his wife.

Before he could see the outcome of the battle, the swarm of crows once again swooped down in front of him, shrouding him in a cocoon of wings and feathers.

After a moment, they once more broke off and he found him standing in a dark forest. His ears were assaulted with the clamour of battle once again as men he recognized as the Night Watch and various unknown soldiers battled with what he assumed were wildlings. Beyond them he could see the colossal sight of the Wall rearing high overhead. As the battle moved away, he heard a cold laugh next to him and a figure entered his view. Eddard's heart stopped at the sight.

A woman of ethereal beauty stood before him, watching the battle intently. Her skin was the colour of fresh snow and her eyes set over almost inhumanly sharp cheekbones glowed like shining blue stars. Long and lustrous white hair glided down her back, passing over elegant pale armour and the frosted tip brushed a sword of night blue crystal. Truly, at first glance she stood like a fae princess of fairy tale. But her beauty could not hide her cold and cruel smile, delighting at the bloodletting taking place before her. She turned to look at him and her eyes seemed to hold nothing but darkness despite their luminosity.

One name came to him, a nightmare straight from the oldest annals of history, the darkest of Old Nan's tales.

White Walker.

The sight awakened a deep seated primordial fear inside of him, a fear that only escalated as the creature reached out towards him, the gauntlet of her armour shaped in to sharp claws that already dripped blood from use.

A shout rang out and her head snapped around as she blocked an overhead strike from a warrior who had emerged from the battle. The two of them began to exchange blows, their strikes and parry's almost inhumanely fast, neither able to land a blow. Other White Walkers appeared from the darkness around the fierce duel and watched silently, bodies half shrouded in mist. Behind them stumbled a scene from a nightmare, dead men and women by the thousands, an army of half frozen corpses shuffling forth until a host of the dammed stood arrayed before him.

The crows descended from the tree tops to smother the Lord once more in their squawks and cries. The moment before their wings covered him however he noticed one last detail of the young warrior facing the female white walker, a familiar set of shining silver eyes.

Darkness took him once more.

This time there was now gentle reveal and gradual dispersion of wings, now they cawed and shrieked in panic, flapping frantically to get away. A jet of flame exploded from behind, causing the Lord to instinctively drop and cover his head, finally able to move his body, the burnt bodies of a hundred birds dropping around him. He hesitantly looked turned around. A huge golden dragon reared over him, powerful hind legs perched on the edge of a cliff. As he looked on in no small amount of awe, three more came in to land, one green with brown markings, another completely black, whilst the final was white with bronze flecks. All of them bore riders bedecked in full armour, serving to make them unrecognisable. However there was no failing to recognise the famous white blonde hair that spilled from their helms or the three headed dragon motifs that decorated their plate mail. Their gender was at least somewhat clear, two women and two men. They were looking at something behind the Lord of the North. Eddard followed their gaze until it landed on the object of their attention.

His armour was ruined, rent, torn and steaming as if he had been cooked in an oven. Pain and exhaustion was clearly written on his face yet he still stood, silver eyes blazing staring defiantly at the woman seated on the back of the gold monstrosity.

Before Eddard could form another thought however the rider of the green Dragon clearly lost patience and shouted something, his mount rearing back it's head.

Darkness claimed Eddard Stark for the final time as he and his Son were bathed in dragonfire.


Eddard's eyes snapped open and he gasped for air, sweat covering his brow. The weeping face of the heart tree was a comforting sight, though he looked around frantically, wondering if it was another vision. A hand gripped his shoulder.

"Eddard! It's alright. Calm yourself, it's over. Just breathe" The lord looked to his side and saw it was Hewelin, hand holding him in place. Eddard looked around for Howland and finally found his friend behind him.

Howland knelt in the grass. The muscles in his neck bulged and his hands clawed at the ground, as if racked by some terrible pain. Most disturbingly of all though was his eyes. They were pure white with no iris to be seen. Eddard stood up to help his friend but Hewelin kept a firm grip on his shoulder.

"Wait Ned, wait! This isn't finished."

Before Eddard could even question what he meant, Howland threw his head back and spoke, his voice, gods above his voice! It was not Hewelins. It was dark, hoarse, growling and feral. Eddard had never heard the like come from a human throat.

"The one with the power to vanquish the cold ones approaches, born as the seventh month dies, born to the line of men who defied them, the line that loved them, the line that hated them. The one with the power to vanquish them will be born as the seventh month dies..."

