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The Shadow of Winterfell Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2025-01-15 21:57:42 +0000 UTCEddard Stark
The cloth ran down Ice’s sharp blade, House Stark’s ancestral sword that had been passed down for generations. Cleaning the blade was almost a ritual for him at this point, a way for him to clear his mind and escape from his duties as Warden on the North.
The North was large and sparsely populated, full of a proud people that were hard to please. There were so many different Lords sworn to him, each of them harder to appease and negotiate with than the last. But it was his burden to bear, and negotiating with each Northern Lord was almost second nature to him at this age.
There was Lord Manderly, a kind and loyal man, who always wanted more recognition and respect. He held the largest and only city in the North, something the man didn’t want anyone to forget, but his loyalty could be guaranteed through appeasement. After him came Lord Bolton, a slippery man who Ned was more inclined to use a heavy hand when it came to securing his loyalty, and his blade if necessary.
There were others, of course. Lord Karstark was troublesome and quick to emotion, similar to Lord Umber, but reason would always win in the end with both of them. Then there were the most loyal Houses, such as House Reed and Mormont, both of whom having Lords that held unquestionable loyalty to his own family.
He could heard the rustling of leaves in the distance as he continued to clean his blade, knowing he was no longer alone in Winterfell’s Godswood. A few moments later and he could tell that his wife was approaching him before she even came within sight, recognizing the sound of her light footfalls, as only the guards would let her in to this part of the castle without notifying him first.
She soon appeared before him, clad in fine winter robes as she made her way over to the rock he rested on. After so many years of marriage it was easy for him to tell there was something bothering his wife.
“I was wondering if you were going to spend all day out here.” Catelyn said as she approached. “You might catch a cold, staying out here for so long.”
Ned held back an amused snort, knowing the chances of him getting a cold were slim to none. Starks were made for the cold, and even if the North was getting colder as winter approached, it wasn’t worth worrying about. “I needed some time with my thoughts.”
“There aren’t any problems with the Lords, are there?” His wife sat down next to him.
“Nothing worth mentioning.” Ned shook his head. “I am their Lord, and at the end of the day it is my responsibility to deal with them.”
His wife fell silent next to him, and he could tell she was readying herself for speak. He wondered if one of his children had done something to earn her ire, or if it was something more serious.
“I am so sorry, my love.” Catelyn said at last. “There was a raven, from King’s Landing. Jon Arryn is dead, a fever took him.”
His cloth stopped where it was on his blade, shock filling him as he processed the news. It had been the last thing he expected to hear, especially since Jon Arryn was considered the pinnacle of health. Ned had to wonder if something more nefarious was going on, as the Jon Arryn he knew would never die to simple disease.
“What of your sister?” He asked, knowing Jon as married to Lysa. “What of their son?”
“They have their health.” She replied.
He nodded gratefully, doing his best to calm himself amongst the peaceful nature of the Godswood in the most secluded part of Winterfell. Jon Arryn had been like a father to him, and even if he was a hardened man and a veteran of war, the man’s death still hurt.
“There is more news.” His wife said after a while. “The King rides for Winterfell, with the Queen and their entire court. Strangely it said they would get here within a fortnight.”
The first thought he had wasn’t why Robert would come all the way to Winterfell, instead sheer incredulity filled him at the news of how soon the King would arrive with his retinue.
It would take time for the King to make his way this far North, especially if he was accompanied by so many, as his wife seemed to suggest. That was not to mention the preparation time alone that would be needed before a party of that size even began to move. Roads would have to be cleared and secured, men-at-arms prepared, along with the logistics that came with travelling for such a long period of time.
For him to just now learn that the King was practically on his doorstep, leaving him with little preparation whatsoever, hinted at something more insidious. It meant that Ned was more ignorant of events happening in the south than he thought possible. Such a thing could only happen through either sheer negligence or purposeful sabotage, and Ned Stark was not known for the former.
He put aside those thoughts for the moment, deciding to settle that matter for later. “If Robert’s coming this far North, then there’s only one thing he’s after.”
The Hand of the King. Ned realized what motivated Robert to traverse such a great distance, meaning the man wanted to personally appoint him to such a prestigious position. It was the only reasonable explanation for why the King would travel all the way to Winterfell.
