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(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 67: Rogue Misgivings
🕑 Added 2025-09-09 14:00:22 +0000 UTCChapter 67: Rogue Misgivings
123 AC, Dragonstone
As he did so, he looked back at the ruins of Harrenhal, and he nodded to himself, knowing that he had made the right decision. His daughters were healed and avenged, and now he would return home. Dealing with Aemond would have to wait.
Daemon Targaryen looked at his ancestral home and commanded Caraxes to land. His beautiful Red Wyrm landed slightly less gracefully than he normally did. The dragon was obviously exhausted, both by the trip and the curse he suffered at the hands of the witch. The memory of the loathsome woman looking down on him as if she were some sort of queen made him clench his fists.
Still, that was barely even noticeable compared to what he had felt towards Harry Potter, the sorcerer that he had once tried to intimidate when he first met. He hadn’t ever imagined a man quite like him, a being with so much power hidden beneath his skin, his jovial face barely more than a mask that he wore that hid the world from the monster beneath.
Daemon’s hands shook. Then again, they hadn’t stopped shaking since he witnessed the destruction of Harrenhal with his own two eyes.
He climbed down from his dragon’s back, his landing having likely startled the guards, but he paid no attention to it. Instead, he gently put his hand on Caraxes’ giant head and murmured, “You always knew, didn’t you? Even on that first day. I thought I imagined it, but you were wary of him. I should have trusted your judgement, Caraxes.”
All his life, Daemon had been taught that dragons reigned supreme in the world, that they were the strongest power in the Known World. After all, hadn’t the Valyrians, who had been nothing more than shepherds, conquered most of Essos thanks to their Dragons alone, wiping out every civilisation that resisted them, no matter their illusion of might?
From what he experienced in Essos, magic was a fading force, and the strongest mages could barely use parlour tricks, conjuring fire, showing illusions, warping shadows, yet what he saw, what he felt was no illusion. Caraxes and even Vhagar had been brought down by magic, one that did not even belong to Harry Potter, but some bastard witch of all people.
Daemon Targaryen had almost died at the hands of a woman, or worse, he would have been enslaved, much like what happened to that Strong knight. If he were honest, the latter was far more horrifying. The idea that he would be used as a weapon, one that might end up destroying his family’s legacy, hurt his brother and even his children; it sickened him to his core. Death was a far more preferable fate.
A terrible thought crossed his mind. The witch had brought down Vhagar. Did that mean that Aemond, that crippled one-eyed nephew of his, could have suffered that fate? Was the woman’s plan to enslave Vhagar much like she almost had Caraxes? That was troubling, especially the idea that their birthright could be so easily usurped by some witch. That boy might have Otto’s blood in his veins, but Vhagar had chosen him, and that meant something.
No, he didn’t think Otto so foolish as to send his greatest weapon to be enslaved by some witch, especially after Larys Strong’s accident. It was likely some sort of agreement he had with the woman, which made things far more concerning, in a way. How much did Otto know? Did the Citadel know of such events and planned for it, a way to turn Dragonlords against one another?
His faithful dragon released a comforting hiss, and Daemon tried to reassure him using their bond as well. He took a deep breath and smiled at his dragon, “Yes, you’re likely right. I need to rest. We both do.”
He could feel his bones ache with every move, and he shook his head as he felt the need to sleep and properly consider what he had experienced.
But first, he would go see his daughters.
He slowly rose up the stairs, the few guards looking at him wearily, as if expecting that he’d kill them all on sight. He suppressed a tired smirk at that. He had cultivated quite a reputation over the years, which made things quite easier. It was a shame that Otto had used it often against him, warping Viserys' perception of him, something that still lingered to this day.
Daemon finally found himself staring at the door of his daughters’ room. He didn’t know why it was so hard to enter. He had been there just hours prior without any issues, and the threat against them was dead, destroyed alongside everything they ever held dear. He should have felt victorious, avenged, vindicated, but instead, he was hesitating.
Slowly but surely, Daemon opened the door, and his worries fled completely as he saw Baela and Rhaena sleeping peacefully in their beds, the Maester, Gerardys, speaking with Corlys and Rhaenys, who looked relaxed.
They all looked up towards him in shock, and Rhaenys was the first one to speak, “What happened, Daemon?”
He looked at where she was staring and noticed that his armour was warped, likely from the fight with that Strong monstrosity. He decided that he was too tired to care about them and instead spoke up, “How are they?”
The Maester answered in their stead, “They are well, my Prince. It seemed that whatever ailment they suffered was now gone. They simply slumber, and according to Lady Potter, they should wake up in the morrow. I see no reason to disbelieve her.”
