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(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 2: Impulsive Hospitality
🕑 Added 2025-05-18 14:00:21 +0000 UTCChapter 2: Impulsive Hospitality
123 AC, Dragonstone
Even after decades flying on Caraxes’ back, Daemon Targaryen couldn’t help but smile at the euphoria he felt as he soared through the air. He wasn’t happy about many things these days, and wasn’t that an understatement, but he was one step closer to securing his family’s legacy, which his brother had done his best to ruin over his rule.
He had allowed the Hightowers too much influence, making the court resemble that of an Andal King instead of the one belonging to the Conqueror’s legacy. He could see it, slowly occurring, the Maesters and the Faith’s slow influence over the crown. He had done his best to steer Rhaenyra’s children to get them to learn what it meant to be a child of Valyria. They were young, but he had to admit that Jacaerys was promising. He had the steel of a future ruler and took his duties very seriously. His younger brother, on the other hand, reminded Daemon uncomfortably of Viserys. He had inherited his mother’s kindness, but none of the fire in her veins.
Nevertheless, despite their nature as bastards, Daemon would support them, so that his family’s legacy wouldn’t be forgotten, as it would have under the reign of the Hightower spawn. Perhaps, his child with Baela would be of the correct colouring, and they could put this mess behind them, but that barely mattered compared to the possible loss of their legacy.
People often thought that Daemon sought the throne, and while he was tempted in his youth, as he had been his brother’s heir for a while, his marriage with Laena had strayed these thoughts completely. It had been an act of desperation on both their parts. She was desperate to escape her wretched betrothed, and he was desperate to get married after the bronze bitch’s death, hoping that. Viserys wouldn’t tie him down to another Andal woman.
She had been the only potential Valyrian bride left, and they had done so. He never expected to love her. She completed him in a way that he never thought possible. She was just as free-spirited as he was and loved testing the waters throughout his marriage. Just watching her soar on Vhagar, just happy to be in the sky, just made him smile in the air.
Her death had made the world seem greyer, left a void inside him that Rhaenyra and all the power she could promise him couldn’t fill. Instead, he decided to focus on safeguarding his family’s future, and gave his daughters with Laena, the lives they deserved, as Queen and Lady of the Driftmark respectively.
The reminder of his wife’s death sobered him in the air, and he commanded Caraxes to circle around the Dragonmont, doing his best to be vigilant for a possible attack from a wild dragon, before gliding near the beach where his wife’s sworn shield said a manse had been built.
It didn’t take him long to find it; the manse wasn’t completely hidden, and he had to admit that the knight had been right to be overwhelmed. The entire structure looked like it was made from a single stone, much like Dragonstone was, and the architecture was very different. It was more akin to an amalgamation of Essosi and Westerosi architecture than anything else. He had never seen something quite like this, and Daemon was well-travelled.
Nevertheless, he landed his dragon with a loud thud and commanded Caraxes to release a loud roar, to intimidate the upstarts who had come here, to his family’s island, and built a manse without any permission.
That ought to scare them shitless, and as he expected, he saw the door to the manse opening. Good. Now, he only had to get down with Caraxes and see the look of awed terror on this Harry Potter’s face. It was a guilty pleasure of his.
And yet, as he landed, he didn’t see any fear or awe, just a man giving him an unimpressed look, standing casually. Cargyll was right. He was unarmed, and his clothes were quite odd. He was wearing a long brown coat, obviously finely made, but without any of the ornaments the noblemen likely to have. Then there were some sort of weird clothes beneath it, but what was most striking was the Myrish glass that was held with metal, which he was wearing on his nose, in front of his green eyes. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was some kind of far-eye that he’d never seen before.
He also understood why Cargyll immediately assumed that he was a nobleman. Despite the lack of luxury, a peasant or a merchant didn’t have this kind of presence. It was like Daemon was looking at a walking contradiction that just wouldn’t make sense no matter what he tried.
The man raised his eyebrow in greeting, “You’re loud.”
That brought whatever Daemon had been planning to say short. Here was a man who was faced with a man capable of reducing his entire home and life into cinders. And yet, he had the gall to say that he, the Rogue Prince, was loud.
He should have been angry. He had every right to be. He was being disrespected, but the lack of fear, the lack of hate or scorn, or anything other than mild irritation at best, was something that the Rogue Prince had never seen before.
Instead, he simply burst into laughter, “Are you not afraid of Caraxes?”
“I’m assuming you’re talking about the dragon… but no. Should I be?”
“Yes,” Daemon insisted, feeling incredulous at the moment.
“Then I apologise. I’ll do my best to be properly frightened the next time I see one,” the man replied dryly, in a way that Daemon honestly missed, since his time fighting in the Stepstones.
“I like you,” the prince then declared, to the man’s obvious confusion.
“That’s nice, but it still doesn’t excuse the noise,” the stranger replied before turning towards Caraxes, “But I have to admit, he is quite the specimen.”
