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(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 1: Songs and Dragons
🕑 Added 2025-05-17 14:00:25 +0000 UTCAN: Here’s the first chapter of the EM crossover into Westeros. Some of you suggested starting the chapter count from scratch (since this is technically a new Volume). If you think this is confusing, please let me know. I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter 1: Songs and Dragons
123 AC, Dragonstone
Rhaenyra Targaryan stood above the training yard in Dragonstone, happily watching her three eldest children sparring in the yard. They were growing so quickly. It felt like it was barely a few moons prior, when they barely fit in the palm of her hands, and now they were training under the supervision of some of the best knights in the seven kingdoms, and they surely would join them.
And yet, she couldn’t help but feel some grief as she saw Harwin’s features on every single one of their faces. He would never get to see them grow up, never see Jace rise as King of the Seven Kingdoms. He had died the fire in Harrenhall alongside his father, and the future Queen of Westeros was sure that it was either Alicent’s work or that of her wretched father.
She had to admit that the last few years were quite hectic. Everything that happened since Laena’s death felt like a dream. Laenor’s tragic death, Harwin’s and Lyonel’s deaths, and Otto Hightower’s return as Hand of the King. The only upside was her marriage to Daemon, and even then, it wasn’t quite what she imagined.
She always admired him in his youth, dreamed of him whisking her away in a spur of passion, and ruled beside her, but something in him had been different since Laena’s death. Something was missing. Their nights together were passionate, but there was something missing that she had with Harwin, a tenderness that should have been there when they looked in each other’s eyes, one that was present when he looked at his daughters with Laena and his sons with her.
It was the right decision to marry him, an answer to that wretched half-brother of hers taking Vhagar and binding him to her cause instead of rushing to fight another war. Yet, she always felt like she would have been happier marrying Daemon.
But her happiness could come later, after she ascended to the Iron Throne, as her father decreed. Alicent and Otto seemed to believe that it was the support of the Lords that would give them the throne. In a world without dragons, perhaps that would have. This was proof of how little they understood their legacy. How could a few swords and armies matter if they could be burned in minutes? It was a lesson that Aegon Targaryen taught Westeros almost a century ago, and yet it seemed that the Hightower did forget it, until Aemond claimed Vhagar.
This was the moment that the Hightowers became a threat to her possible ascension, and now, she needed to be careful. Sure, she still had the advantage in numbers, but Sunfyre was growing quite quickly, and adding in Vhagar meant that Otto had options, something that she really didn’t like.
She took a gulp of wine from her goblet, deciding to put these thoughts to rest. She would worry about the throne later. For now, she would look at her sons' training with pride.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Erryk Cargyll, her new sworn shield who was appointed to her after Harwin’s death, bowing towards her, “Your Grace.”
She motioned for him to rise, and he did, but he looked hesitating for some reason, “Speak your mind, ser.”
“I’m not quite sure how to say this, Your Grace, but there had been some concerning reports from some of the smallfolk. I wasn’t sure if I should bring this to your attention, but what I have seen was quite odd and slightly disturbing.”
Rhaenyra was quickly running out of patience, and she gave him a sharp nod, while Syrax let out a screech in the distance. The knight stiffened and spoke quickly, “I was in a tavern in one of the villages below the Dragonmont. There was a man there, a fisherman, who told a most curious tale in exchange for a few drinks. I heard my fair share of tall tales, but this was different. He spoke of his son falling from his boat. He spent hours swimming, trying to find him, fearing the worst, only for the boy to end up on the shore, talking animatedly with a well-dressed woman with golden hair, who had saved him as he drowned. The woman even gave them a silver coin, wishing them well. I asked for proof and he showed me the coin. I bought it off him for a gold dragon.”
Her sworn shield handed her a large silver coin, which was surprisingly heavy. It had the carving of a dragon on one side, and another bearded man on the other, but it was undeniably silver. There were markings written there in a language she couldn’t read. Rhaenyra would never say that she was the best scholar out there, but she could recognise most dialects in Westeros and Essos, at the very least.
Not waiting for her to continue, Erryk seemed to finish his story, “I took it to a jeweller, since I thought that someone might have been making counterfeits, but even after hours of work, he couldn’t even make a scratch. I hit it with a sharpened axe, a hammer, even my sword, but it was there, indestructible. The only thing that I’ve ever seen with the same properties was Valyrian Steel. Curious, I went to the beach that the fisherman said he found the man, trying to trace his steps, and…”
“Please continue,” Rhaenyra insisted.
