Chapter Text
The royal stallion, Fawkes, trotted along a mud road, its silk drapings of red and gold tied high to avoid the splattering caused by a hundred hooves blasting the ground below. The entourage was small, only twenty-five knights of the King's Own, there was danger of rebels and opportunistic highwaymen to ambush the party but the need for secrecy was greater. The young Lord Potter had confided to the king his location and the king had now come to fulfill his vows of protection.
Dressed in his riding attire, made of leather and smelling of sweat, the king did not strike a royal sight but when he made to dismount his loyal knights hurried to help him, not minding the work of a squire. King Albus looked the squat wooden buildings sparsely spread around them and headed to the largest one. Birch trees hung between the houses but there was no grass to be seen on the earth.
"Welcome to our humble abode, Your Grace! Our Lord of Potter is getting ready to receive your entourage, he wasn't expecting such an honorable visit," said the Castellan, bowing his head so low that he felt a pang in his lower back.
"Spare me the flatter, we've had... Unforeseen events, happen in the east and it is... Oh, Harry, it's good to see you!"
Lord Harry of House Potter had rounded the corner and entered the hall, his face opening into a large grin as he saw the king. "Your Grace," he said, kneeling before King Albus. The Lord of Dumbledore returned the grin and extended his arms to the side, inviting the young Lord for an embrace.
"I imagine you must be bored out of your mind, Harry, cloistered down in this... pile of mud."
"It's not that bad once you get used to it, Your Grace. There's some meager fun to be had."
"Ah, I imagine. All the mothers within a hundred miles must've felt your smell on their daughters' clothes by now."
"You humour me, Your Grace, but you know that is not so. My heart is already pledged to someone."
"Ah, yes. That young girl of House Weasley. People were whispering down at the capital that a few seasons away from court might give you a change of heart."
"Quite the opposite, actually. All this time away from her, I can't wait to see her face again."
"Good thing I came, then! I want you to come with me to the capital."
"But... Why, Your Grace? You know I can't stand King's Landon, those snakes at court will..."
"If not to the capital then to the Citadel of Hogwarts, you have friends there. But it's imperative that you leave this hamlet for good."
"Did something happen?" Lord Potter asked, realizing for the first time that the weariness his king's face was showing wasn't a result of the long journey west.
"The Knight of Black Stars has fled the dungeons of Azkaban. The Master of Whispers believes he may have caught your scent somehow and knows you are here."
"So what? I have guards, I have my knights, if he comes then we'll show it to him..."
"Harry, Harry," the king interrupted. "Listen to me. You're living in a mud hut. We all know Black Stars for his treachery, if he holds ill will against you he won't challenge you for a duel nor face your troops on the open field. He'll do as he did to your proud House once, so many years ago. We've known for a while now of this sellsword company operating in Essos, the Death Eaters they call themselves, their banner a green skull on a black field. Doesn't that sound familiar to you? Your men may be loyal, but the Pretender is known to have turned many loyal men against their suzerains and if he has a surviving heir or, Gods forbid it, himself in charge of that company you can bet your life that they'll come for vengeance. I want you in a safe place, Harry. The Citadel is impregnable, its walls have never been breached, and I'm calling upon Ser Remus," King Albus made a pause, "to serve as its new master-at-arms."
Harry thought on his king's words but knew him for the proud man he was. And the prospect of seeing Ser Remus and his Ginny again made the idea bearable.
"Do you insist, Your Grace?"
"I command it, Harry, as your friend and, should you refuse, also as your king."
"It'll be done as you command, Your Grace," Harry replied, kneeling.