Vision

Previously…

Jon Stark, with fire and steel, managed to intrigue Tormund Giantsbane into joining with him as they went on the hunt for one of the Others.

Harry, on the other hand, was trying to make his way back to the blackstone tower in the Valyrian ruins, hoping to reunite with his group. He’s been pushed to the brink, but he was a stubborn sort. Hestia was waiting for him, and he wasn’t going to let anyone get in his way.

Valyrian Ruins

Harry Potter

I ducked and rolled, narrowly avoiding the massive trunk of the elephant chimera as it smashed into the crumbling wall behind me. The impact sent ancient stones tumbling down, which I dove forward to dodge. My heart pounded in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I scrambled to my feet.

The beast towered over me, a monstrous fusion of elephant, tiger, and something reptilian I couldn’t quite place. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural red light, and curved tusks gleamed wickedly in the eerie half-light of Valyria. I raised my sword, ready to engage again, when a voice cut through the din of battle.

“Harry! On your left!” Balthazar’s warning came just in time.

I pivoted sharply, feeling the rush of air as a wolf chimera’s jaws snapped shut mere inches from my face. Without hesitation, I slashed Erebus upwards in a violent, diagonal arc.

The blade connected with brutal efficiency, cleaving through the wolf chimera’s shoulder and neck. Its head toppled to the ground, body following a moment later as it drenched me in blood and ichor. But I had no time to celebrate the small victory.

The elephant chimera trumpeted in rage, its tiger-like maw opening to reveal rows of dagger-sharp teeth. It charged, each thunderous step shaking the ground beneath my feet. I sprinted towards a fallen column, leaping over it at the last second. The chimera, unable to stop its momentum, crashed into the stone, momentarily stunned.

Seizing the opportunity, I spun around and dashed forward, Lightning whirring around my hand, which took the shape of a knife’s point.

Edge! I roared in my mind and drove it into the beast’s flank, tearing through its thick hide and sending it reeling.

These creatures were resilient and far more durable than anticipated, however. The wound channel, I realized, was barely letting out a trickle of its blood.

Damn. That was just momentum…

The elephant chimera rounded on me again, eyes blazing with murderous intent. Its trunk lashed out like a whip, catching me as I made a desperate block. I felt the impact against my ribs, the force of it sending me flying across the ruined courtyard.

I hit the ground hard, rolling to absorb the impact. Pain lanced through my side— definitely bruised ribs, if not worse. Gasping for breath, I pushed myself up, knowing that to stay down meant certain death.

The chimera was already charging again, its mismatched parts moving with a horrifying synchronicity. I gritted my teeth, raising my wand once more. The battle was far from over, and I couldn’t afford to fail. Not here, not now, with so much at stake.

As the monstrous creature bore down on me, I steeled myself for the next round of our deadly dance amidst the ruins.

I heard Erebus’s voice in my mind, clear and urgent. The base of the neck. Get me there, and I’ll handle the rest.

Easier said than done.

The elephant chimera’s defenses were formidable, its trunk and tusks creating a near-impenetrable barrier. I darted in, trying to find an opening, but was swatted away like an annoying fly. My back slammed into a half-collapsed wall, sending a shower of stone cascading down around me.

Grimacing, I hit the ground running, narrowly avoiding another swipe of the creature’s trunk. I needed a new strategy. 

“Right.” I muttered. “Let’s try something different.”

I sheathed Erebus, ignoring the sword’s protests, and drew my wand. The chimera charged again, but this time I was ready.

“Accio rubble!” I shouted, focusing on the debris behind the beast. Chunks of stone and masonry flew through the air, pelting the back of the chimera’s head. It wasn’t enough to hurt it in any way, but the sudden barrage clearly caught it off guard. The monster stumbled, shaking its massive head in confusion.

Seizing the moment, I pointed my wand at the ground beneath its feet. “Glacius!” 

A sheet of ice spread rapidly across the ruined courtyard. The chimera, already off-balance, lost its footing entirely. Its legs splayed out comically for a moment before it crashed to the ground with an earth-shaking impact that sent tremors through the ancient stones around us.

I didn’t waste a second. As the beast struggled to right itself on the slippery surface, I sprinted forward, leaping onto its back. My fingers found purchase in its rough hide as I scrambled towards its neck, Erebus singing with anticipation in his sheath.

