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(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 3: Mystifying Welcome
🕑 Added 2025-05-20 14:00:57 +0000 UTCChapter 3: Mystifying Welcome
123 AC, Dragonstone
Rhaenyra Targaryen, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, waited impassively in the Dragonstone’s Great Hall. It was almost completely empty, save for her family seated at the long stone table. Platters of food sat untouched, steamed greens, roasted boar, warm bread still letting off steam, filling the room with a scent that only made the silence more unbearable.
She sat at the helm of the table, surrounded by her family, her fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the table. No one lifted a fork. If someone were to look at her, they wouldn’t know the anger coursing through her veins. It had taken her years to master her expressions, but she had to admit that she didn’t think she would have gotten so annoyed by this Harry Potter.
She wanted to yell at Daemon for his misstep. He went to confront this Harry Potter the previous day, and had returned shaken, telling her that the Potters had agreed to come to break their fast with her and her children that day, something that she didn’t appreciate.
Rhaenyra had expected them to come for a petition, not something as intimate as this. She liked to break her fast with her family, without any courtly matters distracting them. It was something she wished her father had done with her in King’s Landing. Instead, there was always a member of the small council or some important lord. Of course, Alicent was always there, and Otto, when he was still Hand of the King, and they constantly undermined her, tried to do their best to distance her father from her.
She did her best not to make the same mistakes with her children, and she was proud of the men they were growing to be.
Daemon knew for a fact that this time, the start of the day, was reserved for family and yet, he decided to invite this Harry Potter and his wife, two people who were supposed to come to her, begging for mercy, for their trespass.
She had raged at him the previous night, but he seemed oddly subdued; the fire that often coursed through his veins, the anger, ready to swallow everything at any moment, was all but gone.
She thought that it was because he drank too much wine. After all, her husband barely returned to their bedchambers in the middle of the night, obviously drunk, while proclaiming that the Potters would break their fast with them the following day, nothing more. She had raged at him, and instead of arguing back, he just stood there, without saying anything.
Wine, if anything, made Daemon reckless and frayed the tight control he held over his simmering rage. However, she saw none of this last night. If anything, he was more subdued and calmer.
Still, Rhaenyra could understand why he agreed to make the meeting with the Potters private. Talks of magic and sorcery were not ones that she wanted to be public. She could only imagine how Alicent would twist the events, spread rumours of her consorting with demons or something as abhorrent. She had always been so small-minded.
That didn’t mean she had to be pleased with this arrangement.
Her children were seated beside her—Jacaerys, Lucerys, and little Joffrey—but they weren’t alone. Baela and Rhaena sat across from them, chatting quietly, their heads bowed close as they laughed at something Lucerys whispered. Jace, ever the older brother, was trying and failing not to smile too much, his shoulders stiff with the weight of expectation. Rhaena’s eyes kept flicking toward the entrance, nervous, while Baela looked far too unimpressed with the entire ordeal.
Daemon hadn’t wanted his daughters here. He claimed it was unnecessary, that they shouldn’t be involved in affairs they didn’t understand yet, but Rhaenyra pressed him, and he relented. She wasn’t sure if it was pride or fear that made him wary, but she wouldn’t let him hide the girls away from something this important. Not when the future of their house would one day rest on all of their shoulders.
Daemon, for his part, sat far too relaxed beside her. There was a tension beneath it, she could tell, his fingers drummed softly against the table, his eyes locked on the door, but his posture was loose, settled.
Her husband’s misstep wasn’t exactly why she was angry. Instead, she was raging because of one simple fact: “They’re late.”
She had sent a welcoming party to escort their visitors to the castle nearly half an hour ago. Courteous, formal, discreet. And yet, here she sat, at her own table, in her own hall, with her children and husband, waiting like some minor Lady for a pair of errant travellers to grace her with their presence. Rhaenyra Targaryen did not wait on anyone, least of all strangers who built manses on her island without permission and spoke to her sworn knight like common fools daring the storm. She tightened her grip on her goblet, the polished silver creaking faintly beneath her fingers. If this were some game they were playing, they would learn quickly that she didn’t take well to mockery.
Her husband didn’t speak up at her statement, and she muttered, “I have half a mind to take Syrax and just burn their manse to the ground for keeping me waiting.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re hungry,” Daemon joked back, but there was something else beneath his attempt at humour.
“Now, you speak,” Rhaenyra complained, “I’ve been waiting for you to say a word since we came here.”
“I’ve been having a lot on my mind.”
“I’m assuming that this is about our late guests.”
Her husband took a deep breath and snorted, “Yes. Guests. That’s what they are.”
“What happened yesterday, Daemon?” she couldn’t help but ask, “You have been… different since your visit to the Potters.”
Daemon hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking a deep breath, “I don’t know much of it myself. I’m still trying to understand it. But I know one thing for certain: this man, Harry Potter, is dangerous. Very dangerous. I could feel it in my bones. Do not underestimate him and do not anger him.”
“You’re talking as if he were some demon. We have a small army of guards outside and enough dragons to burn a kingdom to ash in mere days,” she answered while snorting.