Ignoring Daemon’s protest completely, the man walked out of the manse and moved towards the Blood Wyrm. Caraxes hissed at the approaching man, and Daemon could feel the man’s probable demise. He tried to do something to stop the man, only for Caraxes’ rage to turn suddenly to fear in a fraction of a second, and slowly move back, as if trying to appease the man.
Seeing his partner’s obvious apprehension, Daemon instinctively reached for his sword, ready to kill the man at any moment, whatever amusement he felt at the man’s actions disappearing immediately. “What are you doing to him?”
“Nothing,” the man replied calmly, “I’m simply looking at him. I was right. He truly is quite a specimen. Do you know that your dragons are not natural? I don’t mean it as an insult, but they’re obviously created, not naturally evolved. Yours seems to favour a more serpentine form, likely from one of his ancestors. He’s intelligent… Very intelligent… Likely a result of your bond with him, or is it what allows the bond in the first place? Some very impressive ability to sense magic as well. How curious.”
Daemon raised Dark Sister, pointing it at Harry Potter’s back. The man seemingly turned, amusement in his eyes, before Daemon suddenly realised that his sword was in the man’s hand.
He traced the surface of the blade, his ears to it, as if listening to something, and shaking his head, “What a bloody little weapon you have. Fourteen souls empowering the soul of an unborn dragon, with two types of steel. One is obviously enhanced with some blood of some sort, with fire properties. Not quite like your dragon, but something similar. The other is familiar. Ah, Dragonglass. The steel is almost infused with Dragonglass. Spell-forged under a magical flame, of course. Hardness, sharpness... No, this is just the byproduct… Eternal… Quite a weapon, if a little inefficient. It will serve you well, especially against most magics. As long as they can’t overpower the souls maintaining the enchantments, of course.”
Daemon understood maybe half of what the man muttered, yet stood completely silent as he was handed back his sword without anything. Never in his life did he feel so completely overwhelmed. Had the man used magic to steal his sword? Or was he so fast that Daemon didn’t it being taken from him?
The man turned and walked back to his manse. Daemon wanted to say something. He didn’t know what it was. He wanted an explanation, to tell the man to stop and face him, but the words simply wouldn’t leave his mouth. Yet, the man paused right as he neared his door, and spoke up, “Aren’t you going to come in?”
Daemon silently followed with Dark Sister in his hand, still ready to attack at any time, and followed the man inside. He would have his answer no matter what.
The moment he stepped inside the manse, he had to restrain the urge to gasp. This place had some luxuries everywhere, yet not. It was weird. There were seemingly glass items all over the place, as if it didn’t cost a fortune to manufacture. There were porcelain plates to beggar an entire house. There were paintings and portraits hung everywhere, but what was curious was the lack of gold and jewels, unlike most nobles he had met. It was akin to only showcasing half of their wealth on a whim.
He was so caught off guard by his surroundings that he hadn’t seen the woman with golden hair, seemingly tending to some plant. No, now that he was looking at it, it wasn’t any normal plant, but an extremely small Weirwood Tree, with minuscule red leaves, and a face carved into it.
The woman didn’t greet him, seemingly preoccupied with the impossibility she was studying. The man sat on one of the chairs, and he motioned for Daemon to do the same. The prince was too overwhelmed to argue and just sat down. “So, I'm guessing you didn’t make such a ruckus for no reason. So, let’s start with the introductions. My name is Harry Potter. This is my wife, Daphne.”
The woman raised her head and nodded at him before returning to her task. Her husband chuckled, “Don’t mind her. She tends to be absorbed whenever she sees something new that interests her. I can’t exactly complain. This is a habit she got from me after all. Now, as I said, I’m guessing that you didn’t come here for no reason.”
Deamon stiffened slightly, finally finding a comfortable topic, and threw the silver coin to Potter. He was about to speak up when the wife raised her head for the first time and looked towards him, her blue eyes meeting his violet ones. “Where did you get this?”
“How curious. That was exactly the question I was planning to ask you,” the prince answered back.
He looked towards the man, waiting for him to chide his wife or something, yet the man didn’t seem concerned, and the blonde didn’t relent, this time with her voice much firmer, “I gave it to a fisherman and his son. Did you steal it from them?”
“Steal it from them? Do you think I am some common thief? I am Daemon Targaryen, brother to the king, Viserys Targaryen, the Rogue Prince, rider of Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm. I have no need to steal silver from a peasant.”
“Quite a long list of titles, you have there, mate,” the man retorted, “But that doesn’t explain how this coin came to your possession.”
“One of the guards bought it on a whim from a fisherman who had drunkenly boasted of the tale. He paid him an entire Gold Dragon for it, more than what he probably makes in a year.”
He noticed that the woman hummed, seemingly content, before turning back to her tree. Daemon turned towards her husband, expecting some sort of explanation, and yet nothing came, only a look of amusement.
