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(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 76: A Godly Harmony
🕑 Added 2025-09-27 14:00:17 +0000 UTCChapter 76: A Godly Harmony
123 AC, Naath
“We’ve been on this island for some time. It’s only right that we greet its Lord and protector, don’t you think?” Wait, what? Did she misunderstand things, or did the man seriously say that they were going to meet a god?
Baela followed Lord Harry, her smaller legs straining to match his much faster stride. She must have made a mistake, right? She had known that Harry Potter and his wife were sorcerers; the fact that he had healed the King, as well as her and her sister, was proof of that. That’s not to mention his magic home which somehow appeared out of nowhere and was impervious to Moondancer’s flames, and the fact that he put her dragon to sleep with a single word.
So, yes, she knew that magic existed, that the man before her was likely very powerful, so much so that her father was wary of him, and her father never feared anything. And he was right; he had taken her halfway across the world in seconds, to a place that she had barely even heard of.
There was no doubting his power, and while magic was rare, it still existed, and it would be possible that people would be abnormally talented in the craft, much like her father was a talented swordsman. But there was a very big difference between matters of magic and matters of gods, one that she couldn’t help but voice: “Are we truly going to meet a god?”
The sorcerer seemed amused by the incredulity in her tone, “Why wouldn’t we? We are on his island, are we not?”
“But gods aren’t real, are they?” Baela weakly protested, repeating what her father had told her for years.
Daemon Targaryen had always voiced his disapproval of most religions, even the ones in the Seven Kingdoms. She could understand the dismissal of religion groups in Essos, but even Westeros wasn’t spared, where he called the people still following the Old Gods to be tree-worshipping savages, and the Faith of the Seven Who Are One, as overachieving peasants that House Targaryen should have tried to stamp out, and that they became nothing more than pawns of the Hightowers.
The only gods he seemed to respect were the Gods of Old Valyria, but even Baela knew that he didn’t truly believe in them, only in the old practices of their ancestors. Baela had personally never really thought of things. No god had ever tried to help her, no god had saved her mother, and no god had hatched Moondancer’s egg in her crib when she was but a babe.
Baela had spared little thought for matters of the divine, but the sorcerer before her was quickly changing her mind, “Oh, they are quite real. They often have their own goals, their own designs, some that we would easily consider monstrous. They’re different beings, powerful in many ways, but just as limited and sometimes even vulnerable.”
Baela tried to digest that and spoke up, “Are all gods real, then?”
“Yes, and no. In my experience, there are gods, born outside the Known World, who exert their will and gain worshippers. And there are gods born of religion, taking form thanks to the faith of their believers. If the religion is large enough and certain circumstances align, then a new god is born in the image of all who had faith in him, be it for good or for ill. The result is often similar enough that their births do not matter. Faith does.”
The young girl tried to understand what man meant, but came quite short of it. In her defence, if the man had spoken this in King’s Landing, he would have been run off by a mob of worshippers of the Seven.
Instead of asking him to repeat, she decided to just follow along, “Faith?”
“Human faith, true belief, is the purest expression of one’s soul, and it is far more powerful than one might ever imagine. Imagine people believing for thousands of years that something exists, enough to dedicate their lives to it. That this kind of love, that kind of pure devotion, would be enough to light stars, and even empower beings, be it gods or demons.”
The future Dragonrider stood there, stiff as a board, at the sheer certainty in the sorcerer’s voice. The man thought, without a single doubt, that his words were true, and that made Baela believe it as well.
She opened her mouth to ask another question, only for the sorcerer to hush her, “We’re close now. First things first, don’t touch anything and don’t be afraid. I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you, alright?”
Baela nodded despite thinking that a sorcerer’s protection would mean very little should it face the wrath of a god. She had to admit that she was curious about the matter. Who could say that they met an actual god, if Lord Harry wasn’t lying, that is, and she didn’t think he was.
Seeing her agreement, he continued, “I want you to observe things carefully and tell me what you think of them later.”
The young girl obviously agreed with another nod before asking a final question, “Why do you want to speak to a god?”
“I’ve got questions of my own, kiddo,” he replied with amusement dripping in his tone at his non-answer.
