Dreaming is something Harry both loved and loathed, he loved the good ones but hated the nightmares. The ones that cause sweat to cover his body and dread settling in his stomach long after waking up. The nightmares are the normal ones, involving his many counts of near deaths and true deaths. The mundane ones.
This one is different, as the first thing he registers in this dream is the sheer coldness. A biting cold that teeths into your skin like frosted daggers made of winter prickling down your spine.
The barren winter land before him doesn't draw his attention, no what does is the three eyes upon the raven above him perched on the tree closest to him.
Their red eyes of theirs peering into his own green ones.
After a moment of silence, the creature tilts its head before cawing as it takes flight only to land on his shoulder. He mentally thanks Hedwig for his expertise and experience with birds perching themselves on his person unexpectedly, naturally shifting his shoulder to accommodate the clawed foot of the strange raven clutches his shoulder.
"Fool," the blasted thing dares to caw to him in greeting, making him quirk a brow.
"I don't need a dream raven to tell me I'm a fool." He states dryly, lifting his hand to shove the thing off.
"I had enough of that in my past life, what is it you want?" He asks, watching as the creature squawks in the air indignantly as it retreats to its perch, ruffling its feathers. The dramatics make Harry want to roll his eyes, instead, he takes in his surroundings more thoroughly. A densely wooded forest surrounds him while the tree with red leaves and a face that isn't much to be desired is carved on the trunk, an ugly face with red sap seeping from its eyes.
"You fool, you fool." The thing repeats the distorted tone making its mockery eerie.
The screeching is getting on his nerves so with great concentration Harry closes his eyes trying to think of a new scenario, hoping his mind will cooperate with him.
"Still here." The thing caws smugly as Harry opens his eyes in dismay, seeing the same surroundings.
"pretender." The thing caws.
"Fake child."
"Too much power," The raven's red eyes flare as it screeches these words, their tail feathers flick in agitation.
Harry straightens at that, truly looking at the bird. An oppressive feeling rises in the air as his magic pools in anticipation towards its master's will, "and just how do you know this?"
"And this one?" The nameless Maester brings him out of his reminiscing. Harry will admit he's not taken the time to remember the maesters name. The old man asks him about one of the noble houses while pointing towards their sigil.
Focusing on said sigil he takes in the figure of a red-clothed man standing with a bow drawn, surrounded in a green field.
"The Tarly's?" He states dutifully, thanking his adult mind for being able to retain the information much easier. Truly between his adult intelligence and the elasticity of a child's neurons, it makes him able to retain anything he learns, likening it to pseudo photographic memory.
Makes for a weird experience.
"Very good, young lord." The dull reply makes him withhold a bored sigh. He wishes he didn't have to sit through these lessons, but understands the necessity.
Pressing his cheek to his palm as the man drones on, Harry turns his gaze back towards the window looking down into the courtyard where his older brothers are practicing. He watches with envy as they train for the upcoming tourney.
"Young lord, I know this isn't of interest to you, but you must learn these things." The man speaks his aged voice thinly veiling his impatience as he continues with a placating tone.
"If you can tell me the next three houses, I'll permit you to leave lessons early." That makes him perk up, looking over towards the aged man as he gives Harry a prude smile.
Truthfully, nothing beats classes with Snape in terms of disparity.
"Alright, Maester." He pushed extra excitement hoping the man would let him go after two houses.
"Come on! Is that all you got?" Willas says, his willowy frame dodging the incoming thrust from his younger brother's wooden sword.
Willas a lanky teen of ten and four easily stepping out of the way of Garlan's swing brutish. The pudgy boy, who soon will eventually turn the chub into pure muscle and be a maiden's wet dream, is not giving up despite his brother's advantage in both height and agility.
"Gah!" Willas feels a grin stretch at the frustrated growl coming from his younger brother. Especially as he continues to step out of Garlan's reach, while playfully smacking his sword against his brother's undefended areas.
"Dammit, Stop fucking moving!" Garlan whines as he slams his sword into the ground where Willas had been moments ago.
Language," Willas chides, bringing up his sword to protect his face when Garlan throws him a particularly nasty swing in retaliation.
The vibrations from catching his brother's blade rippled up his arms as they stood in a stalemate. Willas is more agile than Garland, but his brother has a surprising amount of strength. Looking past his sparring partner he lifts his gaze to lock on the approaching mischief that is Haedrian, or Harry as the family affectionately calls him.
Harry is being escorted by one of their house's servants. Which isn't a surprise, the whole castle is absolutely enamored with his brother. Not that he can't blame them, feeling the same swell of affection but amplified as the young boy's face lights up as he catches sight of his brothers, Willas and Garlan.
Willas can understand just how easily those bright eyes can entrap someone, having been a victim of them for plenty of time.
He swears they even work on grandmother.
