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(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 64: A Mistake Undone
🕑 Added 2025-09-04 14:00:07 +0000 UTCChapter 64: A Mistake Undone
123 AC, Harrenhal
Alys River’s last thoughts were of Larys, the brother she had failed, and then she felt swallowed by the cold, and everything turned black.
Daemon had always thrived in battle, and this was no different. Despite the situation, where he had just been beaten by that monster of a man, stuck in Harrenhal without Caraxes to help him or any way out, other than the whims of a mad witch.
Yet, here he was, Dark Sister in his hand, fighting off dozens of guards, with blood pumping through his veins, as if he hadn’t been hurt by whatever abomination the witch had turned Robert Strong. Or was it Simon Strong? He didn’t fucking care; he would just call him Strong.
Of course, the hulking monster had been killed by Potter with an apple. A fucking apple. Who the fuck did that in the middle of a fight? And how the fuck did an apple kill Strong, while Daemon had stabbed him in the heart with a fucking Valyrian Steel sword?
Nevertheless, aside from that monster, the rest of the guards were not extremely skilled, and Daemon immediately noticed a glaring weakness despite their numbers, and that was that they lacked any form of imagination or ingenuity. It hadn’t taken long for Daemon to kill them all, mostly by using his surroundings to his advantage, jumping on the tables, and performing tricks that no sane man would do.
Despite being outnumbered, Daemon was having the time of his life and making short work of the corrupted guards, made all the more satisfying by the fact that the sorcerer easily overpowered the witch. The woman who had smiled smugly at him had been lying on the ground, pleading for her life.
It didn’t matter, in the end, but what did matter was the fact that fucking Vhagar was circling around the fortress, while Caraxes was asleep too far away to make any difference. Still, for some reason, Potter didn’t seem concerned, and, in a way, that reassured Daemon more than it should have.
Instead, he looked at the body of Alys Rivers, a name that he hadn’t even known before today, and sneered at it, “She doesn’t seem that dangerous now.”
“Oh, she was dangerous and yet not a threat. Imagine a clever child with a Valyrian Steel dagger, completely untrained. Sure, they’re dangerous, but against a knight, they wouldn’t last much. There’s more to magic than power, much like there’s more to sword fighting than strength. Still, it is impressive what she has built with pure intuition and insight, as horrible as the way she used her skills.”
Potter knelt down and removed the knife from her heart, a dark blue blade, which didn’t seem to have any blood on it, somehow, and he stored it back into his cloak. Daemon wanted to ask about the knife, which made the room colder with its presence alone, but chose not to do it.
After all, the giant dragon outside the castle was a far more immediate threat, “What about Vhagar? Aemond Targaryen is no friend of ours, and I know that boy. If he sees us defenceless, we will die.”
It had been jarring to see the blood of Otto Hightower riding Laena’s dragon. A part of him rebelled with everything he had, but Daemon knew that dragons did not see the world, not as humans did. He remembered raging to his father when Rhaenys had claimed Meleys, his mother’s dragon. His father had soothed him, explaining that dragons did not care for bloodlines, but saw something that they couldn’t and chose the riders.
His own mount was that of Aemon’s, Rhaenys’ father, and even though Daemon’s father had been named heir instead of her, all but usurping her in her eyes, Rhaenys didn’t rage, not as he had when he was young.
Knowing Rhaena’s temperament, Vhagar wouldn’t have chosen her, and she had claimed a wonderful dragon in the form of Solarys. No, Vhagar had made a choice, and of all of Alicent’s brood, Aemond was the better choice.
Politics and Otto’s machinations aside, Aemond was a second son who was prideful in his heritage, obviously not as taken with the Seven like his Andal mother would have wished, and he had Daemon’s temper. If it weren’t for the succession crisis, Daemon wouldn’t have minded teaching the boy, perhaps even taking him as a squire. At least one of his brother’s sons ended up with a dragon’s fire in their veins.
Yet, that didn’t matter. The coming war was inevitable, despite what Viserys deluded himself would happen. It might have been delayed by Potter’s interference. The scales might have shifted, as the Hightower influence was slowly decreasing, but Otto would never let it go. He would fight to the bitter end just as Daemon would have, and the children had been caught in their feud.
