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(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 60: Troubled Burdens
🕑 Added 2025-08-28 14:00:17 +0000 UTCChapter 60: Troubled Burdens
123 AC, Dragonstone
Rhaenyra Targaryen flew down on her beloved Syrax, landing in front of the manse before her, a part of her dreading the coming conversation. It had been two moons since the Potters built a manse on Dragonstone, without her permission, and yet it seemed like everything had changed overnight.
Her father was healed. Otto Hightower was no longer his Hand, a severe blow to Alicent’s cause, but that came at the cost of the Velaryons gaining more power, far more than she liked, but looking back, the outcome was clearly in her favour.
Then why did it feel like she was losing?
Her father spent most of his days in silence. Oh, he feasted and joked, especially with Daemon, something that her husband, despite what he claimed, relished deeply. However, there was a sense of melancholy that hadn’t been there even when he was dying, his body practically rotting to the bone.
Rhaenys kept giving her smug looks, and a part of her knew that the older woman would be worse than Otto in every single way. Because, to her, this was a personal matter, and the woman was certainly vindictive. It was mad, how her father had spent the first half of his rule fighting the Velaryons’ influence in the court, which drove him further into Otto Hightower’s web. And now, he practically gave them back everything they wished and more.
And given that she wasn’t privy to her father’s conversations with Rhaenys, Rhaenyra had no idea how that revenge would take place. At least, Daemon was finally on her side. He had been hesitant to treat them as enemies, having fought alongside Corlys in the Stepstones, but now, he was irritated with them because of their punishing his daughters, of all things.
Normally, she would have tried to diffuse what happened when they broke their fast, to avoid fighting in front of the children, but it was better to fan the flames for her cause than let them simmer and allow everything to be taken away from her.
Her father had destabilised the position she had put the Velaryons in, being forced to stay on her side despite their obvious dislike of her, playing on Corlys’ wish for a legacy, for his name to sit on the Iron Throne, to make their alliance attractive enough to maintain. Rhaenys being given a position of power changed things and gave her the ability to hurt Rhaenyra for what happened to her children.
It shouldn’t have happened; Rhaenyra should have been chosen as Hand, as it was her right as Heir to the Seven Kingdoms. She should have been the one in power, governing the realm, preparing for her ascension. There were plenty of opportunities to prove her worth as a leader.
For example, the Iron Islands were in complete chaos and disarray ever since the Fall of Pyke, which, for some reason, many had grown to call the Death of the Drowned God. This was a perfect opportunity to use their dragons to finally turn this useless pile of rocks and salt into something productive, to finally work with the Iron Throne.
She could also help with the Stepstone, where piracy was starting to become a real issue, and nip it in the bud. If it were up to Rhaenyra, she would command her husband to wipe out the pirates, invest gold into maintaining infrastructure there, build fortified cities on each large island, and use the Royal Navy to patrol there until each city could build its own ships. She could even grant her supporters’ second sons lands there, to give her full control over the Stepstones, and with it, stop the Hightowers from getting help from across the Narrow Sea.
She could even bring Dorne into the fold, either through conquest or marriage. She was leaning towards the former rather than the latter. With her succession being not as secure as it should be, thanks to the efforts of the Hightowers, she couldn’t exactly introduce Dornish blood into the royal family without losing a good portion of her supporters, given how unpopular the sand dwellers truly were. Jacaerys would also be disadvantaged with such efforts, given the way his parentage was dubious at best. But conquest, while bloody in the short term, would easily rally the lords of the realm behind her, forge tighter bonds between them, and unite a realm fractured by her father’s weakness and Otto Hightower’s greed.
Rhaenyra had ideas, ones that could help the realm prosper, which her father never even entertained. The war with Dorne and the final conquest of the Stepstones will likely never happen in his reign, given the way he wished to be remembered as ‘Viserys the Peaceful’. What a fucking joke! He did nothing while the realm fractured apart. His reign might be peaceful, but he had all but guaranteed war from the moment he died. The gods truly had a cruel sense of irony.
As for the Iron Islands, her father’s decision was to do nothing, which she thought was one of his most foolish decisions to date.
