The Winter Wizard - Interlude 5 - A Sea of Water and Grass

The narrow boat glided through the cold waters, its wooden hull creaking with the rhythm of the waves. Sansa Stark sat near the bow, her eyes fixed on the northern horizon. The sea stretched endlessly around her, a vast expanse of water that mirrored her own turbulent emotions. Her hands clutched her cloak tightly against the evening breeze. It had been months since they had left Winterfell and even though this wind held nothing on the cold winds that she remembered from home it caught her unprepared after months in King’s Landing. However, it wasn’t the cold that left her feeling hollow. It was everything they had left behind.

The sight of Harry and Jon fighting off those men haunted her. The clash of steel, the flashes of light, the cries of the wounded, and the tension that had hung heavy in the air were burned into her memory. It had been terrifying and awe-inspiring to see them stand their ground, but it also deepened the ache in her chest. She had left behind the glittering courts of the Red Keep, the dream of becoming queen, and the life she thought she was destined for. All of it had been shattered, replaced by the stark reality of their situation.

Tears had come easily in the first two days. They spilled silently as she lay in her bunk or sat on deck, staring at the endless water. But by the third day, the tears seemed to dry up, replaced by a dull emptiness. Now, as she looked north, she wondered what awaited them in Winterfell. Could it ever feel like home again after everything that had happened?

“Boo!”

Sansa jumped, her breath catching in her throat as Arya’s voice broke through her thoughts. She turned to see her younger sister grinning mischievously, her hair wild from the sea breeze.

“Seven hells, Arya!” Sansa exclaimed, her heart racing as she clutched her chest. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

Arya’s grin widened. “I didn’t think you’d scare so easily.” She plopped down beside Sansa with all the grace of an auroch, swinging her legs over the edge of the bench. “It’s nice to see you not crying for a change.”

Sansa stiffened, her initial urge to snap back at Arya flaring up. But she took a deep breath and forced a smile, determined to stay civil. “I wasn’t crying,” she said, her voice calm but tinged with defensiveness.

Arya shrugged, unconvinced. “Well … you’re not now.” She leaned back, gazing up at the sky. “The Lannisters weren’t good people. The Queen and her brother pushed Bran out of the window. Father was right to send us away.” She paused, looking down at her hands. “But I wish he had come with us.”

The rawness in Arya’s voice made Sansa’s chest ache. Her impulse to argue with Arya rose to the surface, but Sansa bit her lip. She wanted to defend her feelings about the South, the court, and everything she lost. Part of her still held onto the dream of marrying Joffrey. But that she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Even though she wanted argue, she didn’t. Not this time. Instead, she nodded slowly. “I wish that too,” she said softly.

Arya turned her head, her expression surprisingly solemn. “It’s not fair. He should be here. He should’ve come with us.”

The silence stretched between them, but it was no longer uncomfortable. Arya swung her legs over the edge of the bench, her dark hair fluttering in the wind. “We’ll see him again, you know,” she said with quiet determination. “Father’s too stubborn not to.”

Sansa allowed herself a small smile at that. “I hope you’re right,” she said.

“I usually am,” Arya replied with a grin. “You’ll see.”

Arya looked out over the water, the evening sunlight glinting on the rolling waves. The salty breeze tugged at her unruly hair, and she brushed it back absently before turning to look at her sister. “It’s nice hearing your voice, you know,” Arya said, her tone unusually soft. “You haven’t really been in the talking mood the past couple of days.”

Sansa glanced at her, surprised by the sincerity in her words. For a moment, Sansa didn’t know what to say, so she offered a small smile.

Arya paused, her gaze flicking back to the water before settling on Sansa again. “What do you think Harry was going to tell us?”

Sansa froze, her breath hitching as her mind replayed the image of Harry on the dock. She could see him in her mind’s eye, holding that strange stick—no, wand, she corrected herself. That’s what he had called it. The memory of it felt unreal, but it had happened. She was certain of that.

Sansa cast a quick glance around the deck. Jory was at the stern, speaking with one of the crew, and the other men were scattered too far to overhear. She leaned closer to Arya, lowering her voice. “There’s something you need to know. But you can’t tell anyone.”

Arya frowned, leaning in as well. “What is it?”

Sansa hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Harry can do magic.”

Arya’s expression instantly hardened, her brows furrowing as her mouth twisted into a scowl. “Stop making stuff up,” she snapped. “You’re just trying to make fun of me.”

“I’m not!” Sansa said sharply, her tone firm enough to stop Arya in her tracks. “And stop acting like a child, just think.”

Arya’s scowl deepened, but she clamped her mouth shut. Sansa could see the anger simmering behind her eyes, and she knew Arya was on the verge of erupting. She pressed on quickly, hoping to keep her sister’s temper in check.

“You saw what he did to the rug,” Sansa said, her voice steady but urgent. “He made it invisible so we could hide underneath it. You were there in the hallway when Ser Meryn Trant walked by, less than an arm’s length from us, without noticing us. And you were standing beside me on the deck of the ship, watching him and Jon fight.”