The chimera thrashed wildly, trying to dislodge me. I clung on for dear life, inching my way forward. Just a little further…

Do it! Erebus urged.

In one fluid motion, I drew the dark blade and plunged it deep into the base of the chimera’s neck, right where it had told me to strike. I felt the blade sink in, and then…

As Erebus sank into the chimera’s flesh, I felt a surge of power. Black energy, dark and pulsing, flowed from the blade into the creature’s massive body before coming back and restarting the cycle. I could see the life force being drained from the beast, its wild thrashing growing weaker with each passing second.

But that wasn’t all. As the chimera’s strength ebbed, I felt my own rising. It was an intoxicating sensation, like liquid vitality flowing into me. The sharp pain in my ribs began to dull, then fade entirely. Cuts and bruises that peppered my body knitted themselves closed. Even the bone-deep exhaustion that had been weighing me down started to lift.

The chimera’s movements became sluggish, its trumpeting cries fading to weak whimpers. I clung to its back, feeling the creature’s life force pouring into me through my connection with Erebus. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

Finally, the massive beast collapsed entirely, its body going limp beneath me. I slid off its back, landing on shaky legs beside the now-still form of my fallen enemy. For the first time since entering this nightmarish landscape, I allowed myself to take a deep, relieved breath.

“Bloody Hell…” I muttered, looking down at my hands. The cuts and scrapes that had covered them were gone, leaving unblemished skin behind. Even the chronic ache in my shoulder from an older injury a few hours back had vanished.

Erebus hummed with satisfaction in my grip.

“Well done.” The sword’s voice echoed in my mind. “The beast’s essence has strengthened us both.”

I nodded, still trying to process what had just happened. The immediate danger had passed, but I knew we weren’t out of the woods yet. Valyria still held countless dangers, and somewhere in that tower in the distance, Hestia was waiting.

Taking another steadying breath, I surveyed the ruined courtyard around me. The battle had left its mark on the already decrepit landscape, with fresh scars gouged into ancient stones. But I was alive, healed, and feeling stronger than ever.

“Right then.” I said, gripping Erebus tightly. “Let’s link up with the others and hopefully not deal with any more of these creatures.”

I picked my way through the ruins, trying to ignore the oppressive atmosphere that seemed to press in from all sides. Valyria truly was a nightmare made real— a place where agony had become commonplace, where despair ruled supreme and where no light pierced through the sky.

A Long Night, but one of fire. It wasn’t the first time I’d had this thought, but the words continued to come to me.

“Cheery place, isn’t it?” Balthazar’s sarcastic voice rang out. “I especially love the ambiance; it’s been growing on me. Really brings out the whole ‘cursed hellscape’ vibe.”

I snorted, grateful for the momentary distraction. “Oh yes, lovely. I hear it’s a top vacation spot for the discerning dark wizard. Voldemort would probably have loved it here.”

“You jest.” Erebus chimed in, the demonic sword’s tone dry. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if some of your kind actually considered this a desirable destination.“

As we bantered, I couldn’t help but wonder, and not for the first time since I’d gotten here, what this place had been like in its prime. Had these streets once bustled with life? Had children played in courtyards now choked with ash and worse things?

Cataclysmic horror at its finest.

“Woolgathering, are we Potter?” Balthazar said in amusement. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re not here for a history lesson.“

“Good Snape impression. I’m surprised you even remember what he sounds like…” I rolled my eyes but picked up the pace. Soon enough, the blackstone tower loomed before us, its surface seeming to absorb what little light there was.

At its base, I found the corpses of the chimera, as well as a few Unsullied and others who had joined our expedition. Their mangled faces were drawn and pale, set in expressions that would haunt any who would have looked upon them.

I imagined that the others had entered the building, since its doors were open, showing a white mist I could not see through. But before I could speak, something else caught my eye— a large slab of stone, covered in symbols I couldn’t decipher.

“What’s this then?” I muttered, stepping closer. That’s when I noticed the trail of fresh blood trickling down its surface.

Erebus hummed thoughtfully. “A blood price for entry, perhaps? It would be in keeping with what we know of Valyrian practices.“

“Fantastic.” I growled. “Because of course it couldn’t just be a simple ‘push to open’, or a lever.”