His first thoughts then weren’t of the power that came with such a title, nor of the intricacies of managing all seven Kingdoms, but of his children.
Robb was growing by the day, untested but eager to prove himself as the next Lord of the North. Ned knew he still had much to teach his heir, especially if his son was to be left alone in the North while he was away in the capital. As much as he desired to bring his oldest son to King’s Landing, he knew that it would be unwise to do so. Brandon had run off to King’s Landing and paid the price for such folly, and he didn’t want Robb to suffer a similar fate. It was dangerous for Starks to travel south, after all.
Sansa was far too naive for his liking, dreaming of southern knights and far-flung tales as she remained blind to the true cruelty of the world. Arya and Bran were still young, and he knew that a heavier hand was needed when it came to disciplining the both of them.
And that wasn’t mentioning Jon, his nephew who masqueraded as his own bastard son. Ned had a special place in his heart for the boy, a child who was eager to prove himself but lost in the world. He knew of the boy’s ambitions to join the Night’s Watch, something that made him both proud and sorrowful.
And then there was his nephew, Hadrian Snow.
It was the last member of his family that truly made his thoughts come to a sudden halt. Hadrian, or Harry, as he liked to be called, was the bastard and only son of his brother, Brandon Stark. His nephew had always been enigmatic and evasive, something that only seemed to gain himself more attention from the castle’s residents.
Harry had always held a certain darkness in his gaze that made Ned wary, almost as if he was born cursed with the knowledge of his father’s murder at the hands of the Mad King. While not the superstitious sort, even Ned wondered if his nephew was cursed by the Gods, born with an instinct not of this world.
Ned had watched him quietly over the years, filled with unease as he watched the boy best men twice his age and size in the yard. Harry seemed to have a fury that ran cold in his veins, a ruthless streak that drove him to succeed yet had only been unleashed a score of times.
Ned had initially been worried about his nephew, something that wasn’t helped by Cat’s incessant whisperings about bastards being born of lust and betrayal. As he grew older, Ned had expected the boy to debase himself in the pleasures of flesh, something a boy of his strong stature would easily acquire. Yet the opposite occurred, as Harry seemed more akin to a Maester when it came to promiscuity. He would often go green when the subject of whores and brothels was brought up, much to Theon and Robb’s amusement.
And that wasn’t to mention the boy’s expeditions he undertook outside Winterfell’s walls, traveling throughout the North and returning from each journey with tales and stories for his cousins to enjoy. His nephew never said it, but Ned knew he was searching for purpose with each trip, traversing all parts of the North in search of meaning.
That didn’t make him any less loved by his own children, who always asked after their cousin while he was away. Arya was especially tiresome about such things, with Robb and Jon both eagerly waiting for Hadrian to return so they could best him in the training yard.
And that led him to the next problem, being Robert was soon to arrive at Winterfell, and he had no idea where his nephew was.
/////
Val
It truly was warmer on the south side of the Wall. At least, that was what Val thought as she trudged through the dense forest, still trying to adjust to not seeing a single speck of snow on the ground.
Hunting had been more difficult, as no longer did she have the ability to simply follow the tracks left behind in the snow by an animal. It felt like all of her skills when it came to foraging were useless now, and it hurt her ego to have to spend three times longer hunting for a simple rabbit. It also made her respect rise for the kneelers who had to hunt in such conditions, something she would never admit.
She cursed her team when she returned to their campsite and found it abandoned. Even more so when her tracking skills failed her once again. It had been by pure luck she happened to see smoke on the horizon, and made the decision to investigate.
It was in a small grassy opening in the forest that she found the rest of her team. What remained of a southron hut had been burned to the ground, the dead bodies of its inhabitants sprawled out not far from it. The men she travelled with sat around a small fire, enjoying the food they had no doubt taken from the former dwelling.
They had all climbed the Wall together to come south as a group of six originally, only to lose one on the way down reducing their number to five. There was Varamyr, a powerful skinchanger who she considered one of the worst men she had ever met. Next to him was Jarl, a fierce raider and the only member of their group she somewhat got along with. And then there were the two Thenns, a reclusive pair who rarely spoke.