The King and his new Hand spoke to one another in private for hours, but that was the end of it. No orders were given, no banners raised, nothing. It was maddening, to say the least. A Lord Paramount and his entire House were gone, and with it, every noble in the Iron Islands wished to ascend, shedding enough blood to turn the sea red, and yet, nothing happened.
It was one thing to leave things be in the Iron Islands; the kingdom was already practically lawless and made up with pirates and raiders in everything but name, their practices bordering on slavery. She didn’t mourn them in any way, but she worried about the perception of the royal family to the rest of Westeros.
She couldn’t help but wonder what they all would think when they let a civil war occur in one of their kingdoms. The answer was quite clear; they would think that doing the same would have no reprisal, something that shouldn’t be allowed.
Which meant that Rhaenys was purposefully using her position as Hand to weaken the Iron Throne’s power, perhaps even incite a civil war by the time Rhaenyra came into power. She had gotten rid of Otto Hightower and gained another opponent, perhaps one just as deceiving, and now, she needed to act.
She commanded Syrax to land with a loud thud, announcing her arrival loudly, a reminder for the Potters of her position and power as a Dragonrider.
Rhaenyra wouldn’t say that her first meeting with them went according to plan, but she hadn’t known of their magic, and Syrax was far away from them. From what she understood from her reading, Dragons were the ultimate expression of magic and power, and as skilled as a mage might be. It was what allowed Old Valyrian to conquer most of Essos and their mages.
She didn’t know why Daemon was so hesitant after taking Caraxes to confront the Potters. He must have misinterpreted what he saw, because theirs was the legacy of Valyria, one that had dominated much of the known world with dragons and power, and no sorcerer, not even Harry Potter, would have withstood her ancestor’s might.
And they would not withstand her own.
Dealing with seven Shadowbinders was impressive, but they were creatures of trickery and deceit, not of power, not like a dragon, not like Syrax.
When the sand cleared after her explosive landing, she expected to see the Potters running out of their manse, but nothing happened. She used her bond to get her dragon to roar loudly, but aside from some fleeing birds, there was nothing.
Growling, she climbed down from Syrax and walked towards the manse, only to see a small light in the distance, with two people moving near it. She recognised them as Harry and Daphne Potter, who seemed to sway, dancing in the warmth of a fire as the sun slowly set.
Had they been ignoring her? Rhaenyra had made a point to show her arrival, after all. She’d come to give them the offer of a lifetime, one that would not only reward them very generously for how they helped her deal a powerful blow to Alicent but also one that would elevate them to immense power when she was Queen with their support.
But now, after that slight, she was starting to rethink her generosity.
However, her thoughts were interrupted as she approached, where the sound of the sea faded away, almost into nothing, and instead, there was music. It was nothing that she’d ever heard before, like an entire group of musicians playing at once. She heard something resembling a fiddle and perhaps some kind of horn, but they were drowned by other strange sounds that oddly worked.
Mesmerised, she walked towards the source of the sound and saw what resembled a curved brass horn, with some kind of white disk spinning beneath it, which had some odd vapour that seemed to shift inside. This thing, this instrument, was playing all of these instruments at once, even the voice of a man who sang with a deep voice.
She was so taken aback by the music that she hadn’t noticed the Potters stop dancing and walking towards her, “Music, huh? There can be magic in a song that is far more powerful than most could ever imagine. Jazz is especially beautiful in my opinion. This is completely improvised, without any planning, just what the players felt when they played, all combined to make something especially beautiful.”
Rhaenyra stiffened by the words that cut through everything, “It’s beautiful. What is this instrument?”
The man’s smile widened, “It’s not an instrument, just a Phonograph, a way to play music that is stored inside the spinning disk. It’s a magical variant, probably even unique, that plays music in memories and can even dim down the sound of everything outside a certain range. You probably noticed everything not being as loud. Daph, here, got it for me during our seventh anniversary. She still wouldn’t tell me where she got it from. It’s a shame, since meeting an artificer capable of making this would be very interesting.”
The golden-haired woman smirked smugly, “One day, you’ll stop obsessing with every piece of magic.”
“Never,” the man replied in a joking tone, before turning to Rhaenyra, “So, Princess Rhaenyra, we definitely weren’t expecting to see you today. I presume you did not come to see us dance.”