The Rogue Prince gritted his teeth and asked, “So, where did you get this coin?”
“Where else,” the strange man retorted, “I got it from a bank. Now, where they got it from must be quite the story. Silver so easily trades hands nowadays. Perhaps it belonged to a mercenary at a time, or a carpenter… Oh, the stories such a coin could tell.”
“Silver is also normally not indestructible,” Daemon retorted, “And I’m quickly tired of these word games of yours.”
The man snorted, “Then why didn’t you say so. I’m afraid I don’t know much about the coin’s mintage. Goblins are quite secretive with their metalsmithing. And I never really cared to look, to be honest.”
“Goblins?” Daemon asked despite himself.
“Ah, yes, very quick to anger and very slow to forgive, these people. Extremely territorial over their magic, especially when it comes to their artefacts.”
So, the coin was made with magic, but not their own. Were the Goblins some sort of people, a remnant of Valyria that had retained their magic somewhere?
He needed these questions answered and quickly, “And where can I find these Goblins?”
“Oh, I don’t think you have the means to reach them. You might even say that they’re out of this world,” Potter responded while snickering at something that Daemon didn’t understand.
That was the limit.
Whatever little patience Daemon Targaryen had long dried out, “By all rights and laws of men, I have the right to kill you and burn this entire place to cinders. You have come into my family’s island and built this place without any permission, and now, that I come to you in good faith, you think that you can just mock me.”
He felt Caraxes react to his anger and screech, but it was strangely subdued, before turning silent suddenly.
Harry Potter, though, still had that amused expression on his face and was unaffected by his threat, “My dear, you’re talking with the same assumption that you, somehow, have any right to decide any of our actions, that your laws and crowns affect us in any way. You can no more command me than a peasant can do a dragon…”
Daemon felt some sort of invisible pressure, making it harder to breathe, and yet the man didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t even frown. He still had that infuriating smile on his face.
Then a voice spoke up, “Harry!”
And just like that, the pressure disappeared. Daemon gasped and heaved slightly, and it took a few seconds to recognise that it was the man’s wife who stopped him.
Yet, the woman didn’t seem angered or even annoyed, “Come on, Harry. You promised me that we’d move around a bit, and while that tree is interesting, I’m curious about this castle of theirs. Besides, they have a point. We were pretty rude, just setting up this place without any permission.”
The man, Harry Potter, huffed, “Seriously, Daph?”
“You said that you chose this place for me, right? I want to meet the locals.”
“You do realise that they’ll do their best to drag us into their mess, right?”
The woman rolled her eyes. “Are you seriously telling me that you’re concerned about a bunch of muggles and their dragons?”
Muggles. What were Muggles, and why did the woman call them that?
And why did Daemon feel like he was in the middle of a marital spat more than anything, and that their dragons, their house’s pride, were being belittled so much?
He was tempted to say anything in retaliation, but the man’s response brought him short, “Of course, I’m not worried. But they’ll be annoying.”
The blonde just gave him a severe look, and the man deflated, while muttering something that Daemon couldn’t hear under his breath. He then turned towards the prince and spoke up, “Fine. Expect us at your castle tomorrow for Breakfast. We’ll answer any questions you have then. Goodbye, Daemon Targaryen.”
The Rogue Prince barely had any chance to protest before being escorted back out of the manse. He was outside when he processed what he had just experienced.
A part of him wanted to rage at the man and his arrogance, to take Caraxes and burn everything to the ground. And yet, another part of him remembered the pressure he felt when the man got irritated, and he hesitated.
In a way, Daemon had gotten what he wanted. Harry Potter and his wife were coming to Dragonstone to explain themselves to their wife. Unfortunately, he didn’t know if this was such a good idea.
He didn’t even get to ask the man about how he built the manse in the first place.
AN: I’m not sure of an older Daemon’s characterisation in this, to be honest. I read Fire and Blood years ago, so I might have misremembered a few details. I think this is how Harry would treat someone making demands of him instead of a full-blown confrontation. Still, I don’t mind rewriting it depending on your feedback. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
In other news, as you probably saw the poll results, this week all four chapters will be EM ones. However, I do have a few AT chapters already written that I'll probably just polish up a bit, upload them, but it won't be on an upload day (So Monday, Wednesday, or Friday).
It won't conflict with any of the EM chapters, but it seems like a shame to just leave them on my computer for no reason, and I wanted to know if you think I should still work on it in the background or just focus on EM completely. I'll revisit it probably during next week's poll (I'm trying to be a bit more interactive, but I don't know if it's working). I hope you like this chapter, though.
Comments
Garri Sarkisov
That was funny.
athass_prkr
I swear you're reading my mind or something :). Hedwig makes an appearance in the next chapter.
Mythras Sarimanok
Just a random thought that came to me. What happened to his original wand (pine and phoenix feather) and hedwig?
