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(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 29: A Drowning Man
🕑 Added 2025-07-05 14:00:18 +0000 UTCChapter 29: A Drowning Man
123 AC, Pyke, Iron Islands
Corlys Velaryon had seen much in his life. He had seen the beautiful shimmer of the Jade Sea at sunrise, the pale spires of Leng carved from ivory and myth, the floating markets of Yi Ti where spices and silk danced in the wind. He had seen the horrors of Asshai, the streets choked in shadow even at midday, where there were no children, no birds, not even the sounds of the waves.
But nothing, in all his years of pride and adventures, prepared him for the sight before him.
The Greyjoy boy, if one could even call him that anymore, was misshapen, a mockery of life, an obvious sign of sorcery. Yet, the sorcerer was unafraid, facing him with the same childishness he faced everything else. He spoke to the boy, and something spoke back, “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”
The Greyjoy boy’s eyes looked completely black, and he spoke with a foreign voice layered on top of his own. Possession, if he had to guess. He knew that it was possible, but he had never seen it himself.
The sorcerer didn’t seem bothered by any of it. “Oh, nothing much. Just a conversation. But I like to look people in the eye when I speak to them. It’s more polite, you see. Now tell me, what are you and why have you brought me here?”
Corlys’ mind flashed back to Potter proclaiming that the sudden storm that had brought them here was an invitation of some sort. He hadn’t quite understood what that meant at the time, but now he knew.
He also remembered Lady Daphne saying that their presence would be somewhat dangerous. He had to agree with her now.
Of course, that didn’t mean much now, but the sorcerer had asked a question, and that thing answered, “I AM HE WHO DWELLS BENEATH THE WAVES. I AM MEMORY AND TIDE. I AM THE THOUGHT OF DROWNING THAT NEVER ENDS.”
If anything, the sorcerer seemed satisfied with the response, “Now, that’s a very long name. Then again, languages can be so restrictive, can’t they? I suppose shortening it all to the Drowned God does make sense. I suppose it would have been too much to expect a name, like Steve or Jeff… Anyway, it’s very nice to meet you, or I think it is. After all, you expended a lot of energy to bring me here. Even with your authority, there’s only so much that little window you call a throne could hold.”
“YOU WERE IN MY WATERS.”
“Yes, I was. That did give you an advantage, a lord of the seas near his worshippers. Although I can’t help but wonder how you were able to arrange everything so quickly. A form of divination, perhaps…”
The god in the body of Dalton Greyjoy did not answer, but that didn’t seem to deter the sorcerer, who clapped suddenly, “I see it now. You didn’t know, did you? I went to the Westerlands on a whim, and like you said, I was in your water. I could feel the warp in space-time, channelled through the sea, that brought me exactly towards a ship, and not just any ship, but one filled with your worshippers, enough to bring us here. They were all a silent bunch. But that also means something else, something important… You’re expending a lot of power to secure your influence over your worshippers. What you did to this poor boy must have taken weeks at the very least, and I’m being generous here, likely before I even came here.”
“YOUR ARRIVAL WAS FORETOLD, INTERLOPER.”
The sorcerer hummed, “Was it now? How curious… Fate can be a bitch, but I know prophecy, and this is not one. There’s something missing, something I’m not seeing… Anyway, let’s change the subject instead. Tell me about the boy, what are you doing with him?”
“HE IS MY PROPHET, MY CHAMPION.”
“Yes, I understand that, but why him? He was just a boy, ten if I have to guess. You’re ravaging his soul. No, that’s not it. You’re tying his soul to your little throne, using the properties of souls, the fact that they exist in many realms at once, to channel this. Why? No, that’s not important. What’s important is why now? You could have prepared better, worked on his father before he died, kept him safe and strong, as your champion. Instead, you’re using a lot of energy just to make sure that his body doesn’t combust, enough energy that even this stone would not hold for too long. Too much energy for it to be through your throne.”
For the first time, Corlys saw the entity inhabiting the Greyjoy boy hesitate slightly. The Drowned God, if the sorcerer were to be believed. He was never a godly man, choosing to believe in the might of planning, ingenuity, and daring, instead of praying to statues that would not do much. It was not prayer that had won him the Stepstones. It was planning, courage, and daring.