And with that Howland slumped forward, eyes now shut. Hewlin stepped forward to catch him, holding his friend steady. Slowly the Crannogman's eyes fluttered opened and he groaned.

"Fuck, I hate that doing that." He muttered, clutching his head.

"I thought you said there wouldn't be any pain?" Eddard asked gently, concerned for his friend.

"Yes, no pain for you, quite a bit for me. It is something of an arduous process to show those who are not Greenseers a vision, especially such a long and powerful one." Howland ground out, letting Hewelin and Eddard help him to sit against the Heart Tree. Hewelin turned to him as they set the man down.

"That sentence Howland spoke after you awakened Ned, that's how we knew it would be your Son. We remembered your letters saying your second born was due at the end of the month, the seventh of our year."

"That's a seems like a bit of a long shot, there's are no doubt a lot of babes due to be born this night." Eddard pointed out.

"Aye, true, but the detail is in the second line. 'Born to the line of men who defied them, the line that loved them, the line that hated them.'" Hewelin quoted. "Correct me if I'm wrong but was the Night King not a Stark? And the Last Hero was also reputed to be from your line, not to mention Bran the Builder who built the wall keeping the White Walkers contained. It could fit no one else, at least no one else I could think of."

"It is a bygone conclusion anyhow my friends" Howland said a sigh. "The eyes confirm it, the one we saw in the vision is him, there's no doubt about it."

With that they were silent as they all contemplated the enormity of what they had seen. Eddard didn't even know where to begin after such an experience.

What he had witnessed...he...he had felt it as the fire consumed him, dragonflame cooking the flesh and muscles from his bones. The heat, the pain had felt so real. This was no hallucination. This was a vision of what was to come. Eddard wondered if he should be thankful or angry to the Old Gods for gifting them with such a vision. A war he could deal with no matter how much he hated it. In the end it came down to men, their courage and cold hard steel. But White Walkers and Dragons resurgent? What could one man do, no matter how powerful? Even Torrhen Stark, the last King of Winter, had bent the knee rather than face Dragon fire. And there were no Hero's or children of the forest to drive the Others back this time.

"Of all that is good and holy…White Walkers..." He whispered, his voice trailing off as the sheer impossibility of what he had witnessed started to kick in. He had never felt such mind numbing fear as he did when he looked upon the massed ranks of those creatures, not even during the darkest days of the Rebellion.

"Civil war." Hewelin said simply, his face grim.

"Dragons" Howland finished, setting himself down on a root to rest, face drawn.

"And Harrion will be at the centre of all this? How? Why?" Eddard asked. In the back of his mind he also wondered where Robb would be, he would be the next Lord of the North after all.

"We know no more than you do. But what we do know is that it seems he is going to have a central role to play, whatever that role may be." Hewelin said quietly, helping Eddard to his feet. "The Old Gods would not give us such a vision otherwise. He defends the North and defies the White Walkers and Dragonriders. How and why is questions that will only be revealed in time."

"Then we must warn the King." Eddard said firmly. "Warn him of what will happen, only he can unite the Kingdoms against these threats."

"And what would we tell him Ned? My king, we've had a vision of myths and legends brought to life. Oh, and lets not forget the likely betrayal of the family you just married." Hewelin said sarcastically. "The queen would have probably have us executed before Robert had even stopped laughing."

"It could even be the act which causes the civil war. The Lannisters could frame it as an insult and use it as a justification to attack us." Howland pointed out.

"Then can you not just show him like you showed me and Hewelin? It would be beyond reproach then." Eddard asked half hopefully. If they could simply demonstrate to the King what they showed him here, then there would be no war and they could concentrate on the other threats. His hopes were dashed however when Howland shook his head.

"We would need to be in a strong Weirwood like this one in order to be able to show him such a strong vision." The Crannogman explained. "I barely got a single image of the tower your sister was kept in whilst using the pathetic excuse they call a Godswood in the south. So unless your able to bring King Robert up north then it would be impossible. That is if he even agreed in the first place."