He steps back Garlan doing the same as he turns and notices what he had gotten distracted, both turning their attention to the fiery young boy whose compassion and heart outshines all others.
"Willy! That was awesome!" Willas flushes, he can't help it.
He isn't one to be boastful. Even as he allows the swell of pride to spring forth, the feeling happens whenever his family praises him, but it's Harry especially whose approval he adores.
"I can't wait till I'm able to wield a real sword!" Harry exclaims, upon reaching them the servant bows and returns to their task. Trusting and knowing the knights can keep them safe. Willas gives his brother a blank stare watching as Harry puts on an innocent face acting like they haven't stumbled upon him practicing with steel. They only kept it secret because they weren't able to deny their brother anything.
The strange weapon he was using was a silly needle-like sword that couldn't do much in real combat. Their brother called it fencing, something about it being suitable for fine-tuning his dexterity. Such an odd term, then again their brother isn't the most normal child.
Not that it matters, the Tyrells have always been eccentric and put family above silly things like religion. It's why no one bats an eye with their uncle and his friend, who are more than meets the eye.
Waving his hand he motions for Harry to join, giving Garlan that says, to hold back his swings, as they are going to let their little brother join their mock spar.
"Wanna join?" Willas asks, not bothering to turn back as he hears the excited 'yes!'
Oberyn lets his gaze turn from the flickering banners of roses, the sigil of the Reach, of the Tyrells.
Sitting on the giant horse that dwarfs the young little lordling. One, who he guesses is barely growing his chest hair. The lad is even smaller than his figure at ten and four years old. The shine of the boy's armor gleamed like a fresh babe, bare to the word, showing everyone just how green the boy was.
'Not a single mare is on the child's armor.' He wishes to be facing actual competition, not a tragedy waiting to happen. Looking past the pale-faced boy, he sweeps his snake-like eyes across the viewing section.
He catches sight of the fool who has allowed this to happen, wearing his infamous house colors, the plump form of Mace. The imbecile seems to be boasting about the poor child he's facing if the man's hand movements are any indication.
Mace's flamboyant gestures almost smack the unfortunate lord who's unfortunate enough to be sitting next to the oaf lord, in the face. Though it's not the fat lord who keeps his attention.
No, it's the anxious bright green eyes that seem to pull him in. He can't help but give the young boy a small smile, wondering how he'll react since Oberyn is his brother's opponent. To his surprise, he receives a deep calculated look, a look that is too old for such a face, though it disappears in light of a solemn smile.
Unfortunately, the Fat King drags his attention away before he can analyze why such a look entered the young boy's eyes.
the king's loud voice carried across the area, the serving girl on his lap winced at the volume, "Hurry it up!"
Oberyn has to restrain the urge to shove his spear into the fat pig's gut, the only consolidation is how miserable the royal couple seems.
"Begin!" The king shouts, and with that, he proceeds to ruin a child's future. He can practically see the moment the boy's arm falters as the weight of the lance becomes too much.
The jolt of the horse overpowered his undeveloped frame, with a curse Oberyn tried to aim his lance at the least lethal area he could find, hoping the boy's armor would shield the fragile frame of the boy. A boy who's younger than his daughter, his precious Obara.
The sickening sound of his lance hitting the boy's chest will resonate in his head for a long while, haunting his dreams. Oberyn can only watch with numbness as Willas, a brave boy who he will give the respect of a warrior.
Willas crumbles onto the ground with his leg bent at an awkward angle. Everyone is silent as they all stare at the broken form, laying still the horse he had been on coming to a stop just as it passed Oberyn.
"WILLY!" The scream jolts him out of his shock.
He watches as the even smaller boy seems to leap over the railing separating the audience from the ring, showing impressive agility by landing in a crouch before sprinting towards his, 'willy.'
He can see the other brother staring in disbelief, before following his younger brother, almost stumbling in his haste to reach his unfortunate victim. Despite the sour situation the love displayed before him is heartwarming.
If there is anything Oberyn understands is the love of family.
"Father! Someone, help him!" The desperation is blatant as he cradles his brother's head.
The boy's cries resonate throughout the field. That seems to break the spell as the fool of a father snaps out of his stupid expression, just as Oberyn reaches the two children.
The scared hiccups of the smaller boy hurt his heart.
Mace scrambles out of his shock, screaming, "My boy!"
"Someone get a Maester here, Now!" Oberyn can hear the King shout, but his attention is focused on the gentle muttering of the smallest brother who is trying to be comforting.
Gently placing his hand on both boys' shoulders, he pulls them both back just as the healers rush in, surrounding the unconscious Heir.
"Get your hands off my boys, haven't you done enough." The snarled words of Mace make his hands flinch away.
He straightens and turns towards the fool who spoke, his opinion at the tip of his tongue, fortunately, the youngest seems to get fed up.
