"Oww," Harald said as Elsa rubbed the salve onto his chest.
"Oh, don't be a baby," Elsa said with a grin, continuing to apply the salve to the burns.
"Easy for you to say," Harald muttered.
His chest was a patchwork of angry red burns, some areas still blistered and raw despite days of healing. Parts of his arms showed similar damage, the skin discolored and tender to the touch. The worst of it was centered over his sternum, where Serena's cursed energy attack had struck him directly.
The cursed energy had done unexpected damage that even his most powerful restoration spells could not heal quickly. The corruption was not just physical. It fought against his magic, resisting healing in ways normal injuries never did.
The injuries had been so severe that, on the first night, small writhing tentacles like those that had sprouted from Hermaeus began growing from the worst of the burns. Harald had spent hours in agony ripping them away before they could take proper root.
The spells were working, but at a slower rate. Combined with the potions Elsa was applying, mixtures of his own alchemical design created specifically to counter Hermaeus's magic, he would be fully healed by the end of the week. There would not even be scars, which was something to be grateful for.
He was also exhausted from overexerting himself. The full power of Dragon Aspect, especially the evolved version that gave him wings like his Dovah brethren, was always taxing on his body. Combined with the cursed injuries, he was, for the first time since arriving in this world, visibly injured and weakened.
Hermaeus had gotten him, and Harald did not plan to let it happen again.
"Word has spread that you will need months to recover," Elsa said, working the potion into a particularly nasty burn on his shoulder. "I'm sure it will reach Oldtown soon enough."
"Exactly what we want," Harald said, wincing as her fingers found a tender spot. "According to Flowers, this attack was either meant to kill me or weaken me severely enough that I could not defend against follow-up attempts. Let them think I'm weakened. Let them think their plan succeeded."
"I believe I know what their next move might be."
Elsa's hands paused. "What?"
"Let's just say we will need to send a royal delegation to Braavos soon," Harald said.
Elsa's eyes widened. "The Faceless Men."
Harald nodded grimly. "I have protections against them, precautions I've taken since I first heard of their existence. But still, I would rather they not be involved at all. The fewer complications, the better."
He shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. "If they are hired to come after me, then I will take a trip to Braavos as well. It will not be the first time I have wiped out an organization of assassins."
Elsa raised an eyebrow. "You've done that before?"
"The Dark Brotherhood in Tamriel," Harald said with a slight smile. "They made the mistake of trying to kill me, so I tracked them to their sanctuary and ended them. Every last one."
"How comforting," Elsa said dryly, resuming her application of the potion.
"How is the new King in the North doing? Is he causing trouble, especially after that tussle with Barthogan?" he asked.
"He has been oddly quiet, I'm told," Elsa replied.
"Almost subdued," she added.
"Maybe that brawl with Barthogan was good after all," Harald muttered.
He planned to use the trial to slowly begin revealing the Grand Maester conspiracy to the Seven Kingdoms. A soft launch, as they would have said back on Earth. Not many would believe him at first, but it would be a start. Plant the seed, let it grow, and water it with more evidence after his planned trip to the Citadel later this year.
All the lords sworn to him believed him and were willing to execute their own maesters immediately, but Harald had instead asked them to demand that their maesters renounce their loyalty to the Citadel and join the College of Cyrodiil. Give them a choice: join the new order or leave.
Loren believed him as well, wholeheartedly. But many of his lords could not come to terms with it. The idea that maesters had been manipulating their houses for generations was too much for their pride to accept easily.
This was something that could shake the very foundations of Westeros. Then again, his and Loren's plans for conquest by the end of this year would have the same effect.
"We should begin planning Barthogan's ascension to kingship," Elsa said, setting down the potion jar and wiping her hands on a cloth.
Harald shook his head. "I don't want to have Brandon killed. Assassination is not my way."
"The Heartlands will have a hostile neighbor to the north," Elsa pointed out, her voice taking on that practical edge she adopted when discussing politics.
"Don't forget, Edric Stark is next in line after Brandon," Harald countered. "Or is it Brandon's daughters?"
"Brandon has only daughters, so yes, it would be Edric," Elsa said. "Edric is useless, a known drunk and an unsuitable king, which leaves Barthogan as the most viable king." She moved to sit across from him, her expression serious. "With Barthogan on the throne, we have a friendly North, like it would have been with Torrhen, one you were planning to have a major trading partnership with."
