Oh, yes. I forgot to mention. If you haven't read Lady of Serpents- it's actually Ok! This may be part two, but you don't need to know everything from there!
Everything has Changed
"A person needs new experiences. They jar something deep inside, allowing you to grow. Without them, it sleeps- seldom to awaken. The sleeper must awaken."
Frank Herbert
30th June 1952…
Rhaegar smiled as he beheld the sleeping face of his wife. Even in sleep she was still the loveliest person he had ever seen. She was even more breath-taking, now in fact, than ever. In the golden light he could behold the delicate, patrician, glowing beauty, see her flawless, silvery-white skin glow that would shame cream, ivory and mother-of-pearl. She was illuminated and the light she always seemed to emanate shone brighter than before. But her delicate lids sealed her eyes, and the long, silky, black lashes spread across her flawlessly beautiful cheekbones and skin, creating shadows beneath. Rhaegar grinned as he thought that her lush lips just begged to be kissed.
He resisted the temptation though. Alarissa's hair shimmered black, and gleamed brightly. There was a parting. And it showed on of her ears. Pointed tips. As if Rhaegar cared the slightest whit, he could have snorted. But everyone else made a big fuss about the fact that she was not born human.
So what did Rhaegar care? She was there. She was wiser, not just more surreally beautiful than the rest of them. More calm, more patient. More understanding and much more compassionate.
Rhaegar's heart hardened as someone muttered about what offspring he might have, whether or not they would have a place in the world. He could have spit venom, or flames like a dragon for that! He would never forgive that. Any other insult, perhaps, but not that. Not against his wife and whatever offspring he might have.
He sighed angrily and rolled onto his back. So his wife was not a witch, or even human. So what? The enraging, infuriating, loathsome thing was that even the ones who tolerated Muggle-borns seemed to be offended by the idea of non-humans.
But then again, he knew why they were really against his marriage- in fact, they were just using the insults to mask something else.
They truly hated him. Not his wife, him.
"Love?" Alarisssa's sleepy voice sounded. Rhaegar smiled and went to kiss her. She accepted the kiss, happily, sighing with contentment. "I'll have to be off soon," he said regretfully.
"I know," she said softly. "But come back to me." He nodded.
"Always," he whispered, before kissing her again.
He slid out of bed.
His love now behind him, what did he have to look forward to today?
In answer? Not much, if any to be frank.
Their mansion lay in Kataris City. The city of the Atlantean Volsung. The name might sound familiar, but Sigurd Fafnirsbane actually claimed it as his clan name. This clan, however, adored dragons.
And they came from an island long lost.
Soon the anniversary of their founding would be marked.
After the disaster that claimed Atlantis, for centuries, the survivors who escaped had wandered near and far, keeping hidden, in search for a place to call home. They were wizards and witches, but they were different. They lived longer, and their youth lasted long as well. They practiced magic that no ordinary witch or wizard could ever dream to have. And until the Founders of Hogwarts met and formed an alliance with the Atlanteans, none of them could find a place to stay. Now sundered into separate clans, living in various continents, the Atlanteans survived. Their culture and civilisation survived and flourished like before. Kataris lay in Germany, carefully hidden, even to other witches and wizards, unplottable to Muggles and Magical folk alike. And they were not just feared, but highly valued, not the outcasts they had feared to be. They were healers, scholars, philosophers, professors of all kinds, architects… and soldiers.
Their greatest value, some argued, were as fighting forces. No wizard nation has an army. So when the threats of unusually Dark Witches and Wizards arose, sometimes calling themselves Dark Lord or Lady, then they would instantly turn to the clans, bargaining and negotiating until they agreed- the usually did. Aurors only had jurisdiction to do anything within their home boundaries. They could not fight and confront enemies overseas, push them back and make certain to annihilate them. That was the Atlanteans' work.
And Rhaegar's.
Rhaegar touched a mosaic of a woman. Her long billowing black hair, framed grey eyes, lit with blue. There were other portraits- still ones. Frescoes and paintings alike. The ones which compelled him were many.
Rhaegar sighed.
He needed to get to work.
Tapping the side of the mirror he waited. It was a beautiful thing, inlaid with copper, coral and flecks of silver and gold. Rhaegar waited until a face showed.
A woman's face with milk-coloured skin, the exact same shade and just as smooth. Her long straight, black hair gleamed like a river of polished obsidian and she had gleaming matching, slender, black brows. Her features were delicate and exquisite as a snowflake, small, straight nose, high cheekbones, rounded, red lips and liquid black eyes, like onyx, framed with silky black lashes.
