It had been so long since the last time he had been locked inside a room that Harry forgot how mind-numbingly slow time seemed to move.
He had slept fitfully, baking in the heat of Dorne as he ached to leave. The guards had left him locked inside, a servant bringing him plates of food as he waited to hear of Oberyn's return. He'd given up counting sometime after they had brought him breakfast, knowing only that he was still so very far from his family.
Is it only one more day? He wondered, wishing he knew where the Water Gardens were and that he wasn't so exhausted before he stilled, cursing his forgetfulness.
"Winky," he called lowly, wary of any listening guards.
He felt the shift in the air before she materialized, eyes wide as she took in the sight of him. Quickly, he pressed a finger to his lips, gesturing at the door before she snapped her fingers.
"Master Harry Potter sir is being free to talk now," she told him.
"Are you well? How's Tweak?" he asked, scanning her for any visible signs of distress.
"Winky and Tweak is being fine Master Harry Potter sir," she said, an almost admonishing note in her tone. Still bitter over the order to keep hidden, he thought. "Winky is keeping Master's trunks safe."
"Good," he said, relieved that at least they were doing well. "That's good. Can you tell where they are?"
She went quiet, likely focusing on whatever thread of magic connected elves to their families before she shook her head.
"Winky can tell they is being close, Master Harry Potter sir, but I is needing them to call me," she said sorrowfully. "Does Master Harry wish to leave?"
"Not yet," he murmured, glancing outside. It was still early, before noon he guessed, a servant having come earlier to take his plates and informing him that they would be bringing water for a bath.
"Master Harry Potter sir wishes to remain here?" she asked, aghast at the thought of him staying cooped up. She was too polite to say anything more – too used to the Crouches – and for a moment Harry missed Kreacher, certain the crabby old elf would have had words with him by now.
"No, Winky. I've no plans to stay long. Head north," he told her, trying to recall where the Water Gardens lay relative to Sunspear. "Keep hidden and follow the shore north. You should find a palace, and if what I've heard is true Elia and the children should be there."
"Winky will go and find them," she said firmly. "And Master Harry be leaving this room."
"When you find them," he agreed. "Be careful not to be seen."
Winky left with a barely heard crack, and Harry grabbed hold of his knee in feigned pain when the guard poked their head in suspiciously.
He was so very close, and Harry grinned at the thought of only having to wait a few more hours before he saw his family again.
They had brought lukewarm water alongside his lunch, and Harry had eagerly washed off the dirt from days in the desert before attacking his meal. It was appreciated, the constant source of food boosting his reserves, and Harry had grinned at the sight of a relatively large ball of light floating in the palm of his hand.
Another week, he thought, knowing his reserves would bounce back quicker now that he had passed that critical first stage.
He was picking at the orange they'd given him, tossing the peel aside when the door to his cell opened.
They froze, staring at one another for a moment before Viserys closed the door, a quiet order to the guards bringing the noise of clinking armour as they moved away.
He leaned against the wall, legs outstretched on the bed as he gestured to the lone chair.
Viserys sat stiffly, jaw clenched as he stared uncertainly at Harry. There was a part of him that recognized the discomfort he was experiencing, raising two boys who were not much younger than Viserys, but a deeper part of Harry saw a kindred spirit.
"I'd wondered when you would show up," he said, idly picking away at the orange.
"Why would you think to expect me?" Viserys frowned, purple eyes darkening as he glanced away.
"People like you and I can't hold off for very long before we seek answers," Harry said.
"We're nothing alike," Viserys denied, and Harry felt his lips twist.
"No? At least they seem to be treating you well," he said, glancing around his room. "Certainly not a highborn prisoner if you are moving around so freely."
"A squire," Viserys snapped, nostrils flaring as anger crossed his expression. "Not a thrice-damned hostage!"
He'd touched a nerve, watching as the boy struggled to rein in his temper. He was close to Oberyn, fond of the older man; a paternal saviour, perhaps – another Sirius Black – and Harry had done himself no favours insinuating elsewise. He raised his hands in a placating gesture, seeing suspicion in his eyes as he took a deep breath to calm himself.
"Apologies, Pr…What do I call you?" he asked.
"Baelor," Viserys said quietly. "It's what they all know me as."