She leaned forward. "And you cannot allow Brandon to simply get away with his crimes. He conspired to murder you. He broke guest right. If you let him walk away without consequences, what message does that send to other potential conspirators?"
"I will come up with something," Harald said firmly. "But I will not resort to assassination. I am the man who wiped out the most heinous order of assassins in Tamriel. I have a reputation to uphold, woman."
Elsa sighed but did not push further. She knew Harald well enough to recognize when his mind was set.
"When do you plan to propose marriage to Argella?" she asked, changing the subject. "You should have accepted when she first proposed the idea to you, you know. When she first arrived here, desperate and alone. You could have secured that alliance immediately."
"I will do it on my terms, not hers."
"I'm starting to like the Storm Queen more than when I first met her," he added.
"Of course you do," Elsa said with a knowing smile. "Learning a bit of magic has brought out the hunger for power within her. You are creating quite a monster, Harald."
She tilted her head thoughtfully. "I wonder if it will be Argella who finally makes you loosen your restraints. Makes you abandon your careful, measured ways and conquer the entire world, like the dragon in you truly wants."
"She has become a bit overzealous," Harald admitted. "But—"
"Oh, already coming to your lady's defense," Elsa teased.
"Okay, get out," Harald said, pointing toward the door with mock severity.
Elsa laughed and moved toward the door.
Harald's expression sobered. "Elsa."
She paused, hand on the door.
"Check on the princess. I need to know if..."
"I do not like looking at that woman. It's best to put her out of her misery, Harald. Truly," she said as she closed the door softly behind her and left.
Harald lay back on his bed, exhaustion pulling at him despite it being only mid-afternoon. The combination of his injuries, the potions, and the magical healing was draining. He let his eyes close.
Sleep took him quickly.
When he opened his eyes, he was standing in a rich, green forest.
The trees towered above him, ancient oaks and pines stretching toward a sky he could not quite see through the dense canopy. Moss covered everything in thick carpets of emerald and jade. The air was heavy with the scent of earth, of life in its purest, wildest form.
Of course, Harald thought.
He heard movement behind him, the sound of something large shifting through the undergrowth.
Harald turned and watched as a body began forming from the forest itself. Wood twisted and braided together, shaping a humanoid figure easily eight feet tall. Animal bones wove through the wooden structure, ribs and vertebrae forming a grotesque skeleton visible beneath bark-like skin. Moss and vines grew across its surface, living and moving as part of the entity.
Its head was the skull of a massive moose, the antlers spreading wide. Within the empty eye sockets burned a green light.
"Hircine," Harald greeted with a respectful bow.
"Dragonborn," the Daedric Prince responded. "It has been some time."
Hircine walked closer, his wooden body creaking slightly with each step. "Congratulations on defeating Alduin, and on becoming a king. You have risen far since we last met."
"Thank you," Harald said cautiously.
"Quite a world you have found yourself in. The Mad God knows of many worlds. Most of us do not. Sheogorath keeps his secrets well."
"And now you know of this one," Harald said.
"Yes. The moment you arrived here, most of us came to know of it." Hircine turned and gestured. "Come."
Two horses formed from the forest floor, magnificent creatures with coats of dark bark and eyes that glowed faintly green. Hircine mounted one. Harald hesitated only a moment before mounting the other.
They began riding through the forest.
"Is there something protecting this world from you and your fellow Princes?" Harald asked as they rode. "Like how Alessia's pact with Akatosh protected Nirn?"
"Yes," Hircine said simply. "Though the nature of it is different. It is centered around you, Dragonborn."
Before Harald could ask more, Hircine created a bow from nothing and handed it to him. The weapon was beautiful, carved from what looked like antler and strung with sinew that hummed with power. Hircine created a matching bow for himself.
"Let's hunt," said Hircine.
"Perhaps we could discuss why you have summoned me here?" Harald suggested.
"All in good time," Hircine replied, his tone carrying amusement. "Our prey is somewhere in these woodlands. Conversation flows better during the hunt. Come."
Harald sighed but followed as Hircine urged his horse forward into a faster pace.