And yet, he felt smaller in front of the entity that the sorcerer spoke with too casually for his tastes, but he could not deny what he was seeing, what he was feeling. The Drowned God was real. Did that mean that the Seven were as well? Were the Old Gods? Were the Gods of Old Valyria?
Still, it was a wonder to see a man speak so casually to a god who was seemingly refusing to answer. And yet Potter continued, “Do you want to know what I think? I think that if you could have used the boy’s father, then you would have. It was the smartest thing to do, and you don’t strike me as an idiot. So, that means that you couldn’t, could you? Which means that something was stopping you, a restriction, perhaps. I’m right, aren’t I? And something loosened your restrictions, something that changed things.”
The silence stretched, thick and oppressive, until the boy’s mouth opened once more, and that ancient voice poured out, low and resonant.
“YOU TURN THE WHEEL WITHOUT KNOWING ITS SPOKES.”
The sorcerer’s smile faltered, just a fraction. “Now that,” he said softly, “is a curious thing to say. It’s my arrival… You knew that I would be here, and not through some prophecy. My arrival shouldn’t have changed anything, unless… I see it now. Time is a very curious concept, isn’t it? And for it to be used as a prison, well, I’m interested in speaking to whoever made them. When we came here, we made a disturbance on time. It’s only natural, after all, but for someone bound in chains of time, it must have felt like breathing again. The closer to my arrival it was, the looser your chains became. Which also means that you’re losing the little freedom you have. Which means that you’re on a clock, the final few moments of freedom, a couple of years at most, if I had to guess, and all you've done so far is possess a child, start to directly influence your own worshippers, and try to summon me here. Why?”
“YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE.”
The sorcerer didn’t seem intimidated, and instead, rolled his eyes, “You’re the one who invited me here. You can’t exactly complain about me being here. You still keep changing the subject. Why have you brought me here?”
The thing speaking through the boy repeated itself, “YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE.”
“You already said that… Oh!” Potter replied, “You brought me here because I don’t belong. I see now. That makes sense.”
The previously neutral expression on the Greyjoy boy’s face turned into a sickening, bloodthirsty smile before he started to morph into something. Corlys would not find the words to describe it, other than it was akin to watching the sea itself try to wear a man’s skin.
Dalton’s limbs bent at impossible angles, not breaking but realigning, his flesh flowing like water strained through a net of bone. His smile widened beyond the limits of a face, teeth stretching into rows, not sharp like that of a predator, but blunt like stones meant to grind and drown. A pressure filled the room, heavy and wet, like being dragged beneath the surface by invisible hands.
The god’s voice no longer came from the boy’s throat; it came from the space behind it, beneath it, within it. “YOU WALK BETWEEN SHORES. YOU BREACH THE VEIL. YOU ARE UNFORESEEN EVEN TO THE OLD ONES WHEN THEY CRAFTED MY CHAINS.”
Corlys stumbled back a step, breath caught in his throat. He pulled Rhaenys behind him, hoping to protect her somehow. They scrambled back and did their best to open the throne room, only to find it locked.
And yet, the sorcerer seemed completely unbothered and asked him, "Ah, so you want to use me to break your chains. I can't say I don't see why you'd want that, but there's something more to it... I can almost feel it. You haven't attacked me yet. It's not out of human decency, given what you're doing to the child you possess. You're desperate... I can see that, at the very least. It's more than just chained again, huh... The Old Ones. What could possibly be old to a god?"
The monstrosity that the boy became did not answer the sorcerer's question. Instead, it spoke: "YOU WILL AID ME, STRANGER."
"I don't think so," Potter replied, "And believe me, so far, you haven't been very convincing on why I should."
Pressure filled the room, and Corlys struggled to breathe. He felt like he was underwater, drowning very deeply in the sea. The Sea Snake looked at the sorcerer for help and froze as he noticed something that he had learned to dread slightly. He wasn’t smiling, not anymore.