“And there was a manse there, on the beach, seemingly having merged with the cliff itself, a lot like the fortress, your Grace. I didn’t believe my eyes, but I swear that it wasn’t there a moon ago.”
The future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms gave him an incredulous look, “Someone built a manse on my island without me knowing about it?”
“It seems so, your grace. It was quite large, your grace, and made of some sort of white substance that seemed to melt together, much like this fortress.”
That seemed absurd. The materials and manpower necessary to build a large building would have made keeping it a secret almost impossible. And the fact that it used what seemed to be some sort of Valyrian construction methods, something that was lost to the world with the Doom, made it all the more concerning.
Magic was involved. She could feel it in the coin in her hand, humming faintly. She needed some confirmation, but a sorceress under her command would be a great boon. She heard of the Red Priests in the east, and their supposed control over fire, and the Sea Snake had told her of his time in Asshai by the Shadow, which, while unsettling, was still the home of some very powerful beings.
The faith was going to side with the Hightowers either way, so their discontent would be useless, but the potential power, as well as introducing Valyrian Stone once more to Westeros, was bound to get the support of a lot of Lords hoping to renovate their castles. It would also cement her father’s decision to keep her as his heir.
But that was still speculation, and she was getting ahead of herself. She needed to know more before making any commitments. “What else can you tell me about the manse?”
“Aside from the stone, it was a few stories up, with a small garden in front of it. But the building itself looked odd. I think it was inspired by some Essosi buildings, but I’m not sure. I’m sorry, your grace, but buildings are not my speciality. However, I did try to question the woman by knocking on her door, and a man answered instead. He wore odd clothes as well, and called himself Harry Potter, the Last Peverell, whatever that meant, and that the woman was his wife, Daphne Potter.”
That disappointed Rhaenyra slightly. Their names sounded Andal, which meant that the chances of their being some remnants of Valyria from Essos were very unlikely. But that didn’t explain the strangeness of the situation. Nevertheless, the methods of construction could be useful on their own, and the coin in her hands, probably taken from some old Valyrian ruin, would be worth far more than normal silver if her sworn shield’s words were true, and she had no reason to doubt them.
Suddenly, she had a small spark of recollection at the name.
Potter…
She spoke up without meaning to, “Wasn’t that the name of a Knightly house in the Reach?”
The Cargyll knight scoffed, “No Westerosi noble, especially a knightly house, would raise a man like this. He was unarmed and looked like he could barely swing a sword, let alone last more than a few seconds in a proper fight. If I had to make a resemblance, I’d say he was an Acolyte in the Citadel, perhaps a young Maester if he wasn’t married. There’s definitely some sort of noble blood in his and his wife’s veins, or, at least, they carry themselves like nobility.”
There was also the other name, Peverell. Now that was an odd name. It wasn’t quite Valyrian, but it seemed somewhat close. A lot had been lost in the Doom, after all. If so, why not use it? It was far more dignified, and even if he had inherited it from his mother, it was better than ‘Potter’.
Now, it felt more like a title, but she had no idea of its significance.
Curious, she asked, “And was this Harry Potter forthcoming?”
“Gods no. He told me, in no uncertain terms, to fuck off,” the knight asked, before blushing as he realized that he cursed in front of the Crown Princess of the Seven Kingdoms.
She snorted in amusement, only to stiffen as she registered the words, “You introduced yourself as my sworn shield, correct?”
“Yes, your grace. He told me that they were travellers and that they were staying here for some time as a ‘change in atmosphere’, whatever that means. When I asked the man if he had gotten permission to build his manse, he simply shrugged and asked if the Dragons here had gotten permission to build their nests on the Dragonmont, and then to go away. He then closed the door on my face. I tried breaking in, but I could barely make it budge. Even my sword didn’t seem to dent it. I decided to come see you to request more men to break through the manse so that the man would face justice under your grace’s judgement.”
Rhaenyra suppressed the mirth she felt at the shame her knight felt, as he failed to deal with a single unarmed man and his wife. Still, the gall of that Potter to compare himself to a dragon of all things irritated her. Dragons were the symbol of their house, beasts of magic and destruction given form, who had forced the Valyrian Freehold, the greatest empire in history, in blood and flames, and that Aegon Targaryen only needed three to conquer all of Westeros.