They rode through the hunting grounds, and Harald took in the sights around him. The forest was impossibly dense, the trees growing so close together they seemed to merge. Strange creatures moved in the shadows, glimpses of impossible animals, things that were part wolf and part shadow, deer with too many eyes.
The sky above, when he caught sight of it through the canopy, was a deep green rather than blue.
They rode for what might have been minutes or hours, time moved strangely here, until Hircine suddenly raised a hand and brought his horse to a stop.
"There," he whispered.
Harald followed his gaze, and his breath caught.
In a clearing ahead stood a direwolf, black-furred and red-eyed.
"That's—" Harald gasped.
"Yes, a direwolf," Hircine confirmed.
Hircine kicked his horse forward, and Harald followed, both of them nocking arrows as they gave chase.
The direwolf bolted the moment it saw them, moving with incredible speed through the forest. Harald and Hircine pursued, weaving between trees and leaping fallen logs, their horses responding to unspoken commands as they navigated the terrain.
Harald loosed an arrow. It whistled through the air and struck a tree trunk inches from the direwolf's flank. The creature dodged left, disappeared into a thicket, then emerged on the other side.
Hircine's arrow flew next, and this time the direwolf had to leap to avoid it, the shaft burying itself in the earth where it had been standing a heartbeat before.
The chase continued until the direwolf suddenly veered into a section of forest so dense that even the supernatural horses could not follow.
"It's gone deeper," Harald observed, scanning the thick undergrowth.
"Yes," Hircine agreed. He dismounted smoothly. "I recommend we continue on foot. The true hunt begins when predator and prey are on equal footing."
Harald dismounted as well, and the horses dissolved back into the forest as soon as they were no longer needed.
"I only became interested in this new world recently," Hircine said as he moved, his eyes scanning the forest floor. "And I am sure you know why."
"Yes," Harald confirmed.
"Hermaeus had the gall to corrupt my gift," Hircine's voice carried genuine anger now, a rumble like distant thunder. "To take my gift, which I created as a blessing for my hunters, and twist it into that abomination. And then to impart that corruption to a mortal in your new world."
"I was able to defeat the girl who was cursed," Harald said. "She will not live long. The transformation destroyed her body and mind."
"Yes, I know," Hircine said, kneeling to examine something on the ground.
He pointed to tracks in the soft earth, massive paw prints, still fresh, the direwolf's trail clear. Hircine stood and moved forward again, following the tracks.
"I have gained some interest in this world," Hircine continued as they walked. "I see good prey to hunt. Mostly in the icy lands far north of your kingdom. And also a grand forest in the eastern continent, dense and wild, filled with many creatures."
"Beyond the Wall?" Harald asked. "What is there to hunt there?"
"Oh, there is much, Dragonborn," Hircine said, and there was eagerness in his voice. "Creatures of ice and shadow. Prey worthy of a true hunter."
"Oh yeah them" Harald muttered remembering the Others.
He stopped suddenly, raising a hand for silence, and pointed ahead.
"And there is our prey."
Through the trees, perhaps fifty yards away, the direwolf stood in a small clearing, its massive form tense and alert, red eyes scanning for danger.
"A challenge, Dragonborn," Hircine said, turning to Harald. "Who can bring the direwolf down first? But keep it alive. We need it intact for what comes next."
"Accepted," Harald said, readying his bow.
They separated, moving in opposite directions to flank the creature. The hunt was on.
Harald moved silently through the undergrowth, years of experience hunting in Tamriel guiding his steps. He nocked an arrow, drew, and aimed at the direwolf's hindquarters, where a wound would slow but not kill.
He released.
The arrow flew true, but the direwolf sensed it at the last second and leaped aside. The shaft buried itself in a tree trunk exactly where the creature had been standing.
Hircine's laughter echoed through the forest. "Good try, Dragonborn!"
The Daedric Prince's own arrow followed a heartbeat later, and this time the direwolf had to dodge by throwing itself into a roll, coming up on its feet and immediately bolting deeper into the forest.
The chase resumed, both hunters pursuing with joy in their movements. This was Hircine's element, his very nature made manifest, and even Harald felt the thrill of the hunt coursing through him.
Harald loosed another arrow. Close, but the direwolf twisted mid-stride, and it missed by inches.