Then he exhaled slowly, and the pressure shifted, as if the tide had turned. The creature inside the Greyjoy boy paused, just for a moment, as if it had been taken by surprise. “I tried to talk to you. I tried to understand you. I tried to reason with you. And yet, here you are, attacking my charges, attacking my wife. I want you to remember that I was willing to talk. I also want you to know that you really should have picked a different person if you thought that this little act would intimidate me. What happens next will be on your head, godling."
The god growled in anger and leapt at the sorcerer with a speed that Corlys hadn’t thought possible, a black blade appearing in his hand, Valyrian Steel, Corlys recognised, only for Potter to dodge out of the way, and raise the stone from the ground, which sent the god flying.
He followed with a spike of steel, but the god possessing the child somehow turned into water, making them pass through it. The Greyjoy boy's left arm elongated into a blade of water, which the sorcerer froze and broke.
The God released a growl, and the hand healed itself somehow.
The boy leapt to attack him once more, only for the sorcerer to raise his hand, and a scythe to appear. He ducked, dodging the attack, and sliced the boy’s chest, easily enough.
Corlys expected the god to heal itself once more, but instead, it stopped, looking at his chest with a mixture of confusion and fear. Blood tainted his hand, completely crimson, and the wound did not seem to heal.
The god did not say anything. Instead, he released a very loud screech that shook the very fortress they were in. Corlys ran at the door once more, using some of the broken ice, which he hoped would help him.
He kept pushing and again and again, hitting it with the ice, as Pyke’s Great Hall seemed to be collapsing, making sure to protect his wife when he could. Finally, he grinned as the door opened, only for desperation to set in as what seemed to be a wall of water seemingly stopping it.
The sorcerer’s voice spoke up behind them, “It looks like this will get a bit messy. I’ll try to break his control, and when I do, I want you to run to the other side quickly.”
Despite the fact that Potter was fighting the god, who had now grown to the size of a dragon, his skin completely darkened, almost black, even, he nodded. This trip had shown him that he knew very little of magic and gods, and he would listen to the man who obviously did.
Seconds later, the sorcerer released chains of ice that encircled the god, and it started to freeze. For a second, Corlys saw the wall of water flicker, and he took his wife’s hand and ran away. He jumped on the odd stone bridge, which looked like it was moments away from collapsing due to the island shaking, and Rhaenys followed.
He didn't know how long they ran away from the fortress, only that his legs were burning from exertion by the time the rumbling sounds of explosions and thunder were nothing but noises in the distance. He slumped slightly as he felt they were out of danger and was too tired to run anymore. Rhaenys looked the same, and he asked her, as he gasped in exertion, “Where is Meleys?”
“Close, but exhausted.”
“We may not have time,” Corlys muttered.
“No,” she agreed, “we don’t.”
As if the world itself wanted to prove them right, the fortress of Pyke started to collapse completely, showing a gigantic, grotesque thing breaking through it, and leaping towards the sea, throwing what seemed to be a white ball, which ended up being the sorcerer creating some sort of magical shield. Corlys couldn't see what happened next, as the hill he was standing on started to collapse.
Instead of staring at the battle, he grabbed Rhaenys and ran towards the shore, hoping to take one of the ships and stay away from the island until Meleys inevitably found them. He didn't like flying on dragonback, but he would gladly do so at this moment.
They arrived there, minutes later, gasping for breath, and Corlys looked around and found most of it to be deserted. The sky was rumbling, the clouds were gathering, like the start of a storm. He tried to remove a small sailboat that he could steer on his own, perhaps with some help from Rhaenys.
Corlys blinked hard and reached blindly for Rhaenys, found her hand trembling in his own. His ears were still ringing from the thunderclap, and his vision danced with white lines, but he saw the thing that had Dalton Greyjoy, rising from the depths of the sea. It now towered over the fortress like a god given flesh, limbs writhing like tendrils.
He cursed as he realised that their way out was now gone, but that turned quickly to dread as a gigantic wave appeared in front of him, quickly coming to shore. Corlys hugged his wife and braced himself for it.
He would die, on this cursed rock, far away from Driftmark. He wouldn't be buried alongside his children. His wife looked just as resigned as he was, as the water approached. Only for the wave to dissipate into thin air somehow, likely with some sort of magic, given the way the sorcerer stood, with some glowing circle of light with some strange symbols on it, surrounding him.
