AN: Thank you as always for the reviews everyone. Glad most people seem to be enjoying the story so far. If you left a review and I failed to answer one of your questions, I apologize. I do my best to make sure I get back to everyone. As for the guest reviews...
coldblue: 1) He'll find the sort of stuff you would expect in Valyria 2) Eventually 3) Read and find out 4) They really already are 5) Soon enough 6) He will have a role in the Rebellion, yes 7) It's possible I suppose 8) No 9) It could happen 10) There will always be a cost with magic for Harry in this world.
reader: Tellimicus and I do make a pretty good beta/author, but this story is all me. Garth does not know who exactly it was that he wanted killed. He does not know that anyone will be seeking retribution against him. As for how much Harry knows about his family, his father told him everything from his point of view. Given his own contentious relationship with his siblings, he isn't overly biased. The only thing that changed was the terms of their fealty. They did not demand Kevan as a hostage.
It was past midnight as the soft clink of metal on metal could just be heard over the rhythmic snoring of Nesio a few feet away. Harry noticed that his former teacher's breathing came easier that night then it had the three before. The wound on his side was still bandaged but the swelling had diminished significantly. The stalwart warrior refused Harry when he offered to inspect and heal it using magic. He suffered worse in the past, and didn't see the need to bother with magic. Admittedly, Nesio appeared almost… fearful of the idea.
Harry let a few more coins slip through his fingers, the low light of a nearby candle glinted off of the surface of each as they landed on his blanket with a dull thud. They had a considerable sum of money after raiding Terrance's base of operations. Unwilling to set fire to the building lest it spread to the nearby wooden hovels of the downtrodden of the city, Harry and Nesio had agreed the next best course of action was to make it appear as though a rival gang was responsible for Terrence's demise. In the dead of night, they left the warehouse completely bereft of any easily carried valuables and discreetly returned to the Merchant's House. The guards of the city paid it little mind, the death of cretins on the western bank of the city meant little to the people of wealth and plenty on the eastern banks. Well perhaps Peramyion is peeved that the man who was meant to ensure he would be Triarch is dead.
In the three days since their little excursion into the underbelly of Volantis, Harry had spent much of his time walking the docks along the southern banks of the city. There is only one way of reaching the city of Valyria, and we will need a boat. He wasn't looking for anything of particularly impressive size; it would only be the three them taking the journey. It may only be two depending on what Nesio decides. The usually undaunted swordsman had shown nothing but utter terror at the mere mention of venturing to the haunted shores of the Doom, but he only grew more disturbed when Harry explained he had every intention of remaining among the old ruins of the once great city and remaining for days if that is what was necessary.
They would depart the next day, earlier that same day he had found a man willing to part from his vessel. Granted, it cost Harry a good deal more coin than he expected but it did not make a significant dent in his coin pouch and the vessel would be manageable for the three of them. The one purchase that had drawn truly peculiar looks was the two dozen chests, all of which were now shrunken.
Tonight, Harry was restless; slumped against the wall that separated them from Ashara's room. Despite his conviction that Valyria would be his next destination, understandably, he had his own concerns regarding the venture. They say no man sees those cursed shores without death following them shortly after. I wonder what happens to those who actually step foot there. And then there was Ashara to consider.
There was a brief moment where he entertained the idea of sending Ashara back to Starfall with Nesio as her defender. But when Ashara caught wind of this she quickly decided no such thing would take place. She made it perfectly clear she had absolutely no intention of abandoning him to venture into Valyria alone. Though, it had as much to do with her excitement at the prospect of visiting the Freehold as it did remaining with me. Truthfully, Harry was now far more concerned about what Arthur would do to him when he learned he allowed his beloved younger sister to travel to the Doom. But he knows Ash well enough, I'm sure he will understand… and if he doesn't hopefully I don't end up with too many bloody wounds to heal.
Knowing that he needed to sleep sooner rather than later, he returned the coins to their pouch. He had counted them half a hundred times in the dark hours of the night. It was only as he made to place it beneath the rolled up bundle of cloth he used as pillow that he heard a noise from the other side of the wall. It was a whimper followed quickly afterward by a short, though clearly terrified scream. Quickly and quietly as he could manage, so as not to disturb his friend, Harry exited their room and stood in front of Ashara's but came up short as he looked at the complex lock on the otherwise nondescript door. Only she had the key to the room, but Harry knew there was a way around it.