Hircine's next shot was perfectly aimed, but the creature leaped over a fallen log at exactly the right moment, and the arrow passed beneath it.
"Hah! Magnificent prey!" Hircine called out, clearly enjoying himself immensely.
They continued the pursuit, arrows flying, the direwolf demonstrating incredible agility and cunning. It doubled back, used the terrain to its advantage, and even tried to lose them by running through a stream.
But Harald had hunted many things in his time. He began to predict the creature's movements, to anticipate rather than react.
The direwolf broke from cover, racing across a small clearing.
Harald drew, led the target, adjusted for the creature's speed, and released.
The arrow struck true, burying itself in the direwolf's rear left paw.
The creature stumbled and went down with a howl of pain and surprise, rolling across the forest floor before coming to rest on its side, breathing hard, the wounded paw held off the ground.
"Ahaha! Good shot, Dragonborn!" Hircine called out, emerging from the trees with genuine appreciation in his voice.
Both of them began walking toward the downed direwolf.
"I plan to choose a champion," Hircine said as they approached. "The family of the girl who was cursed interests me. They have potential."
"Lord Hircine," Harald said carefully, "not all in that family are responsible for what happened."
"Yes, not all," Hircine agreed. "Two were touched by Hermaeus's corruption. Only one was truly able to manifest it fully."
"Two?" Harald stopped walking. "That means—"
Hircine laughed.
Harald watched as the direwolf on the ground began to transform. Fur receded, bones cracked and reformed, the massive body shrinking and reshaping until what lay there was no longer a wolf but a man.
Brandon Stark.
He looked up at both Harald and Hircine in absolute terror, his eyes wild and uncomprehending. He scrambled backward on his hands, favoring the foot that still bore Harald's arrow.
"Please!" Brandon begged, his voice breaking. "Please, I'm so sorry! Forgive me! I didn't mean—" He was crying now, broken and desperate. "Please, gods, please forgive me!"
Then he saw Harald standing there with Hircine, and he froze, shock crossing his face.
"It's all true," he muttered, staring at Harald. "All of it. You are... you really are..."
He crawled forward, ignoring the pain in his foot and his dignity, and grasped at Harald's boots.
"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I'm so sorry for not believing. You were the Herald of the Gods all along, and I... I... Please, please ask the gods for my forgiveness!"
Did Brandon think Hircine was one of the Old Gods? Harald wondered with a mix of pity and dark amusement.
"How long have you been doing this to Brandon?" Harald asked, looking at Hircine.
"Two days in your world's time," Hircine replied. "But it must have felt like an eternity to him here." He laughed again.
Then his tone became more serious, more formal. "I want champions who will hunt in my name in this new world. And I have chosen the Starks."
Brandon's eyes widened in horror. "What does that mean? Harald, what does that mean?"
Harald looked down at the broken man clinging to his feet, and despite everything Brandon had done, he felt a measure of pity.
"By your sister's and your own involvement in the maesters' conspiracy, whose benefactor was a dark god, you have cursed your family, Brandon," Harald said quietly. He looked to Hircine, then back to Brandon. "He will bestow upon you the gift of lycanthropy. On your family, meaning—"
"Will I become like Serena?" Brandon asked in horror, his voice rising to a near shriek. "That monster—"
"Bah!" Hircine's voice cut him off. "That was a defilement of my gift. What I offer is pure. The hunter's blessing."
Brandon began begging, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. "Please, no, please! I don't want this! I don't want my family cursed! Please, gods, please, Harald, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for everything! I cannot have my daughters be cursed. I'll confess! I'll tell everyone the truth! I'll renounce my crown! I'll do anything, just please don't—"
He clutched at Harald's feet, a truly pathetic sight. The proud Stark reduced to this, sobbing and broken, begging for mercy from the very man he had conspired to kill.
"Please," Brandon whispered, his voice hoarse. "Please."
"Spare the others in Brandon's family. Bestow the gift upon Brandon alone and let him be your champion."
Hircine tilted his skull-masked head, considering.
Harald looked at Brandon. "During the trial, you will confess to everything. Then you will take the black and join the Night's Watch. You can go beyond the Wall and disappear after some time. Begin serving Lord Hircine as his champion."
Brandon looked stricken, his face a mask of conflicting emotions, fear, shame, and resignation.