Balthazar’s laugh was sharp and humorless. “Welcome to Valyria. Where nothing’s ever simple and everything wants to kill you.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Right then. I would ask who fancies being our volunteer blood donor, but I’m the only choice here.”

“Don’t sound too excited.“

I sighed, already rolling up my sleeve. “I suppose it’s just as well that I be the one to do it, since I just got a magical life-force top-up from our elephant friend back there. Tiger-phant?”

“There was a bit of lizard in there, somewhere.” Erebus said helpfully.

As I raised my wand, ready to make the quick cut, Balthazar’s urgent voice rang out.

“Wait!“

I froze, my arm hovering inches from the stone. “What is it?”

Balthazar’s tone was tense, a departure from his previous state. “I can read the inscription. It’s a riddle, but the gist of it is clear— it calls for Valyrian blood to be shed, as well as fire magic.“

A chill ran down my spine as the implications sank in. If I had offered my own blood…

“…” I said, lowering my arm. “That could have been nasty.”

Erebus hummed in agreement. “Indeed. The magic here is ancient and potent. Offering the wrong blood might have had… unfortunate consequences.“

I stepped back from the slab, eyeing it warily. My gaze shifted to the entrance of the tower, visible as a swirling vortex of bright white mist. It pulsed with an otherworldly energy that set my teeth on edge.

“So, what now?” I asked, more to myself than my companions. “We can’t exactly conjure up some Valyrian blood. Could I just go in without an offering?”

“The door is open… So, maybe?“

“I don’t like ‘maybe’s…” After a moment’s hesitation, I took a tentative step towards the misty entrance. 

“Don’t do anything stupid.“

“Me? Never.” I replied with a grim smile, inching closer to the swirling veil.

I extended my hand, not quite touching the mist but close enough to feel its energy. To my surprise, I felt no immediate repulsion or harmful effect. The magic didn’t seem to be actively rejecting me.

“Interesting.” Erebus mused. “It appears the tower might recognize you as… Something other than a mere intruder.”

“Maybe it’s because of my connection to Hestia?” I suggested, hope rising in my chest. “Or perhaps the Targaryen blood that Daenerys spilled is still in effect?”

Balthazar scoffed. “Or maybe it’s just waiting for you to step in before it turns you inside out. Hard to say with these ancient magical spells.“

I took a deep breath, weighing our options. The tower was the key to all of this, but the risks were immense.

“Well.” I said finally, steeling myself. “There’s only one way to find out. But first…”

I drew my wand and turned towards the bodies of the men who had lost their lives to get us to this point. “There’s some work to do.”

oooo

Earlier…

Daenerys Targaryen

As she stepped into the black tower, the world around her dissolved into a sea of white mist. The sudden shift left her feeling disoriented, her senses dulled by the oppressive fog that enveloped them. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision, but the mist clung stubbornly to her eyelashes.

“Your Grace?” Ser Barristan’s voice came from somewhere to her left, sounding uncharacteristically uncertain. “Can you see anything?”

Daenerys reached out, her hand disappearing into the whiteness mere inches from her face.

“Nothing.” She replied, her voice tight with tension. “Stay close, all of you.”

She heard the shuffling of feet as her companions drew nearer, their breathing loud in the eerie silence that surrounded them. Princess Arianne’s sharp intake of breath was clearly audible.

“This is… eerie.” The Dornish Princess whispered, a tremor in her voice. Daenerys felt a slight ripple in the air, likely Arianne attempting to use her newfound water magic to clear their surroundings, but to no avail.

Joqo, ever vigilant, spoke up next. “We cannot defend each other if we cannot see. What are your orders, Khaleesi?”

Daenerys clenched her fists, feeling the warmth of her fire magic coursing through her veins. She released a small burst of flame, hoping to illuminate their surroundings, but the light seemed to be swallowed by the mist, providing no clarity.

“We press on.” She decided, her voice firmer than she felt. “Ser Barristan, take the lead with Brightroar. The rest of you, form a circle. Unsullied at the rear. We move slowly, and no one strays.”