"King Baelor?" he questioned, unable to resist.
Viserys glared fiercely, eyes flashing with anger and loathing and something he recognized from those dark days of the war.
"That's not my crown," he spat.
And you look as if you never want to see it, Harry thought. What had they done to this boy to make him look like that? The look in his eyes brought to mind the day he had destroyed Dumbledore's office in a fit of grief. His mother no longer lives, he knew, the grief lurking in those purple eyes pointing to untold pain, and he wondered how often Viserys had been reminded of what he lost for it to leave a visible mark.
"No," Harry agreed, "though perhaps you wish it were."
Viserys stiffened, hands tightly clenching the arms of the chair until Harry could see his veins.
"It might have been easier," he continued, pushing forward despite the dark look in the young man's purple eyes. "Had you been the heir, then perhaps someone might have crowned you during the war and raised armies in your name, and things would not have seemed so bleak."
"You know nothing," he said, voice tight with emotion. "Nothing of what it means to—"
"To watch your world fall apart and know it was because someone wanted you dead?" Harry interjected, voice quiet as purple eyes locked desperately on his.
He softened, seeing the despair in his eyes and reminded of how very young he was. Viserys was not Harry; he'd known his family and lost it all young enough that he would always wonder what might have been, not like him, hardening himself to the fact that he would meet people only to lose them so quickly.
He felt a twinge of guilt at bringing such a sensitive topic to light, but looking at Viserys was almost like looking in the mirror – at fifteen, at twenty-one – and Harry would do him a kindness that had so rarely been extended to him.
"It's not your fault," he told him quietly. "Had you been the heir, had Egg remained with you, had the war not happened; these things are not in your control, just as you cannot control the fact that it was your blood that endangered all of you."
Harry watched quietly as he stood abruptly, fleeing the room as if the hounds of hell were hot on his feet.
They would likely not see each other unless the young man came searching for his niece and nephew, but Harry hoped his words would sink through the dark thoughts swimming in his head far quicker than it had for him.
"Thank you," he murmured, seeing the young man jerk his head in acknowledgement before he left, the tray in his hands carrying the remnants of his dinner.
Harry knew it would take at least two hours before the servants brought a late night snack, the sun beginning to dip beneath the horizon. Say what you would about Dorne, but they at least kept their valued prisoners well fed, he thought. There were guards standing at his door, one on either side, though Harry guessed they were most likely preparing to switch.
Harry softly called for Winky, watching as she materialized with barely a sound.
"Have you found them?" he asked as soon as she placed a silencing charm on the door.
"Winky has, Master Harry Potter sir," she squeaked, shifting in anticipation. "They is being in the palace Master Harry told Winky."
He felt the last of his tension dissipate, glad that Winky had confirmed what Larra Blackmont had told him.
"My wand, Winky," he said, seeing her pull out and expand a trunk.
Elves can't carry wands, he thought, grimacing as he remembered why Winky would be averse to carrying his wand with her.
"Check if the coast is clear, Winky. I'd rather avoid overenthusiastic guards with swords," he told her.
"Winky is seeing if it is safe for Master Harry sir to go," she said, leaving with an inaudible pop.
He dropped into the compartment she had opened, scaling down the ladder as he looked around at the massive hall he found himself in. It was similar to the lower family rooms at Potter Hall; portraits were fitted to the walls between the oak shelves filled with family journals and unbound scrolls, and Harry heard the shouts as soon as he came into view.
"Harry!" his father exclaimed, relief evident in his tone. "Thought things had taken a turn for the worse, mate."
"You all made it, then?" he asked, sweeping his eyes across the hall to see the portraits crowded with various Potters and the lone frame holding Aunt Cassie.
"How long has it been?" Aunt Dorea asked.
"Where are Elia and the children?" his grandmother asked in concern.
Seeing the other's open their mouths, Harry raised his hand, waiting until they quieted as he made his way to the small shelf beneath his grandfather's portrait. His wand remained in its holster, the holly wood shining as Harry strapped the dragonhide holster to his forearm, grinning when he felt the surge of magic as he held the wand in the palm of his hand.
He wouldn't be able to run rings around Teddy using wandless magic for the next week, but he could feel his magic respond strongly to the loyal phoenix wand and he flicked his wrist, water spraying from the tip in a controlled dance.