Casting aside any doubts regarding propriety or privacy, Harry brought his hand to the lock and cast a silent Alohomora. He heard the distinctive click of the lock opening before reaching for the handle of the door and pushing his way into the room.
It was almost completely dark within the room, only a thin ray of moonlight coming from the window allowing him to see. On the sparse featherbed within, Ashara slept fitfully. Her long, dark tresses were tangled about her head and a few strands stuck to her glistening skin. She was twisting and turning slightly as though struggling, her arms flailing out at some unseen assailant. He had hoped she would not endure any repercussions from what happened in the warehouse but knew it was only wishful thinking. The sight before him was evidence enough of that.
The floorboards squeaked beneath his bare feet as he padded his way over to her bedside. She gave another soft whimper as he came to stand in front of her, casting a shadow on her face. He sat down upon the edge of the bed and brought is hands to each side of her face. Instinctually, she tried to pull away from his touch but he managed to cup her face gently between his two hands. He moved the strands of hair away from her face and then stroked her cheeks soothingly.
She calmed slightly at the comforting touch but still twitched in fear or from some phantom pains. Moving his lips to her ear, he spoke her name trying to coax her from her sleep. After a few short moments she stilled, before blinking the sleep from her eyes and stretching slightly. She looked at him blearily for a moment, confusion in those violet eyes before clarity seemed to hit her.
Moving away from him slightly, Ashara pushed herself up the bed and rested her back against the wall. It was only then that Harry noticed her attire, nothing more than a slightly transparent, thin shift clinging to the prominent curve of her bust. His concern for her gave way to any other reaction he might have, and he paid the enticing sight very little attention.
Only half looking at him out of the corner of her eye, Ashara finally spoke, "Why are you in here Harry? How did you even get in here?" There was a note of accusation in her voice, but he took no offense. He just didn't like seeing her appear so vulnerable, so unsure of herself.
Ignoring the question for a moment, he turned his body so that he was sitting directly beside her, their shoulders touching, "Magic," He answered with a slight smile, "is how I got in here. But I'm only in here because I heard you make some rather distressing noises as I sat awake next door."
She furrowed her brow at that, scrutinizing him, "Is this how it is going to be then? I'm never going to have a moment's privacy because you can get into any room you want because of magic." She tried to sound properly irritated but her full lips turned up slightly as she finished.
Pleased she wasn't actually offended he slumped down further and rested his head against her soft shoulder, "No, you will have your privacy Ash. Though jamming doors would be more effective than locking them in my case." She smiled slightly at that, and relaxed against him running one hands through his dark hair, "You were having a nightmare?"
The hand in his hair stilled for just a second and he felt the subtle stiffening of her shoulders, he almost thought he heard the slight quickening of her heartbeat. Ashara let her hesitation pass quickly though, and responded with impressive calm, "A nightmare, yes, but nothing out of the ordinary."
"It sounded and looked truly distressing." His fingers danced up her arm causing a slight shiver, and goose pimples to form on her skin, "Would you like to talk about it?"
Her eyes narrowed, and a scowl formed as she pulled away from him, the hand leaving his hair, "No," she replied succinctly, and turned to lie down once again. But Harry's arm around her shoulder stopped her.
Harry understood her reluctance to discuss this. Growing up with two older brothers and him as well, Ashara Dayne had never been anything but tough mentally and physically, unflappable both when in a war of words or in the yard. She, like anybody, didn't want to show the weakness she was currently feeling. Harry knew the feeling well, not just from this life but from another as well. How many times had Harry Potter not wanted others to see him weak, or broken?
"Ash," He spoke her name tenderly, "you were there for me in the warehouse when I questioned everything I've done. Let me be here for you now." This seemed to catch her off guard, as she turned to look at him then. Tears began to swell at the edge of her vision, but she forced them back with a practiced ease.
Sighing in resignation, she allowed him to pull her closer again, this time her head rested comfortably on his chest. They sat there in silence until drunkards could be heard bursting, or being thrown, out of the inns doors three floors below them.