As they began to move, each step cautious and measured, Daenerys couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. The mist seemed to press in on them from all sides, playing tricks on their senses. Whispers and echoes danced at the edge of hearing, and more than once, Daenerys thought she saw shapes moving in the whiteness, only to have them dissolve when she looked directly at them.

The confusion was palpable among the rest of the group. Even the stoic Unsullied seemed unsettled, their usual discipline tested by the unnatural environment.

Daenerys silently hoped that Harry’s distraction outside was faring better than their current situation, all while wondering what secrets this ancient Valyrian tower held within its misty depths.

It was then that something in the air around her shifted.

The mist became thicker and thicker, and Daenerys realized she could no longer hear anyone. She rushed forward, expecting to crash against one of the group, only to find no one there. She called out; no answer. Her confusion, alarm and disorientation rose further when her surroundings began to shift once again, coalescing into something solid.

Bit by bit, her eyes adjusted. The steps, the grandness of the chamber— she’d been here before, though it had been different, at the time.

Daenerys nodded to herself; she was standing in the grand throne room of the Red Keep, her heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension. She was no stranger to visions, and the one she’d already seen of this place had been disturbing enough.

Still, she moved forward towards her rightful seat, the gathered nobles cheering for her ascent. The Iron Throne loomed before her, its thousand blades glinting in the warm light that streamed through the stained glass windows.

Unlike before, this place felt alive to her in a way she could not quite fathom.

As she turned, her breath caught in her throat. There, striding towards her with his familiar swagger, was Khal Drogo, his long braid swinging behind him. He looked exactly as she remembered, strong and proud, his eyes filled with love as they met hers.

Beside him walked a young man, tall and handsome, with Drogo’s bronze skin and her own silver hair and violet eyes.

“Mother.” The young man called out, his voice deep and warm. Rhaego, she realized with a start. The son she had never known, now grown into a man.

Daenerys felt tears welling in her eyes as Rhaego approached, a bright smile on his face. He embraced her tightly, and she found herself clinging to him, drinking in every detail of the son she had longed for.

“The Seven Kingdoms prosper under our rule, Khaleesi.” Drogo rumbled in Dothraki, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. “Peace reigns from Dorne to the Wall.”

As if to confirm his words, Daenerys noticed the banners hanging from the walls— not just the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, but the sigils of all the great houses, united under her rule. She saw smallfolk and nobles alike, all looking to her with adoration and respect.

Daenerys smiled. She had achieved everything she had ever dreamed of. The Targaryen dynasty was restored, stronger than ever. Westeros had been taken back from their usurpers and their games. And most precious of all, she had her family— Drogo alive and by her side, and Rhaego, the son she had mourned for so long, now a strong and kind prince.

Daenerys felt a profound sense of rightness, of completion. This was what she had fought for, bled for, crossed seas and conquered cities for. In this moment, all the hardships she had endured seemed worth it.

She reached out, taking Drogo’s hand in one of hers and Rhaego’s in the other, basking in their warmth and presence. The cheers of the crowd washed over her, and Daenerys allowed herself to be swept up in the joy and triumph of the moment, her heart swelling with love and pride.

For a fleeting, beautiful instant, all was right in her world.

They walked through the streets of King’s Landing, her son by her side and Drogo following close behind on horseback. The city was alive with celebration, people cheering and throwing flowers as she passed. Dothraki bloodriders and white-cloaked Kingsguard flanked them, a strange but effective blend of her two worlds.

Rhaego spoke animatedly about his upcoming nameday celebrations, describing elaborate plans for feasts and tournaments. Daenerys listened, her heart full, yet a nagging sense of unease persisted at the edges of her consciousness.

As they approached the tourney grounds outside the city walls, Daenerys spotted a familiar figure. Harry Potter stood there, looking oddly out of place amidst the splendor. A smile spread across her face at the sight of her ally and friend, but as she drew nearer, she noticed his confused expression.

The young man’s mouth moved but she couldn’t hear his words. His green eyes darted around as if trying to make sense of his surroundings.

Daenerys felt a flicker of doubt. Why did Harry seem so disoriented? Surely he knew where he was?

“Harry.” She called out, her voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. “Is everything alright?”