"They're safe at the Water Gardens. It's been…four weeks? Pretty sure I was unconscious for a bit," he mused.
"Something like that," his father agreed. "We've tried to keep count."
"What's that on your neck?" his grandfather asked abruptly, eyes squinting as he peered closely at Harry.
They had given him a change of clothes with the bath, black trousers and a brown tunic with an open collar, showing off his neck and the top of his chest.
"I might have had an unpleasant run in," Harry grimaced, cursing the fact that he had left all the potions with the others. The bruises had faded for the most part, only a slight yellow-green tinge showing on his neck that he couldn't hide with bruise balm, and Harry explained his journey and the odd situation he had found himself in, leaving out the fact that he was currently imprisoned in Sunspear.
"You haven't killed them for that?" Aunt Cassie asked incredulously.
"Fairly certain it would be difficult to explain to Elia. 'Hi, darling. Don't be upset, only I've killed your brother'," he retorted.
"You're a Black. She'd get over it," she sniffed, and Harry wasn't the only Potter to roll his eyes, though he noted the amused look cousin Caelum sent her.
"You haven't tried to apparate, have you?" his mother asked, a stern look in her green eyes that softened as he shook his head.
"Didn't want to risk being splinched. Winky's going to be spr-popping me over," he said, blinking innocently as her eyes narrowed at the near slip. "Speaking of which, I do need to leave."
He left them after promising to let Elia and the children know the portraits had safely made the journey, clambering out of the trunk to see Winky waiting. It had taken him longer than he expected, and the sky had darkened to black, the stars twinkling vividly.
"Is Master Harry Potter sir being ready?" Winky asked, snapping her fingers to close and shrink the trunk.
He looked around the room, seeing nothing of his left behind. Oberyn would return tomorrow, maybe even the day after, but Harry was tired of waiting and couldn't be bothered to care for the chaos his disappearance would bring.
"Let's go," he said, grabbing hold of her outstretched hand.
Elf apparition was disorienting, unused to it as he was, and Harry took a moment to steady himself as he landed in a darkened bedroom. It was larger than the room he had been housed in, an armoire pressed against the wall close to a desk.
Light filtered through the curtains, and Harry felt a smile grow on his face at the sight of Maia curled in bed, hand clutching the red dragon plushie Draco had gifted her. He sat on the edge of the bed, pressing a soft kiss to her hair as she stirred, green eyes blinking open.
"Papa?" she questioned, voice thick with sleep before her mind registered what she was saying. "Papa!"
"Hello little love," he grinned, scooping her into his arms as Maia threw hers around his neck. He pressed another kiss to her head, smiling as she pestered him with questions.
The door banged open, a spell flying his way that Harry barely deflected, a shield rippling into existence as his wand fell into his palm as he stood, turning to protect Maia.
"Do you always come into a room wands blazing?" he chided, slightly amused at the gaping expression on his eldest son's face.
"Only when you trip the wards," Teddy said, recovering after a beat.
Aegon appeared behind Teddy, eyes widening as he gave a shout of relief, and Harry found himself with an armful of his son, his disgruntled sister's leg squished between them.
"Hey, kiddo," he smiled, arm tightening around him as he felt Aegon take a shuddering breath. "I'm fine, Aegon."
"I'm sorry," Aegon mumbled, face buried in his shoulder, and Harry shook his head, pulling back to grip his chin.
"Don't be," he said firmly. "You did the right thing, Egg. Never apologize for that."
He felt the tension leave him, Aegon's shoulders sagging in relief that his father did not blame him for their prolonged separation, and Harry tugged his son closer.
"Silly dragon," Harry murmured. "I've never blamed you for a moment."
Aegon stepped away, hastily wiping at his eyes as Rhaenys and Teddy moved to take his place.
"Hi Dad," Rhaenys whispered, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek as Teddy wrapped his arm around him.
"Rhae. Teddy. Been keeping out of trouble?" he teased.
"We've been behaving," she said, a grin on her face.
"Angelically," Teddy added, a matching smile on his face. Harry laughed, knowing very well that their definition of angelic was different from most, and he tightened his hold on them, glad to see that they were doing well.