“You don’t understand. Caraxes was afraid of him. He actively tried to avoid him, to flee him. He used to play around with Vhagar... before…” he trailed off at the thought of his dead wife before shaking his head and continuing, “I felt Caraxes’ fear, and it was beyond mild panic. I didn’t even think that dragons could feel like this.”
That brought her short, and for the first time in their conversation, she didn’t know what to say. After all, what could she say about a dragon being afraid of a man? No, Daemon had to be mistaken in some way. Dragons were a power beyond men. They were what allowed Aegon Targaryen to conquer an entire continent with just his sister-wives. They were what allowed her ancestors to conquer most of Essos, building the Valyrian Freehold, before the Doom, of course.
If there was a power that surpassed theirs, that somehow allowed a man to pose a threat to a dragon, then it would have been known by now, much like how Scorpions are infamous for Meraxes’ death, despite it being a lucky shot that went through the dragon’s eye. So far, no magic had ever come close, with the fate of whoever tried over the years ending in the same way: Fire and Blood.
Instead of needling Daemon about the experience, she chose to change the subject, “And what of the magic, the coin and the stone? Did you get any answers?”
“Potter proclaimed that the coin was not of his own creation and instead was minted by a people that he called ‘Goblins’, who appear to be quite secretive of their magics. I believe that they might be a colony of Valyrian sorcerers who survived the Doom, but they did not elaborate on the subject. Perhaps the means he used to build his manse were of a similar origin. I cannot tell for sure, but I could feel it. The man is a sorcerer, perhaps even his wife.”
Rhaenyra did her best to hide her excitement at her husband’s answer. If what the man said was true, then these ‘Goblins’ provided an immense opportunity. Inviting them to live somewhere in Westeros wouldn’t be that hard, especially with her father’s love for their homeland. His wretched hand, Otto Hightower, would oppose it, of course, but she knew that not even his hold over her father would be enough to prevent her from witnessing a fragment of the glory of Valyria in the Seven Kingdoms.
And if they refused to come, then trade would be an option, and Rhaenyra would make herself indispensable to the realm through trade alone, much like Corlys Velaryon was. Given her alliance with the Sea Snake, this could easily cement the Blacks’ position in court and in Westeros as a whole.
Despite her best efforts, her husband seemed to sense her excitement: “Do not underestimate this man, Rhaenyra. Harry Potter told me, after a second examining my sword, how Dark Sister was forged. Four and ten human souls were sacrificed, and that of a dragon egg. That is what he said.”
“Men have been trying to discover how to forge Valyrian steel for centuries, with no avail, and you are telling me that a random man did it with a glance. I did not take you for a fool, Daemon, to believe such a boast.”
“I am no fool,” Daemon gritted out, his eyes almost glowing in suppressed anger, before calming down, “He wasn’t proud of what he said, or even proclaimed that he could imitate it. I know that look in his eyes. It was akin to a warrior watching a duel or a Maester reading an interesting book. He was studying the sword, not boasting. What I am trying to say is that Magic is not something either of us has encountered before, and we do not know its limits. We have to be careful.”
Rhaenyra hummed in agreement. It wasn’t common for Daemon to recommend caution over action, and so, she had to give his counsel some serious thought.
It was something her father would do. For all her love for him, she had to admit that he was a weak king, easily led around by his small council, specifically Otto, whose words he seemed to worship. The man might as well wear a crown, given that he practically ruled over the Seven Kingdoms.
She could see the damned man’s influence when her father had all but banished her to Dragonstone after her wedding to Daemon. He hadn’t exactly put it into words, but she hadn’t received any letters since returning to Dragonstone after her wedding. Not that she was planning on going there frequently. As much as she hated it, she had to leave her father alone with her enemies. With Otto at hand and the aftermath of the incident at the Driftmark, Rhaenyra knew that her children would be in danger for every moment they spent in King’s Landing. That’s not to mention that she didn’t wish for them to grow with their every action watched and judged with whispers of their parentage always on everyone’s lips.
Her best choice was to replace Otto as hand, curb some of his influence at the Capital. But she would have to wait until her children grew to do so, when they would be old enough to fight their own battles. This Harry Potter might hold the key to eventually oust Alicent’s father from his position, but she wasn’t so sure.
Now, onto finding some leverage on that potential sorcerer, “What of his wife?”
Daemon hummed, “She barely spoke, instead focusing on some potted miniature Weirwood tree that she was taking care of. I’m not sure if she’s a sorceress or not, but he seemed to listen to her counsel. She’s the one who convinced him to come, but she treated this more like a casual visit than any concern of meeting the royal family.”
So, the man listens to his wife’s counsel. That might be an avenue to convince him if he proves to be obstinate. Yet, she joked, “So, I assume that your theory of this being a plot by the Greens wasn’t correct.”
“I do not think that even Otto would ever risk inviting this man to our shores. And even if he could, I do not think that he could get someone like Harry Potter to follow his commands.”
She was about to reply, only for Jace to complain loudly, “Mother, can we break our fast? We’re all hungry.”