As she spoke, the world around her seemed to waver for just a moment, like a reflection in disturbed water. The faces of the crowd blurred, the sounds of celebration becoming momentarily distorted. But as quickly as it had come, the disturbance passed, and everything settled back into place.

Except for one thing; Harry was nowhere to be seen.

Daenerys blinked, unsure if she had imagined it. Had he never been here, in the first place?

That had to be it; a trick of the light. She could not hear him, after all. And yet, the unease in her heart grew stronger, conflicting with the joy and contentment she felt at having her family and kingdom restored.

She turned to Rhaego, seeking reassurance, but found herself studying his face intently. Was this truly her son? How could he be a man grown when she remembered him only as a babe?

“Mother?” Rhaego asked, concern evident in his voice. “Is something wrong?”

Daenerys hesitated, torn between the perfection of this world and the growing sense that something was amiss. She looked back at where Harry had been before shaking her head and plastering on a smile.

“Everything is all right.” She admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. The fabric of her perfect world trembled again, ever so slightly, as her doubts began to take root.

Daenerys slowly began to piece the puzzle together.

This wasn’t real. This was a vision. How had she so quickly lost sight? She’d only just entered the tower— that’s right! They were in the ruins of Valyria, in the Final Bastion.

They’d come to put its occupants out of its misery, but what was going on…? She couldn’t remember the last thing she did. Painfully, slowly, it came to her. They had solved a riddle of some sort, and then entered through the white mist…? That’s right!

As the realization dawned on Daenerys, the world around her began to waver more noticeably. The perfect vision of King’s Landing, her son, and Drogo started to lose its solidity, becoming more translucent with each passing moment.

“This isn’t real.” She whispered, her voice growing stronger with conviction. “We’re in Valyria. The Final Bastion.”

“What’s the matter, Mother?” Rhaego said, his violet eyes meeting hers as he took her hand. “Are you not feeling well?”

She pulled him into the tightest hug she could muster.

“I’m sorry, my sweet boy.” She said even as he became more and more translucent. “I’m so sorry… I’ve somewhere I need to be. Things I need to be doing.”

“What?” Rhaego said, pulling away from her, his sad violet eyes meeting her own. “W-What? You’re leaving?”

Daenerys’ heart shattered at the sight, but she forced the sadness down as best as she could. “I hate to go— really, I do… But I have to.”

She took him in another hug. “You’ll be a good man now, all right? Listen to your father and your advisors. Enjoy your life as much as you can. I love you so much.”

As she spoke these words aloud, the illusion began to crumble more rapidly. The cheering crowds faded away, their voices becoming distant echoes. Drogo’s form in the background blurred, becoming indistinct before her eyes.

Rhaego pulled back, giving her a smile. “Mother, I…”

But even his words became indistinct like the wind. Daenerys felt a sharp pang of loss as her son’s face disappeared along with his body, fading into white mist in her arms, but she steeled herself against the pain. This was not her reality, no matter how much she wished it could be.

I am in the Final Bastion.

The tourney grounds melted away, replaced by the selfsame swirling white mist. Daenerys found herself back in the oppressive fog that had engulfed them upon entering the tower. The memory of solving a riddle surfaced in her mind, followed by their entry into this strange, mist-filled realm.

“Ser Barristan!” She called out, her voice cutting through the silence. “Arianne! Joqo! Perros! Dour Meadow! Can anyone hear me?”

There was no response, only the soft whisper of the mist as it curled around her. Daenerys took a deep breath, centering herself. She was alone, but she was no longer lost in the illusion. Whatever magic this place held, she had broken free of its initial hold.

Daenerys summoned a small flame to her hand, its warm light finally breaking through the hold and providing a modicum of comfort in the unsettling whiteness. She knew she had to find the others, to ensure they too had not fallen prey to similar visions.

With determination in her steps, she began to move forward, her senses alert for any sign of her companions or clues about the nature of this mystical place. The Final Bastion, it seemed, held more dangers than they had anticipated, and Daenerys steeled herself for whatever challenges lay ahead in the depths of this ancient Valyrian tower.

As Daenerys’ conviction solidified, the mist around her dissipated rapidly, revealing a vast entrance hall. The space was grand and imposing, with high ceilings and intricate Valyrian architecture that spoke of its ancient origins. At the far end, a wide staircase led upwards, promising more mysteries to uncover.

