123 AC, Dragonstone
Rhaena's return to her room had been spent mostly contemplating what she had just experienced. Lord Harry didn't explain much of what happened in that cavern, and she had a feeling that he regretted bringing her with them. She had seen something that she wasn't meant to. If she had to guess, she was welcome to see the dragon egg, and even the Child of the Forest, but not the one-eyed ghost, or the entity that spoke through him.
Lord Harry hadn't explained everything in detail, something that was odd, given his proclivity to teach, much like a Maester, but with magic and adventures. Both Lady Daphne and he had remained quiet during their trip back to the manse and hadn't truly spoken to her. They had given her more of that heavenly brown drink, and Rhaena felt like they were waiting for her to leave to have a proper conversation.
She could understand why. Rhaena wasn't the most knowledgeable when it came to magics and Theology, but what she had seen, what she had experienced, was godly. She had seen something beyond man, beyond sorcery, speak through the ghost-man, and the words felt like power. And yet, Lord Harry stood there, staring down at the power of a god, and made it flee.
Rhaena had seen much during the last adventure. She had seen proof that the Long Night existed, was attacked by one of the legendary Ice Spiders, seen the frozen forms of the White Walkers, and spoke to one of the Children of the Forest.
And yet, it all paled before this moment, where a sorcerer confronted a god and won.
It was then that she clearly realised one simple fact. She had no idea who the Potters were, really. They were travellers, yes. They were powerful. They had magic. They had strange manners, owned strange objects, and walked with such confidence, an assuredness that nothing could threaten them, and given what she had seen, they were right to. Lady Daphne was barely phased by the presence of a god, let alone her husband's power.
She snuck back to the castle, with many thoughts swirling in her mind, Solarys giving her comfort with just her presence. She neared her chambers when she heard a familiar voice speak up sharply, "Rhaena Targaryen!"
Rhaena stiffened, heart thudding, and turned around slowly, dreading the look on her grandmother's face, which made her feel very intimidated for some reason.
Her grandfather stepped forward with a similar severe look on his face. "What in the Seven Hells are you doing out of your chambers?"
The young girl knew that she had to give them a good explanation, one that was intelligent, thoughtful, and plausible. She dreaded her father or sister knowing of her adventures. Her sister would likely wish to have joined her, but she did not know how her father would react. If she were to guess, he would go to the Potters' manse, with Caraxes behind him, and wielding Dark Sister, for endangering her.
Looking back, the Potters hadn't said anything about keeping their adventures to themselves. She wasn't forbidden from telling anyone of what they had discovered. Of course, the spirits of fire, wind, and molten stone, deep in the Dragonmont, would likely kill most people who would wish to see the giant Dragon Egg, and no one would believe that she had gone to Skagos of all places for an afternoon.
Oh, her grandparents were still staring at her, expectantly.
Right, she still needed a clever and plausible reason for being out of her room in the middle of the night, without any guards. It had to be something that would fool them. Rhaena knew that she could do this. She was smart, wasn't she? It should be easy.
Unfortunately for her, she blurted out, "I was walking Solarys."
Rhaena winced as the words left her mouth, and her grandmother pounced on her explanation, her gaze somehow becoming sharper, "You were walking your dragon…"
"He was feeling cooped up," the young girl explained while trying not to wince at her statement, "And I couldn't sleep, so we walked around the castle."
She looked up and saw her grandmother's eyes soften. "You know, Rhaena. Your mother had the exact same look on her face when she lied."
Rhaena went still at the mention of her mother. Her father tried to avoid the topic as much as possible, and her stepmother rarely spoke of her. Her grandfather's eyes seemed to smile often. "Do you remember the time she tried to sneak onto one of my ships?"
His wife snorted in amusement, "I believe she blamed it on a swarm of butterflies that accidentally guided her to the ship. Truly, her claiming Vhagar was for the best. I shudder to think what kind of mischief she would have caused, had she not been too preoccupied with flying the beast."