Arya’s scowl wavered, replaced by a flicker of doubt.

Sansa continued, her words tumbling out. “He wasn’t waving a sword around, Arya. He was holding that stick—his wand—and it was shooting light. That light knocked people over, threw them backward. How do you explain that?”

Arya’s anger faded completely as she stared at Sansa, her expression shifting to one of confusion. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, clearly unable to form a response.

Sansa pressed her advantage. “And I’ve seen him use it before. On our journey to King’s Landing.”

Arya’s eyes shot up in surprise. “What? When?”

Sansa hesitated for a moment, then decided there was no point in holding back. “The day Prince Joffrey and I found you with that butcher’s boy,” she said quietly. “It was Harry who cut down the tree. With magic.”

Arya’s mouth fell open, her confusion giving way to shock. “What do you mean? The tree just … fell.”

“It didn’t just fall,” Sansa said firmly. “Harry did it. He used his wand to cut it down before Joffrey could have made the situation worse. He told me later that he was trying to stop the situation from getting out of hand.”

Arya stared at her, her eyes wide. “He… he really did that?”

“Yes,” Sansa said. “And that’s not the only time. I think he’s been using his magic to help us, even if we didn’t realize it … he tried to save Bran.”

Arya’s eyes widened as she stared at her sister.

“A fall from the top of the tower should’ve killed him,” Sansa said. “But Harry was there. He used his magic to partially cushion Bran’s fall. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was one of the things he told me when I confronted him. But it makes sense, you heard Jon, Bran’s awake and that Maester Luwin expects him to recover fully.”

Arya was silent for a long moment, her gaze drifting back to the water. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter than Sansa had ever heard it. “Why didn’t he tell us?”

“Maybe he thought we wouldn’t believe him. Or maybe he thought we’d be scared.”

Arya looked back at her, her expression unreadable. “Are you scared?”

Sansa considered the question carefully. “I was at first,” she admitted. “But not anymore. He’s saved us, Arya. He’s … different, yes, but I think he’s on our side.”

Arya grew quiet, her head bowed as she stared into the water. Sansa let out a soft sigh of relief, appreciating the rare quietness. They sat side by side, the gentle rocking of the boat, as she watched the rugged coastline tracing its way northward. The faint cries of gulls and the lapping waves the only sound that broke the silence.

Sansa, lost in her own thoughts, stole a glance at her sister. Arya’s face was drawn tight, her brows furrowed in concentration. Clearly, she was trying to process everything Sansa had told her.

After several minutes, Arya broke the silence, her voice hesitant. “What is he?” she asked, her gaze still fixed on the shoreline. “A child of the forest?”

The question surprised Sansa, and despite herself, she laughed—a soft, unexpected sound that broke the tension. Arya’s head snapped around, her expression darkening with annoyance.

“You think I’m stupid?” Arya snapped, her voice rising.

“No!” Sansa said quickly, holding up her hands to ward off the outburst. “I’m not laughing at you, Arya, I swear. It’s just …” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “I laughed because I had the same thought. I even asked him that myself.”

That gave Arya pause. “And?”

Sansa shook her head. “He’s not. Or at least, he says he’s not. And for what it’s worth I believe him. He’s … something else.”

Arya frowned, clearly unsatisfied with the answer. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Sansa admitted. “But for what it’s worth, I really do think he’s on our side. He’s helped us, Arya. He’s continued to help us even when it would have been easier not to. That has to count for something.”

Arya studied her sister’s face for a moment, her sharp eyes searching for any hint of doubt. Finally, she nodded and turned back to the sea.

They fell into silence again, the sun dipping lower toward the horizon. The sky was a riot of color, streaks of orange, pink, and purple painting the water in hues of fire and shadow.

After several minutes, Arya spoke again. “So … what’s next?” She turned to Sansa, her expression earnest. “And what do you think Harry and Jon are up to?”

Sansa shrugged, though the question weighed heavily on her. “We’ll do as Father asked and go home,” she said quietly. “I don’t suppose we have much of a choice now.” She hesitated, then added, “As for Harry and Jon … I hope they managed to convince a ship to take them north.”

Arya tilted her head, her brow furrowing. “But it’s not like we can wait for them, right?”

“No,” Sansa agreed. “We can’t. They’re capable, Arya. Jon’s been trained to fight, and Harry …” She trailed off, unsure how to describe Harry’s abilities. “Well, Harry’s apparently resourceful. We need to worry about ourselves at this point.”

Arya seemed to accept this, though her expression remained thoughtful. “I just hate not knowing,” she muttered.

Sansa nodded, understanding the sentiment. “So do I.”

Together, they watched as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sea into deep blues and purples. The air grew cooler, and Sansa wrapped her cloak more tightly around her shoulders.

“Do you think things will be the same at Winterfell?” Arya asked suddenly, breaking the stillness.

Sansa hesitated. “No,” she admitted. “I don’t think things will ever be the same again.”

