15
A lot of you guys have been asking if I've butterflied away Viserys and Daenerys. The answer is yes, yes I have. Not on purpose, but I did. There will be no alternate father scenarios or similar shenanigans.
Many thanks go to Joe Lawyer for beta-ing the chapter.
XXXXX
1st day of the 6th moon, 277 AC. Summer Isles, Koj, Pearl Palace.
Rhaella moaned wantonly, unable and unwilling to keep herself silent. Her hands were braced against the sides of the hard body atop her, heated flesh pressing her down into the bed.
She loved it. The weight of him, the size, the sense of power, the carefully controlled strength as he thrust into her, the feeling of his member sliding across her inner walls as she was filled.
When he spilled his seed inside her, she could only cry out in helpless rapture as the pleasure tore through her body and drove all thought from her mind.
Rhaella's body shuddered in pleasure one last time when Harry pulled out of her and rolled off, taking her with him so that she was cuddled against his side.
Across his body she saw Luna, looking enraptured as two dark-skinned priestesses suckled at her breasts. Trickles of Harry's seed glistened on their legs, evidence of prior couplings.
She inhaled deeply, reveling in the scent of maleness from Harry and the thick musk of sex all around them, and then exhaled in utter contentment. Rhaella would forever be grateful to him and Luna for what they had done for her. It was good to be alive.
When she had first come to Dol Guldur, she had been deeply relieved when Harry showed no interest in her whatsoever. Now the warmth of his seed pooling in her belly made her hopeful that she would soon be great with his child. She had always wanted more children and she was running out of time.
Fortunately, Harry had agreed to give her one, but he had insisted that they do it here. Why? She didn't know and didn't really care. It was enough to know that he would.
The Faith of the Seven would say that her current behavior was sinful, but she had discarded the Andal faith in her heart long ago, and discarded it openly shortly after arriving at Dol Guldur. Piety to the Seven had only brought her a miserable marriage and five dead children. The gods of the Summer Isles seemed much better. Even worshiping Harry and Luna would be better, for all that she didn't believe they were truly gods.
Rhaella felt herself growing aroused again at the thought of 'worshiping' Harry. These Summer Islanders certainly had some interesting customs.
She began nibbling at his muscular chest and stroking his already hard member. Fingers ghosted over her back and she shivered pleasantly.
Then he was back atop her and there was no more thinking.
XXXXX
The next morning.
Jala usually loved having her father as a guest in the Pearl Palace, but not this time. Because this time, it wasn't just him and Luna, it was also that Targaryen woman.
She managed to keep her peace for nearly two moons. Then Luna took that woman into town, leaving her alone with Father. There would be no better opportunity to air her grievances.
"What do you see in that Targaryen?" She demanded. "I thought you hated them."
Father looked at her with knowing eyes, as if he had been expecting this. He probably had.
"I don't hate them, I just don't think much of them." He said. "But your problem isn't really with Rhaella. Your problem is with the idea that I'm replacing Hala, Sigrid, Ava and Oak."
Jala sighed in defeat and nodded. Of course he would see through her right away. "I just don't understand, can't you see that you're hurting them?"
"Daughter, take a look at my face. How old do I look?" He asked patiently.
"No more than thirty." She replied, slightly confused.
"No more than thirty." He repeated. "But I'm not thirty, am I? I'm close to seven hundred years old no matter what I look like. Your mother is sixty-three, and she looks it. More importantly, she knows it and feels it."
That brought Jala up short. This was not how she expected things to go.
"It's a bitter feeling, getting old while those closest to you stay young." Father said with an oddly resigned tone. "You think Hala spends almost all of her time with you because of Rhaella, or because she's still grieving for Ash? That Sigrid has as good as moved back to Thenn because of jealousy? That Ava and Oak stay as guests with their children for weeks at a time so that they don't have to see her? They might not know it, but Rhaella is just an excuse they're using to stay away from me, Luna and Adrastia. One day Rhaella will use a similar excuse to stay away from us."
"You could have kept them young." She said without conviction. Her previous indignation had fled her quickly.