Rhaena smiled at the story, feeling warm at a tale of her mother that she hadn't heard before. Sadly, she had just realised that she did not know much of her mother as a person, not as her mother. Before her death, she was always 'mother', the woman who told her stories of Driftmark and comforted her when her father did not spend time with her.
She gave her grandparents a teary smile. "Can you tell me more about her? My mother, I mean."
Lady Rhaenys knelt down and enveloped her in a hug. Rhaena could hear Solarys' hiss of discomfort, and yet she returned the hug immediately. Of course, that was when her grandmother let go of her and gave her a small smile. "I'll be glad to tell you more stories, sweetling. Gods know that your mother caused enough trouble to fill an entire book, but why don't you start by telling me what you have hidden in your sleeves?"
Rhaena's entire body stilled. Did her grandmother only hug her to see if she had anything else on her person? Or perhaps, she had just noticed that there was something in her sleeves? She did hug her quite tightly, and the sewn-in pockets in her sleeves could be pressed against her.
That didn't matter. Fear spiked up in Rhaena. She had no choice now, did she? Slowly and hesitatingly, she took out the black dagger, made of Dragonglass, and presented it to them, looking down, trying to avoid their gaze.
It had been a gift from Lord Harry, a way to remember Root by keeping one of her daggers. She noticed that it was something that he did frequently, kept small things to remember their adventures, and he urged her to do the same. First, there was a Valyrian Steel ring and dagger from their adventure in the Dragonmont, as well as a small blade of Dragonsteel, the odd black metal that was created by the egg, and now, one of Root's Dragonglass daggers for the Skagos expedition.
"What is this, Rhaena?" Her grandmother asked with obvious concern in her tone.
Her grandfather answered in her stead, "This is Dragonglass. There were stories of daggers made of the material that were used for certain spells or rituals. I've seen similar ones being used in Asshai. Seven knows what they did with it. Did the sorcerer give you this, Rhaena?"
The young girl froze completely in her tracks. Her grandfather's eyes were wild with a mixture of anger and fear. She didn't know what to say. Never in her wildest dreams did she think that they would guess this, and so quickly, too.
While Lord Harry never said to keep their adventures secret, Rhaena didn't want other people to know. Her adventures with the Potters were hers, and hers alone, and she did not want to share them or, worse, for the adventures to stop. Sure, it could be terrifying, like what happened in Skagos, but the wonders that she had seen, the history that she witnessed, were worth it.
The sound of her grandfather coughing broke her train of thought, and she realised that she hadn't said anything for some time since he had asked her the question. Her grandmother glared at him and gave her a kind smile, "How long have you been practising magic, Rhaena?"
Magic? Why would she be practising magic? Sure, she was tempted to ask Lord Harry or Lady Daphne to teach her, but she never had the courage to go through with it.
Realisation dawned in Rhaena's mind. They thought that she was learning magic or had magic used on her by the Potters. "I never used magic, grandmother."
"Then why do you have it?" her grandfather asked, doing his best to suppress his discomfort. "Why do you have a knife that is used for magic?"
His tone was severe, commanding. Rhaena had never seen her grandfather like this. He was usually so composed, quick to smile and laugh, but could contain his discomfort and anger easily. This was different.
He was looking at her like… like he didn't recognise her. Like she'd brought something dangerous into their home, he might not mean it, not truly, but she could see the fear in his eyes and the way he looked at that knife, as if it would come to life and kill them all. She wanted it to go away, that look in his eyes. She wanted him to be her grandfather again.
"It's not mine. It belonged to one of the children of the forest," she blurted out, before realising what she had just said.
She hadn't meant to say it, but she couldn't lie, not now, not with both of them looking at her like that. Not when her grandfather looked at her like she was a monster in hiding.
There was silence. A long, heavy silence settled over the hallway like snowfall.
Corlys' expression froze. His eyes darted to Rhaenys, then back to the dagger, then to Rhaena again, as if trying to determine whether this was a jest, a childish mistake, or something far more dangerous.
Her grandmother composed herself faster than he did, and she asked, "Why don't we continue this conversation in your chambers?"
