The Wizard of Fury Chapter 11

AN: Only two or three more chapters until the time skip (I think).

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The sunlight made the phoenix feather in Harry's hands sparkle brilliantly. The orange-red feather shifted into iridescence as Harry slowly twisted it around. It was beautiful, and it would serve as the core of his wand.

Harry had never expected to run into someone selling something like this. Stannis' insistence that so many sailor's stories about fantastical creatures were merely falsehoods had him fearing that he'd never be able to recreate a wand in this world, but the fact that dragons had lived less than two centuries ago at least gave him hope.

Asshai was a place that Harry knew he'd heard or read mention of at some point, but he knew next to nothing about it. Asking around his father's men hadn't offered him any greater insights than those that he'd already known. Asshai was a far-away place in the east. A place next to or a part of the Shadow Lands, depending on who you asked. What the Shadow Lands were was up for debate. It was a place that no one seemed to really know anything about beyond the fact that they were dangerous. A maester would know more, but Harry didn't have access to one at the moment.

Harry unlocked his chest, which contained all of the clothing he'd brought with him on the voyage, and carefully wrapped his feather up inside of one of his tunics. He couldn't afford to let it get snapped in half or damaged in any way, so he needed to keep it safe in here until they got back to Dragonstone. His father found his overprotectiveness of this feather, but he was willing to tolerate it for now. He'd been surprisingly lenient with Harry ever since they reunited, something that Harry very much appreciated but was reluctant to believe that it would last for very long.

Harry double checked the lock on his chest before he stood back up. They were close to making landfall soon, and he wanted to ensure that none of the servants carrying his things would accidentally open up his chest to take his clothes away for washing.

Pushing open the door out of his and his father's dimly-lit cabin, Harry had to quickly shield his eyes from the harsh rays of the son overhead. It was nearly blinding, but Harry forced himself to blink rapidly to help his eyes adjust.

The deck of the Fury was alight with activity as everyone finished with their final preparations before they arrived at the Arbor. The Fury cut through the gentle seas with ease ahead of the vast fleet behind it. Dozens of ships from the Royal Fleet and the Redwyne Fleet followed closely behind the Fury. The massive island already sat stretched out before them, ready and welcoming to the returning forces.

Stannis was stood near the bow of the ship next to Lord Stark and King Robert, staring off at the Arbor with an unreadable expression on his face. To almost anyone else, Stannis would look like his usual, stern self. To his close confidants, he'd seem troubled. To those who knew his history, they'd recognise the truth that Harry saw: his father did not wish to be here.

It was understandable, of course. Lord Redwyne and Lord Tyrell nearly starved Stannis, his wife, his men, and even Harry himself at the Siege of Storm's End when Harry was just a baby. To Stannis, these men were nearly the cause of his entire family's ruin, and now they were inviting him to their domain to feast.

Harry tried to imagine how he'd feel if he and Voldemort were suddenly allied and the man invited Harry over for supper. It'd be ridiculous, unbelievable, and insulting on multiple levels. And yet Stannis was bearing through it simply because his older brother, King Robert, had ordered it.

The Arbor Queen, Lord Redwyne's warship, was racing just behind the shoulder of the Fury. From the deck, Harry could see the man standing near the main mast, staring out at the Arbor just as Stannis was. Lord Redwyne was finally coming home as a victor in war. Harry wondered if he too had some reservations about bringing Stannis back to the Arbor after what he'd done during Robert's Rebellion.

Harry made his way towards his father, neatly avoiding the sailors as they worked at maintaining the ship. Stannis had stressed the importance of having a competent, professional appearance as they grew closer to the Arbor. Clearly, he wanted a show of force.

Stannis didn't look away from the Arbor as Harry approached, but the other two men did. Robert, with his coarse, black beard dancing in the wind, beamed down at Harry with a wonderful grin on his lips.

"There you are," Robert exclaimed with a belly laugh. "Come to get your father out of his brooding?"