"House Stark and the North will have my protection," Harald added, his voice firm. "Your family will be safe from any repercussions of your and your sister's actions. You have my word."
Brandon could only nod, tears still streaming down his face. "I will accept the gods' gift," he whispered hoarsely.
"Mmm. This is acceptable," Hircine said, and there was satisfaction in his voice.
He waved his hand, and Brandon disappeared like smoke dispersing in the wind.
"Quite a win-win situation for both of us," Harald observed, turning to face Hircine fully.
"Of course it is," Hircine replied, amusement clear in his tone.
He paused, then his voice grew more serious. "But I warn you, Dragonborn. Dagon, Bal, and another unseen force have plans for this new world. You are at the center and the only barrier preventing the complete destruction of this world."
Harald's eyes sharpened. "What unseen force?"
"Where is the fun in telling you everything?" Hircine said, and Harald could hear the smile in his voice.
The world began to blur and fade around him, the Hunting Grounds dissolving like mist in the morning sun, and he found himself waking in his bed as the first light of dawn reached across his face through the window.
========
"There has not been a King in the North who has taken the black in disgrace since Brandon the Bad," Barthogan said as he stood in Harald's chambers with Harald, King Loren, and Brandon Snow.
The trial was over. Brandon had confessed and asked to take the black. He would now be a servant of Hircine until the end of his life. Perhaps Brandon would come to love it, but the guilt of his actions would stay with him for a long time. That much Harald knew, having seen the broken man who had walked into the throne room that morning.
"What will this Brandon be called, do you think? Brandon the Bad the Second? Brandon the Three-Day King?" Loren japed.
Barthogan sent a glare Loren's way.
Snow turned to Harald, his expression troubled. "What changed? Did you do some magic on Brandon? If you did…"
"I did no such thing," Harald said firmly. "Brandon was visited by the gods, who made their displeasure known. He made his choice so that his entire family would not be punished for his and his sister's actions."
"I see," Barthogan said quietly, though confusion was still evident in his eyes.
"Brandon has a path to walk now," Harald continued, looking directly at Barthogan. "And so do you."
Snow nodded grimly. "Yes, we have to make sure my drunken nephew makes a decent king."
"I'm sure you will manage it well," Harald said. "And know this, the Starks will always have a friend in the south in me."
"In me as well," Loren added, then turned to Barthogan. "My offer still stands, Prince Barthogan."
Harald smiled. Loren had proposed a marriage alliance, offering his youngest sister, Joanna, to Barthogan as a bride.
"I will think on it," Barthogan said diplomatically.
"Do not take too much time thinking," Loren said with a grin. "She will be an old maid if you wait too long."
They shared a laugh at that.
Barthogan and Snow took their leave shortly after, leaving only Harald and Loren in the chamber.
"How long do you think before that one becomes king?" Loren asked.
"Two years," Harald said thoughtfully.
"I say one year," Loren countered. "Let us hope the future king accepts my proposal. My sister has always dreamed of being a queen."
He then shifted topics. "How long before you can keep your end of our bargain?"
"The potions will be delivered to you in five moons," Harald said. "Enough to supply your army for the campaign."
"Perfect. Then I can begin in six moons," Loren said, satisfaction evident in his voice. He looked at Harald. "Should I expect you with me when we march?"
"I will be in Oldtown when you reach its walls," Harald replied. "I have my own preparations to make. I too have a kingdom to conquer, after all."
Loren laughed. "Oh, this is going to be glorious. The Reach broken, the Faith under my thumb, the maesters as well. History will remember this year as the one when the lion and the dragon changed Westeros forever."
They discussed the finer details until Harald remembered something.
"Speaking of conquest," Harald said, "I received some interesting news from Essos yesterday."
"What is it?" Loren asked, his interest piqued.
"Aegon Targaryen has conquered Pentos and has proclaimed himself the Dārys of the New Valyrian Freehold."
"Dārys?" Loren asked, unfamiliar with the word.
"King in High Valyrian," Harald explained.
"Oh," Loren said, processing the information. "Well then, good luck to the incestuous dragons. My father was always paranoid about them invading Westeros itself. It seems they have returned to their homeland instead."
Harald nodded.
"Let us hope they stay there,"