Rhaena could only nod, limbs stiff as she followed them down the hall, Solarys clutching tighter around her shoulders. The silence between them was not quite accusatory, but it weighed on her all the same. She could feel tears gathering near her eyes, and she did not know why. She wasn't sad, was she? Or perhaps did her grandfather's accusations hurt her so much?
When they entered her chambers, her grandmother gave her another hug and wiped her tears. "Sweetling, we are only worried about you. Your grandfather just had bad experiences with magic during his travels, and I understandably worried. Now, why don't you explain everything about it? We promise not to tell anyone, not even your father, but you should be honest with us."
Rhaena nodded, feeling slightly better; even her grandfather's eyes softened when he looked at her. "It started the night Solarys hatched. I snuck out to the Dragonmont. I wanted to claim a dragon, the Grey Ghost. I ended up being chased by the Cannibal. Lord Harry saved me and sent the dragon away. He and Lady Daphne comforted me and promised that I would have a dragon of my own. That night, when I went to sleep holding my egg, it hatched, and I found Solarys in my arms."
"He hatched your egg, without even being present," her grandmother commented with surprise in her tone.
"Yes. I think it had something to do with the bracelet he had given me when we broke our fast. It was almost glowing before Solarys hatched. Now, it simply feels empty, and the glow has stopped. I went to visit him, later, to repay him for his kindness."
"How?" the Sea Snake asked.
"By warning him of the King coming to see him. After all, Princess Rhaenyra flew to King's Landing, after speaking with him, and Father had just told me of the Court coming to Dragonstone. Now, I know that it was because he gave something to the princess to heal the King, but I did not know then. I went to warn him, and we ended up on a small adventure near the Dragonmont."
"What sort of adventure?" Her grandmother asked.
"Lord Harry and Lady Daphne are adventurers, travellers who like to explore old tombs, old legends, and histories. They came to Westeros to study it. They found a small cave in the Dragonmont with very old cave paintings, going back to the Age of Heroes. I was invited to come with them. I do not regret it. We found much there."
She grabbed a small box underneath her bed and opened it, revealing her treasures. Her grandfather looked at its content with fascination, and gave her an awed look. "This is Valyrian Steel. Where did you find it?"
"There were bodies, old Valyrian, who tried to explore the Dragonmont before the Doom. They had sealed a section of it with magic."
"And what is this? I've never seen such a metal," Rhaenys said.
"It's called Dragonsteel. Lord Harry believes that it was the metal the First Men used during the Long Night."
"The Long Night is nothing more than a story to terrify the children of the North," her grandfather protested.
"No," Rhaena answered, shivering at the sight of the ice beings in Skagos, "I saw the bodies of some. They looked like they were made of frozen ice, instead of flesh. I have seen Ice Spiders, as large as a horse, and I met one of the last Children of the Forest."
"Is that where you received the Dragonglass dagger?" the Sea Snake continued, "Were you just on one of your expeditions in the Dragonmont?"
Rhaena almost corrected him, telling him that she was in Skagos, but stopped herself; Telling her grandparents that she'd travelled halfway across the continent in the blink of an eye would likely be too unbelievable for them. "Yes. The Potters have been nothing more than accommodating. They teach me things about the world that I never thought were true, and their magic doesn't use any blood or sacrifices. Please don't think they've done anything wrong. They've always treated me with kindness, like I was someone worth listening to. Someone who mattered." Her voice faltered slightly at the end, and Rhaenys reached out to place a gentle hand over hers.
"We don't think you're lying, Rhaena," her grandmother said, voice quiet but sure. "But you must understand, this is… a great deal. The Children of the Forest, the Long Night, Dragonglass blades and Dragonsteel. It sounds like tales spun by bards."
Her grandfather, ever the sailor, was still staring at the Valyrian steel blade in the box, but his voice had lost its earlier heat. "Tales, yes… and yet you carry proof of them."
Rhaena looked between them, her throat tight. "Please," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "Please don't tell anyone. Not Father. Not the Princess. They'll forbid me from seeing them again, and I…I can't lose this. Not after everything."
Her words tumbled out in a rush. "You understand, don't you, Grandfather? You went on adventures, too. You've seen strange lands, met people with magic and wonder. You know what it's like to chase after something real."
