(EM Vol. 2: A Wandering Melody) Chapter 5: Songs and Dreams

Chapter 5: Songs and Dreams

123 AC, Dragonstone

Now, in an empty room, she turned towards the couple and their blasted owl, who still looked unconcerned with a Dragonrider’s anger. She spoke up in a neutral tone, “I have questions, and you will answer them now. What do you know about the Song of Ice and Fire?”

Rhaenyra suppressed the urge to growl at the man as he ignored her question and took a bite of his food, uncaring that the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms had commanded him to answer. She felt her temper flare and did her best to calm herself. She kept her voice cold and neutral, “I will not ask again. What do you know about the Song of Ice and Fire? If you do not feel talkative, then perhaps you will answer as Syrax burns your manse.”

Harry Potter turned towards her, and finished chewing, with a calm smile on his face, ignoring her threat, “It’s so easy, isn’t it? To burn everything to ashes when you have a dragon at your disposal. I suppose it makes the act of murder feel more detached than if you did not do it yourself. Then again, as a princess, you probably had guards to do it for you. Perhaps, you’ve never been denied before, not truly, for you to feel like a couple of strangers owe you answers.”

“The song is my family’s legacy, and as its heir, it falls to me to secure it,” Rhaenyra answered back in a frosty voice.

The man rolled his eyes, “It is the height of hubris to think that a prophecy belongs to your family. I suppose a descendant of the man who thought that his line would save the world would think that. No, princess, the Song of Ice and Fire, as you aptly called it, is known far and wide in this world, provided that one can listen, of course.”

“Explain,” she demanded, making Daphne Potter give her a disappointed look, one that hurt far more than it should have, given that it had come from a stranger whom she had just met.

Nevertheless, her guest just answered without any protest, “Your ancestor, Aegon, had some talent in divination, a Dreamer, as you call it. If I had to guess, it would be that such a talent exists in dragons, a way to perceive the world differently than other normal beasts. From what I gather, from a preliminary look, your line, and likely that of other Dragonlords in Old Valyria, gained their ability of riding dragons through blood rituals, somehow merging an extremely small fragment of dragon’s blood into their bloodlines, not enough to quite lose their humanity, but enough that the dragons saw them as kin. It actually explains quite a lot, including the few dragon-like stillborn children when the dragon’s blood becomes too strong, overwhelming humanity.”

She stayed silent, processing the man’s theories, which made a disturbing amount of sense. It was fascinating, and in many ways, information that her father would have craved about their ancestry, if the man wasn’t a mummer, of course.

Thankfully, he continued, “It makes sense that, much like dragons, your blood could allow a few lucky, or perhaps unlucky few, to see visions in their dreams and remember them vividly. Your conqueror might have been one of them, but the act of seeing the future is not bound to your bloodline. Similar talents emerge all over the world, some even in Westeros. The vision itself would have existed regardless, but it is perceived differently with every method. Is it truly a surprise that a prophecy as large and as important as the one your ancestor had dreamt of would be perceived by others gifted with the Sight as well?”

Rhaenyra’s hand stilled as he finished this. The man had explained this in a way that was quite similar to a Maester teaching a child. She would remember to write it down. Harry Potter proved himself to be a source of invaluable knowledge, given the certainty in his voice.

Still, she had to focus on the subject at hand, “What of the prophecy itself? What do you know of it?”

Potter actually chuckled at that, “Trying to understand prophecy is a fool’s errand. Fate is rarely powerless enough to need help being fulfilled. But even I have to admit that to have this prophecy spread around so far and wide, so far back from its source and too far back to prepare, it reeks of desperation. I do wonder if it has something to do with the state of the world.”

This time, it was his wife who spoke up, looking interested for the first time since the conversation began, “I did feel that something was wrong, but I wasn’t exactly sure if I was imagining it.”

“It’s subtle, if you don’t know what you’re looking for,” the man answered, “The world is broken. No, that’s not quite it. The world is a remnant, what’s left after a battlefield. Its very essence is fractured, kept afloat with some fading magic and good intentions. What did happen, is something that I do not even know.”

