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I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions on them, so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
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123 AC, King's Landing
Daeron Targaryen couldn't help but wonder how things could have been allowed to end this badly. He was all but a prisoner in his old chambers in the Capital, with House Hightower's guards, while the city was attacked by monsters made of shadows, but that was not the most concerning part. What was most concerning was the utter treachery and heresy that was taking place, one precipitated by his own grandfather.
He did not know much about it, only having heard snippets of conversations, but ever since that strange red woman had arrived in Oldtown, Otto Hightower had not been the same. He was… colder, for the lack of a better term.
Sure, Daeron had known that he was bitter for his dismissal as Hand, in favour of a woman no less, but this was obviously the King preparing the realm with the possibility of a female ruler in the shape of his eldest daughter. It was a cunning piece of politics that even Lord Ormund had respected. However, despite his bitterness, there remained a certain warmth during their interactions.
The man tried to reduce everything into lessons, and it was akin to a whetstone of the mind, sharpening Daeron's with every conversation. To be honest, he didn't think that any of the man's children liked him much, given the way that his sons all but avoided him in Oldtown and often chose to dedicate their lives to martial pursuits, not political ones.
However, the moment that Red Woman appeared, he spent most of their days alone with her, far more than was appropriate. Most joked that she was Lord Otto's mistress, but while Daeron would not have begrudged the man of his needs, something told him that this was not it.
It was suspicious how the Red Woman had appeared just as they started to make their journey to King's Landing, and the fact that they had quickened the pact compared to the rest of the Lords of the Reach was not something that he missed.
The fact that they did not have the chance of greeting the King, before the entire city had turned dark, and the creatures attacked. Daeron had been sent to his chambers, and he could not exactly tell them that he had been in a similar situation before beneath the Hightower.
Most would have called him mad if he said that beneath the Hightower was a secret chamber filled with dark things, that he had seen the truth of the Seven Who Are One, and rejected it completely. He had seen the slow decline of the Faith as a direct result of his choices, the riots, the dead Septons. Often, he felt guilty about the violence that arose due to his indirect actions, or perhaps it had always been there, suppressed by a forced faith.
He chose not to think about it, focusing on his duties, on his dream of becoming a knight, a true one, that would one day protect the innocent against the wicked, for the world was a dark place indeed.
Alas, that did nothing to stop how useless he felt as he paced around the room, hearing strange noises, roars, and even seeing some flames illuminating the darkened skies for a moment, until finally, the darkness faded away.
Still, the guards refused to let him leave, and he could only growl in annoyance and look out of the window, trying to find out if the danger had truly passed or if his family was truly safe.
It was when he was in the middle of passing that he noticed a beautiful snowy white owl land before him, and gave him an irritated hoot. How he knew that the hoot was irritated, Daeron did not know, and yet, he was sure of it.
Nevertheless, this type of bird was not one that he had ever seen before. He didn't think that they even existed South of the Neck, and yet, the owl flew towards one of the chairs, and quickly gorged itself on his lunch, which his guards had graciously offered him, not that he was hungry.
He growled at the bird, "Hey!"
Yet, the owl seemed unconcerned, and when he moved to grab the pest, the creature moved with surprising speed, grabbing another piece of his lunch and flying away. Daeron swore that the hoot that followed was a mocking one, as he accidentally tripped as he ran at it, and fell down.
However, the creature's presence disappeared completely from his mind, as he noticed that a part of the wall was uneven. Without even thinking much of it, the young prince put his hand on the piece of stone, only for it to easily give way, revealing a small hidden passage. He turned around and saw that the bird was gone, likely having flown away from the window with its prize, but that did not matter, not anymore, for he had finally found a way to sate his boredom.
Daeron crouched and entered the hidden passage, only to find himself drenched in complete darkness. To his surprise, when he walked forward, he found a small torch. It did not take long for him to take it out and light it from one of the lamps in his room and return to finally do… something.
As he continued moving around the tunnels, he started to hear something, voices. He followed them and froze as he recognised them, for they belonged to his grandfather, and given his tone, he was not pleased at all, "This was not the plan, Melisandre."
The Red Woman, who he was apparently speaking to, seemed utterly unconcerned by the former Hand's displeasure, "I have not spoken falsehoods so far, Ser Otto. We have a common enemy in the identity of the Agent of the Great Other. The Prince Who Was Promised shall slay him, just as it was prophesied long ago, and the world shall be better for it."