Corlys blinked and shared a look with his wife for just a fraction of a second. Then, he chuckled and leaned back slightly, a glimmer of pride softening the lines around his mouth. "Seven hells, you've got that fire from me, haven't you? Laena was just like that. Adventurous, headstrong, never content with the walls built around her. She would've loved you fiercely."
That caught something in Rhaena's chest and held it there, warm and aching.
But her grandmother's voice cut in, calm and unrelenting. "We'll need to meet them. Lord Harry and Lady Daphne. Speak with them face to face. If they are to keep taking you on these… excursions, then they must answer to us first. Is that understood?"
Rhaena nodded quickly, eyes still wet but shining. "Yes, Grandmother. I understand."
She threw her arms around both of them in a fierce hug, burying her face in her grandmother's shoulder. Neither pulled away. When she finally stepped back, there was still anxiety in her heart, uncertainty and fear of what came next, but it was wrapped in something gentler now. Hope. Relief.
She crawled into bed, Solarys coiling beside her, warmth seeping from his scales. For the first time in what felt like weeks, she didn't feel like she had to carry it all alone
AN: Phew, that was harder to write than I expected. I know that some reactions, especially Corlys', seem out of sorts, but I tried to make it biased from Rhaena's perspective, who is still just a child, and mentally exaggerated everything. It's something that I'm trying, and I hope that I pulled it off. Also, this conversation is different from Rhaena and her grandparents' perspective. They know that there's something going on, but don't really trust the story from a kid. It's hard to explain, but you'll see it in more detail in the next chapter. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
Chapter 25: A Tower's Choice
I would like to thank my beta, Awdyr, for his help in this chapter.
123 AC, King's Landing
Otto Hightower sat at the helm of the Small Council table, and he couldn't help but wonder how everything went so wrong. No, he knew perfectly well how everything went wrong, with Rhaenyra consorting with foul sorcerers, likely pushing it as a way to further legitimise her claim on the Iron Throne.
The tales had started to spread, despite Otto's effort to stifle them. Many servants, as well as a few members of the Court, had seen the King walking around like a young man in his prime, other than the lost hand, of course, which hadn't healed.
Princess Rhaenyra had flown from Dragonstone with a miracle of the Seven and healed her father. She was painted as a devoted princess, blessed by the gods, a dutiful woman who had done her best to heal her father. In a few moons, all of the continents would know, and years of efforts discrediting her would have been for nought.
He had cultivated rumours, some of them true, some of them not so much. In the end, it didn't matter. It mattered what people believed, not what was true. But he had to admit that it had been easier than he expected, far easier, in fact. It was for the best, truly; he could only imagine what Rhaenyra and Daemon would turn the court should she become Queen. King's Landing would turn to a city of debauchery and blood lust, after a year at the most.
Sometimes, he regretted Alicent's marriage to the King. Aegon was to be king by the law of inheritance. If he had known of Viserys' insistence on Rhaenyra remaining as his heir, he would have likely found another match for his daughter, perhaps even making her the Lady of Casterly Rock. It was likely his greatest regret, looking back, his daughter's marriage and the chaos that followed. He had been so proud, so certain, when Viserys chose Alicent as his bride, when she bore him a son, and yet, when he was so close, all he had received was a dismissal as Viserys' Hand.
Having his blood on the Iron Throne should have been his gift after so many decades of service. He had all but run the realm, starting from King Jaehaerys' last few years of life, where he was too ill and grief-stricken to rule, and made the realm prosper despite Viserys' blunders.
He wouldn't say he was completely impartial, but the realm had prospered under his rule. He only wished that he had a descendant who would one day become King. He often dreamt of his place in the history books, the second son, who fathered a dynasty despite all odds. He had gotten too comfortable; he realised this now. He had believed that Viserys would follow his advice, as it always had. He wasn't wrong, even. Having a woman as the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms wouldn't be received well by the Lords of the Realms. There would be some instability, followed by a likely rebellion. Aegon being heir was the logical and obvious decision. And yet Viserys chose otherwise and remained stubborn on the matter.