"I'm not brooding," Stannis said blandly.

He most definitely was brooding, but Harry wasn't going to say that. "We're close to Vinetown," he said instead. "Will Lord Redwyne be hosting us in his castle?"

"Some of us," Lord Stark answered. "His castle is expansive and has plenty of rooms to host visitors, but it seems as though Lord Tyrell has decided to visit at the same time as us, among other Houses from the Reach. Space will be a luxury, so many of our men will need to take up residences in inns or camps."

"Paxter will make space for us," Robert assured everyone. "We'll get a camp set up outside of his walls with all the wine our men can drink. They've earned it."

"I'm sure that they will oblige your requests," Lord Stark said.

"It's not a request," Robert laughed. "It'll be a command."

"The cost will be great," Lord Stark pointed out.

"It would've been greater if the ironborn had attacked the Arbor. It's the least Paxter can do," Robert said.

Harry crinkled his nose. Was this really how the King acted? He just commanded everyone to do his bidding regardless of the cost. Even Stannis' stern rule was tempered by his knowledge of the realities of his men's capabilities. He might push them to the breaking point but never past it. He offered aid and support whenever it was necessary and expected the same in return. King Robert seemed the sort to take and take with an irreverence for everything around him.

The docks grew in size as they neared Vinetown. The fishing boats and smaller vessels that littered the waters around the Arbor swiftly moved aside for the massive fleet seeking to dock. Naturally, the Fury was the first ship to pull into port, followed swiftly by Lord Paxter's ship and then several others from the King's navy. The docks were abuzz with activity as hundreds of workers prepared to unload many of the vessels and begin any repair work that needed doing.

Further down the docks, Harry spotted a large pavilion with its tent flaps open to the salty air. It was filled with people who were dining upon a variety of fine dishes provided to them by various servants. The mere sight of a suckling pig made Harry's stomach rumble—living on a ship rarely provided the wonderful meals that could be found on land. However, all of the food appeared forgotten the moment that a servant came running into the pavilion. The man said something to those sitting around a long table, and then everyone's heads turned towards Harry. He knew that they weren't looking at him necessarily, but he had that same uncomfortable sensation he always got whenever students at Hogwarts would stare at him.

By the time the Fury was properly docked, the people in the pavilion were slowly making their way over towards them. A red-faced, fat, bearded man led the procession proudly. What was presumably his family followed closely behind.

"Mace!" Robert grinned as a plank was put in place against the side of the ship, allowing the King to smoothly walk down onto the docks.

So, this was Mace Tyrell, Harry realised. Mace laughed alongside Robert as the two met. Mace Tyrell was the only one to ever deliver a defeat to Robert during his rebellion against the Mad King, though Maester Cressen insisted that it was primarily the efforts of Mace's bannermen, specifically Randyll Tarly, that caused Robert's defeat at the Battle of Ashford. The man seemed like a jovial sort but distinctly undignified. He lacked the sharp, cutting figure of a man fit for battle. Perhaps that was why he spent his time dining outside of Storm's End instead of attacking it when he'd laid siege to it.

Stannis' expression darkened upon seeing Robert so friendly with the man who'd nearly killed him and his family, and Eddard didn't seem particularly keen on meeting with Mace either, though Harry still struggled to tell the man's true emotions on much of anything.

Three young men stared up curiously at Harry, their gazes lingering on his scar. The eldest was crippled with a ruined leg and the other two looked like gallant knights with long, windswept hair. Harry fought the urge to brush his hair over his forehead to cover his scar. He simply stared back at them evenly, reassured in the fact that his father was standing nearby and glaring dangerously at the boys as if to warn them that any slights against Harry would be answered by him instead.