Before she could say anything, the doors of the Great Hall opened unprompted. That was odd. Normally, her guards would have announced someone entering. She turned towards the door, ready to demand an explanation, only to freeze as she saw two people entering the room casually. One was a man, thin, of relatively normal height, with very unkept hair, and green eyes that were behind some odd contraption made of glass that resembled a very thin far-eye. He was wearing some well-made, yet odd clothes, much like Daemon described them. His wife, a beautiful, golden-haired woman with blue eyes, wore a simple yet fine dress and stared at them with a neutral smile.
She could feel Daemon stiffening slightly next to her, and Rhaenyra finally understood why he had been so unsettled the previous day. Looking at them, especially the man, felt very similar to staring down a dragon. They had this presence, some sort of power, that seemed to emanate from them.
Her guards unsheathed their swords, ready to attack the intruders at once, who looked at them without any concern on their faces. Seven Hells, the woman's smile had even remained soft, but Rhaenyra couldn't help but notice that her eyes tracked every guard’s movement like a hawk surveying prey.
Rhaenyra raised her hand, stopping them in their tracks, and was about to introduce their guests, only for the man to smile widely, “Sorry for being late. We’ve been admiring your lovely castle. Very impressive, but you seem to put dragons on everything for some reason.”
Before she could say anything, her eldest, Jace, spoke up and gave him a curious look, “That’s because we ride dragons, silly.”
“Perhaps,” Potter explained with a kind smile on his face, “But most people also happen to ride horses. Should they also have statues of horses all over their castles?”
Rhaenyra released a breath that she had been unconsciously holding. The man obviously had a weakness for children, or had, at least, known how to interact with them easily enough.
Jace’s adorable, thoughtful look on his face almost made her heart melt. He then answered, “But horses didn’t conquer Westeros, dragons did.”
The man who was possibly a sorcerer nodded sagely, as if her son gave him a pearl of wisdom, “They did. But this castle was built before the Conqueror was even born.”
Jace’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I did not think of that. Is it because they fly?”
“But so do ravens and eagles, yet there aren’t any here. Me? I've always liked owls the best. One of my oldest friends happens to be one?"
Her boy giggled at the absurdity of the statement, "You can't be friends with a bird."
"Is that so?" the man answered with a twinkle in his eyes. The moment he finished his sentence, a white bird - an owl, she recognised - swooped into the room and landed on his shoulder. He gave Jace a smug grin, "This is Hedwig. She's been my friend ever since I was around your age, maybe a bit older."
"She's beautiful," Rhaena retorted in awe.
The owl turned towards its master and hooted proudly. Potter snickered and turned towards the young girl, "Well, she seems to like you as well, princess. Tell you what, why don't you spend some time with her? Hedwig likes to be pampered a lot, but be careful with your food. She's a bit of a glutton."
The children nodded eagerly, and the white owl flew towards them in a surprising form of intelligence for a bird, and perched itself right next to her smiling children. With that interruption out of the way, Rhaenyra was finally able to snap out of her shock and properly greet her guests, “I, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Crown Princess of the Seven Kingdoms and Princess of Dragonstone, bid welcome to Harry Potter and Daphne Potter.”
The man nodded and bowed slightly, “Thank you for your invitation and hospitality.”
He then brightened and clapped his hands, “Alright, with all of this out of the way, I believe we have some very important matters to attend to. Breakfast. I’m famished.”
Rhaenyra gave the man an incredulous look. She wasn’t exactly used to this kind of informality at her table, least of all from someone she hadn’t even decided if she considered a guest, a trespasser, or something else entirely. The absurdity of it all, entering unannounced, joking with her son before greeting her properly, speaking so casually in the seat of House Targaryen’s power, made her want to clench her jaw.
And yet, he didn’t seem mocking, not exactly. Just… casual. Like this was an ordinary meal with ordinary company. Even his wife looked vaguely exasperated, as though she’d told him to behave and already given up.
Rhaenyra, for all her poise, didn’t know what to make of it. Something about the entire encounter felt off-balance, like a dream that veered off course without warning. But one thing she knew with absolute certainty: whatever came next, she would never forget this breakfast.
AN: I know some of you will ask why Daemon is keeping things from Rhaenyra about his encounter with Harry, and it’s mostly a mixture of shame, disbelief at his own experience, and not expecting Rhaenyra to take it seriously (which you kinda see with the Valyrian Steel). I’m a bit rusty with my knowledge of Fire and Blood, so I might get some characterisations a bit wrong. If I do so in a big way, please let me know. The idea was to essentially have Rhaenyra have a million plans on how to use this to her advantage, only for Harry to appear like a wildcard and flip the board completely. I’m excited for the next chapter, though. 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
Marius Petrauskas
nice
Garri Sarkisov
Unsettling people everywhere is the Harry Potter way
Jafarr710
I like how you are portraying harry as a casual badass. He doesn't flaunt his power, but owns it. It's that subtle grace and the way one holds themselves, that really scream "Don't f***k with me."