“The bitch decided to show up.” Varamyr said once she arrived, his disgusting gaze roaming over her form as she exited the treeline. Clearly he had seen her approach in one of the animals he possessed.
“It’s hard to miss the smoke.”
“We thought you were dead.” Jarl said to her.
“I thought you moved on and the smoke was a signal.” Val replied, sitting down and beginning the process of skinning one of the rabbits she had killed. “I guess that I thought too much of you.”
“We grew tired of waiting, and decided to find some food for ourselves.” Varamyr said, taking a large bite out of some meat. “A few raided huts and we could have more food on our backs than we could scavenge in a year.”
“That’s not what we’re here to do.” Val gestured with her knife at the burned home. “You might’ve drawn unneeded attention with your stunt already.”
“These southerners are weak, they’ll die in droves if they attack us.” Varamyr gloated. “The crows won’t even smell us till we’re gone.”
“It’s not the crows I’m worried about.” She replied darkly, recalling what she knew of the people south of the Wall. Her mother had told her and her sister tales of what the world was like further south, and the powerful armies that kneeler Lords could bring to bear. “It’s their allies, the different Houses in the south that worry me. We raid too many homes and they’ll send knights clad head-to-toe in steel after us if we’re not careful.”
Varamyr sneered, and opened his mouth to reply, only for a new voice to interrupt.
“Or they’ll send me.”
The new voice sent shivers down her spine, and Val was instantly on her feet with her spear in hand. She wasn’t the only one, as the others dropped what there were also doing and donned weapons.
A dark-haired man exited the treeline to openly approach their campsite, his unnerving green eyes sweeping over each of them. He wore a cloak made of heavy wool, with a steel plate partially covering his chest and one of his arms moderately armored.
Varamyr let out a growl at the sight of him, and the other members of their group weren’t much better in their own reactions. She noticed Jarl’s knuckles whiten around the sword he held, no doubt a weapon he had taken off a dead Crow, and the two Thenns each glared at the southerner.
She always hated southerners, especially the way they looked at those north of the Wall as nothing more than a bunch of savages. She hated their clothes, their strong steel armor and mail that made them nearly invulnerable to their weapons, and the way some of them had so much food that they became fat.
The man standing in front of them was almost a mockery of what they pictured southerners as. Tall and strong, his body corded with muscle under those clothes in a way that would make any maiden blush, with a rugged look to his face and a dark glint in his eye. Val had seen nearly everything that men had to offer, but she could comfortably say she had never seen a man like him before.
He had a strange aura around him, something mystical and strange, a promise that to face him was to face death itself. Her feet unconsciously backpedaled, shifting defensively in case of attack, and the others did the same.
“Who the fuck are you?” Jarl spat the words.
“Hadrian Snow, son of Brandon Stark.”
Stark. Everyone knew that name, whether it be south or north of the wall. It was a name that lived on in infamy among certain tribes, as everyone knew of the famed Builder. Children were raised on stories of the Starks, whether it be how they built the wall, or defeated the Others. She herself knew of Benjen Stark, one of the best Crows there was, and a man who had slayed raiders by the hundreds.
And that was without mentioning his brother, the infamous Eddard Stark, the man who was said to have overthrown the three-hundred year long reign of the Targaryen dynasty and bested them on the field of battle. She heard that he commanded thousands in battle, an unthinkable number in her mind, and yet was able to achieve victory nonetheless.
“You’ve got stones coming here alone, southron fool.” Varamyr said, his eyes blank and distant. She knew he was warging, no doubt having whatever animal he possessed search the woods around them. “Take him!”
The two Thenns were the first to charge, roaring as they did so with their axes raised high. The southerner was fast like the wind, wasting no movement as he moved to swing his large sword. He smacked one of the axes away and backpedaled, his body slowing in a singular motion into his next swing.
His sword swung straight through one of the Thenns, not even slowing as he bisected the man at the waist. The other Thenn cried out in a mix of rage and horror, losing all sense as he attacked the man.
Val cursed and charged in with her spear, Jarl doing the same as he slashed at the man with his sword. She could hear the clang of steel and Jarl’s grunt of exertion as he was thrown back. Her own spear launched out like a viper at the man, and he easily slapped it aside with his sword.