Huffing, she followed after him deeper into the island. She noticed that the forest had gotten thicker, and so had the number of butterflies flying around. She couldn’t look anywhere without seeing dozens of them at the very least. She looked around and noticed that a fog had started to form, becoming thicker with every step forward.
Then, from the distance, a loud voice spoke up, rattling her bones with every word, “YOU HAVE COME FAR FOR NOTHING, STRANGER.”
“Well, it would have been rude to just come to this island and not talk to its patron, wouldn’t it?”
“SILENCE IS PREFERABLE. THE DROWNED ONE’S DEATH SPEAKS OF YOUR INTENTIONS.”
“Oh, don’t be like that. That guy was an absolute prick, and he tried to kill me,” Lord Harry whined.
“FEAR CAN MAKE ONE UNREASONABLE.”
The sorcerer hummed, “And yet, you’re not. Or are you? Then again, you’re all but hiding here on this island, securing your worshipper’s faith, which they will spread from one generation to another. Cosy gig, huh?”
The giant voice froze, as if taken off guard, before speaking up once more, this time its tone being different, “MY PEOPLE WILL REMAIN ON THIS ISLAND AND I SHALL CARE FOR THEM AND PROTECT THEM UNTIL THE SUN GOES OUT.”
Baela truthfully felt like an intruder to the conversation, one that was far beyond her and whose consequences were far more severe than Lord Harry’s casual tone. The voice, likely that of the Lord of Harmony, felt purposeful and powerful, and made the young girl feel smaller with every word. It didn’t even feel like a sound that would hurt her ears. It mostly made her feel tired and gave her a small headache. All in all, this was an experience that she did not enjoy, and a part of her, one that was not taken by the curiosity of speaking with a god, wanted it to end.
Lord Harry seemed to have noticed, as he spoke up next, “Yeah, yeah. Yeesh, there’s no need for implied threats. I’m not planning on being here for too long or messing with your island, I’m just here for some answers. But since you’re here, why don’t you take a more comfortable form? This whole booming voice is getting too old.”
The Lord of Harmony did not answer, and instead, the sorcerer continued, “Oh, come off it. You’re this island’s god. The people believe that you made everything, from the Earth to the Moon and even the Stars, and that you are all-powerful. More importantly, they think that you take the form of a laughing giant with a beard. It seems a far better form than that of some obscure voice in the distance, especially when there are children around, don’t you think?”
Baela thought that the god was offended or something along these lines, but slowly, hundreds of butterflies moved with purpose towards the source of the voice, and then a few seconds later, a large, bearded man, almost twice as tall as Lord Harry, appeared from the mist. He looked unnaturally beautiful, with butterflies swirling around him. His face had laugh lines, like that of someone who was used to smiling.
If only it were not marred by a frown, “I believe this form should be more suitable. If it is aid that you wish for, then I’m afraid that I must disappoint. My influence does not leave this island, and I have no wish for that to change.”
The god’s voice reminded her of a mixture of tinkling bells and wind chimes, like a soft song instead of spoken words, and yet, she could understand it still. The god knelt down towards her and patted her head softly, “You hold great rage and sorrow, child of the dragons. Know thyself and you shall know peace.”
Baela lowered her gaze, unsure how to respond. She wasn’t used to being seen so clearly, and certainly not by a being that seemed to peer straight through her. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like how vulnerable it made her feel. She looked to Harry Potter for guidance, and the man seemed to respond by raising his hand and waving dismissively, “We’re working on that, don’t worry about it. After all, I came all this way for answers, and I’d rather that you at least try to listen to what the few questions that I have for you.”
“And yet, you will leave unsatisfied,” the god replied with certainty in his voice.
“Maybe, but there’s no harm in asking, is there?”
The god motioned Lord Harry to speak up, which he did, “You know what happened in Valyria, right?”
“That was your work, if I am not mistaken,” the god answered with a hum, “That accursed place blinds us, but the freedom of the Old Ones is known to anyone who can feel it, as had magic’s newfound return to the populace. I’m afraid that you have earned the enmity of many gods by doing so.”
For the first time since the conversation started, Lord Harry seemed surprised, “You’re joking, right? You do know what was keeping the Elder Dragons there, and that it was inevitable.”