"Teddy, you're squishing me," Maia grumbled, lightly shoving at her brother.
"You're supposed to be asleep," he retorted, shifting to give her room, and Harry felt his lips twitch at the unamused glare she gave him.
"How about we go back to sleep, hmm?"
"Not tired," she said stubbornly, a yawn ruining the effect, and Harry chuckled as he put her down. "Papa, you're gonna stay?"
"Until you fall asleep," he promised.
He stretched out beside her, leaning against the headboard as Maia curled into his side. Rhaenys had claimed the desk chair as Teddy leaned against the desk and Aegon sat at the foot of the bed.
"Where's your mum?" he asked them, arm wrapped around his youngest.
"With Uncle Doran and Uncle Oberyn," Rhaenys answered.
He tilted his guess, weighing his options; he could go to them now or wait until Elia returned to her room.
"She usually turns in for the night sometime soon," Aegon added.
I can wait a little longer, he thought, not wanting to have to deal with the in-laws at the same time he saw his wife again.
"What have you lot been up to this past month?"
They exchanged a glance, staring uncertainly at him.
"Papa, it's been over five weeks," Teddy said slowly, a concerned look on his face.
"Ah," he said, mind racing. "Must have timed the ritual wrong."
"Is that why there's a bruise on your neck?" Rhaenys asked, brow arched as she scrutinized his face. "What were you doing all this time?"
"A number of things," he said, glancing down to see Maia on the verge of sleep. "Get some rest. We'll speak more tomorrow."
"Your room's at the end of the hall," Aegon told him, standing to give him a hug. "Night Papa."
"G'night," he murmured.
Rhaenys came forward next, with a whispered "it's good to have you back, Dad."
"I promised, didn't I?" he reminded her, dropping a kiss to her forehead.
Teddy gave him a bruising hug, head resting on his shoulder for a moment, and Harry held tightly to his eldest, glad beyond reason to see him again.
He must have dozed off, blinking his eyes slightly as he shifted.
"Tempus," he muttered, rolling his eyes as he realized he did not know when he had landed in Maia's room.
Harry eased her off of him, tucking the sheets around her before he made his way out.
There were doors at either end of the corridor, and Harry moved to open the door closest to Maia's room, guessing that the layout of the hall was somewhat similar to that of Black Manor.
The room was large and airy, a sitting area with a settee and two wingback chairs surrounding a low table, the room done in warm hues, the Martell sun and spear hanging from a tapestry on the wall.
There was an open door along the far wall, and Harry felt a tendril of anxiousness curl through him as he entered the room.
"Can't sleep?" she asked.
She was across the room at the desk, back to him as her hands undid with the pins in her hair. Whatever witty remark he was thinking fled his mind as he drank in the sight before him.
"Sweetling, what's wron…" she trailed off, hands stilling as she faced him. She looked as he felt, his heart racing as he slowly came closer until there was a foot between them.
It was silly; despite seeing his children there was a part of him that feared this was all a figment of his imagination – a tauntingly real dream borne of his time in the desert and the blood coursing through his veins.
"Elia," he breathed, holding still as he saw her stand. "Tell me this is real."
"I was about to ask the same," she replied softly, dark eyes fixed on his.
Her hand reached for him, and Harry surged forward, lips pressed firmly against hers as she melted against him. He had enough presence of mind to flick his wand to lock and silence the door, thankful his magic was cooperating for the moment before they were lost in a tangle of limbs, falling into bed as whispered declarations of love escaped them.
"You took your time," she murmured some time later, head pillowed on his chest as he caught his breath.
"I had a few reminders to hand out," he answered, fingers running along her spine.
He felt her shift, leaning on her elbow as she stared down at him, and Harry was deliciously distracted by the picture she made, unable to resist stealing another kiss.
"What happened to your neck?" she asked.
"I might have upset a snake," he whispered. She froze momentarily, relaxing as he pulled her into his arms, and Harry felt a fleeting moment of pity for his goodbrother.
"I love you," he murmured against her lips, arm wrapped around her to keep her steady, and Harry felt her smile as she answered in kind.
She kissed him then, a hand buried in his hair, and all thoughts of Oberyn Martell fled his mind as he drowned himself in the joy and relief her presence brought him.