They shared a look before laughing slightly together, it was only then that Ashara started speaking, her voice almost unnatural in the late night darkness, "I was back in the warehouse. That fat bastard had me pinned to the ground, and that first moment of panic when I didn't have a plan, when I thought you were otherwise occupied, that scream of honest terror that was ripped from my lungs, the weight of him as he tried to force himself upon me. I felt all of it at once." She swallowed thickly, "And then instead of you bursting through the door, instead of the dagger on my thigh, there was no escape. He forced himself upon me." Her face scrunched up in disgust as she thought back on the nightmare, "He was sweaty and groping and forceful. There was pain inside and out," She leaned up to place a kiss upon his cheek, "Thank you for waking me."
She took a deep, shuddering breath that wracked her entire body, "Sitting here now, I know that it was just a dream but I can still feel his hands on me, roughly trying to take my body. And even though you killed him, even though I was going to kill him…" Pulling back so that she was looking him in the eye, she told him timidly, "I've never felt that afraid before, that weak before. And I can't help imagining how things might have been different." The admission seemed to take a great deal out of her as she leaned more heavily into his body.
Harry kissed the top of her head firmly as his hand rubbed small, soothing circles on her lower back. Unconsciously, Ashara moved more deeply into his touch, "You weren't weak, Ash." He assured her, "You were strong." She made to retort but he silenced her with a look, "You were afraid, and you had every right to be. You didn't know where I was, where Nesio was, and you were taken unawares by a man three times your size. Instead of panicking you fought back, you planned and you had every intention of killing the bastard before he had the opportunity to do what he intended."
He cupped her chin, "You were stronger than most would have been in your position. You could have resigned yourself to that fate but you fought back instead," He kissed her on the lips quickly, surprising her, "Fear doesn't mean you are weak. You experienced something traumatic, and there is little doubt in my mind that you will remain the brilliant, beautiful, vibrant woman you have always been and that makes you anything but weak." She smiled widely at that, "And in time you will forget that man's face and the feel of his hands because you won't let a cretin like that affect you."
She nodded her head that usual light of confidence back in her eyes. He gave her a small smile as silence fell between them. He knew that nothing more need to be said on the matter, that she would be fine. She would have been fine anyway, but perhaps this will stop the nightmares sooner. Ashara had been there for him, and he was glad that he kept his promise to himself and been there in turn for her.
As he mused, she looked behind him to the window of the room, "It's late Harry and tomorrow will be a long day. We'll need our rest." He nodded and made to stand but her hand upon his thigh stopped him, "It isn't the most comfortable of beds but it is better than the floor. " She pulled back the blanket revealing more of her upper body, "Just sleep here." That mischievous light he had come to know and love over the years was there in her eyes. Harry gulped audibly which caused her to fight down a smile, before her eyes softened, "I would appreciate your company… to keep any other nightmares at bay."
Any objections he might have had died without any further word and he accepted the invitation. Moving his body beneath the blanket, he laid there stiffly and almost jumped when he felt Ashara move against him. She turned on her side pushing her bum against his hip, her quiet voice carried in the stillness of the night, "Relax Harry." Yes because it will be so easy to relax now.
Eventually, Ashara's body relaxed and her breathing evened out. He stayed awake for a time, hoping to ensure that she wouldn't fall into another nightmare. As his eyes grew weary, he didn't even notice as he turned on his side and pulled Ashara into his chest, let alone the contented sigh that escaped her as he did.
When he awoke early that same morning, it was not because of the first rays of sunshine pushing through the little window but because of an amused sniggering at the end of the bed. He looked there, shielding his face from the sun, to see Nesio looking far too pleased with the situation. Knowing where the conversation would go if he gave the man the chance, he growled out lowly as not to wake Ashara, "Not a word. Nothing happened beyond sleeping. Now leave us be."
The pit-fighter wheezed a laugh and nodded his head, "We should be leaving soon." Harry gave his silent agreement before the man left them be. Well it would seem that he has decided to accompany us on our little journey.
It was only then that he became aware of his arousal pressed against the firm backside in front of him. Not wanting to embarrass himself, Harry quickly extricated himself from the bed and after calming down returned to his shared bedroom. He failed to notice the satisfied smirk playing across Ashara's lips as she pretended to continue her restful night of sleep.