"I doubt he would." Eddard said quietly. "Since the Lannisters presented the bodies of the royal family to Robert and I, we...we have not been on speaking terms." His friends nodded both having been present at the incredible shouting match between Eddard and Robert, the two of whom had once been closer than brothers. Eddard had been appalled at the crime committed against the gentle Princess Elia and her young children. He had fought to bring to Mad King to justice and to take back his sister, not murder children. Meanwhile Robert had openly expressed his glee at the death of two more 'dragonspawn'. Eddard's demand that the Lannisters be punished was swiftly rejected by Robert and the heated words, insults and accusations that sprung between the two had forever sundered their brotherly bond, a rift that not even Jon Arryn could cross. Eddard had not even seen or heard from Robert since he stormed from the throne room. Matters of state had been concluded in letters between him and Jon which themselves were terse with Jon supporting Roberts actions.

"There must be something we can do." The Stark said in frustration. "The Seven Kingdoms does not need a war, not with such grave threats approaching. We must avert this doom."

"Ned." Howland said, looking pained. "Visions and prophesies are fickle things, and often those who send them are just as capricious. Legends are full of tales of men who battled to avert their future fate only to fall into it's trap through their own actions. Acting rashly might be what brings this future about, or even make it worse than it would actually turn out to be."

"Then by the Gods, what is the point in this vision if there is nothing we can do to change it!?" Eddard said frustrated.

"There may be options available to us. The future is not set in stone. Fates can be changed, destinies altered. What we Greenseers see is not the true future, only the one with the most likelihood of coming to pass." Howland explained.

"And yet that changes little." Hewelin interjected. "If what you say is true, if we actively try to stop it, we run the risk of bringing this future to life through our own actions." Silence reigned in the grove as the group contemplated this dead end they had found themselves in. Eddard however couldn't stop thinking about what Hewelin had just said.

'That's it. Like the old Master at Arms at the Eyrie said, if you can't stop it...use it.'

"We don't actively try to stop it then." Eddard muttered. The other two looked at him curiously. "If action is just as bad inaction then we simply don't try to prevent it. If this is a storm we have no choice but to enter then we must prepare ourselves, our Houses and the North as much as possible before it envelops us."

"It would the most prudent course." Howland agreed quietly, nodding his head. "Focusing our efforts on growing our position would have only a marginal impact on any of the futures we foresaw. Any direct action can be left until years from now, hopefully by then we will see more of what will cause these calamities."

Besides them Hewelin began to pace, his face deep in thought and with a look in his eyes that Eddard hadn't seen since the Rebellion. The Sealgair was in his element when he was against the odds.

"Before we rush into anything, let us examine we know for sure. We know that their will be a war and the Lannisters will be at the centre of it. We will also know the Ironborn and Baratheons will be involved as well in some way or fashion with the other Houses either being neutral or on their own side. On top of this the White Walkers will return and so will what appear to be the Targaryens, all of whom have grown Dragons, old enough to mount and breathe fire."

"And whilst we have no way of knowing when this will happen, judging by your son's age as we saw him, I'd say we have roughly fifteen to twenty years before any of this comes to pass." Howland guessed. "That's a shaky estimate at best though."

"We can also be reasonably sure that the civil war will come first." Hewelin continued. "There are few who would be mad enough to start a war whilst White Walkers and Targaryens on Dragons attack the Kingdoms."

"Then we will focus our efforts on preparing for that." Eddard decided. "Whilst the White Walkers and Dragons are the greater threat, we cannot fight a war and face them at the same time." Hewelin and Howland nodded in agreement.

"We will have to be careful." Howland cautioned. "Though the North is often ignored whilst the Southern Kingdoms play their games, they will eventually notice our growing strength. We must not make ourselves a rival."

"True enough." Eddard agreed. "But we will have many years over which to gather grow stronger, spreading it out over such a length of time will hopefully slip their notice." Eddard said. He turned to the Lord of the Northern Mountains.

"Hewelin, you remember that spy network you wished to set up in the rebellion?" The man nodded hesitantly.

"Do it."

"It will be done." Hewelin replied, eyebrows raised. This was certainly a different side to the usually honorable Lord of Winterfell. Howland shared his surprise as well, something Eddard took note of.

"We will not stooping to the level of the south." He assured. "But I saw my city burning, our people put to the sword. I will not sit back and do nothing as this doom approaches. The north must be strong to survive, and to be strong it must have eyes and ears in the other Kingdoms to know their schemes, especially those of the Lannisters." Both men nodded in agreement, eyes hard, realisation of the scale of what they were about to embark on finally sinking in. Eddard turned to Howland.