“The Old Ones are not as helpless as you believe. There were multiple ways to eradicate the corruption from Outside without your interference, one that would have left them weakened. Their newfound freedom is a subject of fear for many gods in the Known World, especially those who had grown in power since these foolish children of fire destroyed themselves.”
“This is really starting to annoy me,” she heard the sorcerer mutter, “And are you one of these gods, O Lord of Harmony?”
Baela must have been wrong, because for a fraction of a second, she thought that the god looked panicked. She didn’t know why. This was a god, after all. “No. I only care for what occurs within this island and threats to it.”
Lord Harry nodded, satisfied, and she felt like she imagined it, but some tension seemed to leave the god’s frame. That last exchange was beyond strange, and Baela honestly barely knew what their conversation was about, some kind of godly politics and Old Ones, whatever these were, who were connected to Valyria somehow.
Still, this was likely the first time she would get to speak to a god, and she would not waste it being afraid, especially since the being looked to be relatively normal. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought that he was just a regular man. Of course, he had a presence that felt more than that, godly, one might call it.
Gathering her courage, Baela took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Can I ask something?”
The tall man looked down at her again. “Speak, child.”
“Do all gods look like you, human and secretly walking amongst us?”
That small question removed whatever tension there was, and both Lord Harry and the Lord of Harmony looked at one another before bursting into laughter. The sorcerer explained quickly as she pouted, “Gods don’t have bodies, not in the way that you do. The Lord of Harmony isn’t really here at all.”
Lord Harry waved his hand, and the mist dissipated slightly to show a large pyramid made of some kind of black stone that she did not like, and he continued, “This stone is a gateway, like a small window, that allows a god to have more effect over the world. The body in front of you is more like a puppet; one that he pilots through this window that you have seen, to give him an illusion of humanity that his followers could comprehend. I have admitted, though, that our friend here is far more verbose and communicative than most gods I have met in this realm.”
The god nodded with a faint smile on his face, “I have done much to familiarise myself with the people of this island, to understand their lives and their fears, to learn how to better protect them from the cruelties of the world around them, so that they would remain as pure and kind as I wished they could. I have blessed them to survive without resorting to savagery, to learn to communicate and understand the world around them, and they have grown beautifully, under my protection. I had worried once when the Land of Molten Stone fell, but the Old Ones stopped the corruption from spreading.”
Baela smiled at him and was tempted to ask him what he truly looked like, but for some reason, Lord Harry stopped her and was frowning. Instead of continuing the conversation, he asked another question, “What do you know of them, the Elder Dragons, or the Old Ones as you like to call them?”
The god seemed surprised by the question, but simply shrugged in response, “Not much. I know that they were the ones who ended the War with their arrival. We were all born after it all, in the aftermath, only having witnessed the results of the devastation, and watching as the Old Ones slumbered.”
“You hesitated,” the sorcerer commented, “You might not know about what came before the War, but someone else does.”
For the first time since the conversation started, the god looked hesitant, almost uncomfortable in his body. She could feel something stirring beneath it, like it was destabilising, for a fragment of a moment, a sign that it was real or true, “Perhaps...”
Lord Harry raised an eyebrow, and the god met his gaze, “This knowledge is not one that any god would wish to share. Few truly know what truly happened in the war, and fewer would ever share it. Spreading that kind of information will have… consequences, for both myself and for you.”
“You want something in return,” the sorcerer replied in a dry tone.
“I have done much to protect my island, my people, from the machinations of other Gods, and even that of Fate. My butterflies, as protectors, followed by the closeness to the Old Ones’ slumbering forms, have deterred most attackers. The state of affairs when the children of fire fell had emboldened a few attackers, enough to send agents to my home, but even they hesitated, fearing the Old Ones’ wrath. Alas, they are gone now, and that invites ruin to my people. Perhaps, even the Dark Ones in the south will start encroaching towards my worshippers after millennia of silence. Your arrival in this realm has allowed us gods more flexibility than ever before, but that is quickly fading. I am in need of a champion, Stranger, and you could be the mightiest of them all.”
Lord Harry froze and gave the god an intense look, “You expect me to stay here on this island constantly protecting it.”