Her companions were scattered around her, each locked in their own trance-like state. Ser Barristan stood rigid, his unseeing eyes fixed on some distant point. Arianne Martell’s face was a mix of wonder and longing, while Joqo and the Unsullied warriors remained frozen in defensive stances, fighting enemies only they could see.

Daenerys moved quickly from one to another, calling their names and shaking them gently, trying to break them free of the illusions that held them captive.

“Ser Barristan! Princess Arianne! Wake up, this isn’t real!” Her efforts seemed futile as they remained unresponsive to her touch and voice.

Someone caught her eye, and Daenerys turned to see Harry Potter standing among their number. His presence was unexpected and jarring.

“Harry?” She exclaimed, her violet eyes widening in shock. “How… When did you get here?”

He did not answer. A quick check showed that he, too, was under the same trance as the others.

The implications of his arrival hit her all at once. If Harry had managed to catch up with them, it meant they had been trapped in this illusory state for far longer than she had realized. A chill ran down her spine as she considered how much time might have passed in the outside world while they were lost in their visions.

Or perhaps he is another illusion…?

She reached out cautiously, half-expecting her hand to pass through him like a mirage. The situation had become even more complex and potentially dangerous than she had initially thought.

She felt his warm skin against her own and smiled. At least there was that.

Unexpectedly, the others began to wake from their illusions, the atmosphere in the entrance hall becoming charged with a mix of emotions. Confusion, sorrow, and lingering traces of anger played across their faces as they struggled to reconcile the visions they had experienced with reality.

Ser Barristan’s reaction was particularly intense. As he emerged from his trance, his aged face contorted with fury, his hand instinctively moving to Brightroar’s hilt. But upon seeing Daenerys, his expression softened, replaced by a look of unwavering resolve.

Without hesitation, the old knight strode towards her and dropped to one knee. His voice was filled with conviction as he spoke. “Your Grace, I reaffirm my vows to you. My loyalty to you supersedes any past oaths, even those to your brother Rhaegar. I am yours to command, now and always.”

Daenerys, touched by his devotion but uncomfortable with the formality, shook her head gently.

“Rise, Ser Barristan.” She said softly. “Your worth and loyalty have been proven time and time again. There’s no need for such gestures, especially now. What you saw was only an illusion— and I presume one involving my brother’s ascent to the throne?”

“Just so, Your Grace.” Barristan said. “T’was little more than a pitiful mummer’s farce.”

“‘Tis this place.” She said, gesturing towards her surroundings. “It knows your mind, and will prey upon it with visions of what you desire.”

As Barristan rose to his feet, Harry began to stir, drawing everyone’s attention. The young wizard looked disoriented, his green eyes blinking rapidly as he took in his surroundings.

Ser Barristan’s demeanor changed once more, relief evident in his voice as he commented. “You seem to be in remarkable good health, Lord Potter. Your arrival is unexpected but welcome.”

Daenerys nodded in agreement, her gaze moving between Harry and the rest of her companions.

“Indeed, though how you came to be here so soon remains a mystery.” She turned to address the group, her voice taking on a commanding tone. “We’ve all experienced powerful illusions, but we must focus on the task at hand. This tower clearly holds more dangers than we anticipated.”

She paused, allowing her words to sink in before continuing. “Is everyone alright? We need to understand what we’ve experienced and what it might mean for our mission here.”

As she spoke, Daenerys observed her companions closely. Arianne Martell seemed to be composing herself, while Joqo and the Unsullied were shaking off the last vestiges of their visions. The shared experience of the illusions had created a palpable tension in the air, a mix of vulnerability and renewed determination.

“Harry.” Daenerys addressed the young wizard directly. “Your presence here changes things. What can you tell us about what’s happening outside this tower? And how did you manage to join us?”

The group gathered closer, eager to hear Harry’s response.

“I…” He said, still not having reoriented himself.

“Do you require a moment?” Daenerys said, but the young man shook his head, instead pointing his hand towards the ceiling. His hand lit up with bluish white lightning which streaked to the top, crashing into something and drawing out its keening wail.

The creature fell from the ceiling, crashing into the floor with a sickening snap, but Harry did not even wait for the dust to settle, instead driving his black blade into the creature’s maw, cutting its screams short.