"Then they would have to watch their children grow old, and if I gave you the Elixir of Life as well, you would have to watch your children grow old. That can't go on forever, something always happens to make the entire thing collapse and then you have huge portions of your family rejecting immortality and dying all at once. We've tried it before and it was crueler than letting them drift away from us on their own terms would have been."
Jala was silent for a long time, thinking through that. She'd never quite realized what immortality would mean for her father. It had always just been that way.
"What about you, Luna and Adrastia then?" She asked.
"None of us experience death in quite the same way as most people." He admitted. "Adrastia and I are more than a little monstrous and Luna has mastered the trick of living completely in the present. Still, there's a reason why she absolutely refuses to carry any more children herself even though she loves them."
"I see." Jala sighed, feeling like a little girl getting lectured once again. "My apologies, Father. I didn't think."
"It's alright, you're still young." He said and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
Jala snorted. She was forty-two and grandmother twice over.
They stayed in companionable silence for a long while, until a raven winged its way to them and landed on his shoulder. A message was tied to its leg.
Messenger ravens could normally only travel to locations rather than people, but the Raven Lord was an exception to the rule. The ravens always knew where he was.
"Who is it from?" Jala asked curiously.
"House Targaryen." Father said with a frown, showing her the three-headed dragon wax seal before unrolling it. "Rhaegar Targaryen to be specific."
"Rhaella's son?" Speaking the former queen's name no longer caused any bitter spite to well up in her, not after Father's explanation. "What does he want?"
Father looked terribly annoyed as he handed her the letter to read.
Greetings Harry, God-King of Angmar, Raven Lord, Crowfather, Sorcerer of Dol Guldur, Voice of the Old Gods.
Jala raised an eyebrow, slightly amused at the attempt to copy the way that the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms addressed each other. Rhaegar Targaryen either wasn't aware that those titles were informal or he was trying to suck up. She read forward.
We have never spoken before, but Great Uncle Aemon warns me that you have little use for flowery language or flattery, so I will skip to the purpose of this letter. I am Rhaegar Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne and I believe that I may be the Prince That Was Promised. I have read the prophecies and interpreted the signs and they seem to point to me. Great Uncle Aemon agrees that I may be the one, but advised me to write and ask your counsel on the matter, as you are far more learned in the higher mysteries than he.
I know that you care little for the affairs of the Seven Kingdoms, but I implore you to answer me. The fate of the world may rest on it.
Rhaegar Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone, Heir to the Iron Throne.
"Well, he certainly had a high opinion of himself." Jala noted wrily.
Father grunted in agreement. " The tone of the letter implies that he's already convinced of his Chosen One status even though he's asking for help making sure. He's going to be trouble, I just know it."
"You could ignore him." She offered.
"Then Luna would give me that disappointed look for hurting Rhaella's feelings unnecessarily." He said in exasperation, although she could hear the amusement under it. "Damn women, always with the emotional blackmail."
"We just like knowing that you care." Jala said with a cheeky grin, hugging him.
XXXXX
There was still some time before Luna and Rhaella were to return to the Pearl Palace, so Harry popped over to the Temple of Love in Walano for a quick chat with the local gods. He could have picked a closer temple, but this one was the largest.
"Is it done?" Harry asked in the True Tongue, his voice carrying the feeling of spring.
"We would have preferred that you stay longer, but yes, it is done. The child will be as strong as we could make it." The gods of the Summer Isles whispered back.
Instead of resorting to a ritual to ensure that his and Rhaella's child would be healthy, he had instead declared that they would be vacationing in the Summer isles for a while. Then he had asked the local gods for their blessing and that they put in an effort to bring out all the strengths of their bloodlines.
This had multiple purposes, ranging from testing how much influence the gods had to seeing how much of a role genetics played in the final outcome. Harry had already determined that when it came to nature vs. nurture, this world had more weight stacked on the nature end of the scale than Earth did.
