A Wandering Melody (HP SI, ASOIAF Crossover)

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123 AC, Dragonstone

Viserys Targaryen had often thought himself cursed by the Gods, being found unworthy of the crown that he had taken from Rhaenys. Every son he lost, every time he was cut by his throne, every moment he found his body slowly rotting away, he imagined that it was punishment from the Gods, proof that the Great Council was wrong and that Rhaenys should have been Queen.

It was a doubt that niggled inside his mind for years, and yet, for what felt like the hundredth time, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, moved his fully healed hand, marvelling at the lack of pain he had felt.

Despite his love for Rhaenyra, he had to admit that he had thought that she'd been swindled by some charlatan who had gotten her to reveal their house's greatest secret. He had thought to disinherit her, as he had many times during his reign, but stopped himself.

His daughter, Aemma's daughter, would sit on the throne. He couldn't imagine her death, her sacrifices, to be in vain. He had made an impossible decision, a horrible decision, one that made him lose Aemma. Alicent's presence was comforting in a way that he needed after his wife, in a way that allowed him to move forward and accept the loss of his wife, but she could never compare. She would never compare.

Making sure that Rhaenyra would sit on the throne was the best he could do. And he had forgiven much to make sure that it would happen, and yet, he didn't know if he could forgive her for being tricked into revealing Aegon's dream to a stranger.

That wasn't to be, for, despite the protests from the Maesters that it should have been impossible, he was healed with nothing but the single drop, a glowing tear of a bird of fire, that she had gotten from this strange traveller, who was apparently an expert in prophecies. He still had his doubts about this, but if the man knew of the Song of Ice and Fire, Viserys would need to know, which was now that he was sailing to Dragonstone. They would arrive soon, in just a matter of hours, and the King had to admit that he had missed his grandchildren and even Daemon.

His brother was beyond infuriating to deal with, but despite it all, Viserys loved him, and he knew that Daemon loved him as well, in his own way.

Viserys' thoughts were interrupted by his wife's voice, "Ah, husband, even now, it is a wonder to see you standing there in good health."

"In a way, I am, too. Never, in my wildest dreams, did I imagine this. Even my sea sickness was healed, somehow."

"The Seven truly are generous, your grace." She simply replied.

Viserys chuckled at the memory of Alicent's reaction as she had seen him leave his bedchambers on his feet, looking decades younger, while completely healed. She had almost screamed in fright and accused Rhaenyra of replacing him with a faceless man.

He would have been furious if the circumstances weren't as extraordinary as they were. Otto looked just as sceptical until they spoke to one another and realised that he was, in fact, healed and not some hidden Braavosi assassin masquerading as their King.

Of course, the Maesters ran their tests and found nothing. The disease seemed to have been purged in some way, even some of his flesh had returned, healed, without any of the rot or infection. Nevertheless, they had angered him after prodding him one time too many and insisting that the journey to Dragonstone could wait.

His Hand and wife were in agreement on that front, and so was most of the Small Council. It didn't help that all that Rhaenyra said was that she had acquired it from a traveller and used it on their King. From an outsider's perspective, it would have looked bad, but they didn't feel the tear, the warmth, the comfort, the light. Nothing that felt so pure, that soothed the dragon's blood flowing through his veins, could have ever harmed him so.

He had trusted Rhaenyra, his heir, and she had shown the entire realm why he had done so. She had done the impossible, healed him, completely. Soon, word would spread through the Seven Kingdoms of the blessed princess who had saved their king. And in this move, Viserys felt vindicated in his decision to choose Rhaenyra as his heir. She could have kept this cure for herself, and if she lusted after the throne, would have waited for his disease to take him.

And yet, she didn't. Her first decision, just after receiving such a priceless gift, was to give it to her King, like the loyal daughter she was, "Yes, the gods must favour Rhaenyra to guide her into healing me."

Alicent's expression tightened slightly before relaxing, "I still do not understand why you wish to meet this sorcerer. No good can come from this, my love."

"Old Valyria was built on magic, dear Alicent," he replied dismissively, "And we do not know of the man's abilities, not truly. Perhaps he is only a merchant who somehow got his hands on magical items. And even if he were a sorcerer, I would be in no danger. We have dragons after all."

Viserys might have bent the truth there, slightly. Given Rhaenyra's testimony, it was very likely that this Harry Potter had some skill in magic. He misdirected his wife because he knew that she was extremely wary of magic. It made her uncomfortable. She was a pious woman who had been told all of her life that magic was an affront to the Seven. To her benefit, Alicent likely thought that he wished to give a position of power to this sorcerer as a reward for his healing, and he was tempted to do so, even if it was for a different reason.

He wished the man to be close due to his alleged knowledge of Aegon's dream, of the coming darkness that his house was destined to fight. A dreamer, much like Daenys or the Conqueror, could be a valuable ally to have. Viserys had spent much of his life haunted by his ancestor's prophecy, of possibilities and dreams. If this Harry Potter could give him answers, then that would be worth the risks.

His wife, on the other hand, did not seem to agree, "I can understand wishing to reward the man who has healed you, but it would have been more prudent to send an envoy. He could be dangerous."

"Some things must be done face-to-face, Alicent. This is one of them," Viserys replied. His tone was perhaps harsher than it should have been, something that he regretted slightly, but his wife must know not to push the issue, especially when she had kept doing so during most of the trip.

It didn't help that he was nervous about his conversation with the sorcerer. It wasn't the magic, but his supposed knowledge of prophecy. Viserys' house had always been entangled with dreams and fate, and now, according to his daughter, this Harry Potter seemed to know enough to unnerve her.

Still, the suppressed anger on Alicent's face showed him that perhaps he should have been more diplomatic with his frustration, and so she simply curtsied and spoke up, "By your leave, your grace. Helaena has asked for my help with the babes."