He looked like an ant in front of a giant, yet he stood there, his cloak swaying in the wind, facing the wrath of a god without any fear on his face. He spoke softly, but Corlys could hear it clearly despite the distance, "I think it's time for our little dance to end."
The God spoke, “THESE ARE MY WATERS. DEFEATING ME IS NOT POSSIBLE. ESCAPE IS NOT POSSIBLE.”
Potter answered, but this time, Corlys could almost hear the smile on his face, which, for some absurd reason, reassured him, “You’re right about one thing. Fighting you in your domain would be pretty foolish. Sure, I can probably win, but it seems so wasteful. Unfortunately for you, you made a very big mistake, one that will cost you everything. You forgot about my wife.”
A pulse of power threw Corlys and Rhaenys from their feet. They looked towards its source. It was the Great Hall in the remnants of the fortress of Pyke. They could see some light appearing from its broken walls, which got fainter and faded with every second.
The Drowned God froze completely before trying to stumble back to the fortress, but he seemed to shrink with every step. “Fighting gods is tricky. They’re not exactly physical beings. But you just left the key to your realm, to your existence, in the hands of someone who fought alongside me against gods and demons alike, and believe me, that’s a very bad idea. Lucky for her, I do make a very good distraction, don't I?”
The god’s body was barely more than its original size by the time he made his way to the sorcerer, yet his voice was still unnatural, if slightly weaker, "THE WHEEL TURNS AGAIN. I WOULD NOT DROWN BENEATH IT. I WOULD NOT LOSE MY CHILDREN TO THE DARK."
The God blurred faster than Corlys could perceive, likely hoping for one last final strike, with the Valyrian Steel sword that he was still grasping. However, Potter had seen it, raised his hand and caught the final, clumsy swing before turning the blade and mercilessly stabbing it clean through its chest.
The god fell down, kneeling, as the wound started to spread. He raised his hand and released a loud screech, which made Corlys' ear hurt. It was a sound unlike any other, unnatural, yet Corlys understood parts of it, somehow. Fear and mourning. Despite himself, the Sea Snake couldn't help but mourn the beast.
Finally, the god fell down, completely, his black eyes disappearing, becoming more human with every second, and the boy he was possessing gasped in shock, with tears falling from his eyes. He stared at the sorcerer hatefully, “You’ve doomed us all, monster. It was not greed that drove him, but love and fear. And now, the Iron Men stand with no protector.”
There was some humanity back in his eyes, which had the most natural expression of all, fear. The fear of death. Corlys knew for certain that this was not the Drowned God, not anymore, but Dalton Greyjoy himself. He spoke up in a neutral voice, “The hour of flame and frost draws night, the Age of Steel and Shadow, the Age of Dying Stars and Bleeding Skies. The world will freeze beneath a sunless sky, and the gods wake anew. War for life, war for death, war of gods, war of man. Lord of Space. Lord of Time. A final Night and a first Dawn.”
Corlys didn’t understand most of what the boy said, but the sorcerer obviously had, given the serious expression on his face. These were the last words Dalton Greyjoy spoke before he died, with his face frozen with the same expression of hate that he had given the man who had slain him.
The sorcerer’s wife, the woman who had seemingly done the deed, had appeared from somewhere and spoke to her husband in hushed tones. It seemingly ended with a nod, with the sorcerer still staring at the corpse of the boy whom he had just slain.
Rhaenys grabbed Corlys’ hand as well, comforting him, but did not say anything. After all, what could they say after witnessing the death of a god? He could feel that the world would never be the same again.
AN: I’ll be completely honest here, I’m not sure about this one. I don't know how to say it. It feels a bit off, I guess. I wrote it in a bit of a rush, but I’ll try to re-read it properly later tonight. I know that I left a few things out and that I didn’t explain everything. For one, Corlys and Rhaenys were not there for all of the fight, and there is some context that they will miss, including magical stuff, and what Daphne did. I’ll try to make up for it 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
avatarjedi
Great chapter. Would assume the gods to be more lovecraft.
Garri Sarkisov
Interesting