The disposition of the children he'd raised was to be expected, but the dozens of others in who's lives he'd only been peripherally or not at all involved should have showed a much more diverse range of behavior. Instead, they all tended to gravitate towards familiar archetypes. Granted, the experiment wasn't perfect since he'd only been impregnating Summer Isles women, but it showed a trend.
Rhaella was now in the early stages of pregnancy, carrying a child that would have the benefit of more focused benevolent meddling.
"Thank you." Harry replied graciously. He and the Summer Isles gods had a good working relationship.
"It was our pleasure, and you have done much for our people that we could not." They replied.
That was kind of true, but it was mostly Jala.
Under her leadership, Koj's wealth and influence had grown immensely. The education she'd received from him and the connections she had to Angmar had allowed her to establish an incredibly lucrative ice trade. Huge amounts of ice covered in sawdust to preserve it were constantly being imported from Hardhome and Skagos and then sold to the rest of the Summer Isles. For all the Westerosi north of Dorne, the cold was a fearsome enemy. For Summer Islanders and the desert-dwelling Dornish, it was a valuable commodity.
And that was just the most common item being traded for. Angmar produced plenty of other things that were in high demand.
Her personality shaped by the brutal conditions beyond the Wall instead of the pacifistic Summer Isles and their overly sentimental gods, Jala had no mercy or restraint in her when it came to anyone attacking her people. She'd exerted her acquired influence to push the Summer Isles into taking a far more aggressive stance against pirates and slavers. Their patrol fleets openly challenged any ship that came from Slaver's Bay, the Iron Islands or the Stepstones and sank it if they didn't like the answers they received. In fact, ships from Slaver's Bay were often sunk or at least subject to a little piracy themselves even if they weren't specifically slaver ships. Running away didn't work, because the alchemical wood coating on their hulls made them too fast to escape and the advanced ship-to-ship siege weaponry made of Goldenheart wood gave them an enormous range advantage in naval combat.
"The world holds its breath, great events are in motion." The gods continued portentously. "Be watchful."
"I sense it too." Harry replied with a frown. He wasn't sure why, but he could.
The feeling of convergence, rising potential, pressure reaching a breaking point... He had recently become aware of it, but could not pinpoint when it had appeared. It felt like it had simply slid into his consciousness, and done it so smoothly that he could not recall it ever not being there.
Naturally, this bothered him immensely. He had always been crap at any kind of divination meant to scry the future, and this had the feel of destiny.
The people of Angmar were strong now, strong enough to stand on their own even if he and Luna left tomorrow. They would eventually fuck it up of course, because that's what humanity did, but they were no longer helpless at the non-existent mercy of their frozen homeland. Even if the Others decided to make a move after eight thousand years of silence, they should be able to withstand them. Harry had ensured that counter-measures against their powers were ready.
The populations of giants and Earthsingers were almost out of the extinction zone. The elder races would not yet fade from the world.
The Faith of the Seven was steadily being pushed further and further south. He had already undermined it in the North almost completely. A few more years of meddling and even the Manderlys in White Harbor would turn their back on it. There would likely be some religious conflict as the septons pushed back with ever more venom as the noose tightened, but if it was done carefully and subtly, then the memory of the Faith Militant would keep the lords from giving them too much support. The trick to fighting ideological zealots of any type was to not give them a clearly defined enemy to rally against, that way you could have them chasing shadows until it was too late.
Aross the sea, the slave trade was having more and more trouble.
The Dothraki were the primary force driving the slave trade on the eastern continent. Since they didn't produce anything themselves, they needed slaves either to do it for them or to trade them for things in either the Free Cities or Slaver's Bay – although they called it exchanging gifts. With thirteen adult dragons hounding them and Tarkus constantly provoking them into fights, there was a shortage of slaves developing. As an additional hit, Vaes Dothrak had also once been an important trade hub between eastern and western Essos, but merchants were leery of approaching it with dragons circling above.
And the slave trade was also under a more insidious assault by his own efforts to propagate belief in the Father of Freedom. Pentos had already abandoned slavery in truth, where before they had only paid lip service to the abolishment that Braavos had forced on them.