He stepped back from it, now looking lucid and aware— had he been feigning weakness?

Daenerys’ eyes turned towards the creature at their feet. It was a chimera, of that there was no doubt, but its many arms and legs were spindly and covered in the same mist which had surrounded her.

“Some form of spider chimera with the ability to affect the mind with its… web?” Harry said slowly to himself before shaking his head and turning to Daenerys. “I was able to kill the chimeras and make my way here; have you been standing here the whole time? It’s been nearly an hour since we separated, I’d say.”

Daenerys listened intently as Harry recounted his experience, her violet eyes studying his face carefully. His brief explanation raised more questions than it answered, and the tension in his posture was palpable.

“An hour?” She echoed, her brow furrowing.

The implications were troubling— it suggested that time moved differently within the tower, or that their perceptions had been severely altered by the illusions.

Harry’s eyes narrowed, and Daenerys caught the flash of suspicion in his gaze. She recognized the look of someone holding back information, weighing the consequences of speaking. The conflict evident in his emerald eyes intrigued her, and she found herself wondering about the nature of the vision he had experienced, if he had even experienced any.

His quick defeat of the illusion spoke volumes. Daenerys realized that Harry must have encountered similar magic before, perhaps during his adventures in his own world or since his arrival in this one. His knowledge could prove invaluable.

Choosing her words carefully, Daenerys addressed Harry.

“Your swift recovery from the illusion is impressive, Harry. It seems you’ve faced such magic before.” She paused, giving him an opportunity to elaborate if he wished. When he remained silent, she continued. “Whatever you saw, whatever suspicions you might have, we’re all in this together now. Your insight could be crucial to our survival and success here.”

She glanced around at the others, noting their reactions to Harry’s presence and his guarded demeanor. Ser Barristan looked alert, his hand never far from Brightroar’s hilt. Arianne Martell observed Harry with a mix of curiosity and wariness, while Joqo and the Unsullied maintained their stoic vigilance.

Turning back to Harry, Daenerys spoke in a lower voice, meant for his ears alone. “If there’s something you’re not comfortable sharing with everyone, I’m willing to listen. We’ve faced too much together to let mistrust hinder us now.”

She hoped her words would encourage Harry to open up, even if just a little. The mysteries of the tower were mounting, and Daenerys knew that pooling their knowledge and experiences would be essential in overcoming whatever was about to be thrown in their way.

As she waited for Harry’s response, she remained acutely aware of the looming staircase at the end of the hall, wondering what secrets and dangers awaited them on the levels above.

And so Harry opened up. He shared his experience with a strange mirror which showed a person their deepest desire, and Daenerys listened intently, her expression softening at the mention of his parents. The parallel between their experiences— both having lost family at a young age— wasn’t lost on her.

“Your parents.” She repeated softly, a hint of understanding in her voice. “That must have been both wonderful and painful to see.”

Rhaego… She thought for a moment before asking her next question. “And what did you see now?”

The atmosphere between them changed. Harry’s hesitation came back in full force, and as he turned his intense gaze upon her, Daenerys felt the weight of unspoken words. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, a silent communication passed between them. Whatever Harry had seen in this new illusion, it clearly involved her in some capacity.

The moment stretched, filled with tension and possibility.

Daenerys found herself holding her breath, part of her wanting to press further, to understand what Harry had witnessed. But another part recognized the delicacy of the situation, the potential complications that could arise from such revelations.

“Pray, forget I asked.” Daenerys waved her own question off, her voice regaining its strength and authority. “There are more important things to do— we must ascend the tower.”

He searched her face before giving her a smile and moving to stand beside her. “Agreed. Hestia is waiting.”

As they turned towards the staircase, Daenerys felt a mix of emotions— curiosity about Harry’s vision, apprehension about what awaited them above, and a steely determination to see their mission through. She gestured for Ser Barristan and the others to join them.

“Stay alert.” She commanded the group. “We’ve already seen the power this place holds over our minds. We must be prepared for anything my ancestors will put in our paths.”

With a final glance at Harry, noting the resolve in his emerald eyes that mirrored her own, they began to climb the stairs.

She would make these fools pay.