Harry's eyes eventually glazed past them. He was ready to turn away from the scene entirely when something stopped him in his tracks. For some reason, the moment his gaze crossed over a pretty young girl's face, his body froze. He felt a sensation deep in the pit of his chest. It wasn't like when he'd been head-over-heels for Cho Chang before. No, this was something magical. His magic was literally reacting to her, and it looked like she felt something too. It was like a jolt of electricity had suddenly shot through her body, making her jump in place. An older woman, perhaps her grandmother, whispered something to her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulders, but the girl seemed spooked.

"Harry?"

It took a surprising amount of effort to wrench his focus away from the girl to face his father. He already had one foot up on the plank that led down to the docks. He looked concerned.

"Yes?" Harry asked in a pleasant tone.

Stannis peered into his eyes deeply, making Harry once again wonder if the man could somehow read his mind. "Stay close," he cautioned Harry.

"Right," Harry nodded as he headed to the plank. Eddard was already down below, grimly shaking Mace's hand.

Harry did as he was bade and walked closely behind Stannis as they descended down to the dock. As they grew closer to everyone, he felt more looks upon his scar. It had faded from the angry red it had initially been back when he'd been held captive in Pyke. There was still some scabbing around it, but in time it would fade to a silvery-coloured lightning bolt.

"Ah, there he is, finally," Robert exclaimed happily, throwing an arm around Stannis' shoulders. Stannis froze in place, unwilling to reciprocate the gesture or show any sign of approval of it, but his rigidity didn’t seem to bother Robert in the slightest. He was used to his brother’s behaviour and ignored it as he guided Stannis forward to face Mace Tyrell.

Harry knew that the two men had seen each other at times before; there were tourneys held in King’s Landing that both of them attended. However, Stannis had made it a point to never directly interact with Mace. Now, it was unavoidable.

If Mace had any issues with their past history, he didn’t show it. If anything, he almost seemed excited to see Stannis.

“Lord Baratheon!” Mace laughed with his arms outstretched.

Stannis dug his heels in and even with Robert’s impressive strength he couldn’t move him any closer to Mace if he wanted to.

Mace’s smile didn’t wane an inch as he decided to close the gap instead. He moved forward with his hand outstretched for Stannis to shake, slowing once he was within reach of the man.

Any time Harry had seen Stannis deal with someone unpleasant, he’d always noticed that his father maintained a perfectly dismissive mask, like he was dealing with a pest or a rodent rather than a person. It left others with a sour taste in their mouth at having to deal with someone who found them so repulsive. Today was different. In being confronted with Mace, Stannis’ expression almost mirrored Eddard’s. His face was as grim as a winter storm, his gaze honed in on Mace’s every gesture like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to lash out and exploit a vulnerability.

Suddenly, the sword at Stannis’ hip seemed far too close to his hands for Harry’s comfort. Stannis’ hands never twitched towards it, but Harry knew his father better than almost anyone. He could practically feel his father’s desire to pull his sword from his scabbard and run it through Mace’s belly, the consequences be damned.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Harry said quickly as he hurried forward to his father’s side, deliberately placing himself in a perfect position to stop his father from wrenching out his blade. He shook Mace’s hand. The man seemed slightly confused as to why Harry was the one shaking his hand, but he was too polite to ask why.

“Yes, indeed,” Mace chuckled awkwardly. “And who might you be?”

“This is my nephew,” Robert answered. “Harry Baratheon.”

“You have the Baratheon colouring, that’s for sure,” Mace said as he ruffled Harry’s dark hair. “But your eyes are something special.”

“A brilliant green, like the sky during a rare summer hailstorm,” Eddard noted.

“Must be from his mother,” Mace smiled, trying to draw Stannis back into the conversation.

Unfortunately for him, Stannis was having none of it. “We would like to retire to the castle before—”

“Won’t you share a drink with me first?” Mace asked eagerly, waving forward servants carrying heavy flagons of wine and several golden goblets. “It’s been so long—”

“Not long enough,” Stannis replied bitterly.

Robert shot his brother a look. “Play nice now,” he warned him. “You have no reason to be behaving like this.”

Stannis’ eyes flared dangerously. “No reason?” He repeated, his voice as cold as ice.