The other Free Cities were still holding on to the practice, but only barely. Several rebellions had already occured and incidents of slaves dying as martyrs after killing their masters had pushed things over the tipping point. Even if nothing more was done, momentum would ensure that they would soon have to abandon it as well. Harry's manipulations had simply sunk too deep into the general consciousness.
Except in Volantis. The red priests were fighting tooth and nail against the rising challenge to their dominance and their fiery cunt of a god was certainly helping them do it. Melisandre in particular was proving to be a nuisance, her powers apparently much greater than what they had been during their last encounter.
Harry could only assume that was because of the dragons. The world's ambient magic was significantly higher with them around.
Regardless, it was a losing battle. They couldn't project their will as far or as wide as he could, nor could their god intervene directly enough to counter him. Their brutality was in fact serving to harden sentiment and the faith of R'hllor was becoming the face of slavery as a consequence, which was not doing their PR any favors. The Father of Freedom was now the second most widely practiced religion in Essos and the red priests were getting more and more hysterical about it.
Even the Ghiscari cities of Astapor, Yunkai and Mereen were beginning to crack. The reduced influx of slaves from Dothraki by land, the Summer Isles sinking every pirate or slaver ship they came across and most of the Free Cities buying less slaves was steadily chiseling away at their economy by lowering supply and consequently ramping up cost. This weakened the hold that the Good, Wise and Great Masters had over their respective cities and created more agents for him to use, which then fed back into the cycle to create a positive feedback loop.
Harry was sure that all this and more wouldn't have happened without his meddling. The wyrd of this world had been derailed severely by his actions, yet now there was a sense of unstoppable momentum, as if things were in motion that could no longer be stopped. Even worse, he had no idea what event or sequence of events had set it in motion, or even if it was his doing. He couldn't even be sure that it hadn't always been there and he simply hadn't noticed.
Destiny was an incredibly irritating concept. If life was a book, then destiny was a plot contrivance to make sure that certain events happened in a certain way.
XXXXX
Luna and Rhaella had returned from their little excursion into town by the time Harry made it back to the Pearl Palace and since then apparently decided to amuse themselves by introducing parfaits to the kitchens.
Or more accurately, Luna had decided to do so and dragged Rhaella along for the ride.
Harry could only raise an eyebrow as Luna enthusiastically explained the process to the attentive kitchen staff, using Rhaella as her assistant. Said staff was looking awkward at having the servants' domain invaded by royalty, but definitely intrigued.
He walked up behind the two women and gave their butts a little pinch. Rhaella jumped in surprise, but Luna just turned to him with a bright smile.
"Hi, Harry!" She chirped. "We're making parfaits."
"So I see." He replied noncommittally and turned to Rhaella. "I have something I need to talk to you about."
Her purple eyes shone with curiosity, but she merely nodded.
"I'll join you as soon as I finish up here." Luna promised, already turning back to the cooks.
Harry gave her bum another squeeze to acknowledge the statement and led Rhaella back to their room, his hand still on her bum the whole time.
The blush on her face was quite amusing, but she didn't say anything and actually stepped closer to him. So much so that she was basically pressed into his side as they walked.
Luna and Adrastia had worked hard to bring her out of her depression and they had done a good job of it. Rhaella wasn't the same mopey woman they'd technically kidnapped five years ago.
Predictably, Luna and Adrastia had also conspired to get her sleeping with him, each for their own reasons. Adrastia for the politics, and Luna because she was of the firm opinion that sex was very therapeutic.
Rhaella still wasn't anything incredibly special, but he'd certainly had less interesting and less beautiful lovers in the past.
They arrived in their room and Harry pulled her into his lap as he sat on an armchair, grinning at her bashful squirming. The former queen's reserved social conditioning was deeply ingrained and pushing her out of her comfort zone never failed to amuse.
"I have two bits of news for you." He announced, offering her the letter. "The first is this."
Rhaella looked briefly confused, but her eyes quickly went wide as she saw who it was from, hungrily moving through Rhaegar's missive multiple times.
"My son wrote to you." She said, looking at him imploringly. "Harry, I know that you do not concern yourself with such matters-"
"I'll go talk to him and I'll take you with me." He interrupted.