--- HP --- WW --- HP --- WW --- HP --- WW --- HP --- WW --- HP ---

Daenerys Targaryen sat astride her silver mare, the rhythmic motion of the horse beneath her lulling her into a meditative state. The heat of the Dothraki Sea was oppressive, the sun beating down mercilessly, but Daenerys barely noticed. Her eyes were closed, her mind preoccupied with the dream that had haunted her sleep the night before—and many nights before that.

The green-eyed man.

In her dreams, his face was often indistinct, veiled in shadows or standing too far away to be recognizable. But his eyes were always clear—brilliant, piercing, and green as spring leaves. There was a calm confidence in his gaze, a strength that made her feel safe, even in the most surreal of dreamscapes. Sometimes he was standing, sometimes fighting, and other times …

She couldn’t explain it, but she felt certain that this man was real. And more than that, she felt as though their destinies were intertwined.

The sound of hooves nearby brought her out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes and glanced at Ser Jorah Mormont, who was riding alongside her. The knight wore his usual expression—stoic but with a hint of concern, as though always ready to defend her from some unseen threat.

“Ser Jorah,” she said, her voice breaking the monotony of the day.

The knight turned to her, his face softening at her tone. “Yes, Khaleesi?”

“Do you know of any knights with green eyes?”

He raised a brow, clearly taken aback by the question. “Green eyes?”

“Yes.” She hesitated, then pressed on. “A knight. Or someone like a knight. Do you know of anyone?”

Jorah frowned thoughtfully, his gaze shifting to the horizon as if searching his memory. “None come to mind immediately,” he said after a pause. “Though I’m sure there are knights with green eyes. While uncommon trait, it does exist.”

Daenerys bit her lip, disappointed by his response but not surprised.

“Why do you ask?” Jorah inquired, his tone careful.

She opened her mouth to reply but stopped herself. How could she explain it? How could she tell him that a man she had never met, a man who might not even exist, had begun to occupy her thoughts more than her own husband?

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, shaking her head.

Jorah studied her for a moment, his concern deepening. “Khaleesi, if something troubles you, you can tell me. I am your sworn sword. Your loyal servant.”

“I know,” she said softly. And she did. She knew Jorah’s loyalty was genuine, but this was something she couldn’t share—not yet, not until she understood it herself.

The truth was, her dreams of the green-eyed man were starting to unsettle her. At first, she had dismissed them as mere figments of her imagination. But the dreams had grown more vivid, more frequent. And with them came a feeling she couldn’t ignore—a sense of inevitability, as though the man from her dreams was real and their paths were destined to cross.

The more she dreamed of him, the more she thought about him during her waking hours. She found herself wondering where he was, what he was doing, and whether he ever thought of her as she thought of him.

It was a dangerous distraction. She was a Khaleesi, the wife of Khal Drogo. She couldn’t afford to let her mind wander to a fantasy.

And yet, it did.

“I was just curious,” she said finally, offering Jorah a weak smile.

The knight didn’t look convinced, but he nodded and turned his attention back to the path ahead.

Daenerys sighed and looked out across the endless expanse of grasslands. The Dothraki rode in loose formation, their movements as fluid and natural as the wind. Khal Drogo rode at the head of the khalasar, a towering figure of strength and authority.

She should have been thinking of him, her husband, her Khal. But instead, her thoughts drifted back to the man with the green eyes.

Who are you? she wondered as she closed her eyes again.

Kind Regards,

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If you like this content do not hesitate to smash that like button and subscribe. Haha but seriously if you do enjoy the story - do favorite it, other than messaging me or leaving a comment it’s the only way I know if you are enjoying the stories and chapters.

Story Note 1 – Hope you enjoyed this little interlude! Was certainly fun to write and despite it’s size I felt it contributed enough to warrant its own chapter. Plus the next chapter will be back on Harry and Jon be significantly larger … so should even out.

Story Note 2 – Had this part about Daenerys written a while ago but was unsure where to put it and decided this was a really good fit. As to where it belongs in the story this happens before she finds out she’s pregnant.

Story Note 3 – As one of a small group of people who knew of Harry’s abilities Sansa will be the link between Harry’s abilities and the North finding out. I imagine Arya would have made the trip quite unpleasant for Sansa, even if she didn’t know that Sansa was aware of Harry’s secret, just trying to figure out what it was that Harry had been planning to tell them. Even though the secret is starting to come out, it will mostly be restrained. As of now the individuals who are aware of his ability are Sansa, Ned, Arya, Jon (will pop up in next chapter but obviously he’s got questions for Harry as they are sailing for Essos), the individual who was behind his wall … and whoever they reported to …

A large thanks to those of you out there who enjoy my stories, I promise to keep updating the stories as long as you all are enjoying them, and a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to leave feedback or have reached out to me directly.

Disclaimer – It has come to my attention recently that I unfortunately do not own any part of the Game of Thrones nor Harry Potter universes That includes but is not limited to the characters, locations, … Who knew.