Daphne Potter giggled at that answer, “So, that’s why you brought us here. You wish to solve the mystery.”

The woman’s husband gave her a mischievous smile, “You know me so well.”

There was a lot there that she simply didn’t understand. The world did not seem broken, at least not to her, nor did she know of a war of this scale happening recently, not since Aegon’s conquest. It didn’t matter, not yet, she had to keep pressing on her family’s prophecy.

Still, Rhaenyra felt the rush to take back control over the conversation, “I feel that we diverged from our conversation. As interesting as the nature of prophecy is, I feel it is more pertinent to understand my house’s legacy.”

Potter rolled his eyes. “Haven’t you heard a word I said? This prophecy is not your house’s legacy; something as primal as this doesn’t care about something as pedestrian as thrones and kingdoms, but it has use for you. Daenys’ dreams that allowed your family to escape Valyria, Aegon’s dreams that pushed him to conquer Westeros, it’s obvious that your line is intertwined with fate. But that doesn’t guarantee that you are blessed, or that you’d even survive the next century. Somewhere down the line, a member of your family will do something. It might be some bastard somewhere, it might be some descendant of an exiled family member, but that doesn’t matter. They will do what fate bids, and the prophecy will be complete. That is all. It might even be the last descendant of House Targaryen sacrificing themselves, with no dragons flying the sky, and even this doesn’t guarantee that you would stop the coming darkness, or the next Long Night. Prophecy does not care. Fate does not care, and it isn’t a good thing to be in its gaze, for this usually ends in tragedy.”

The man’s short speech froze Rhaenyra’s blood in her veins. Would Aegon’s dream lead her family to ruin? She didn’t know, and the accounts of Dreamers and prophecies were extremely sparse. She hadn’t truly tried to study the subject too much, much too preoccupied with securing her birthright, but it was something that she regretted now.

She hadn’t wanted to obsess over dreams like her father. She needed to speak with him, with this new information. His obsessed meant that he had studied the subject extensively.

Yet, she remembered something he had said, “The Long Night? Is that what Aegon’s darkness is? I thought it was just a tale.”

The man seemed to shrug, “I’m currently studying the Long Night. The subject is quite hard to see. There seems to be a veil separating the world before and after it happened, blocking any sight on the matter. There is a similar veil appearing somewhere in the next two centuries, starting from the Land of Always Winter, which points to it being a second Long Night. I’m hoping to see more when we visit the Wall.”

That settled it. She needed to speak to her father. He was more experienced in these matters. As for now, she needed to make the man, and his wife stay, which was challenging, since they were obviously planning on leaving soon, “Perhaps it would be better to wait. I am more than sure that my father would grant you a royal protection for your expedition, should we meet him. He has always been ardent in my ancestor’s dreams.”

The man chuckled, “My dear, what makes you think that I need any protection? Besides, you have a much bigger problem than some prophecy that will likely take place after your death. After all, the coming civil war between you and your half-siblings will likely preoccupy you.”

For what felt like the hundredth time since the conversation began, Rhaenyra felt out of her depth, as if the man before her could see through her completely, “There will not be any wars. I am the rightful heir to the throne.”

The man simply shook his head in disappointment, “This has been an experience, princess. I wish you good luck.”

And just like that, Harry Potter left the room, leaving her alone with his wife. The white owl gave her a dismissive look before turning anf flying back to its master. Even the golden-haired woman seemed just as disappointed as her husband, but did not leave. Rhaenyra chuckled bitterly, “Do you have anything more to say before you leave as well? Your husband has a way with words.”

Daphne Potter snorted, “He’s quite proud of this little fact. He’s a scholar now, always strived to be, but he used to be a warrior once.”

“He doesn’t look like one,” Rhaenyra joked back, trying to bring some levity to the conversation.