The Lord of Harmony did not answer immediately, but he eventually said, “You would want for nothing. You would stay on this island of peace and tranquillity. My blessing would empower you and grant you control over my domain, one that is far more flexible than most gods would ever boast, only in exchange for protecting it and my inhabitants.”
“Do I really look like someone who needs more power?” The sorcerer replied, the dryness not leaving his voice, “And you would trust me, someone that your very nature wants to be off this island, with your people’s safety instead of one of them. Ah, I get it now. I’m your only choice, aren’t I? You can’t have a protector that is incapable of violence. Pretty ironic, if I’m honest, and you can’t wait for someone else to come, since they’re mostly slavers and the window of your flexibility is getting closer with every second.”
The god did not say anything and stared at Lord Harry expectantly. His eyes glowed an ominous gold, and Baela could feel the tension rising. It was getting harder to breathe, and Baela couldn't help but feel like a large weight was pressing on her chest, as if she could die in seconds, like it would require less than a thought for the being to crush her completely.
However, Lord Harry rolled his eyes, even if his body seemed slightly stiffer than he was, “Oh, don't take it so personally. You’re the one who tried to guilt-trip me with the whole Valyria mess, and the Elder Dragons fucking off, which wasn’t even my choice, by the way. This was always your plan, wasn’t it? This was why you were so cooperative, even when I asked you to take your form. Well, I’m sorry, but the answer is no. I’m not planning on tying myself to this place. I’d get bored in a few weeks, that is, if I’m still alive; my wife will kill me if I force her to move without asking her first. So, how about I give you a little counteroffer, huh? I will weave protections on this island, ones that would deter anyone from coming, in exchange for your answer. What do you think?”
The god stayed silent, seemingly deliberating, before replying with reluctance in his voice, and the glowing golden eyes faded away, making her breathe normally again, “Very well, Stranger. We are in agreement. I will give you the answers you seek, in exchange for your aid in setting up protections for my people.”
Lord Harry clapped his hand in excitement, “Great, I’ll set something up when we get it done here. You have my word. Now, can we come back to my question?”
The Lord of Harmony didn’t look happy with the agreement, but after releasing a tired sigh, he eventually answered, “I know of a single god who had existed before the War. The First Mother, the ones whose blood flows unimpeded to this day. Beware, she has been different since the death of her people, a fate that I dread more than death itself.”
Lord Harry nodded solemnly, as if he had understood the god’s riddle. Speaking of the god, he turned and motioned to leave, only to say a few final words, “Remember your word. I have answered your questions. Do not return, Lord of Space and Time, for you shall find no further aid or answers here. Farewell.”
And just like that, the god burst into butterflies, which disappeared into the mist. The sorcerer seemed completely at ease, staring at the butterflies flying into the distance, “Well, didn’t he get all grumpy, all of a sudden. Still more reasonable than most gods I’ve met so far. They really don’t like being refused, but then again, he is called the Lord of Harmony. Alright, let’s get going.”
And just like that, he started to walk back towards the beach where they came from, “Where are we going?”
Lord Harry shrugged, “He did answer my questions. I suppose that I should follow through with my end of the deal.”
“Answer? What answer?”
“Well, it seems like I’ll have to take that trip to Chroyane earlier than I had planned. But that’s not important now. What is more important is your answer. Why do you think I brought you to Naath?”
It took all of Baela's self-control to stop herself from throttling the sorcerer before her in frustration at ignoring what they had just experienced in favour of this stupid question.
AN: Phew, that was harder to write than I expected. I know that I wrote most other gods as Eldritch beings, but I decided to write the Lord of Harmony differently, with him still being a god (wanting Harry to dedicate himself to him and his island), but also be reasonable enough and wary of him since he knows what happened to the Drowned God. After all, Naath is a very different place, and the god himself is different too, in both temperament and nature. There is a deeper reason why that is, one that will be explained in the next chapter, alongside how the visit is meant to help Baela. I also used this to explore a bit of lore that I’ve been meaning to do, as well as give a reason so that Harry goes to Chroyane (if you didn’t notice, the First Mother is a reference to Mother Rhoyne). 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