“The war’s long since over,” Robert rolled his eyes. “What happened back then is in the past.”

“For you, perhaps,” Stannis said, glaring at Mace. “Some memories of the past stay far past their due.”

Finally, Mace seemed to get the hint. With a weak laugh, he took a few steps back to his family. His two middle sons were glaring back at Stannis with fury evident in their eyes over how he was behaving, but the eldest son seemed to have some degree of sympathy for Stannis at least. And then there was the girl standing between her mother and grandmother. She barely seemed to notice the conflict that’d been brewing; her eyes were still on Harry.

Again, Harry felt another tug from his magic towards her. A sudden compulsion fell over him, telling him to walk over and talk to her. It took his nails drawing blood from the palm of his hand to turn his focus away from her again.

The tension was thick enough to cut through. Robert looked furious at his brother’s rudeness. “Leave then. Go on up to the castle and wallow in your own misery, but I expect to see you at the feast tonight.” He snatched a goblet from one of the servants and didn’t even wait for them to finish filling it all the way up before he downed the wine in a single gulp. He held the goblet back out again, and the servant refilled it.

Before Stannis could turn his cold fury onto his brother, Harry tugged on his cloak. “Let’s go, father,” he said carefully so as not to provoke Stannis any further. Stannis was the furthest thing from a temperamental man, but what Harry saw in him today was not the Stannis he knew. This was his father transported back to his frame of mind in a desperate war. His fury was building inside of his chest, begging to be unleashed, and it was only through Stannis’ sheer will that he kept it back. But such things could not stay caged forever.

Stannis hesitated, his body tensed and ready to lunge at Mace’s throat. His behaviour put Harry on edge, and he wasn’t alone. There were no guards especially close barring the two Kingsguard that accompanied Robert anywhere he went, and Harry could see that their hands had gone from resting casually at their sides to being placed upon the hilt of their blades. Mace’s two middle sons were nearly there as well, and, surprisingly, the old woman with Mace’s family had a dire look on her face like she knew that something could possibly go wrong. She was subtly shielding the young girl that kept pulling on Harry’s magic with her own body.

“Father,” Harry repeated under his breath.

Finally, with a jerky step away, Stannis walked off. Harry offered a poor attempt at a smile before hurrying off after him. He had to practically run to keep up with his father’s long, angry strides as they left the docks. It wasn’t until they were nearing the castle that Stannis’ pace finally slowed down enough that Harry was able to rest his burning legs for a moment.

“You can’t trust these snakes,” Stannis hissed to Harry quietly. He wasn’t quite looking at Harry when he said this. His focus was on Paxter Redwyne’s castle ahead of them. “None of them can be trusted within an inch of their lives. To feast and gorge themselves in plain view while they starve men, women, and children in a castle… it’s despicable.”

“I won’t,” Harry promised Stannis, but it was like his words fell upon deaf ears. Stannis was lost in his own thoughts, unable to stop them as they spilt past his lips.

“Wait until they eat before tasting their food,” Stannis continued mumbling. “Do not wander anywhere without an escort. The moment you sense anything amiss, come find me. Do you understand?”

“I do,” Harry said.

“Good, good,” Stannis nodded his head slowly. “We’ll retire to our rooms until supper. Then, in the morning, we set sail.”

“What if the King wishes to stay longer?” Harry asked gently, fearing that to be the case as it had been in Lannisport.

“We leave regardless,” Stannis snapped. “Robert be damned. The man has less sense than a pigeon and a larger appetite than a bear. He may have forgotten what the Tyrells and the Redwynes did to our family after they surrendered, but I have not. None of these honeyed words and rich wines will be enough to lull me into believing that we are safe here. They may be passive for now, but do not believe for an instant that they are not plotting their own rise to prominence at this very moment. They will take whatever scraps of power they can, and I will not be the one they take it from. Be wary, Harry. We have come to a dangerous place.”