"Howland, I will award you Moat Cailin. You'll be supplied with enough stone, money and labour to rebuild it to it's past glory and purpose. That fortress was ever the gateway to the North and if we are to survive an assault from the south then it must be rebuilt and garrisoned."

"And if I have visitors come asking questions? Rebuilding a fortress the size of Moat Cailin won't go unnoticed." Howland asked curiously.

"I do believe a Lord that lives within impassable swamps is often hard to find." Eddard said, his smile almost...wolfish. The Crannogman grinned and nodded, fully understanding his liege.

They spent the rest of the morning establishing their plans for the North. Forges were to be upgraded to produce better arms and armour for troops, possible trade deals with the free cities of Essos were to be discussed and fortified redoubts established in Hewelin's mountains. They also looked at upgrading the North's infrastructure to better deal with the onset of winter and the improve the speed at which the armies could gather and travel. Whilst the North was too large for journeys to ever be quick, Eddard wished to alleviate the weakness as much as possible and having a good solid stone road in place instead of dirt tracks would go some way to doing just that.

They focused especially on plans to improve the training regime of their troops. The civil war had taken him all over Westeros and had exposed Eddard to the power and the general superiority of the other Kingdom's soldiery. The Lannisters were the best equipped, the Baratheons the best trained, the Reach were the most numerous, the Iron Islanders the best sailors and archers and the Dornish had superb light troops and knew how to use them. Northern levies were fierce, hard men, born from a harsh land and people and their stamina and tenacity Eddard found outstripped the other Kingdoms. Such traits however would not be enough in battle. Eddard was determined to forge the best troops in the Kingdom using the lessons he had learned from Robert's rebellion.

The final matter they discussed was the possibility of once again building a Northern fleet, the first since the last was burned centuries ago by Brandon Stark, better known as Brandon the Burner. The Stark had torched the entire Northern Navy after his father, Brandon the Shipwright, never returned from his attempt to cross the Sunset Sea, a foolish action that many a Stark Lord had cursed him for afterwards. Eddard also included proposals for expanding the fishing fleet, a good way to increase their food reserves and also decrease the amount of men that had to keep back to bring in the harvest, thereby increasing the amount of manpower they could draw from. Hewelin noticed the mounting cost of these plans.

"All of this will be expensive to build and maintain, where will we find the money?" questioned Hewelin worryingly.

Eddard smiled "The other Kingdoms like to forget sometimes that despite our sparse population our Kingdom is the largest of the seven, nearly as large as all the others combined. These past few months I have been looking through my fathers papers and found records of surveys that have discovered that the North possesses huge amounts of natural resources, nearly all of which remains untapped because we never needed the wealth or had the will to make a concentrated effort to draw on it. It's time we use the resources our land offers us. Silver, lumber, fur, granite, iron, meat, all this we have in abundance yet have never used beyond what we need. Our Kingdom has been isolated for long enough. It is time for the North to come in to its own."

"There is also the matter of little Harrion, if he's going to be involved in all this then he will need to be ready as well." Hewelin pointed out. Eddard frowned.

"I would like my son to have a normal childhood. I won't treat him like some weapon to be wielded" He stated firmly.

"Then don't, foster him with families who can teach him skills he can use. My house are the finest bowmen in the North. It would be an honour to teach him" the Mountain Lord offered. Though leery of deciding at such an early age on such a matter, Eddard recognised the truth in the man's words. Keeping Harrion at Winterfell all his life would be hard as inevitably he would want to train his son more to prepare him for the likely hard road ahead. This could be seen as playing favourites by his family or his subjects. He told Hewelin he would at least consider it.

Eventually the young Lord looked up and saw the sun shining through the leaves. They had been talking for several hours and it was nearly time for the feast. They decided to end it there, their final agreement being to meet once every year at least to review their progress.

As they walked through the Godswood to the gate that led back into the castle proper, Eddard steeled himself in his duty. If ultimately he could not help the Kingdoms then he would see to it that the North survived. It pained him to think such thoughts, to him it felt like he was betraying those he had fought besides during the war. However no one outside the North would believe him and he had no interest exposing his plans to those who would use them for their own gain. He would not give up entirely on preventing the coming conflict, but he would prepare for the worst. And as Lord of the North and protector of its peoples that was where his duty lay. He glanced at his Bannermen as they walked besides him. At least he was not alone in this endeavor.