At this moment, Vhagar was the Green’s greatest weapon, and it was coming for them.
The sorcerer’s lips twitched slightly, “Daemon, try to remember where we are exactly.”
The moment he said that, he noticed Vhagar in the distance slowing down, much like Caraxes had before him, before landing. It was more graceful than his dragon’s crash, but it worked nonetheless: “The curse remains.”
“Of course, it has. Alys’ death might have released her control over it, but the curse still remains.”
A bloodthirsty grin appeared on Daemon’s face. He didn’t know why Aemond had come to Harrenhal, but if neither he nor Vhagar were protected by the dead witch’s curse, that was an opportunity that he had to take advantage of.
He remembered how Caraxes looked so vulnerable, so exhausted when he crashed, and now that the fighting was over, Daemon looked back and realised that he had suffered from the curse as well. He felt weaker during the battle, if one would call it that, with the Strong knight. He thought it was because of the sheer difference in strength or the surprise at the fact that the monster hadn’t even reacted to Daemon stabbing him in the heart, but it was obvious in hindsight.
He wouldn’t kill his nephew, of course, even if he found him in a vulnerable position; he wasn’t a kinslayer, and as much as he hated it, his brother’s blood coursed through the boy’s veins. However, he was perfectly happy to leave him and Vhagar to succumb to the witch’s curse. After all, he didn’t have a duty to save him.
Still, the temptation was there, to be the one to finally destroy Otto Hightower’s dreams, to destroy his most powerful piece. It was a very attractive notion, and such an opportunity wouldn’t come again.
While he tried to decide what to do, the sorcerer took out two familiar black gems, the ones that he used to heal his daughters. Like they had in Dragonstone, both gems floated in the air, much like they had before, and he took out a third one of similar size, only this time, it was pure white. When he grabbed it, it released a golden glow and joined the others floating away.
Seemingly happy, the sorcerer hummed, “Yes, that feels about right.”
He left the balls be, and all three of them moved slowly to hover above the corpse of Alys Rivers. It took a few moments to realise that the witch’s black blood slowly rose in the air and was consumed by both black gems, while the golden one released a faint golden glow.
And then, nothing happened. The sorcerer just turned and walked towards the door, leaving the gems be. Daemon couldn’t help but ask, “What did you do?”
“Oh, nothing much. This place is a bit too dangerous right now, so I’ll need to take care of it. It didn’t seem like a good idea to do it while we’re inside, though.”
It wasn’t hard for the Rogue Prince to realise what Potter wished to do, “You plan to dispel the curse.”
“Well, yeah. This whole place is a very dangerous amalgamation of volatile magic. I would compare it to a barrel of Wildfyre, ready to be ignited with any mess. Before Alys Rivers’ idiotic plan, it was probably more like a bunch of flammable oil, dangerous, but not insurmountable. The draining curse will inevitably suck away every drop of ambient magic, but without a proper focus, it will end up strengthening the curse itself. Considering the amount of magic and power that it would have, it would likely gain some form of sentience, especially by imprinting the shades that still linger in this place, which, if the stories are correct, would make a very malevolent entity indeed. It seems a bit silly not to nip this in the bud, especially given the fact that this degradation will accelerate without Alys directing the energy to her own use.”
Daemon had planned on protesting, hoping that the sorcerer would let the curse remain for a few days, enough for Aemond to die, but he couldn’t find an argument to justify the delay. Instead, he looked at the rest of the guards in the castle, and found them to be completely still, “Why aren’t they moving? The witch is dead, isn’t she?”
“I wasn’t joking when I said that she was a cruel woman. Every single person is born with a set amount of life force, like a fire inside them that keeps burning until they die. A few fires are snuffed early with disease, accident, age, or murder, but even without this, the fire goes weaker with every breath you take, and when it inevitably fades, it dies. An unageing and unkillable being would still inevitably die if they run out of life force. There are a few tricks to get past that, to steal that of others, but a part of your soul knows that it’s not yours, and that comes with its own complications.”