She blinked and stared at Rhaegar. "Athelinda." He acknowledged.
His sister bowed her head. It saddened him, and tore his heart at how humbled she was. So different to the proud- often arrogant, girl she had been in her school days. The one whose fire enthralled, and sometimes burnt, others. She was dressed in white still. Other times she wore black.
"How are things going?" He asked.
She stiffened. "Very well." She admitted. "Sigurd is safe and developing quickly. There have been no news of late."
"Huh," Rhaegar said. "Nothing out of the ordinary."
"And with you?" She asked.
He shook his head. "The piece of news I gained with Parkinson's death was not enough. The clan will take no further measures, or even an investigation."
His sister shook her head. "They won't even investigate. And what if he rises? He is waiting, right moment to strike. And strike he will."
"Meanwhile they are idle and do nothing." Rhaegar scowled. "Well, I don't blame Harald. He doesn't want to believe it. Not after all he's been through."
"A very human weakness, as your wife will say," Athelinda sounded bitter. "I fell to it."
Rhaegar sighed. He forgave his sister a long time ago. But things have never been the same between them.
"So you say," he muttered. "I have to leave now. We will have to redouble our efforts." Athelinda nodded, before the image swirled and disappeared into nothing.
Rhaegar turned. He had to do his part.
In Britain….
Katerina drank pumpkin juice. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at the boy in front of them.
Andreas tried not to smirk. Normally he was the one who would do this. But his wife seemed to have taken the role.
Not that he blamed her. The last time one of their daughters decided she liked someone…
The breakfast plates were empty with forks and knives laid neatly beside them. They were presently waiting for Winny, the House-elf. But Katerina told Winny to take as much time as she liked. She wanted to intimidate this boy.
She distrusted this boy. Who could blame her?
He tried not to squirm underneath her gaze. She fixed those deep, clear and piercing blue eyes at him, so much like her legendary eldest son's.
Nearby Willamar, her second son, smiled a strained smile. He felt sorry for this boy, he truly did.
His mother was as formidable an opponent as could be. She took on the entire staff of Durmstrang as a teacher, and she won, more than once. She left, of course, when she couldn't stand them any longer. They soon began losing some pupils.
Philomena, the youngest of the siblings twitched nervously. Her mother was intimidating.
It was Willamar that broke the silence. "Father, have you heard from Rhaegar?" He asked his father. Andreas looked up from where he had been hiding his snickers behind a copy of the Daily Prophet.
"Not too recently, I'm afraid," he said.
"Well, he's going to try and contact the two of you tonight. You as well, Philomena." His twenty-year-old sister gave a smile. "He's eager to tell you news."
"What news?" His mother asked. Willamar, Philomena, and most of all the poor boyfriend could have breathed in relief. It worked.
"He and Alarissa are trying for a baby." Willamar said. He smiled. "He's hoping for some advice. Athelinda is preparing potions on Alarissa's request. Rhaegar of course, is preparing the rooms."
"Will the child go to Hogwarts?" Philomena asked. "They are living in Kataris, presently."
"But they will soon return." Katerina gave an icy smile, at the boyfriend, named Jason who managed not to squirm. "In fact, I believe we will spend Christmas in Kataris, don't you Andreas?"
"Huh? Yes," her husband quickly amended.
"Good." She smiled a chilling, yet bright smile. "Well, if you would excuse me, I am needed in the kitchen." And with that she left the uneasy four to themselves on the breakfast table.
"Curse him," she muttered. She had instantly liked Alarissa, despite the fact that some people pointed out she wasn't human. But as for this boy, she just wasn't so sure. And now Philomena wanted to move to Kataris, to work as an archivist?
Unfair. Now she would be totally alone, save for her dear House-elf and her beloved husband. And how many times did she get to see her grandson? Not many. As for another grandchild- ha!
Now she knew what it was like, to be old, bitter and alone. Not to have the family all around her.
How miserable.
She had never been in anything like this before.
How she longed for the days of the past! Even when they were in school!
How she longed and missed to cuddle, kiss and hold her babies, and what she wouldn't do to do that- just one more time!
What she wouldn't do. And to think that having a grandchild would make her happy- it did, more than anything- but it would be more if she saw the child more often.
I'm growing soft in my old age, she thought resentfully.
In truth the reason she didn't like Stephen was because she wanted to keep the family unit the way it was. Alarissa she adored. Any grandchildren to worship and dote upon- by all means! But no more sons and daughters-in-law!