Ah, right. She was so taken with the music machine that she had almost forgotten the reason for meeting the Potters in the first place. And she did notice that the sound dimmed when she came closer. That must have been why they ignored her, an accident, nothing more. She could forgive them for the unintended slight, even if she knew that many nobles wouldn’t.
He motioned for her to sit down, and Rhaenyra noticed that there were three chairs on the sand. She shrugged and simply sat down.
“You’re correct,” Rhaenyra replied, “First, I wished to thank you for your actions. My father, the King, is healed because of your kindness. The best Maesters that the Citadel had to offer couldn’t do much other than slowly cut parts of him to stave off the impossible. Now, he is as healthy as he could be, and the Seven Kingdoms will be forever in your debt, a debt that I am here to repay.”
The Potters both raised an eyebrow each, but that was all they did. Rhaenyra spent her youth in King’s Landing and had learned easily how to read people. She’d used this extensively, especially when a particular suitor annoyed her, Jason Lannister being a prime example of that. And yet, she couldn’t read the Potters. She’d been taken aback during their first meeting. She hadn’t expected much of the revelations, especially his knowledge of the Song of Ice and Fire, and his studies of the Long Night.
But now, she realised that even with the additional knowledge she had on them, she still could not read them. There were a few people who could do this, namely Otto Hightower and Larys Strong.
Normally, she wouldn’t have tried to deal with people that she didn’t understand, but Rhaenyra understood what they could grant her, should they accept her offer. People had forgotten about the Valyrian Stone and the magical steel, focusing more on the King’s healing, Rhaenys’ appointment as Hand, the Greens’ decrease in influence, and the Shadowbinder attack.
And so, she continued, “I do not have the power to give you what I think you deserve, but one day, I will. With the proof that magic is not dead in the Seven Kingdoms, I have decided that upon my ascension to the Iron Throne, I will appoint a new seat in the Small Council, the Master of Magic, someone who would help the realm navigate the Higher Mysteries and would have access to the resources of the Iron Throne.”
She stopped her speech, only for whatever interest in the Potters’ faces to disappear and the golden-haired woman to actually chuckle, “Oh, honey, you’re very bad at this.”
Rhaenyra remembered Daphne Potter, during their first meeting, telling her that she had disappointed them, and she bristled at the accusation, “If you are to spit on my generosity, I will leave.”
“Generosity,” Daphne Potter replied while shaking her head, “You assume we’re fools. Even if we accepted, it would bind us to your war, your cause, and your throne. That isn’t generosity, Princess. That is obviously a way to get us to support your ascension on the Iron Throne, just to have a seat at the table where we do it.”
The man continued her speech, “After our last meeting, you showed some insight when you healed your father to prolong the coming civil war, one that you denied would even happen. It wasn’t a difficult decision, but it was one, nonetheless. I gave you what you needed most in your position. Time. How you use it is up to you, but it will be your decision.”
“Then why did you remove Otto Hightower from his position? I know that you were the one who convinced Father to do it. You helped me before, so why hesitate now?”
The man raised an eyebrow at that, “Otto Hightower is a destabilising influence over the Seven Kingdoms, a Hand who had a very clear conflict of interest. Much like the death of a King with a coming succession crisis. I never supported you, Rhaenyra. I don’t care about that throne and its useless struggles. I simply thought that having a civil war while I’m visiting would be bothersome. But if you wish to convince me otherwise, answer this question: if you were Queen right now, what would you do?”
“I would give you riches, make you one of the most powerful men in the realm. I would stop the unrest in the Iron Islands and the Stepstones. I would stop women from being nothing more than broodmares, create a better realm, without the injustices and corruption that festered under Otto Hightower’s tenure as Hand.”
“That’s very nice,” the sorcerer commented, “Now, how would you achieve that?”
Rhaenyra’s smile at her answer froze at this question, “I would need to make plans with my advisors and make a decision. A wise monarch chooses competent advisors to help them rule. I wouldn’t be afraid to act, trying to maintain the way the world is, instead of improving it. I would have stopped the unrest in the Iron Islands, stabilised the area, and brought it back to the fold as part of the realm.”