This needed to be handled delicately. The possibility of some sort of indestructible silver and Valyrian Stone was too much of a prize to remove. Their Andal names and arrogance aside, these travellers could prove themselves to be a boon to her cause. Just to make sure, she’d get the Maester to look at the coin to see if he could find its origin, as well as its potentially magical nature.
A voice behind her spoke up, “He compared himself to a Dragon?”
She hadn’t heard Daemon come, so transfixed by the oddness of the situation. It was strangely ironic. He was a man who loved being noticed as soon as he entered a room, but sometimes, he could be as silent as a cat. Yet, this was another problem; Daemon had heard them, and, as she expected, he found the comparison to a Dragon to be quite vexing as well.
Rhaenyra could hear the rage in his tone, his purple eyes almost looking like they were glowing, and a screech in the distance. Her husband’s bond with his dragon was a strong one, enough for his temper to bleed through the connection.
She raised her hand and calmed him soothingly, “My love…”
He didn’t let her continue, “Don’t tell me to calm down. A foreign lord and his wife built a manse on your island without your permission, and had to gall to insult our blood, our legacy, to your own sworn knight. You cannot show mercy for such dishonour.”
“I am not showing mercy. They will pay for what they said, but the benefits of Valyrian Stone could make me tolerate it a bit more.”
“A very likely tale,” he scoffed, “Do you not think it odd that a supposed Valyrian treasure came into our hands like this, in these times. Given how their names sound so Andal, this is likely a plot from that cunt Otto. Perhaps he wishes to make you look like a fool, or to sow trouble in your rule over Dragonstone. I know not, but you cannot show weakness. Not now.”
That stayed Rhaenyra’s hand slightly. She wasn’t entirely convinced, but her husband had a point. Why would a traveller, anyone, really, decide to stay in Dragonstone of all places? The manse showed that this Harry Potter and his wife were likely wealthy, and they could have stayed in the Summer Isles or even in the city of Braavos. Hell, they could have gone to the Driftmark or Spicetown, and Corlys Velaryon would have eagerly accommodated their stay. Instead, they went to the frankly dreary island of Dragonstone, where the only things of interest were the Dragons, and her, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
Yet, the prize was too much. Was it truly a coincidence? Could Alicent’s spies find out about the man and offer him a place in King’s Landing? No, she couldn’t risk it.
Before she could make a decision, Daemon grabbed the silver coin from her hand, put it on the table, and spoke up, “Perhaps this will prove it to you.”
She barely reacted as he took out Dark Sister and swung the sword onto the coin.
Yet, it didn’t move.
There was a sharp clang as Dark Sister struck it, a clean sound that cut through the air and silenced the training yard for a moment. The vibration rippled out across the stone table, but the coin remained exactly where it had been, utterly unmarred. No dent, no scratch, not even the faintest sign that it had been struck by one of the deadliest blades in the realm.
Her husband stared at the coin for a long time, the silence between them weighty. Then, slowly, he sheathed Dark Sister, not in defeat, but in something colder, heavier. Interest and curiosity.
“Where was this manse you spoke of?” he asked quiely he said quietly, voice edged with interest more than anger now. “I want to meet this Harry Potter. Personally.”
“Don’t be reckless, Daemon,” Rhaenyra chided, but she already knew that her husband’s mind was set.
“Don’t worry. I will take Caraxes with me. Perhaps he will learn some respect at the sight of a dragon. If not… I suppose he won’t be useful anyway. It wouldn’t do for the Greens to use him.”
AN: Here’s the first chapter of the EM crossover into Westeros. I picked the period before Dance of the Dragons because it gave me a few ideas about the lore, and they were interesting. I took some inspiration for this chapter from a story called ‘Thy Good Neighbour’ by ‘blahhh!’. It seemed very fitting, and I liked how it introduced the characters. Don’t worry, this is just for the first chapter. The rest will be vastly different (if it wasn’t already). I also wanted your opinion on whether to restart the chapter count, since this is technically the next book of EM. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Also, I’m doing a poll in a bit about what to do next. You should have had a taste of everything (Arcane Tinker), the first chapter of the EM crossover, and potentially a mix of both.
Comments
Sir Gollum
Thy good neighbor is really awesome, I’m glad that it inspired you, will you be taking any more inspirations from it or any other Bloodborne stories?
Garri Sarkisov
Are you able to move Vol2 into its own collection on patreon? Searching for the chapters are not easy. Would it not better to complete enchanted melodies and make these as the new story. Anyway thank you for writing