“Where is the witch?” Daemon calmly asked.
“She left hours ago,” Rhaenys replied, “She said that the healing had gone well, that there weren’t any complications. She also said to visit her in a week, just to be sure, and to come see her immediately if there are any issues. What of you, Daemon?”
“They are safe. There will not be another attempt on their lives, not from the same source, at least.”
He didn’t elaborate further, but Corlys spoke up, “Was Larys Strong responsible?”
“Larys Strong is dead. He has been dead for some time, I imagine. As much as I dislike the man, he was not responsible for any of this.”
Daemon did not wait for them to say anything, feeling satisfied with his daughters’ health so far. He turned and calmly left the room, wishing to finally sleep after such an exhausting day. Perhaps the world would make more sense in the morning.
Unfortunately, Daemon’s blissful sleep would have to wait, as Corlys and Rhaenys raced behind him and met him outside the girls’ room, “Daemon! Did you attack Harrenhal? Even if Larys was dead, Viserys still treasures House Strong. They could appeal to him, and you would find yourself banished once more.”
“I don’t think that House Strong will be an issue anymore, after all, it is no more.”
This answer stopped whatever retort they had. Rhaenys looked like she wished to say something, but closed her mouth, her expression slowly morphing into one of horror. He didn’t blame them; Andal, they might be, or was it the First Men, he didn’t care; House Strong was an old house, a powerful house, one that had served his family loyally. To think that its line had ended in a single night would have horrified most of the realm as well.
Rhaenys, as Viserys’s new Hand, was likely thinking of the consequences of this information, especially since it wouldn’t be hidden for long.
Corlys, on the other hand, was not so silent in his dread, “What have you done, Daemon?”
“I did what I had to do,” Daemon replied simply, “They attacked my daughters.”
He did not wish to share Potter’s involvement in the matter. Daemon knew, most of all, that men gravitated around power. After all, he had seen it every day in King’s Landing, especially when Viserys was still heir. Countless heirs and second sons spoke to him like lovestruck maidens, likely hoping to curry favour with the future king, or more importantly, get a drop of power through their interactions. It was sickening then, but Daemon now understood that it was human nature to gravitate toward powerful men.
After all, during his time in Essos, every Magister and Merchant wished to speak with him to curry favour. It had been nice at first, but it quickly grew tiresome, especially when they kept hinting at certain problems, likely hoping that he would take pity on them and start taking care of them with Caraxes. Although the idea of wiping out a Dothraki Khalasar had become quite attractive when he had gotten bored.
If people knew what Harry Potter was capable of, if people grasped his power, they would gravitate towards him, whether the sorcerer liked it or not, which would severely hurt his house’s authority. After all, this would show that there were powers superior to that of dragons in Westeros, and he knew of many lords who would seek out ways to rebel against the House of the Dragon.
The fact that Potter seemed uninterested in ruling, enough to not show grand displays of power, in public was lucky on their part, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t a threat by his mere existence.
Daemon would take the burden of Harrenhal’s destruction. He would take the scorn and fear, perhaps even be banished again, and he would do so with a smile on his face. After all, it was his duty to his family’s legacy, even if his brother would likely hate him for it.
Yet, for some reason, his previous answer angered her, “For your daughters? You left them after they barely survived an assassination attempt, a magical one at that, according to Potter. And now, you return hours later, your armour damaged and misshapen, claiming to have wiped out one of the oldest families in the Riverlands.”
Daemon stayed silent, not answering her, and she practically growled at him, “I don’t know what my daughter saw in you, that you would be so miserable a father to Baela and Rhaena. They were dying, Daemon. They needed their father, not a massacre. I suppose I should not be surprised by how heartless you are. It didn’t take long for you to move on to another wife, did you?”
For the first time since the conversation started, the Rogue Prince felt his familiar rage soar inside him, one that had been strangely absent since seeing Harrenhal being destroyed before him, “Do not think for one moment that I do not mourn Laena, that I wouldn’t do anything to have her back, that I am happier now, than I was before… before it happened.”
He ignored the surprised look on the Velaryons’ faces and calmed himself as he stared up at the sky, his voice becoming softer than it had in years, “When we first wed, we used to just stay together and look at the stars, and now, I see her every time I look at them. Alas, the world continues, whether my grief allowed it or not, and I couldn’t remain still. I… I know that I am not a perfect father, but I looked at them, even healed, and I saw Laena, and I couldn’t stop. I could not live with myself if I let a threat to them live. I do not regret my actions, Rhaenys, but you have no right to say that I never loved Laena or that I do not care for our daughters.”