When he returned as Hand, he was disappointed to see Alicent barely having made any progress in securing Aegon's inheritance and instead was preoccupied with her childish feud with Rhaenyra, which had ended with Aemond losing an eye and Alicent attacking the Crown Princess. Vhagar's claiming was a boon to their cause, but the affair, and especially Viserys' reaction to it, or lack of reaction to be more precise, turned what could have been an inheritance, a political manoeuvre, into a war of survival. It showed that Alicent had little to no influence on the King despite bearing him four children, and that she had wasted her time as Queen, endangering them all.
Of course, Rhaenyra followed by securing Caraxes by marrying Daemon, the man who hated Otto with a passion, which had all but ensured that this would end in blood.
The King's illness, as tragic as it was, was a boon to Otto. He hated himself for it, sometimes. Viserys had once been a friend, a true one, during his time as Hand after the Great Council. He had served him faithfully, but wasn't it Viserys who betrayed him first, by choosing Rhaenyra over Aegon, that even his grandfather, who was known for his wisdom, would have counselled against? He had put Otto in this position, and in a way, he thought that the mysterious illness was a curse from the Gods themselves, punishing him for the instability he brought to the realm with his foolish choices.
Otto had used this to gain more leverage over the Court, influencing Lords, in a way that, should Viserys die, Rhaenyra would see much of the High Lords protesting her ascension as well as a mighty opposition in the form of Sunfyre, Dreamfyre, a grown Tessarion, and Vhagar, which would stay her hand and sue for peace. Daemon would be assassinated, of course, and the girl would finally accept what should have been her role in the first place. Otto could even leverage a promise to Lady Rhaenys of her granddaughter's inheritance of the Driftmark in exchange for her support, or neutrality at the very least.
If only the rest of his family were intelligent enough to see it. Aegon was supposed to look like an obvious choice, and instead, he spent his time whoring and drinking. Aemond seemed to perform any action with rage bubbling beneath, in a way that reminded Otto of Daemon far too much, and Daeron was too young.
Alicent leaned too much on the Faith, hoping that the lords of the realm would discard Rhaenyra for her sins. Even after so much time, she still thought that nobles were as pious as she and her mother were. Otto's heart ached for a moment at the memory of his departed wife. No, this wasn't the time for sorrow. Now was the time for action.
Much of his plans had hinged on Viserys' death. Grand Maester Mellos had all but proclaimed that the king would not live past the next decade, at the most. Otto had made preparations, alliances and moves, preparing for that, only for it to go up in smoke.
He still did not know what Rhaenyra had told the King during her visit, but the man's sudden insistence on going to Dragonstone was beyond worrying.
It wasn't until Larys Strong had brought him news of Dragonstone this very morning that he truly realised how much he had underestimated the situation. Where he first believed that his greatest fear was Rhaenyra's rising star and his plans lying in ruins, he realised how little of importance this was, with the Realm itself being at stake.
His thoughts were interrupted by Tyland Lannister finally entering the Small Council chambers. Grand Maester Mellos still hadn't arrived, but they were late, and the man rarely contributed much during their meeting. "It seems that Grand Maester Mellos will join us at a later date. For now, let us proceed. I was approached by Lord Larys to arrange this meeting. So, why don't you start?"
The Small Council was far smaller than usual, with the Grand Maester, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and of course, the King, not joining them. Lord Lyman Beesbury, the Master of Coin, looked uncomfortable as this would be the first session of the Small Council with the King's new condition: "Perhaps, this can wait his Grace's return from Dragonstone."
The Master of Whisperers spoke up in his soft tone, "If there was another matter, then it would have perhaps been more prudent to wait, but this is an urgent matter, one that does involve the King's visit to Dragonstone and his miraculous discovery."
And just like that, even the most dubious of them perked up in both caution and curiosity. Lord Larys continued, "Lady Rhaenyra claimed that she had found the miraculous cure from a merchant who was staying in Dragonstone, a man who had travelled the world. King Viserys had been insistent on going to the island, presumably to thank the man himself."