That answer confused Daeron more than it should have. What was this Great Other, and who was this Prince Who Was Promised? And more importantly, why was his grandfather involved in any of it?
"You spoke of a prince," Ser Otto growled at her, "And yet, you empowered a woman, and not Aegon, the rightful heir to the throne."
"Ah. I suppose I can understand the confusion. The prophecy is translated from High Valyrian, and in it, the word 'Prince' can refer to both man and woman. I spoke no falsehoods, Ser, but perhaps made a few translations."
"You empowered my enemy!" he bellowed.
The flames started to shift in the room, and Daeron saw his grandfather's eyes start to widen in panic at… something. "There is but one enemy, the Great Other, a creature of Death and Cold, as well as his agents. Everything that remains is the design of R'hllor, the Lord of Light. He cares not for the petty squabbles of nobles over a steel throne, not when true horrors stirred."
His grandfather did not answer, and Daeron saw the flames settle down, faintly. Then the Red Woman's voice softened considerably, "I was also mistaken when I looked at the flames. I thought it would be your grandson who would be the Lord of Light's Champion. Alas, he lacks the fire necessary to do what needs to be done. He cares nought for the world of man, only for his children. That was not how it was meant to be. It seems that the Great Other's agent had seen his possible threat and moved to terminate it, quenching his fire with its cold darkness, robbing R'hllor of a powerful champion. It is the Lord of Light's will that the Great Other's servant be defeated by any means necessary. I thought you knew of this when your daughter refused to help us."
Daeron found this entire conversation maddening. They spoke of empowering someone, somehow. The young prince knew that it was possible with sorceries, given what he had seen beneath the Hightower, and it seemed like the Red Woman was a witch, one that, for some strange reason, his grandfather trusted to empower Aegon.
For what reason, Daeron did not know.
He could not see the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms being happy to serve a man who owed his power to foreign witches, and it wasn't like they needed the power much. Dragons offered more than enough strength to drench the realm in a bloody war. The world had seen what three dragons could do, let alone the number of them that remain to this day.
Though the aim was to target an 'Agent of the Great Other', whatever that meant. Was it an enemy that his grandfather wished to battle? There was much that did not make sense, not at all. And they also spoke of his mother. What happened to her? Daeron was sent to his room before he met her, and the idea that something had happened to her worried him greatly.
Unfortunately, whatever they planned on saying was immediately overwhelmed as a loud thud echoed across the castle, shaking the rooms around them. In the tunnel where Daeron was hiding, he felt a wave of dust suddenly overwhelm the tunnel, making him trip back at the intensity.
He released a faint cough as the dust entered his lungs, and when he ducked, he froze as he felt something solid next to him. It was a strangely ornamental dagger, one that seemed far too expensive to be left in some secret passage that had likely remained unopened for decades. Still, the pommel was strangely in good condition. It should have rotten away if it had been there since the tunnels were built. Had it been lost recently? Was the passage used recently by someone else?
He wondered if the blade hadn't rusted away, too. Slowly, he unsheathed the dagger and froze as he recognised the tell-tale signs of Valyrian Steel. How… How was this possible? That alone made the dagger almost priceless, and definitely not something that anyone could misplace.
Without thinking about it, Daeron clipped the blade onto his belt, and he looked up, realising that his grandfather and the Red Woman had left the room.
He slowly rose up and walked around the tunnels, hoping to find a way back to his room. That had been enough excitement for now, and his grandfather had much to answer for. It was minutes after they had walked around that he realised that he was lost and that the tunnels did not help in any way.
That was when he heard a loud voice screaming, and Daeron followed it out of curiosity more than anything. He was barely able to say anything as he saw his oldest sister, Rhaenyra, was seemingly throwing everything around her, in a very good bid to destroy a small fortune worth of luxuries.
She did not look good. Her dress was almost entirely ripped, with stains and dust covering her entire form, from top to bottom. Even her hair was not spared.
A familiar voice spoke next to her, "Calm yourself, Azor Ahai."
Daeron quickly realised it to be that of the Red Woman, Melisandre, whom Rhaenyra seemed familiar with, "You said that finding Aemond would lead me to Helaena."
"I did not say anything. The Lord of Light spoke to us in our flames. It was our interpretation that might have been mistaken, but never his will, for he speaks nought but truths to us all. Did you not find your sister?"
Helaena?
Why were they looking for Helaena?
Daeron had not seen her for years, but from what he remembered, his sister was a gentle creature who was often lost in her own mind. Not exactly a threat that needed sorcery to defeat.