The Queen Who Never Was nodded, obviously forcing herself to be calm, but there were no traces of anger there. Corlys looked calmer than he had before, obviously still agitated by the entire affair.
Thankfully, Rhaenys changed the subject, her voice softer, “You will not be able to hide from this. We could get a raven from Harrenhal by tomorrow. You would be lucky not to be banished. Viserys will not let the death of his former hand’s family line go unanswered, no matter his affection towards you.”
“No ravens will fly from Harrenhal. It is little more than ruin and rubble now, one with no survivors.”
He expected another burst of outrage from the Velaryons, and yet, the best he could see was a brief moment of panic on their faces, and then sharing a look in silence, “What? Nothing to say? No grave accusations about committing a massacre and destroying one of the largest structures in the Seven Kingdoms.”
Daemon was unnerved by the silence that met him, especially when Corlys’ face became paler than it ever had during the campaign to the Stepstones. They were both afraid, but not of him. Suddenly, he remembered a few small details, the fact that the Velaryons had asked him to let Potter handle it himself, oddly trusting a supposed stranger with avenging their granddaughters. He remembered that the Velaryons had also punished Baela and Rhaena, while refusing to tell him why.
Everything came together in a single moment, and he couldn’t help but exclaim in shock, “You knew! You know about Potter, what he can do.”
Rhaenys and Corlys stiffened, and the latter spoke up, “We do.”
Daemon gritted his teeth and suppressed the urge to yell at them in frustration, “You knew what he was, and yet you allowed my daughters near him?”
“What choice did we have?” Rhaenys answered, “Rhaena clung to them ever since the incident with the Cannibal. We were lucky that the Potters were understanding of our plight and decided to keep us informed of their time together. We were afraid that they would wipe out House Targaryen from the world when Baela tried to murder them with her dragon in the middle of the night for ‘stealing’ her sister.”
Daemon grimaced at the reminder of her daughter’s actions. She had inherited his temper but had obviously no control over it. He would need to speak to her about it and handle her punishment himself. He had lived with the rage inside him for decades, learned to hone it and use it whenever he could. Baela would need to learn, and especially know how close she was to killing them all if the sorcerer was angered. No wonder that she had acted so unlike herself in the last few weeks.
He wished to yell at the Velaryons for keeping such a large secret, but hadn’t he also been planning on doing the same? Instead, he deflated and did his best to repress the urge to summon Caraxes and burn something, “I will handle her punishment myself.”
They did not protest and nodded in agreement, making him relax.
They stayed in silence for a few moments before Rhaenys asked, “Who was the man responsible for our granddaughters’ condition? You said that Larys was dead. Was it the rest of the Strong family?”
“No, some witch, the bastard daughter of Lyonel Strong, according to her, at least. She hoped to use Rhaena and Baela as leverage to force Potter into servitude. I do not know of the specifics, but she had used Harren’s curse, which was supposedly real, to enslave the entire fortress, including all of the Strongs, turning them into walking corpses. The curse was strong enough to even affect Caraxes. I fought my way through the castle, but was caught by surprise when I was near. Potter just entered, stabbed the woman in the heart, destroyed the curse, and with it, what remained of Harrenhal.”
He expected to hear many questions about the magics, Harren’s curse, and how the witch enslaved an entire castle. What he did not expect was Corlys’s next statement, “It was just a witch then, nothing of divine nature.”
Divine nature?
Corlys had never seemed like a godly man, not to Daemon at the very least. This posed the question as to why this was his first instinct in the first place. His suspicions, which he hoped were wrong, were far more disturbing: “What the fuck did you see him do?”
The Velaryons looked at one another before nodding, with Corlys replying, “We were at Pyke when it fell. The rumours of the Drowned God’s death were not an exaggeration.”
That was worse. That was far worse. He hoped that Corlys was japing, but the serious look on their pale faces told him that they weren’t.
For one, for the Drowned God to die, he had to have existed in the first place. And more disturbingly, Harry Potter had killed a fucking god.
He did not know what to say or ask, and instead, stayed silent.
Luckily, Rhaenys did not say anything further on the matter. He was already too overwhelmed by what happened in this maddening day. “Still, it is disturbing that magic, especially that of a Westerosi woods witch, could affect a dragon as large as Caraxes.”
“It worked more slowly on Vhagar, but it still worked,” Daemon replied to their shock.
“Aemond Targaryen was in Harrenhal.”
