Hadrian Peverell: High Lord of Skagos

Chapter 15: Return to Skagos

Harry, now Hadrian Peverell in this new world, soared through the skies of Westeros, his mind churning over the events that had unfolded. Below him, the rolling, snow-covered hills of the North stretched out endlessly, their jagged terrain reminiscent of his homeland's rugged Scottish Highlands, yet far wilder and more unforgiving. He flew not as a man but in his phoenix form, an obsidian-black bird of flame that left shimmering embers in its wake as he crossed the frozen skies. This transformation had become a favorite of his — swift, graceful, and near undetectable by human eyes.

The journey back to Skagos was a lonely one. The conversations with Lord Ellard Stark and Maester Olorin echoed in his mind, reminding him of the delicate balance he needed to maintain. His fabricated identity as Hadrian Peverell, a minor noble seeking to conquer and unify Skagos under the Stark banner, had been accepted — for now. But he knew that in this brutal and politically complex world, even the best-laid plans could be unraveled by the whims of men, or worse, the cruelty of fate.

Hadrian's blackened feathers shimmered as he descended through the frigid air, the cold biting at his form despite his inherent magic. He veered northward, his sharp eyes picking out the jagged silhouette of Skagos looming on the horizon like a menacing giant. Dark forests, craggy peaks, and icy fjords marred the landscape, a true wilderness. It was a land forgotten by the realm, a place where savagery reigned, and ancient bloodlines held sway over the sparse, isolated villages and primitive castles. Yet, this isolation was precisely why Hadrian had chosen it. Here, he could build something lasting, something that would endure the turning of the ages.

As he neared his camp, hidden deep within the thick forests of the island, Hadrian felt the familiar pull of his wards. The intricate spells he had woven around his temporary base were sensitive, alerting him to any disturbances in the area. But today, all was still. He circled once more before landing gracefully, transforming mid-flight back into his human form as he touched the ground, his long black cloak billowing in the wind.

The camp was modest but efficient. His house-elves had done an excellent job maintaining it in his absence. The fire burned low, casting flickering shadows against the rough-hewn trees that formed their natural barricade. His elves — Tilly, Nobby, Elphie, Mippy, Riff, Toff, and Kreacher — immediately sensed his arrival and appeared before him, their large, expressive eyes filled with curiosity and concern.

"Master Hadrian," Tilly, the most vocal of the group, greeted him with a small bow. "You have returned."

"Yes, I have," Hadrian replied, his voice carrying the weight of the news he bore. He gestured for the elves to gather around. "There is much to discuss."

They assembled quickly, eyes wide and attentive. Hadrian had always treated them with a level of respect that most wizards did not afford their house-elves, and in return, they had served him with unwavering loyalty. Now, more than ever, he needed their dedication.

"I have spoken with Lord Stark of Winterfell," Hadrian began, his tone measured but firm. "The situation is delicate, but the plan is in motion. I have been granted permission to claim Skagos — to bring it under Stark rule, with myself as its lord."

The elves exchanged glances but remained silent, waiting for their master to continue. He had told them little about this world since their arrival. They had known only that it was harsh, primitive, and entirely unfamiliar. But now, Hadrian intended to change that.

"I will conquer Skagos," he said, letting the words hang in the cold air. "We will unite this island under one banner — our banner — and in time, turn it into a sanctuary, a fortress that will endure long after I am gone, if that is ever the case. But to do this, we must first learn everything we can about this land, its people, its history, and its magic, if there is any to be found."

The elves nodded in unison, their expressions a mix of determination and excitement. It was a grand task, one that would take years, perhaps decades. But they had time. All of them had time.

"What we know so far is that this world has very little magic left," Hadrian continued. "There are no wizards, no spellcasters, no enchanted objects — at least none that we have encountered yet. The people here rely on swords and steel, and their kingdoms have existed in a near-static state for thousands of years. It is as though time itself has slowed for them. They live in the past, bound by traditions and fealty to lords and kings."

Kreacher, the eldest of the elves and once the most cynical, now stood with his hands clasped behind his back, a thoughtful expression on his wrinkled face. "But what of magic, Master?" he asked quietly. "What of the old gods you mentioned?"

Hadrian paused, considering the question. "There are whispers of the old gods," he replied. "The people of the North — where we are now — still worship them, but their understanding of magic is crude, primal. It is nothing like the magic we know. They speak of weirwood trees and ancient spirits that watch over the land, but I have yet to see any proof of true power."

Riff, always the most inquisitive of the group, piped up. "And the south, Master? What lies beyond the North?"

"The South is... different," Hadrian said, frowning slightly. "There are seven kingdoms ruled by a single monarch, but their ways are more sophisticated. They follow gods of fire and light, gods of war and death. Their castles are grander, their armies larger, and their political games even more dangerous. But even there, magic is a relic of the past — something they fear more than revere."

He turned to the elves, meeting each of their gazes in turn. "But the magic of this land is not what concerns us right now. What matters is the task at hand. We will begin by gathering information. The libraries in the castles of Skagos may hold something of value — records, histories, anything that can help us understand the power dynamics of this world. And once we know enough, we will act."

Mippy, who had been silent up until now, raised her hand hesitantly. "Master Hadrian, what if the humans on this island resist? The ones you plan to conquer?"

Hadrian smiled faintly. "They will resist, Mippy. I expect nothing less. The people of Skagos are proud, fierce, and loyal only to themselves. But we will not fight them with steel or brute force alone.." His eyes gleamed with a hint of the power he wielded. "We will use magic."

The elves nodded, reassured by their master's confidence. They had seen him do incredible things, things that defied the laws of nature and reality itself. Conquering a few scattered tribes on a remote island was a challenge, yes, but not an insurmountable one.

"As for our position here," Hadrian continued, gesturing around the camp, "this will remain our base of operations for now. But we will need to secure a more permanent stronghold soon. One of the castles on Skagos will suffice, and once we have it, we can begin rebuilding."

Kreacher stepped forward, his voice gruff but respectful. "Kreacher and the others will search the libraries, Master. We will find what you need."

"Good," Hadrian said with a nod. "Be thorough. Leave no stone unturned. We are playing a long game, and every piece of information could be crucial."