The celebrations were a happy moment in a grim day for Eddard Stark. The castle celebrated and the great hall was filled with the laughter and chatter of nobles and smallfolk alike. Eddard, sitting at the high table, distracted himself from the grim future with his wife and sons, Robb and Harrion. The two baby boys were now curiously inspecting each other as Robb met the newest addition to the family. The sight made him smile. When the feast was over the Starks and their guests made their way down to the Godswood where the newest member of the Starks was presented before the sight of the Old Gods, blood was given both from parents and babe alike and blessings were asked for in exchange as had been tradition since the first Starks had taken residence in Winterfell. Catelyn looked as uncomfortable as she was the last time they had been here with Robb, a devout believer in the Seven as she was but like last time she tolerated the practice, if barely. With the ceremony amongst the falling crimson leaves concluded the guests returned to the Great Hall to mingle and Eddard took the opportunity to take Harrion to meet his brother Jon. His lady wife would disapprove but his decision to bring Jon in the family was something he would never budge on. He hoped and prayed she would understand in time and forgive him.

After the feast and celebrations had ended they made their way outside to see off their guests. Eddard held Harrion in his arms while Catelyn held Robb. They bid farewell to the high-born guests and soon only Howland and Hewelin remained. Thankfully Robb began to cry which distracted Catelyn. As his Lady wife stepped to the side with an embarrassed smile, he used the opportunity to have some final words in private.

"Damn you both, you've ruined what was supposed to be a joyous day with your visions and foretelling." Eddard grouched. Before his friends could respond he continued.

"But if you hadn't come my sons life might have been ruined, along with every other soul in the North, a fate we might just avert. Truer friends I could not have." Eddard said warmly, placing a hand on Howland's shoulder and looking Hewelin in the eye.

"We're your friends Ned. You don't need to thank us for doing what is right." Howland said quietly, a small smile on his face.

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't thank you regardless." Eddard said earnestly.

Before Howland or Hewelin could respond, Catelyn chose that moment to return, finally having calmed the bawling Robb.

Knowing their moment alone was finally over the two men gave their congratulations again to Catelyn and bid their goodbyes. As the two men left with their small retinues, Eddard looked down at his now sleeping son, sliver eyes hidden from view. An overwhelming feeling of love and helplessness filled Eddard. His duty as a father was to protect his children yet here he was planning for total war, a war his children would no doubt participate in, certainly in Harrion's case. Yet to do nothing would be worse, condemning his family and Kingdom to an uncertain and dark future, a future he could yet change.

Looking up as a cloud covered the shining sun, Eddard noticed a heavy bank of clouds on the horizon. More snow on the way no doubt.

"What is it Eddard?" Catelyn asked as she looking up in the direction her husband was gazing in.

"Winter is coming" Eddard smiled grimly. And whilst the summer had only just begun he was correct. For such a winter that not been seen in ten thousand years was on its way. One that would grip the world in its icy grasp and never let go. He looked down at his son cradled in his arms, now sleeping peacefully.

'I won't always be around to protect you little one. All I can do is give you the best possible chance.'

With that thought Eddard banished thoughts of the future from his mind, not wishing to think about it too much and miss the present. As the Lord and Lady returned inside with their household, snow started to drift down to settle once more on the North.

The tale of Harrion Stark, the Snow Prince, the Winter King, the Last Hero, started here.

The world would never be the same again.


Author's note: Well there it is. One note before I step off that I would like to cover is ages. Character ages at the start of Game of Thrones are changing. This is because if we followed the original dates and ages, our main character would be 13 at the start of game of thrones and a good chunk of this story is taking place before the events of the books, a lot of which I will need him to be older for.

So, at the start of the events of the books/tv series, the ages will be:

Robb Stark: 19

Jon Snow: 19

Harrion Stark: 18

Sansa Stark: 16

Arya Stark :14

Bran Stark: 11

Rickon Stark: 8

This is accomplished by the Rebellion being pushed back several years. Some other character ages will also be being tweaked back or forward a few years but unless its a serious change from cannon I'll leave it unsaid.

I hope you enjoyed my first chapter. As always please review. It's what gives authors motivation to continue writing. Leave whatever constructive criticism you want, if it makes my story better and inflates my ego along the way I'm happy.


Edit: 19/09/17: For some reason every time I was writing 'Harrion', Harry's actual name, it was correcting to 'Harrison' and I didn't even realise. Now corrected. Details will be in chapter 2 AN.