She suddenly heard the howling of wolves, and two of the beasts leapt out from behind the forest and launched themselves at Hadrian Snow. Almost as if he had eyes in the back of his head, he spun around in an instant, his greatsword carrying its momentum as it cut the neck of one of the wolves.
Jarl saw an opening and attacked, but the southerner was quicker, carelessly sidestepping his attack without even looking. The man turned and almost casually ran his blade through Jarl’s ribs then. Jarl fell down in an instant, coughing up blood and dying with a choked gasp.
Jarl had been the only one she found tolerable in the group, but that was being generous. Val had never really liked anyone, and their relationship wasn’t ever going to go beyond working together on their mission.
The next wolf attacked then, and the man carelessly killed it with a quick swipe of his sword to its side. The pain must have hurt Varamyr, their resident warg suddenly screaming out in unimaginable agony. Hadrian Snow didn’t let him recover, and beheaded him before turning to her.
Val’s breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze, her spear held defensively in her grasp. She had seen many men fight -and killed plenty of them- but she had yet to see anything like this. The way he moved, flowing in and out of attacks as he refused to make a move out of showmanship or anger. It was terrifying.
But that didn’t stop her from lunging forward with her spear anyways, a pivoting and striking once again when he dodged her strikes. In the moments before everything went to black he managed to maneuver behind her, and then something heavy struck her in the head.
/////
Hadrian Snow
The clearing was painted with blood and snow. Wildling men laid dead and dismembered after they attacked him, with the bodies of the smallfolk they had pillaged and raided laying not too far away. The silence was heavy, broken only by the crackling of flames and the moan of the faint wind.
Hadrian, or as he preferred to be called, Harry, stood at the center of it all, sword still clutched in his hand, blood dripping slowly from its edge. The fight hadn’t even winded him, as killing seemed to come effortless to him in this life, something that wasn’t normal before.
Before, when he had been named Harry Potter, killing had shaken him to the core. It had weighed heavily on his conscience when he killed Professor Quirrell at the age of eleven, and then the chaos that came after as he fought Voldemort and the Death Eaters for years on end.
But in this life killing was expected of him. He had seen how his uncle killed men for dishonoring their oaths and beheaded those who refused the Watch. That was without mentioning the countless wars and skirmishes that took place, making killing a necessity if his new family was to live. And yet he refused to kill the woman in front of him, sparing her when he already slayed the rest.
He watched her as she slowly awakened from being unconscious, all the while he took in her beautiful features and braided blonde hair. She had been the strongest Wildling he fought, expertly wielding her spear and lashing out with it like a viper.
He had come across her and followed her back to her group of fellow Wildlings, and seen how the others had already raided the home for food while she had been left to fend for herself. Maybe that had been why he spared her, knowing she played no part in the violence the others committed. If anything, she seemed disgusted by their revelry.
There was also the question of why she even bothered to fight after he killed her allies. The woman could have simply surrendered, but she fought on anyways. He had seen the defiance in her eyes, something that reminded him of his old life, and couldn’t help but respect her for it.
“Why did you keep fighting?” He couldn’t help but ask as she finally awakened. “You knew you would die if you faced me, so why not surrender, or even run away?”
She glared back at him with that same defiance, as if the very question disgusted her.
She answered without hesitation. “Because I would rather die on my feet than live on my knees.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I doesn’t matter now, seeing as you bested me.” She said, as if that explained everything. “You killed the others, the Thenns, Varamyr, and Jarl, but you spared me. In our culture, when someone bests someone in combat, that makes them theirs to do as they want. So kill me or take me, I care not.”
It took him a moment to realize exactly what she was trying to convey, and he felt dread settle in his stomach. He had seen so much over the years since arriving here that had destroyed his morality and crushed his sense of righteousness when it came to the world. But it was what the wildling had told him just now that seemed to activate something inside him.
He could feel the urge to join in the debauchery that was so common around him, to throw away those last remaining pieces of morality from his old life and just give in. But he held it back, clinging to the remnants of his old life as Harry Potter.
“What’s wrong?” She asked, turning up her nose as she goaded him. “Am I not to your liking?”