"Father! Willas, will he be okay?"
Oberyn doesn't know it, but Haedrian saves him from a headache from the potential screaming match when the oaf of a lord immediately turns his attention towards consoling his children.
A hollow pointless victory.
He leaves them to their own.
His heart was heavy with guilt for this unnecessary incident, if he hadn't seen the genuine concern in the stupid man's gaze he'd have thought Mace was trying to kill his son.
Willas groans as he comes to consciousness. He reaches up to rub his eyes, wincing as his shoulder pops and pulls in a painful way making him stop his attempt.
Squinting in the soft glow of the candlelight, he can tell it's either nighttime or evening.
"Willas?" The timid voice of Harry makes him realize he's not alone on his bed.
He tilts his head down towards Harry on his left side. Harry has his head tucked into Willas uninjured side pressing his nose into his ribs. He can't help but let a smile form as the figure of Garlan shifts on the other side of Harry before a snore echoes throughout the room, making them both giggle quietly.
"What?" Willas croaks out after a moment, the dryness of his throat makes itself known, but he's too relaxed and sore to try and even think of getting out of bed and doesn't feel like having a servant in his space at the moment.
"I'm sorry," Harry says, a hitch in his voice as he burrows into Willas' good side.
"I'm sorry," he repeats, his voice more muffled. Willas shifts when tears start seeping into his shirt as Harry cries solfy.
He lifts both his arms and ignores the pain in his right shoulder as he curls both around his precious brother. Letting a shush noise he presses his mouth on top of Harry's wild hair, taking a deep breath he allows the scent of his brother to soothe his mind and body, "This isn't your fault, I knew this was a possibility when father insisted,"
Sadly, his gentle reassurance seems to go to death's ears as the boy pushes off of him with care.
"No, it's not alright, look at you, Willy!"
"You're leg," Harry hiccups at the end.
"What about it?" Willas asks casually, though internally wincing when looking at his leg, which is wrapped and rested.
At least he can still feel his toes, so he counts that as a win.
Harry lets a scowl form as he gently punches Willas's chest, "How can you be so calm? What about becoming a knight?"
"What about it?" He asks about feeling dissociated from the situation as he watches various emotions go through his brother's eyes. Harry is good at keeping a calm face, but his eyes give away his feelings.
His mind finally clicks onto the issue, and he lets his head dip so he can meet Harry's gaze with seriousness, "Harry, you tried your best." That makes his brother contort with fear as he realizes Willas knows of his secret.
Before his wayward brother can panic he gently flicks him in the forehead, "I know I would be dead right now if it wasn't for you, baby brother."
He felt his soul slip from his body and even heard the snap of his neck as he slammed into the ground, then everything went dark. Reaching up he cups the back of Harry's neck letting a frown form as his brother flinches from his hand. Softly and slowly he guides Harry back into his embrace, enjoying the soothing heat.
"You're my brother, nothing and no one will ever change that. You could be the most vile creature and I'll still love you. That is what family is. In this dark world, we have to hold our own zealously. You having the touch of the stranger is nothing in the face of you being my brother." He states firmly. He runs his good arm across his brother's back mentally willing Harry to relax out of his tenseness and rigidity.
"Nothing, absolutely nothing in this world will ever make me think less of you, you could wish to conquer all of Planetos and I'd support you." He whispers, his voice fading as exhaustion creeps up, he allows himself to relax as Harry relaxes.
"The first time I caught you doing whatever it is you do," the colors alone were mind-boggling, the tales of magic were never as amazing as what he'd seen Harry do.
"I couldn't help, but smile, you were speaking to a snake of all things, a harmless garden snake but a snake still."
"At first I thought you were just being a fearless child, but then I saw the snake obey you." Now he's just rambling for Harry's sake.
"Athena," Harry mumbles into his chest, Willas keeps quiet but tightens his arms showing he's listening.
"That's her name, well what she allowed me to call her." Willas can hear the smile in Harry's voice making him smile in return, he meant it when he told Harry he could conquer the world and he'd support him. Willas knows his wayward brother just wants to be free, like a bird, or maybe a dandelion letting the wind guide him his merry way.
"She sounds lovely, may I ask why you named her-"
"Can you two just shut up? I'm trying to sleep," the grouchy voice of Garlan startled them.
"Harry," Garlan calls sitting up.
"You are our brother, just because you can sprout fire out your ass doesn't change that, and Willas would never blame you for something that is out of your control."
They both just stare at the dark figure of their brother, who seems to be scowling at them. Satisfied Garlan plops back on the bed, before stating, "Now can we go to bed?"
It's quiet for a second, and then Harry's laugh rings throughout the room.
'Thank you' Willas mentally thanks Garlan, who has that effect on them. Sometimes he envies Garlan with his ability to just go with the flow, unlike both Harry and him, who tend to overanalyze.