Then Rhaenyra growled at the woman's question, "My half-brother led me to her, though they annoyingly had a protector, a Stark. And I did not expect them to collapse an entire corridor trying to escape me. Stark's appearance was unexpected; the North's delegation was not meant to arrive for some time. He wielded some strange magic and had a Direwolf with him, though the latter was exhausted after the battle in the Dragonpit. He almost killed the Shadowbinders, too."
Melisandre hummed, "That is worrying. It seems like the agent of the Great Other is cunning, indeed. He must have arranged that the Northmen would appear just before making our move and corrupted your brother and sister against you. However, while his efforts delayed your destiny, you still have gained much from your endeavour. I can feel the strength of Asshai running through your veins. You truly are the Lord's champion."
That seemed to appease Rhaenyra, and the woman raised her hands, which were immediately engulfed in flames. Was his oldest sister a witch now as well? What had happened when he was in Oldtown? Had the world truly gone mad in just a few years?
Rhaenyra, after admiring her flames for a few minutes, then spoke up, sounding more relaxed than she had before, "Where is Kinvara?"
Melisandre froze in her tracks, "I know not. I believe she said that she would look for the enemy. But do not worry for her well-being, for the Lord of Light guides her more than most."
"Yet, the Potters remain at large. Helaena was to be our path to find them, and Aemond our path to finding Helaena. Now, both are lost and hidden from our sight. What use of this power, if I cannot use it to destroy my enemies, the threats to my children? There is only so much time we can act while the Red Keep is in chaos."
She was practically growling near the end, and Daeron felt heat overwhelm the room, enough that he felt it from the secret passage in the walls. It was only when the Red Woman spoke up loudly, "Perhaps there is another way. I did not wish to broach the subject previously, but it seems that we might be forced to do so. One can hide from the Lord of Light's gaze through the heresy of the Great Other, but even then, one cannot hide from one's blood. You have other siblings, do you not?"
It was only then that his grandfather's familiar stern voice spoke up loudly, "No."
He had been so silent that Daeron hadn't even noticed him there. The gap in the wall could only allow him to see so much of the room.
Still, despite this, the young prince could easily see both women turn towards his grandfather at once, and yet the former hand met their gazes impassively, "This had gone on for long enough. The plan was to kill Harry Potter and remove his loathsome influence over the politics of Westeros. Not… this. First, you chase after two of my grandchildren, and given your state, you attack them despite your reassurances that they would remain unharmed. And yet now, you wish to use your magicks on my grandchildren. No! I refuse."
The Red Woman's voice turned dangerous, "You wish to refuse to stop the agent of the Great Other? You wish to turn your back on the Lord of Light."
The room darkened, and he suddenly heard choking, though he could not see what was happening. However, he could hear the woman continuing to speak, "We currently have access to two of your grandchildren, the eldest and the youngest. In honour of the aid you provided to the Lord of Light's cause, I will allow you to choose which of your grandchildren shall finish what you started."
His grandfather did not answer and continued choking. Daeron could not see what was happening, but he could make it out easily enough, especially given the bloodthirsty and delighted smile on Rhaenyra's face.
The princess seemed to almost revel at what was happening, her earlier anger all but having disappeared, "Perhaps it would be better to awaken dear Alicent. She should have a chance to decide her children's fate, shouldn't she?"
Soon after, he heard his grandfather's gasping tone release, "Daeron. I choose Daeron."
Despite knowing that it would likely be the most logical outcome, Daeron couldn't help but feel betrayed by his grandfather's words. He had spent time with the man, learned with him, and was likely the only one to have tried to truly enjoy his company ever since he had been banished back to Oldtown. For the man to still choose Aegon over him so readily was not a good feeling.
The choking stopped, and Rhaenyra smirked, "Very well. Should we send for his guards?"
"There is no need," the Red Woman answered, "He is here."
Suddenly, just as he prepared to flee, Daeron felt something grab him and keep him in place. He looked up and froze as he noticed the Red Woman's crimson eyes looking directly at him. With a wave of her hands, the secret passage opened, revealing his figure and finally allowing him to properly look at the room.
Destroyed furniture aside, he saw his grandfather being pinned to the ground with a small trail of blood running down his mouth. However, he froze when he looked in the corner and saw his mother's sleeping form. She looked peaceful, but he knew that it was likely some kind of spell that she was put under for refusing to aid them.