As he'd told Jala, Luna would give him the Look if he was an arse about this. Besides, he knew that Rhaella missed her son terribly even if she never said anything.
"Truly?" She breathed in relief, leaning into him.
"Mhm." Harry nodded, a smirk growing on his face. "It's one of the benefits you get for fucking me."
Rhaella's jaw dropped slightly in surprise, but she composed herself quickly and nodded regally. "Thank you."
"And speaking of fucking, you're pregnant."
That certainly broke through her composure and she gasped, covering her mouth with a hand.
"I am?" She questioned, eyes already shimmering with happy tears.
"That was the other bit of news." Harry confirmed.
Rhaella threw her arms around his neck and squeezed with all her strength, almost shaking with happiness. She didn't squeak though, the inevitable blubbering would be 'unqueenly' or something.
Harry just rubbed her back, having been through this many times before. Although, he expected that Rhaella would be driving herself crazy with worry as the due day approached on account of her previous miscarriages, stillbirths or otherwise deceased children.
It wasn't long before her joy at the news turned into arousal and she began squirming in his lap, nuzzling his neck and eventually repositioning so that she could kiss him. That was interesting, because Rhaella wasn't comfortable being the aggressor. She would give off subtle signals that she wanted it, but never before had she been the one to initiate sex.
Harry decided to encourage this by hitting every erogenous button he could reach in their current position, but not moving things along so that she would be forced to do it herself.
Sure enough, Rhaella only managed to wait so long before her arousal outgrew her hesitation and she began to fumble with his clothes. He moved just enough to make undressing him possible, but still didn't take control.
Once he was undressed, Harry deliberately didn't give her any cues to follow, curious to see what she'd do.
Rhaella just stood there for an awkward moment, before kneeling between his legs and using her hands and mouth to pleasure him. The tension visibly flowed out of her frame as she pushed the ball into his corner. It was obvious that he'd have to be the one to take control if he wanted anything more than foreplay.
Harry couldn't say he was surprised by her choice. It was time for some mixed reinforcement that would either force her to be more assertive or make her accept a submissive role. There would be none of this wishy-washy halfway crap.
He placed a hand on her head and pushed it down, forcing her to take him deeper into her mouth. Rhaella was still very new to oral sex and tended to mostly use her hands, but he'd trained every long-term lover he'd ever had to deepthroat and she wasn't weaseling out of it just because she used to be a queen. Not unless she pushed back.
Rhaella made a small sound of protest, but didn't fight him. It helped that he didn't try to push far enough to trigger her gag reflex, too early for that just yet. Still, it indicated that she was likely to be a submissive type, unsurprisingly.
The chair he was sitting on faced the balcony of their royal quarters and Harry's face developed a smirk as an idea took shape.
He let Rhaella slobber over his tool for a little while longer before pulling her up. Her eyes shone with eagerness and darted towards the bed, clearly expecting him to maneuver her there.
Harry instead took hold of her colorful Summer Isles dress and ripped it off her in a single violent tug.
"Harry!" Rhaella gasped with wide eyes, but there was arousal in them, not fear.
"We'll be doing something different today." He purred and took her hand, pulling her towards the balcony.
"We'll be seen!" She hissed, as if there was already someone that could hear them. "Harry!"
He paid her no mind and manhandled her to the stone railing. It was conveniently tall, just about waist level for someone standing at seven feet.
Rhaella, though clearly fretting, still didn't fight him when he bent her over the railing, casting a spell to support her upper body so that she didn't fold over it uncomfortably.
"Harry, there are people down there." She said, legs dangling in the air. "Are you using your magic to hide us?"
Well, of course there were people down there. This particular balcony overlooked the main entrance. There were gardeners and servants and many others coming and going.
"No, we're going to give them a show." Harry chuckled, lining himself up with her and pushing in slowly. With his increased size and strength, he had to be a lot more careful with normal women.
"Harry!" Rhaella squawked in shock at his words, but couldn't do anything as he slowly penetrated her.