He tightened his jaw as his gaze roamed over her body, feeling the urge to simply claim her as his own. She was beautiful, with long braided blonde hair and a strong body under the fur clothing she wore. Her face was the most striking of all, a gentleness to it along with a ferocity that made even himself hesitate. Even now, bound and defeated, he could tell she carried a power within that scared him more than he cared to admit.
“If I am to spare you, then why would I trust you in the first place?” He asked, clinging to anything that would stop him from outright claiming her as his own. “What’s to stop you from pulling out a knife and stabbing me in the back first chance you get?”
That was the wrong thing to ask. Her gaze narrowed in outrage, likely viewing his words as a perceived insult to her Wildling traditions. He knew then and there that she wouldn’t murder him in the night as he suggested, as she would never give him the satisfaction of being right about such a thing.
With a careless movement, her coat came undone, falling down to expose her breasts to the open air. Harry felt his eyes involuntarily drift downwards to her chest, seeing two large, perfect breasts capped with pink that no man would be able to resist. It was rare to see breasts of such size, being teardrop shaped and perky, and he could only imagine how soft they would feel in his hands.
“If I was so untrustworthy, would I really show you this?” She tried to taunt him, but he could hear the vulnerability in her voice.
He couldn’t help but feel his trousers tighten, his cock enlarging in size as blood filled it. Lust filled him as he observed the blonde goddess on her knees before him, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer. “Are you sure you want this?”
She took a shaky breath then, her eyes meeting his own as she nodded. “Yes.”
In the next instant he was on top of her, both of them falling onto the soft grass below as their clothes swiftly came undone. Her fur robes fell underneath them, creating a soft bed as Harry’s eyes roamed over her form.
Her body was at the peak of perfection, shaped by a lifetime of hunting and fighting in the brutal conditions north of the Wall. He could see the muscles in her arms and abdomen, intermixed with small amounts of womanly fat that gave her body the perfect amount of curves. Her big tits led down south to her sculpted abs and then the flair of her thick hips and muscular thighs.
Between her legs was what he wanted, and he spun her body around effortlessly. Doing so revealed her muscular back, and on top of it sat her hair in a braid, pointing down like an arrow to her thick ass. It was a booty made up of muscle and womanly fat, two hemispheres of flesh that Harry wanted to pound and spank till it was red.
“Ugh! Just like that!” She grunted as he forcefully moved her body around. It was in that moment he realized that he didn’t even get her name.
“I’m Hadrian Snow, but my friends call me Harry.” He told her.
“Val.” She said back. “I think you can tell me your backstory later. For now just fuck me!”
“With pleasure.” He grinned.
His own robes and armor came off then, using wandless magic subtly to make the process more easy. It revealed his towering muscular frame that had been absent in his last life, yet he still retained the agility that made him such a good Quidditch player from before. His own body was sculpted from years in the yard, along with his own adventures throughout the North. That, and supposedly good genes from his father.
He lowered his trousers next, and his massive cock came springing upwards before it came crashing down. It slammed down onto Val’s bum, landing parallel to her spine with its large head oozing precum onto her back.
Val looked over her shoulder and gaped. “By the Gods, you’re fucking massive.”
Harry pulled back then, far enough away that the head of his cock lined up with her cunt lips, and then he entered. Val gasped loudly as just the head of his shaft entered, his large girth stretching her obscenely. But Harry didn’t slow down, tightly grasping her thick bum as he pushed more in.
“Fuck! It feels like I’m fucking a giant!” She panted like a bitch in heat. “I didn’t know kneeler cocks were so big!”
“They’re not.” He arrogantly told her. “I’m just bigger than the rest.”
He reached the point that he could no longer push anymore of himself in, and started taking matters into his own hands as he became more forceful. He started thrusting into her, pulling back a small amount of his shaft at first and then slamming it back in. When that wasn’t enough he picked up his thrusts, only leaving his cockhead inside her snatch before he slammed the rest of his length in with force.
“Fuck! Fuck! FUCK! Fuck you and your big kneeler cock!” The blonde wildling screamed as he pounded her. “If you didn’t steal me, then I’d steal you myself if it meant getting fucked by this big cock!”