No more! She couldn't take any more!
Especially since the last son-in-law took her daughter away, and she nearly never saw her again!
It was his fault! She raged inwardly. How she loathed and cursed him. Damn him to the worst of hell!
And still his shadow wouldn't leave them alone!
Katerina knew it was a futile hope. But she wished nothing more than for him to be dead.
And she hoped it would be soon.
"I don't like him, Winny," she grumbled when she entered the kitchen. "But in actual fact, it's not his fault- it's mine."
Winny, their beloved House-elf, looked at her sympathetically.
She said nothing, however, she knew that it would not help.
Katerina sniffed. She picked up a picture. Inside it showed a merry-looking lad with golden-blonde hair.
"Why are we always betrayed?" She asked bitterly.
Winny couldn't answer that, even if she tried.
Rhaegar browsed over the old volumes. If anyone saw what he was doing they would instantly demand answers.
Why? Because this type of magic was very bad. So evil was it, that not even the darkest wizards would attempt it- if they even heard of it.
Could be anything... Yes, well he knew what one was. The problem was finding it. And his sister made the mistake of not bringing one with her.
Even living creatures, though, for reasons mentioned, this is not advisable...
And to think Herpo the Foul was bad enough without this stuff.
In short, nothing new was found. Rhaegar slammed the book shut with disgust.
"Rhaegar?" Someone's sheepish voice sounded and he looked up. It was Harald.
He sighed. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry." He said quietly. "I'm sorry I disagreed with you so publicly yesterday. And I'm sorry I was so vocal about it."
"Forgiven," Rhaegar tried to smile. "It is understandable."
Harald nodded, ashamed. "Still... I don't want to believe what you've said. But even I can't deny there are possibilities. No one had ever gone as far as Grindelwald before."
"No," Rhaegar said. "But now they know that he has gone that far, they know it is possible."
Harald looked green. "Yes."
They stood there in silence for a long while.
"You know... When I was captured... Grindelwald's followers mentioned something about a prophecy."
"A prophecy?" Rhaegar could not be more puzzled. Then it hit him. Obviously. "That prophecy?"
"Yes." Harald met his eyes. "They weren't just targeting Muggle-borns and Muggles, you know. They were targeting us. Atlanteans."
"That prophecy is nearly a thousand years old," Rhaegar said sourly. "They might as well give up. It's not going to happen in our lifetimes."
"Are you sure?" Harald asked, one fair eyebrow raised. "It, as you said, has been nearly a thousand years since Camelot fell."
Rhaegar sighed. "Yes. And people are still longing for those days- and to control the new age, as they vowed to do."
"Who do you think will be involved?" Rhaegar shrugged. "That, I do not know. And for their sake, I pray no one finds out," he said darkly and Harald looked grim.
Rhaegar threw the next book down in disgust, more ill-tempered than before.
Nothing helped him with his mood.
And the threat of another Dark Lord did not make him happy in the least.
He ended up in an armchair, in a secluded corner of the library. This was one of the largest arcane libraries in the world. And yet nothing helped.
As a commander he was supposed to be aware of the Dark Arts. But he already knew them. He knew them all too well.
13 February 1929...
Rhaegar was in despair. He had lost and he knew it.
He collapsed in a heap. Next to him, the other young boys did the same. They were stick thin, but corded with muscles somehow. Filthy, streaked with dirt and grime, their heads shaved and they bore many scars- most of them pale and half-healed.
The Children of the Endless Night. This was their life.
They had been marching for so long now. Many of them laboured to build this and that, siege engines, or did exercises under the command of the older men and women. If they were unsatisfied with the amount of progress they did, the 'herders' as some called them, or the 'overseers' would lash out with their wands, emitting sharp lightning-like tendrils of various colours and whipping the children. If they were especially peeved, they would use the Cruciatus Curse.
The weakest, the ones who didn't last so long, were killed outright. Their bodies dumped, and only God knew where they lay.
For a young boy, Rhaegar knew he was doomed. The others shared out rations. Opening packets of things like nuts and crispy, fried, slices of tuber or potato. A bottle was opened and water was passed around. They were only allowed one swallow.
It was not enough to live on. And yet they were expected to march. To build. To fight and even to kill.
He was a monster. They made him into one. To kill or be killed was their motto. And at that point, Rhaegar knew there was no hope.
The children were chained. Heavy shackles of magical make bound their dirty ankles just over their bare feet. Their necks were shackled with heavy iron collars too. The chains bound them to each other.