"Give them a wave." He ordered, seeing that they'd been noticed. At first it was just one or two but soon there were dozens of Summer Islanders pointing and staring at them.
Harry could almost see the mortified flush on her face and gave her until he was fully hilted in her to either obey his command or demand to be taken back inside. She did neither, so he gave her a painful swat across the rear.
"Don't be rude, Rhaella." He chastised over her yelp. "Wave at the people."
With a hesitation that spoke of terminal embarrassment, the former queen lifted her arm and waved.
Submissive it is. Harry acknowledged and began thrusting into her, snickering slightly when he noticed that a few people actually waved back. Gotta love these Summer Islanders.
The next few minutes were silent except for the slap of flesh-on-flesh and the occasional strangled moan from Rhaella. More and more people began loitering below and watching the spectacle they were putting on, and it was almost possible to track as the former queen's embarrassment wilted into defeated acceptance.
With a final thrust, Harry began unloading into her, the spells worked into his seed instantly triggering multiple orgasms as it spilled across her nerves. Rhaella couldn't hold back her cry of pleasure and he cast a Sonorous so that everyone could hear it.
These being Summer Islanders, they cheered at the climax as if their favorite sports team had just won a match. It even looked like there was an impromptu orgy starting up.
In all likelihood, he'd just performed a religious ceremony as far as they were concerned.
"You are a demon." Rhaella moaned once she was recovered enough to speak, covering her face with her hands.
"I've been called worse." Harry snickered, still buried inside her.
"Are you going to let me up?" She asked when he made no move to do so.
"I don't know...I think I might want to have another go." He said thoughtfully.
And then Luna burst in through the door.
"Are we doing exhibitionism?" She asked excitedly, skipping over. "I didn't know you were into that, Rhaella."
"I am not." The former queen protested.
"Liar, you even waved at people as they watched." Harry contested.
Rhaella twisted around as much as she was able, giving him a look of such disbelief that he could only grin.
"Ooh, do me next, do me next!" Luna was, as usual, oblivious to all the subtext and just wanted to participate.
"Get into position first." He scolded, clamping down on his amusement.
Luna bounced over and bent herself over the railing, wiggling her firm arse eagerly and giving a jaunty wave at the people watching below.
Rhaella could only stare in helpless incredulity as Harry pulled out of her and started fucking his wife.
"Don't worry, he'll be back with you soon." Luna promised, giving the former queen a reassuring smile.
XXXXX
5th day of the 6th moon, 277 AC. King's Landing, Red Keep.
Rhaegar closed the door to his chambers and released a tired sigh, a show of weakness that he could not permit himself anywhere else. His father was held captive in Duskendale and the Lord Hand was conducting a siege to free him, so it fell to him to run the kingdoms as regent in the meanwhile.
Certainly, the Red Keep was less tense without the specter of Father's increasingly erratic behavior hanging over it, but it seemed like every lord in the realm was showing up to curry favor with the Crown Prince, as if it was a foregone conclusion that Father would not survive this ordeal.
Not that Rhaegar could blame them. Father was not well-liked and had not been for quite some time. Not since he sent Mother to her death in a foolish attempt to tame the dragons menacing the Dothraki Sea.
Rhaegar remembered his mother as a terribly sad woman and he had never been able to forgive his father for what he'd done to her. He even caught himself harboring a persistent guilty hope that Father would die in Duskendale. It would be difficult to mourn the man if he did.
"Even as a child, you were always so serious." A hauntingly familiar voice said.
Rhaegar almost jumped in surprise.
"Mother?" He croaked hoarsely, staring in shock.
There was no mistake, it could only be her. Rhaegar could never mistake her face. The only thing out of place was her gown, which, while of quality fit for royalty, was of an unfamiliar style.
"Yes, Rhaegar, it's me." She said with a happy smile, the melancholy air that he remembered so vividly nowhere to be seen.
She stepped forward and embraced him, dispelling the half-formed thought that he was looking at a ghost.
"This cannot be." He said in disbelief even as he wrapped his arms around her. "You died."