Daemon did hear a few whispers of mages living for centuries. He couldn’t help but wonder if that was how they accomplished it. A part of him wished to ask, but Potter continued, “Anyway, I don’t know if it was on purpose, but Alys’ draining curse steals it as well. Every single person here is devoid of life force, drained completely dry, dead, but their souls and bodies are bound to the curse that drained them in the first place, serving its master. And now, without a master, they are aimless. Alys Rivers killed every single being in Harrenhal and piloted their bodies. Worse, they didn’t even grant them the mercy of moving on, of actually dying, just torment in bodies that would wither, while also unable to die, a fate far worse than death.”
Daemon had to admit that it was, in fact, a fate worse than death. There was something noble about dying a good death, one that would be remembered for years to come, but this… the idea that without the sorcerer, he would have become like this, that his daughters could have become like this, couldn’t help but haunt him, “I thank you, sorcerer. If this were the fate you saved me and my daughters from, I won’t forget it.”
“Meh, Rhaena and Baela are bright girls who have a good future ahead of them. I would say to watch out for their recklessness, which I suppose they got from you. After all, I distinctly remember asking you not to intervene and that I would handle it.”
Daemon did remember that, and the reminder of what could have been his fate was a stark realisation that Potter hadn’t been exaggerating. He did not know much of magic, despite his ancestors supposedly wielding it, but this trip had shown him that Caraxes could be hurt using magic, and that he would need to be careful of it in the future.
They had left the fortress by that time, and Daemon could see Vhagar in the distance, its hulking form which could easily be mistaken for a small hill. Vhagar was the greatest living dragon in the world, and she had succumbed to the witch’s curse, nonetheless. He couldn’t help but wonder what the man who defeated her would be capable of.
Still, looking back, the way that the sorcerer had spoken of his daughter was strange and the way that Alys Rivers had tried to use their condition as leverage to get the sorcerer to agree to her terms made it seem like there was a connection there: “You seem familiar with my daughters.”
“Mostly Rhaena. She likes to visit me and Daph in our manse a few times, even if we haven’t seen her for a while. On the other hand, I only spoke to Baela once, when she tried to kill me and my wife by burning our manse with her dragon.”
Daemon opened his mouth to retort, trying to process the fact that his daughter had just tried to kill two people, one of whom Caraxes was obviously wary of, and came up short. The man had barely spoken a few sentences, and for the first time in years, the Rogue Prince found himself speechless.
He didn’t even get to reply, as the sorcerer raised his hand, “Wait. I need to focus for a bit. This will be a bit delicate, especially from this far away.”
Potter reached into his coat and took out another small stone. Daemon didn’t know why the man carried that many stones and gems around. Were they central to his magic somehow?
This stone was different, though. For one, it wasn’t a gemstone, like the others, and it felt different. Daemon didn’t know how to put it into words, only that it was different and tiresome. On it was a strange symbol, which started to glow. It was a circle inside a triangle, and with a line cutting the triangle in two.
Then, the sorcerer raised his hand and waved it around, and Harrenhal shifted. A giant circle of golden light appeared around Harrenhal, and in the distance, three giant balls of light, two black ones and one golden one, flew into the air. The circle around the fortress started to spin, with hundreds, if not thousands, of strange symbols being written on it. Slowly but surely, smoke started to appear from every stone in the cursed castle, slowly rising up towards the two black balls like giant pillars of darkness, and being swallowed by them.
In the distance, he also saw some grey figures floating in the air, rising towards the golden ball, before slowly fading away in golden waves of light. The wind started to move as the circle of magic surrounding Harrenhal started to spin around even faster, with more symbols appearing in the air once more, until the smoke stopped.
Suddenly, the circle stopped spinning, and both black balls towered before Harrenhal. Each was bigger than a fully grown Dragon, and then suddenly, they released a beam of white light towards the small golden ball above them. The golden light seemed to grow larger with every second, while the black ones faded away into nothingness, until the entire sky was illuminated by golden light, like a new sun in the sky.
It seemingly floated there for a few seconds before falling back towards the fortress in a pulse of light that blinded Daemon.