"Yes, we all know this," the Lannister man complained.
"Yes, but I have received numerous accounts that the supposed merchant is a sorcerer, by the name of Harry Potter. I thought he was nothing but a charlatan, but there were too many accounts of unusual things occurring in Dragonstone, from many people, including a manse which appeared from thin air. It is also said that the day Princess Rhaenyra flew to King's Landing, the day when our King was healed, the sorcerer and his wife had broken their fast with her and her family earlier, having presumably gifted her the cure."
There was a brief moment of silence, which lasted a few seconds, until the entire room erupted. When Larys had spoken to him of the news, he had been dubious but had believed him. There were rumours of the traveller being some sort of sorcerer, but he had assumed he was a charlatan who had found a cure to the King's illness. As for the miraculous recovery, perhaps it was something from their Valyrian heritage. There were rumours that a few Targaryens couldn't be burned, even by Dragon fire, and a few that dreamed of future events. Otto had learned not to be surprised by their feats. Perhaps, healing wouldn't be out of question if the disease were purged.
Unfortunately, now that he thought of it, magic was the most likely explanation of the King's miraculous recovery. He had thought the traveller to be a charlatan, a mummer, and yet, Larys was convinced that sorcery was involved. Otto did not trust the man, but he was reliable when it came to his information, which was why he had decided to hold a Small Council meeting, because it truly was worrying news.
Sure, he wished to limit some of Rhaenyra's gain in reputation and make the council distrustful of her. And yet, he wasn't exactly worried by this. Rhaenyra was an impulsive woman, and she would make other mistakes. Daemon would likely help in that regard.
No, the main issue was this Harry Potter's possible influence on the King. It was nothing, no Green or Black, should be willing to risk, and from the council's reaction, they knew this as well.
Otto had to admit that, while he did not trust Larys in any way, the man had a way with words, given that even Lord Beesbury looked appalled by the news. He raised his hand, "This is the Small Council, my lords. Upsetting news or not, you will conduct yourself with honour and dignity."
With these few words, some of the most powerful men in the realm shrank in embarrassment. Thankfully, it was Tyland Lannister, the master of ships, who raised the main issue: "What I gather is that the King is currently on Dragonstone, and likely in the company of the sorcerer who arranged for his healing. And he likely did so, after being convinced by Princess Rhaenyra. Am I mistaken?"
Lord Larys hummed, "I cannot say that I know of the King's conversation with the princess, but given the urge he felt on the trip, it is plausible."
"This is troubling," Lord Jasper Wylde, the Master of Laws, commented, "Harry Potter. This is not an Essosi name. Wasn't there a House Potter in the Reach?"
"Yes," Otto replied, "A knightly House, who doesn't have a member with the name 'Harry', nor have they ever consorted with sorcery. I have advised the Tyrells to invite them to Highgarden if there are any connections between them and the Sorcerer of Dragonstone."
Lord Beesbury was the one to continue, "I must admit that a sorcerer having such influence over the King is worrying. Not since the times of Maegor the Cruel have we seen such influence…"
He was right, of course. Tyanna of the Tower's story was drenched in mysteries, but what was known was that she likely used her sorcery in her role as Mistress of Whisperers and was likely suspected of the deaths of many of Maegor's children and even a few of his wives.
Magic was a foul practice, one that corrupted everyone involved and always ended with misery. There was a reason why it was condemned by the Faith, after all.
Lord Tyland Lannister was the one to follow up, "Lord Larys, you brought this to our attention. Do you have any news of the origins of this supposed sorcerer?"
"I'm afraid not, my lords," Lord Larys answered, "I have made some inquiries, but the news is fresh, and this sorcerer must have hidden his origins well."
Otto watched in satisfaction as they all came to the same conclusion as him. Rhaenyra wasn't some woman blessed by the gods. She had been manipulated by a sorcerer, likely hoping to integrate himself into the Court, as a boon for saving the King's life.
This was more than his feud with Daemon or the coming succession crisis. This was the very Realm, the very Crown, being under attack. Otto had all but ruled the realm for decades, and he could see a Sorcerer in Viserys' favour, slowly tearing it away.