"I didn't die, I was just...taken away." She replied delicately.
"Where? By whom?" Rhaegar asked, pulling back enough to look into her eyes.
Instead of answering him, Mother looked to the side.
Rhaegar followed her gaze and started again at seeing a very large man sitting in a chair that assuredly hadn't been there before. A man with long black hair and unnaturally green eyes.
"Yo." The man said with breathtakingly smug irreverence, not even bothering to stand for the Crown Prince. "I'm Harry, the one who's fucking your mother these days. You can call me 'Dad' if you want."
Rhaegar could only stare, rendered speechless by the brazen audacity.
"Harry." Mother scolded before turning back to him. "Rhaegar, this is Harry, the Sorcerer of Dol Guldur. I met him at the Mother of Mountains, where he and his wife offered to take me with them to Angmar. I couldn't bear to return to your father so I accepted."
Somewhere in his thoughts was a sense of elation that the Sorcerer had come to speak to him personally. Rhaegar had been expecting a letter at best, but knew that he was more than likely to receive only silent dismissal.
That was, however, being pushed aside by his mother's revelation.
"But, why?" He asked, not liking how plaintive he sounded.
"Because your father was killing me." Mother said in a horrifyingly matter-of-fact tone. "I am sorry for leaving you alone with him, but I was of little use to you anyway."
Rhaegar could not dispute her words. As a boy, his upbringing had often kept him away from her and then Father had confined her to Maegor's Holdfast, separating them further. Nor could he dispute that she looked better now than she did in his memories.
"And you lay with him?" He asked carefully, looking sideways at the silently amused wizard.
"I carry his child." Mother said joyously, smiling so radiantly that Rhaegar was taken aback. "You are going to be a big brother."
A sibling. Rhaegar had always wanted a sibling, but not like this.
"A bastard." He stated numbly. "You ran away to bear another man's bastard?"
Mother's glowing expression dimmed and her brows drew together in displeasure.
"I thought you said he was smart?" The Sorcerer chuckled.
"I am willing to excuse him this once on account of the surprise he is surely feeling." Mother replied and Rhaegar balked at her chilly tone.
The mother he remembered was never so stern.
"My apologies." He said, although he didn't think he'd said anything wrong. Their marriage may have been unhappy, but Mother was still married to Father and she had entered into an adulterous relationship with another man and now carried his child. What else will it be if not a bastard?
"There are no bastards in Angmar." Harry spoke up again, still sounding amused. "Bastardy is an imaginary concept, invented specifically so that fathers could brush aside responsibility for the children they sired. Well, that and to simplify inheritance issues. You Andals seem to be particularly fond of the practice."
"I am not an Andal." Rhaegar said firmly.
"Really?" The wizard raised an eyebrow. "You believe in Andal gods, follow Andal customs and rule over Andal lords, who themselves rule over Andal people. How exactly are you not an Andal?"
The deliberate exclusion of the First Men and Rhoynar made Rhaegar uneasy. The North and Dorne were the two kingdoms by far the most independent of the Iron Throne. Was that a hint of something? Then again, the Ironborn hadn't been mentioned either.
"I am the blood of the dragon, the blood of Valyria." He said firmly.
"Boy, I know more about Valyria than you do and I can assure you that being inbred and pretty isn't enough to make you one of them. Don't feel too bad though, the Valyrians were cunts."
"Valyria was the greatest civilization the world had ever seen." Rhaegar protested, pushing down his indignation at being called a boy.
"No it wasn't." Harry disagreed. "If I'd come here a few centuries earlier I'd have felt obligated to destroy it myself out of sheer principle, that's how shitty Valyria was."
Rhaegar very much wanted to argue, but he didn't want to anger the man who might have the answers he sought, so he stayed silent. The casual boast about being able to destroy Valyria also made for an excellent deterrent. That his mother, being Valyrian herself, did not seem to disagree with the wizard was also confusing.
"We've drifted off topic." Mother said delicately.
Harry made a beckoning gesture with his fingers and she was pulled into his lap with a surprised squeak.