Finally, after some time, he opened his eyes and saw that Harrenhal, or, at least, what remained of Harrenhal, if he was correct. Where one of the greatest fortresses in Westeros once stood was a ruin. The towers were gone, as was the wall, all having crumbled down. What remained were broken foundations and shattered stone, steaming lightly in the distance.
This was beyond what Aegon had even achieved with Balerion, beyond anything that Daemon had even thought possible, and given the small smile on the sorcerer’s face, it was done on purpose. Daemon was meant to see it, this show of power, and finally realise the giant threat that they left on the island.
The Rogue Prince didn’t even notice when they arrived towards Caraxes, who looked awake, but noticeably healthier. He also seemed extremely wary of the sorcerer, something that Daemon shared, not trusting his tongue in front of the man who had done an act worthy of the Age of Heroes, and seemed unconcerned with it. From an outsider’s perspective, he could see the smallfolk assume that this was a punishment from the gods, that Harrenhal had fallen in some divine act. If he hadn’t seen it himself, Daemon would have believed it to be an exaggeration, a mummery or a drunken tale at most.
Silently, he climbed up on his beautiful dragon, and despite himself, he looked towards the still sleeping Vhagar. He knew that the curse was gone, at this moment, and that Aemond would recover. Despite the circumstances, this was an opportunity unlike any he would have had before. He could take Otto Hightower’s greatest weapon. Without his post as Hand or the largest dragon in the world supporting his grandson’s claim, his only advantage would be the few alliances he had, most of whom would distance themselves from him, as Rhaenys sat on the Small Council.
It wouldn’t take much, just flying Caraxes near Vhagar and burning everything surrounding the green beast. It would be so easy.
And he would have secured his daughter as future Queen. Thousands of people would live from the coming war, especially given that Aemond’s threat would rise with age as he gained more experience. In a way, this would be akin to saving the realm, all for the cost of Daemon becoming a kinslayer.
He didn’t relish the thought, but the option remained and was to be considered.
“Don’t,” A voice spoke up softly from the ground, breaking him from his thoughts.
Harry Potter was staring up at him, whatever amusement that he had on his face having disappeared. Daemon had seen horrific scenes, especially during his time fighting in the Stepstones, yet this thin, unarmed man looking up at him with so much seriousness made him shiver in fright.
Even Caraxes reeled back at the tone, walking away while hissing threateningly toward the sorcerer, who ignored it completely, still staring up at Daemon, “Leave your nephew. I’m curious as to what brought him here. Go spend time with your daughters. They’ll appreciate it.”
Normally, he would have refused or argued his point, at the very least. But that voice in the back of his head, telling him to push, had all but disappeared compared to the existential fear he felt whenever he looked at Harry Potter.
Instead, he simply nodded, wishing to stay as far away from the man as he could, and commanded Caraxes to fly up. 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.
If only the idea of living so close to Harry Potter didn’t make him shiver in fright, and also the fact that his daughters were so close to him. Seven Hells, hadn’t he said that Baela tried to burn him with her dragon?
This wasn’t going to end well, was it?
AN: I know that this is a bit of a slow chapter, but I felt like I needed a breather after the last few chapters, which were pretty intense. Still, it was fun to write Harry scaring the shit out of Daemon without actually threatening him. I meant to include Aemond for this chapter, but decided against having a confrontation with Daemon, especially since removing the curse got away from me a bit. Don't worry, you'll see Aemond in the next chapter. As usual, I don’t mind rewriting this depending on your feedback, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Comments
athass_prkr
The black gems are the ones he used to heal Baela and Rhaena, essentially using them as a focus to absorb the curse. The golden gem is different, which is used as a purifier, mostly, and using this energy to repel the curse's damage. It should be explain a bit more in the next chapter.
DarKDrilleR
What were the 2 dark gems and the golden one? Great chapter tho
Joshua
I liked how you did this and removed the curse from there as well. It’s going to be interesting with the fallout of that castle being destroyed now. He’s going to have fun when he gets back home from the sounds of it. I enjoyed the chapter though and nothing wrong with slow chapters. They are needed and it can’t be action all the time. I’m looking forward to more of this.