“He arrived near the end of the confrontation. The witch had tried to use him to bargain for her life. She failed, and the sorcerer asked me to leave before I could confront him.”
Rhaenys hummed, “You think that Otto Hightower was involved.”
“It wouldn’t be unlike him. I imagine he is desperate and would wish to kill the sorcerer for ruining his plans, as well as hurting me in the process.”
The Velaryons did not look happy with that answer, and then again, the idea of Otto Hightower swooping so low as to try to assassinate their granddaughters would not endear him to them, not that they liked him in the first place.
Rhaenys was the one who spoke up, “No one can know of what truly happened in Harrenhal.”
He did not miss the unspoken words in her statements, the fact that she did not wish that Viserys know as well. The Rogue Prince had to agree. Viserys had proven himself to be impulsive when it came to the sorcerer, going so much as to stay in Dragonstone for moons. Everyone ached for everything to return to a normal rhythm and for the king to finally sit on the Iron Throne. They would also finally remove Otto Hightower from court, a boon for everyone bar the Greens.
Daemon scoffed, “The destruction of the largest structure in the Riverlands will not go unnoticed. I will take the blame for it, as I expected, and Viserys will banish me for it. It is a shame; Rhaena and Baela quite like Dragonstone.”
He knew exactly what he was doing when he finished his comment, and likely so had the Velaryons. He had been willing to be banished for an act that he had not committed, all to secure his brother's reign, his family's legacy. Viserys wouldn't have done more than that, given that Daemon's daughters had almost been killed.
However, that didn't mean that he would be happy about being banished. Again. The Velaryons' knowledge of Potter's true capabilities provided him with a boon, a way out of this. He only needed to force their hands, and as distasteful as it was, he had to use his daughters.
They would not allow the last of their children’s blood to leave Westeros once more. However, as their father, Daemon, had every right to take them with him if he was banished, something that Viserys would never allow.
Which meant that, as much as they disliked him, the Velaryons needed to help him mitigate the consequences of this lie that he had created, both out of honour for the lie and duty for their granddaughters.
“Not necessarily,” Rhaenys retorted while looking resigned, “Harrenhal’s destruction, ironically, has bought us time to make a few arrangements, as no one would likely report on what happened for a few days. Assuming that no one was able to see you flying at night, who else could possibly know of your plan to fly to Harrenhal?”
“You, the Potters, the Maester, and Rhaenyra. Everyone else is dead,” he answered confidently.
“The Potters will not speak of the matter,” Rhaenys said confidently, “And we will speak with the Maester. However, Daemon, we will need you to control your wife. Harrenhal’s fall will become nothing more than a mystery in Westeros’ history, and the world will forget.”
“Otto could use this against me,” Daemon retorted, “That plan is fragile at best.”
“But it is a plan, and given what you told me, you did not use Caraxes to burn Harrenhal, did you? Dragon fire leaves its trails, and I will ensure that Viserys does not blame you. However, you will need to remain silent on the matter. We’ll speak more tomorrow. In the meantime, speak to your wife and tell her not to say a word.”
Daemon nodded and finally left for his chambers, hoping for an end to this maddening day. He only needed to tell Rhaenyra not to speak of Harrenhal to anyone. It shouldn’t be too hard, should it?
Finally, he made it to their chambers and entered gently. He lit a candle, ready to wake Rhaenyra, only to freeze when he realised that she wasn’t there.
Daemon remembered Rhaenyra seeking out Potter earlier in the night, before this madness even started. He remembered her asking about the man before Daemon flew to Harrenhal.
Dread rose inside him as a scene, one far too likely, appeared in the forefront of his mind. Rhaenyra obviously hadn’t been happy with her conversation with Harry Potter and had even resorted to using Syrax to intimidate him, something that he would have supported if he hadn’t seen what the man was capable of.
And now, Rhaenyra had likely gone to confront the Potters once more, which meant that Daemon needed to stop her.
Fuck! Would this day ever end?
AN: I know that this was another slow chapter, but I felt like I had to show both sides reacting to what happened, with both Otto and Daemon starting to get scared shitless of Harry. I had a bit of fun writing the Velaryons commiserating with Daemon about Harry’s bullshit. The main idea was to add a bit more depth to Daemon's personality. I hope it came out like I wanted it to, but I don’t mind rewriting this chapter depending on your feedback. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Comments
omiguh
I’m wondering if he’s going to remember rhaenys words about rhaena and the cannibal? He’s like Wtf happened with the cannibal?
Carnacki23
Daemon: Now I just need to chill out Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra: *absent* *cue Curb Your Enthusiasm theme*