Harry snorted and grasped her hips harshly, fucking her hard and fast as his hips began colliding with her thick ass. It was a brutal pounding that was more reserved for whores than proper women, but Val’s wild screams demonstrated how much she enjoyed it.
SMACK
His hand suddenly collided with her jiggling bum, causing the strong cheeks to bounce and ripple.
“Ugh!” Val moaned loudly.
SMACK PLAP SMACK
“S-So good!” She managed to get out, and he felt her walls squeeze and convulse around his cock as her own release approached.
He fucked her straight through her orgasm, hard and fast as he gave her no reprieve whatsoever. But Harry could feel his own release coming, and set a blistering pace as his hips slammed even harder against her ass.
He could feel his balls give way, the warm seed as it sped through his urethra and erupted into her. He didn’t slow down, fucking her straight through as he filled the blonde wildling with with his seed.
His shaft pistoned in and out of her, gaining a squelching noise with each thrust as his own seed intermixed with the wetness of her core. With a final, brutal thrust, he stopped thrusting and came to a stop, letting the woman rest.
“Y-You’re a beast.” She panted, caked in sweat as her arms struggled to hold her up. She looked over her shoulder at him, a smile on her lips and a beautiful blush on her cheeks. “That was the best rutting I’ve ever had!”
Harry couldn’t help but smile as well, feeling a sense of deep satisfaction as he looked over the haggard woman. It was more than just the sex that filled him with fulfillment, but the deep sense that he had found what he had been looking for after so long. Maybe keeping her alive wasn’t such a bad decision after all.
A/N:
As promised, here is the beginning of the crossover story!
I’ve got to admit that writing Game of Thrones is an enjoyable change of pace. I’ll never proclaim to be an expert on the subject, but I’ll do my best to get the verbiage right (M’lord or My Lord or Milord?)
WARNING: Potential Spoilers Ahead
The plan I have down for this story so far is for Harry to travel South with Ned and act as his spy or shadowy enforcer in King’s Landing. I’m going to make Ned a lot more competent this time around, with Harry willing to do a lot of the dirty work for him.
As for Harry’s love life, so far I plan to have Val, Cersei Lannister, Ashara Dayne, Margaery Tyrell, and Arianne Martell. This will obviously be expanded, as the story is still being planned out, and for those wondering I do not plan on having Sansa or Catelyn included as I have too much respect for Ned.
Thanks!
Comments
Patrick Darmon
What about danairys and ygritte?
A
Need more of this
OmegonFlair
I’ve been considering her, along with Kinvara.
Aidan Jones
Will Melisandre be part of the harem?
OmegonFlair
His mother is unnamed for now.
OmegonFlair
It will have to be later on as Harry will have to get to Essos for that to happen.
joseph houston
Can missandei be a part of the harem?
yan boul
yep in normal history yes si ned is smarter it won't kill so easily
Gr1ffin
He hinted that Ned saw a darkness in Hadrian, so until that's resolved or cleared up, Ned wouldn't really be think of him as a good choice. Additionally, Catelyn has a huge issue with bastards from her southern traditions. It'd take quite a bit to convince her otherwise, or for Sansa to overcome her own years from her mom/septa about it.
Gr1ffin
Who's his mother?I also would like to throw Dacey Mormont for consideration for one of his lovers. Fierce, loyal and from a family that don't care for the bastard title.
travis btmb
Tftc I don't see why you wouldn't add sansa and what about dacey mormont and if you made queen rhealla survive she would be a great milf for harry and personally I don't know why you would add cersei she may be hot but she is not faithful and is kinda crazy you could also add genna lannister she is supposedly smart and thicc as fuck with a huge pair of tits and ass just need to arrange an accident for her frey husband
OmegonFlair
Good idea, I will consider her for later chapters.
Elias
very nice, I appreciate the fact that Ned will have a bit more brains this time around as I always disliked the fact that he was so honorable he expected everyone including Cersei to be the same
yan boul
for catelyn I can understand her a wife marry and you respect her husband but for sansa I do not understand her any father wants his daughter to be treated well and she will be treated with Harry in addition I would like to see Cersei's daughter she is not present enough I think
DJOK DJOK
Thanks for the chapter will harry reveal his magic eventually and introduce magic and magical creatures back to Westeros, also what about adding Marcella to the mix?