Rhaegar would never see his family again.
Then a sobbing, fluttering noise distracted him from his thoughts.
He looked up, startled. There was a cage nearby. How could he have missed it? At the very end of the cage, huddled a small pile of blankets. Rhaegar squinted. It was dusk. Who was this? This was no animal.
He looked up. The others were so thin and exhausted they did not notice anything. Their overseers were busy, roaring with laughter, spitting jokes and drinking heavy amounts of firewhisky and whatever else.
Slowly, cautiously, after making sure no one was near, Rhaegar sidled himself and made his way towards the cage.
He didn't know why. But he had to. Something pulled him, dragged him, heart and soul from the inside. And for some reason, the first time in months, Rhaegar hoped that this would be something to make his time worthwhile.
He gently, slowly, reached out and touched the bars of the cage. The pile of blankets started. But Rhaegar waited. He made a soothing, shushing noise, like the one he used to make to his sister when she was upset or angry.
After a while, he managed to calm him, or her, down. "Please." He whispered. "I promise I will not hurt you."
The pile stood very still. "That's what they said." Rhaegar was shocked. This was the most melodious, clear voice he had ever heard. But it was the voice of a young girl. How was it possible?
"Why are you in here, in a cage?" Rhaegar asked gently, but he could not keep the breathless tone from his voice. His heart was pounding. "Who are you?"
"Does it matter?" The voice said bitterly, heartbreak tearing her voice- and his own insides. His heart squirmed. To think they could not commit more evil. "I'm not one of you. None of your kind have ever concerned yourselves with us. None of you have ever treated us with kindness. They chained me, and hurt me, and forced me to go so low. Then they locked me up. Because your people allowed it. Why should you be any different?"
"I was taken from my family too," he whispered. He looked desperately at the bundle, entranced, utterly captivated by that voice. The most beautiful, melodious voice, it soothed and stroked him. It made him feel alive like he hadn't been in months and yet, he was calm. Spring waters. Crystal or glass bells. Silk. It made him think of things that he forgot existed, because for some time now, it felt like an eternity, he knew only evil and hideousness.
"I hate them." He whispered. "And I would do anything not to be like them, even if they want me to... If it's not too late," he whispered, trying to stem his own grief. "Even if you aren't like me." He said.
And yet... He felt an inexorable pull towards her, unexplained and powerful. Whoever this was... Destiny had charted out a path for him, he just knew it.
"My name is Rhaegar," He said softly.
She stirred underneath the blankets. She was silent for a long while. And in a voice so soft, so smooth, and gentle he could barely hear it, but made his heart leap when he did, he heard her say, "Alarissa."
And her eyes peeked from beneath the blankets. And Rhaegar knew heart and soul had already been captured- not by his enslavers- despite them trying- but by someone and something else, more powerful than they, and yet, he was already free.
Startled, Rhaegar opened his eyes.
Blinking, he outrageously wondered how he could have ever fallen asleep.
He should get going. Picking up his cloak, it was time to leave.
Nothing has ever been the same. His life would never be the blissful innocence he once envisioned it to be- though he did not know it as that at the time.
Yet he wouldn't have traded his experiences for the world.
Rhaegar made his way back home. Alarissa was in the gardens. Her back was to him, and he could see the wings that grew out of her back. They appeared and disappeared at will. Similar to butterfly wings, they were silky to the touch, but as near-transparent as gauze or gossamer. The colours were rich and vibrant- like jewels.
He sighed. "Love," he called out. Alarissa turned to him. "I didn't hear you coming," she said, her eyes wide. He smiled. "It's alright. I simply... wanted to be with you."
She smiled and held her hand out to him.
Let it all go away, Rhaegar thought. He didn't want Dark Magic or practitioners of that kind to come running into their lives again. Let it all be over.
And yet... he had no idea what he was in for.
As I said, you have no need to read the first part. But things you should know, Rhaegar was a child-soldier. He was kidnapped. Alarissa was captured as well. But not for purposes like his. She was meant for entertainment- or worse. As for other mysteries as to what Harald was talking about... That will have to wait until later. Andreas and Katerina are the parents. Rhaegar was born first, Willamar after him, and Athelinda after both of them. After a gap of a few years, the youngest, Philomena was born. They are Atlantean in descent, they arrived in Britain, long before the Normans, Vikings and even the Saxons did, hence the Celtic family name. Katerina was a teacher at Durmstrang.