The Seven Kingdoms were in danger, and their greatest protector, the King, was compromised. Otto would need to do what he always did and prepare to weather the storm.
He couldn't risk his life's work being destroyed, not because of Rhaenyra's impulsiveness or Viserys' foolishness. He had to prepare the Small Council for the sorcerer's arrival and how to mitigate this. He had already written to his brother, and he would ask the Citadel to find a way to combat this sorcerer.
The doors of the Small Council chambers opened suddenly, revealing the Grand Maester entering slowly, "I apologise for my tardiness, my lords. I did not receive news of the meeting until it was too late."
He walked forward and gave the Hand a small scroll. Otto looked at it and saw his daughter's seal on it. While Larys briefed the Grand Maester on the news, he broke the seal and prepared to read the letter's contents.
Otto had allowed Alicent to join Viserys, hoping that it would help him be informed of Rhaenyra and Daemon's moves. He had also sent her because she would have distracted the Princess while he made moves in the Capital.
He regretted that now, especially with a sorcerer being involved. By the Gods, he had even allowed Aegon to go there, as Helaena had insisted on going for some reason, despite still recovering from the twins' birth, and it wouldn't have been proper for her to go without her husband.
He was comforted that she was well, as she had given him the message, but his heart dropped as she confirmed the presence of a sorcerer. And yet, it was the end that truly made his hands shake. Whether it was in dread or in rage, he did not know.
He was to be dismissed as Hand, again, and ordered to leave King's Landing, all because of a conversation between Viserys and the sorcerer that supposedly barely lasted minutes. He looked up and saw that the entire Small Council was staring at him.
"Out," he spoke up calmly.
They all looked at him with confusion, and he repeated himself loudly, this time, trying his best not to yell, "Everyone, out! Lord Larys, stay."
The lords scattered like leaves before a storm, quick to obey, none willing to risk Otto's wrath, not in that moment, not when his silence felt more dangerous than any outburst.
Otto did not speak at first. He merely reached into his sleeve and pulled out the letter, sealed in green wax and marked with the Queen's signet, and handed it to Larys Strong with a heavy hand and an unreadable expression.
The Lord of Harrenhal took it delicately, unfolded it without ceremony, and read. His one good eye flicked across the page, absorbing its contents in silence. When he looked back up, his voice was soft, almost mournful. "A tragedy. The realm has never had a finer Hand."
Otto gave a sharp exhale through his nose. Whether it was agreement, bitterness, or simply exhaustion, he did not say. "It doesn't matter," he muttered, gaze fixed firmly on the crackling hearth nearby. "The future of the realm is more important. Magic has no place here, not in Westeros. It never has. It poisons, it corrupts, and it always ends the same way. In ash."
Something flickered in Larys' eye at that, just for a heartbeat, "And yet," he said gently, "it thrives. At Dragonstone."
Otto didn't reply, but the Lord of Harrenhall immediately understood what he wished: "Such unnatural problems will require unnatural measures."
The Hand didn't flinch. "And such measures?"
"They can be found. Not easily, and not cheaply. But if one is willing to look eastward. Asshai still trades in shadows. And some debts need not be spoken aloud."
Otto leaned back in his chair, the firelight painting sharp lines across his face. He said nothing for a moment, "Get it done."
Lord Larys bowed and left Otto alone in the Small Council, with his thoughts. He was making the correct choice for the realm.
AN: Phew, that was a lot harder to write than I expected. I thought about jumping to Corlys and Rhaenys immediately, but I wanted to do something a bit new. I want to know what you think of my depiction of Otto.
The idea was to have him be an ambitious man who had all but ruled the realm for years, and thinks that he deserves to have his blood on the throne, but regretted it after realising that Viserys had all but ensured a succession crisis by sticking with Rhaenyra as his heir, and now, his entire family is at risk.
He thought that Harry was a fake, or a lucky man with a cure, but now he knows that he's a sorcerer and is terrified of the influence, especially as he had successfully removed him as Hand, something that even Daemon couldn't do. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.