And so, she left, without saying another word, and Viserys suppressed a wince at her tone. Despite this being a small, planned trip, Alicent has insisted that Aegon come with them. He had agreed in exchange for Aemond and Otto staying in King's Landing. His Hand hadn't been happy with this decision, but Viserys had learned after years of experience not to keep Daemon and Otto in the same castle. It rarely ended well, especially since Otto was visibly unsettled by his healing and seemed on edge. If Viserys had to guess, the visible display of magic had unsettled the man too much. He would have to get used to it, in time, something that he didn't think would happen with Daemon near him. Aemond's obvious distaste for his nephews wouldn't have helped matters either.

Nevertheless, the King had been surprised when Helaena of all people insisted on coming with him, despite just giving birth to her twins. He had argued that a ship would not be good for the babes, but she had insisted in a way that she had never done before. In the end, he relented, thinking that arguing would only push back their trip, something that Viserys wished to avoid.

From Rhaenyra's words, the man was a traveller and did not state that he had plans of staying in Dragonstone, even if he had built a manse on the island. If he had somehow used magic to build it or just hide it, which was the only way he could think he had built the manse in the first place, then it was perfectly possible that he'd be able to do it elsewhere just as quickly.

As for the meeting itself, Viserys had no idea what to ask the man. He was extremely grateful to be healed, but the man must have had an ulterior motive for his actions. Perhaps the man simply wanted his attention. If that was the goal, then he had it.

He had so many questions about his own dreams of his son with Aemma wearing a crown, of his legacy, of the coming darkness. From what Rhaenyra told him, the man believed that it would be a second Long Night, an old legend from the First Men, which his Grandmaester told him what he knew of it with an odd look on his face.

Viserys could understand his reaction; it was a children's tale, after all, and not something that a King should be concerned with. Nevertheless, Viserys found concerning parallels with Aegon's dream, mainly the fact that it would come from the North, where the White Walkers had supposedly been pushed back, that they bring winter with them, and that they even blocked out the sun, an eternal Night and Winter.

It was right there, in front of him, in front of his ancestors as well, and it made a very concerning amount of sense. This was the identity of his family's enemy, of his line's destiny. This information alone would have made the trip worth it, and yet, according to Rhaenyra, it was nothing more than a small fact, told casually, and Viserys couldn't help but wonder what else the man could share with him.

"Still thinking of your meeting with Harry Potter?" a familiar voice spoke up behind him, which made Viserys smile as he recognised it.

"Rhaenyra, I am surprised to see you awake so early in the morning."

"You are not the only one who is apprehensive of this meeting, Father."

Viserys turned towards his daughter, "It will be a fruitful meeting, I can almost feel it."

Rhaenyra's face looked hesitant, but she still spoke up after a few seconds of silence, "Be careful with them, Father. Both the man and the woman."

"I have no plans on taking unnecessary risks, Rhaenyra."

"I know that you are curious about the song, of our legacy, but they are not to be underestimated. There is something about them that is unsettling, and even the dragons are wary. They… They do not fear the dragons, Father."

That made Viserys freeze slightly, "Truly? You did not mention this to me, Daughter."

"Because I do not know if it is a fact or not. They didn't interact with the dragons other than when Daemon rode Caraxes to confront them. My husband returned very unsettled, something that wouldn't have happened had he thought that they were afraid."

Viserys could see the wisdom of this statement. Very few people understood Daemon. He was impulsive, but he was not a fool or some sort of feral beast. He loved his reputation as a blood-thirsty warrior, as it unsettled everyone around him, giving him a clear advantage. He also loved his dragon to intimidate any potential enemy and often looked smug as men looked like they were a few seconds away from soiling their breeches.

For him to be unsettled by them… Well, that made it more likely that they were very skilled in sorcery. But then again, Viserys had not come this far to turn back now. He gave his daughter a reassuring smile, one that did not quite reach his eyes, and laid a gentle hand atop hers. "Then it is a good thing I did not come alone, nor without purpose."

The conversation died there, and just as well—for the bells rang above the mast, and the cry of "Dragonstone!" echoed across the deck. Soon enough, the ship pulled into the small harbour nestled beneath the black cliffs, and Viserys, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, disembarked with the slow confidence of a man returned to a home that had never truly been his.

They were waiting.

Daemon and Rhaenyra's sons stood proudly on the pier, her sons at her side, dressed in fine silks as befitted princes of the realm. Guards and knights seemed at the ready, and likely most of the household had gathered, lined in reverent silence beneath the shadow of the volcano.

The air was thick with tension, not of fear, but disbelief, as if the realm itself held its breath.

Guards, lords, and servants alike froze as they caught sight of him. Not the bent, withered monarch clinging to life they had come to expect, but a tall, hale man walking with steady steps, shoulders straight, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. His flesh had colour, his steps had strength, and the sickness that had hollowed out his cheeks and clouded his gaze was gone. Entirely gone.

Whispers rippled through the crowd, disbelief turning to awe, awe into reverence.

Even Rhaenyra's children gave him disbelieving looks, openly gaping at him. Viserys suppressed the urge to smile at their reactions. Even Daemon looked visibly surprised, before turning to Rhaenyra, who stood behind him as his heir. She nodded to him, and his brother seemed to accept whatever unspoken interaction took place.

Viserys walked forward, his gaze sweeping the courtyard until it found the one it sought. A man stood at the edge of the gathered crowd, half-shadowed by the stone archway, wearing some odd clothes. At his side stood a golden-haired woman who seemed to watch him carefully.

Their eyes met across the courtyard, green against violet, and in that single glance, Viserys knew that his world was about to change.

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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 of them so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.

Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.