As for him, he looked and saw his sister's satisfied expression, but it all drifted away when he saw the Red Woman's eyes. She took a small knife and drew it lightly across his forearm before he could even flinch. The cut was shallow, barely more than a sting, but a single bead of blood appeared and dropped down.
Melisandre used her knife to somehow grab it, keep it suspended just before the blade in a manner he would have thought impossible, had he not witnessed much more unnatural sights beneath the Hightower.
Then, the Red Woman turned to the hearth and put her dagger above it, allowing the drop of blood to fall immediately. The moment it touched the flames, they turned crimson, and this was followed by the woman grabbing Rhaenyra's hand and guiding it to the fire, though she remained unharmed.
A wave of weakness suddenly overcame Daeron completely. His vision blurred, and the world turned hazy. When he opened his eyes, Rhaenyra was nowhere to be found, only the Red Woman. His grandfather still remained slumped near the wall, with a resigned expression. Daeron, though, looked at Melisandre defiantly, even if every part of his body ached at whatever magic was in place.
The woman seemed more amused than anything by his defiance, and he spoke up, "There is no need for hostility. You have fulfilled your purpose, child. Azor Ahai shall find your traitorous siblings and finally confront the Great Other's servant. All is well. For now, you need only serve."
A wave of calmness appeared in Daeron's mind. He felt his breathing slow, and his heartbeat soften, with his thoughts smoothing into something warm and dull. Yes… she was right. Why had he been so opposed?
After all, he was no longer in danger, wasn't he? All that happened was him being pricked by a blade. He had suffered far worse in the practice yard in Oldtown. And if this Great Other was such a terrible creature, then perhaps losing a drop of blood was not so bad a fate.
A sudden, piercing screech stopped these thoughts, though the haze appeared. Daeron looked and grew annoyed with the fact that it was the same strange owl that had stolen his food in his room.
For some reason, Melisandre stiffened when she looked at it, and that allowed Daeron to think for a few moments. He remembered a fortress filled with monsters beneath the Hightower, and the skull of a dead god. He remembered the Seven Who Are One, and their oppressive presence, one that had once been subtle.
He remembered defying them, their twisted will, in the very centre of their power.
He had denounced them, the gods of his forefathers. And he looked at the Red Woman, this witch, a servant of her foreign god, and realised that, subtle her powers may be, her power paled compared to what he had once witnessed.
That was when clarity returned, and he felt the world slowing down. The witch was so close to him, and yet, was distracted momentarily by that bird in the distance. Then he looked down and quickly saw the blade sheathed on his belt, the Valyrian Steel dagger that he had found in the tunnels, the same one that the woman either did not notice or ignored in her hubris.
It did not matter, for in less than a second, he unsheathed the weapon. The Red Woman barely had enough time to widen her eyes as he leapt at her and stabbed her in the heart. The woman, strangely enough, did not die immediately and seemed utterly shocked by the attack.
Daeron almost panicked until he noticed the woman's form quickly becoming thinner, her black blood staining her red dress, and her hair whitening. Then she fell to her knees, her skin withering and rotting in seconds, before releasing a loud scream that shook Daeron in his very soul, and falling to the ground, dead.
Despite the victory, Daeron's vision swam, as if he had exerted himself massively. He stumbled down, and he smiled as he saw his mother, awake and hale, running towards him, "Daeron!"
She embraced him with a worried expression on her face and turned to his grandfather, whispering, "What have you done, Father?"
Yet, Daeron did not care, for he simply enjoyed his mother's warmth as the world turned black.
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AN: I haven't really written much of Daeron after the Oldtown arc, so I was a bit rusty, but I hope I managed to write him well. The main idea is that Otto was an idiot and trusted Melisandre, thinking that she would raise Aegon into this magical warrior that he hoped to use against the Potters, and then be seen as a 'blessed' king.
Of course, they used his influence and tricked him by using Rhaenyra instead of Aegon, since they realised that none of the Hightower children would do it, given the way Harry has subtly influenced them since coming. I'm planning an Otto POV soon, which should explain the extent of his plan, but that's the gist of it for now (trying not to spoil anything, sorry).
Anyway, as you probably noticed, Hedwig has been doing some heavy lifting in Harry's plans, which I thought would be a cool concept. I know that Melisandre's death was anticlimactic, and that most would have liked some big battle with Harry, but that felt more poetic, I guess. She completely underestimates Daeron and the fact that his mental strength is pretty significant, given what happened in Oldtown, which results in her being killed. Don't worry, dealing with Kinvara will go pretty differently. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
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If you want to support me, check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions on them, so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.