Rhaegar bristled in outrage and clutched the dagger at his waist. "You dare?! Release her!"
"Why so angry?" The wizard asked with an amused grin. "I already told you that I'm plowing her, why does having her sit in my lap upset you?"
Confused anger muddled his thoughts. To see his mother treated like a common tavern wench...why would he not be upset?
"Stop teasing him, Harry." Mother chided, not looking as uncomfortable in her current position as Rhaegar felt she should. "Rhaegar, son, you must accept that I am never returning to your father. It would please me if you acknowledged this child I carry as your sibling, but I will not force you."
What could he say to such an earnest plea from his dearly missed mother?
"Of course I will accept them as my sibling."
Mother's bright smile made all other considerations seem less important.
"Alright, now that that's over with, you wanted to talk about prophecy?" Harry cut in.
"Indeed." Rhaegar was glad to move on, although the Sorcerer's disdain for the social norms he was used to still had him feeling wrongfooted. "As I said in my letter, I have studied the writings and I believe that I may be The Prince That Was Promised. Great Uncle Aemon thought that you may be able to shed further light on the subject."
"The answer is 'don't think about it'." Harry nodded sagely.
"Pardon?" Rhaegar blinked.
"Don't think about it." The other man repeated. "Prophecies are things that only ever make sense once everything is over. Not to mention that this prophecy of yours could be false."
"But the signs..." Rhaegar protested.
"Signs?" Harry mocked. "Salt and smoke? A bleeding star? A song? That could be twisted in a hundred different ways. I'll tell you the same thing I told the last person who came to me blabbering about prophecy, this very same prophecy as it happens, albeit with an Essosi twist. Prophecies can be either true or false. If they're false then obsessing over them is stupid for obvious reasons. If they're true then they will come to pass no matter what and obsessing over them is still stupid."
"The prophecy also speaks of a great darkness threatening the world." Rhaegar said stiffly, taking offense at being called stupid. "Dare we ignore the danger?"
"Of course it speaks of a great darkness, all prophecies do. It wouldn't be very dramatic if they spoke of the dangers of ingrown toenails after all." The Sorcerer paused and gave a brief glance towards Mother before focusing on him again. "This part I'm only telling you because I'm fucking your mother; I was once the subject of a prophecy myself. It was foretold that I would be the greatest enemy of a madman bent on dominating the world through the power of his magic. He caught wind of the prophecy when I was barely over a year old and set out kill me before I could become a threat. Thanks to my mother's cleverness he failed, but that only served to confirm in his mind that the prophecy was true. He spent the rest of his life trying to kill me and thus created the very enemy he so feared. If you let your life be ruled by prophecy, it will ruin you."
Rhaegar supposed that he could see the wizard's point, but it sat ill with him. If the world was in danger then its champion should not be disregarding his destiny.
"There is also the matter of the woods witch that foretold that the Prince would be born from the line of Mother and Father." He said.
"Do not speak to me of that wretch!" Mother hissed, shocking Rhaegar badly with the sheer venom in her tone. "It is because of her nonsense that Father insisted Aerys and I marry."
"Easy now." Harry said, burying his fingers in her hair and scratching her scalp.
Rhaegar frowned. The action was far too reminiscent of how a man might settle down an agitated dog for his liking.
Still, it seemed to work, as Mother took a deep, calming breath before speaking again. "My apologies. I have no fond memories of that dwarf woman and even less regard for her words."
"That woods witch was nothing more than a woman with an untrained talent for Greensight and a cracked mind. Admittedly a good combination for prophecy to seep into her head, but her vague prediction could mean anything. It could mean you or a descendant a thousand generations in the future, and that is assuming that it wasn't a load of shit. Same advice as before, don't think about it."
"I will take your words into consideration." Rhaegar said, his tone neutral but his disposition sour. The wizard was being rather less help than he'd hoped.
"Of course you will." Harry replied unconvincingly and stood up, setting Mother on her feet in the process. "I'll leave you two alone so that you can talk. Rhaella, I'll come pick you up in a few hours."
"Thank you." Mother smiled.