“I suppose he doesn’t. Yet, Harry has spilt more blood than most could ever imagine, and he hated every moment of it. He hadn’t wanted to fight a war. He always wanted to travel around, see what every corner of the world had to offer and learn from it. We did that, of course, after the war, but ever since then, he has always won with words. He’s quite a master at it. He could turn armies with just a few clever sentences and plans. People often think that most of our enemies’ mistakes were to let Harry talk. There is some truth in it, to be honest. And yet, I know something they don’t. It's when he doesn’t talk, when he’s silent, that you need to be very, very afraid.”

“And should I be?”

The woman shook her head with amusement, clear on her face, “No. He doesn’t care enough to even get angry. You disappointed him, nothing more. It takes a lot to make him angry, and I’m afraid, I don’t think you’re quite capable of that.”

“I disappointed him?” Rhaenyra Targaryen answered with astonishment in her tone, “I am the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, rider of Syrax, why would I care about some stranger’s judgement, just because he doesn’t think that there could be a ruler queen?”

“Where we’re from, we’ve had many ruling queens over the years,” the Potter Lady replied, surprising Rhaenyra completely, “For example, Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, and Queen Victoria all ruled over our home, and while historians debate whether they were perfect rules, their gender wasn’t isn’t regarded as an issue, not now. No, he isn’t disappointed in your gender. He was disappointed in your answers and your actions, and I can see why. Civil war is on the horizon, and your father is ill. Your children’s parentage is in question. I don’t care if it’s true or not, the rumours exist, and they will cause another succession crisis after your own death, even if you take the throne. Your side is not an attractive one, only enforced with an ill monarch’s fondness for his first wife, and your dragons, which would have been enough, had the opposite side not had dragons as well. If you don’t do anything, this will escalate into a war, one fought with dragons, and you probably know the consequences of something like that happening.”

Rhaenyra slumped down, both angry and afraid. This stranger, a woman she had just met, just poured salt onto her fears for her future. She had known that she would need to fight Aegon over her throne, but for the facts to be laid out like this. It was extremely unsettling.

Thankfully, the woman hadn’t expected a reply and continued, “You shouldn’t really care about our opinions. We never planned on doing anything. Like we said, we are travellers and scholars, mostly. This is not our land. You are not our future Queen, nor is your half-brother our future King. But while Harry was obviously disappointed, he did offer you a boon. Consider it reparation for building a manse on your island.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean the necklace around your neck,” Lady Daphne answered with amusement in her voice.

“What necklace…” Rhaenyra answered while touching her neck. She froze when she realised that she was wearing a necklace. She removed it and took a good look at it. It was made of small strands of gold, as thin as hair, braided together. And instead of a special stone, there was a small sphere of glass, as big as a drop of rain. It was releasing a faint glow, which was oddly captivating to watch. She looked up at her guest and spoke up, “How?”

“The sphere is a vial. Inside is a liquid, specifically a phoenix tear, an immortal bird of fire and light. Their tears are extremely rare and very sought after. This drop is likely worth more than entire kingdoms, perhaps even more. That’s because of its effect. Phoenix tears are, by far, the single most restorative serum in the world. It could bring someone from the brink of death. Perhaps it could even heal a king who has been slowly dying from a seemingly incurable disease.”

Rhaenyra found herself breathless at the treasure in her hands. A part of her thought that it was a mummer’s farce, perhaps even an attempt to kill her father, but she could feel it in her bones that the liquid could not possibly be harmful. While holding it, she felt comfortable, in a way she hadn’t for years, not since her mother died.

“This should give you more time to prepare yourself for what’s coming, and this is the only boon my husband and I are prepared to give you. What you do with it is up to you. Now, I must join my husband before he ends up promising anything to your children. He always does have a weakness for preserving their innocence.”

And just like that, the golden-haired woman left the room without her permission. Yet, Rhaenyra didn’t care. Instead, she was staring at the priceless treasure in her hands instead.

AN: I’m not sure about this chapter. The idea was for Harry to do his good deed for the day, while scaring Rhaenyra into keeping her shit together, without actually being committed to anything. Harry’s actual long-term motivations will be revealed later, but I feel like he wouldn’t have been able to help himself and not meddle. As usual, I don’t mind rewriting this chapter depending on your feedback, so please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.