The man nodded and then said something that stopped her completely in her tracks, “Why haven’t you done it, then?”
He continued as she tried to find an answer, “Aegon the Conqueror, alone, was able to do it, to take a dragon and scare the Ironborn to choose a leader through a Kingsmoot. Why didn’t you fly on your dragon and do the same? Nothing is stopping you from acting.”
The future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms stammered to answer, “My father wouldn’t approve…”
“Did you bring it to him? Did you show him a proposal, a concrete plan on how you’d achieve this? You didn’t. The world is not a kind place, Rhaenyra. You have grown with everything handed to you, and in return, you’re giving rewards to people to serve you, to achieve your goals. But what have you personally achieved? Like it or not, the Seven Kingdoms will not choose a woman to rule them unless you show them that you’re more. And, so far, you have failed to do that.”
Rhaenyra couldn’t help but suppress her rage at them, “You are refusing my offer, then?”
“Golden chains are still chains, my dear,” Harry Potter replied in an even tone, “And believe me, you’ll need a lot more than that to get me to involve myself in politics of all things. I’m a traveller and a scholar. If you need some help with a mythological being or exploring an ancient tomb, then I don’t mind helping. Dealing with backstabbing people that crave power above all else, not so much.”
“You will regret this,” Rhaenyra gritted out, preparing to leave. She could feel Syrax, her darling dragon, feeling her exasperation and rage at the slight she had just received. A part of her wished to take her dragon and burn their home, to show them that they weren’t safe. Alas, she couldn’t, not with her father still on the island and the Potters’ concerning influence over him.
She prepared to summon him. It was much harder to refuse a dragon of all things. If they wanted her to act, then they should suffer the consequences of their demands. She could feel her dragon getting closer before landing behind her and roaring, this time without the sound being stopped.
It took her a few seconds to realise that the sound was wrong. This sounded more like hissing than a proper roar. She turned around and saw Syrax, but on her right was the familiar form of Caraxes, who had let an obviously enraged Daemon jump down, having drawn Dark Sister.
She didn’t even have the time to stop him, as he swung at the unarmed sorcerer.
The man casually ducked and avoided it, alongside the following thrust, with barely any movement on his part. Her husband swung it once more towards the sorcerer’s head, only this time, the man raised his hand and stopped the swung sword in its track.
He stopped a Valyrian Steel sword, swung by one of the best warriors in the Seven Kingdoms, with his palm, the same steel that could cut stone as if it were butter. The sorcerer turned towards the enraged Daemon with a serious look on his face, “I wouldn’t do that, mate.”
Daemon growled at him, trying to retrieve Dark Sister, which did nothing, before gritting out, “What did you do to my daughters?”
The sorcerer tilted his head in confusion, “Rhaena and Baela? I haven’t seen them in a while. What happened?”
“They were found outside the fortress unconscious, looking as cold as dead bodies, with some odd black veins all over them. The Maester said that it didn’t match anything he had ever seen before that it was almost unnatural. So, I ask of you again, what did you do to my daughters?”
For the first time since she met him, Harry Potter’s face turned stony, and he no longer looked amused. She swore that she could feel Syrax panic for a few moments, until he spoke, “Take us to them. Now.”
AN: I realised that I hadn’t written Rhaenyra’s perspective in a while, so I went with it. I almost forgot how I wrote her characterisation, but I wanted to show her as somewhat spoiled and thinking that offering someone a position of power when she would be Queen to be above any other boon. As in, she actually thinks that she’s giving Harry a very good deal and is shocked by the criticism she got. I had a bit of fun writing it, but I don’t know if it came out like I wanted it to. As usual, I don’t mind rewriting this chapter depending on your feedback, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Comments
franfran
It's a good point. If Rhaenyra wants to start these initiatives for the Realm, why don't you do it now, when the King overly favours you? Especially when you're the first FEMALE heir and her own close relative Jeyne Arryn struggles everyday with holding on to her seat. Now you wait and he is clearly showing preference to the wizard's counsel and your window of opportunity shrinks because someone who has a personal vendetta against you is now the King's right-hand man. Rhaenyra has no one else to blame but herself
Marius Petrauskas
nice