They left early that morning, well provisioned with meats and water, enough in one of the shrunken chests to last them three months at least. The ship voyage would be a week, maybe two, but to reach the city of Valyria they would need to travel on foot with their three horses left behind. The three steeds couldn't fit on the acquired boat, but Harry had paid to assure they would be cared for six months after their parting. And if we have not returned here by then, we shall never return at all. It was with no small sense of trepidation that they set sail for Old Valyria.
It took them a week to reach the Smoking Sea, the place where the Summer Sea had flooded into the shattered remains of the Valyrian Peninsula. It sat between what remained of the Lands of the Long Summer and the splintered islands that remained of the peninsula. The sea did not gain its name by chance, even hundreds of years later, smoke rose from the surface of the water obscuring the land from view and making sailing treacherous as one could not see the jagged, jutting formations of rock that impeded the way until they were nearly upon them. They passed half a dozen wrecked vessels, with tattered sail and dilapidated wood, just barely sitting above the waving waters. And how many more were beneath the surface?
In some places the water bubbled ominously as new rock formed beneath the sea. How many ships have ventured these waters and never been seen again? The dragonlord Aurion came with an army and was never seen again. Tommen II Lannister did the same and suffered the same fate. The Volantenes sent an entire fleet centuries ago and not a single ship returned from these unnatural mists. Every day that passed in those cursed waters left him questioning the decision to venture there to begin with. But I have already made my choice and whether it is for ill or good, it cannot be changed now.
In two days they sailed past the first of the largest remnants of the peninsula and turned south. It was in the center of the middle island where Valyria could still be found. Harry considered venturing to Oros or Tyria before the capital of the Freehold but there were rumors of inhabitants still in the ruined cities, and all tended to be of an unsavory nature.
On the thirteenth day of their venture, they brought their boat to rest against the shore of the central island in a little alcove very near to where one of the great dragon roads cut through the land to the east. According to the guess work maps laid down by maesters over the years as to the exact size of the remaining islands, they should be only fifteen leagues away. A long day's walk if they kept an easy pace and didn't face any hindrances.
Further along the shore, there was a ship long forgotten based on the tattered remains of the banners hanging loosely from the top of each mast. But the wood wasn't rotted. The ship actually appeared as though it might still be seaworthy despite the layer of ash upon every surface. I wonder which of them managed to make it this far, the Volantenes or the Lannister king.
After thirteen restless nights spent aboard an uncomfortable vessel surrounded by the stifling heat of the place, their nerves were growing thin.
It was around midday when Harry hopped over the side of the boat and landed with a dull thud on the ground, a dusting of dark ash billowed up from the prints he left on the shore. It feels good to have solid ground beneath my feet again. Ashara and Nesio followed suit and the three of them tied off the boat, all of them with bubblehead charms in place. It had been a precaution of Harry's, unsure what poisons might still be in the air. I was just glad it worked. Harry never actually performed the magic, only saw Fleur and Cedric do it. As Harry made preparations to leave, he noticed Nesio was starting to set up his own tent.
Confused he looked to the older man, "What are you doing?" All of their voices were slightly distorted by the bubbles around their heads. But it still carried in the open, dead expanse of land along the shore. There was nothing green there, nothing beautiful, no color, just the blackened remains of trees and dark ash, like snow, upon the ground. But the eastern sky was a vivid red. I suppose that saying is true, the sky is always red above the Doom. We shall just have to prove the other saying wrong
"Staying here," Nesio replied tersely, throwing his things to the ground, "I agreed to come because I knew you would need more than two on the boat, if you wanted to come this far." It was true, Harry was not a particularly experienced, let alone skilled, sailor. While later in his life, when traveling from city to city, Nesio had been forced to work the rigging on his master's ship at times. Together they three had managed to brave the Smoking Sea, but there were moments where it was a close thing.
Nesio gestured toward the eastern horizon and the reddened sky, "But I will not risk my life there. These lands are cursed and I would not tempt death any more than I already have by coming here."
How dare he just abandon us to venture there alone? His patience resting on the edge of a knife given his sleep deprived state he made to approach his former teacher but stopped as Ashara stepped in front of him. Her eyes were more sunken than usual, dark bags having formed there but despite her own fatigue, she just grabbed his hand, smiling up at him. Realizing his folly, Harry spoke up calmly, "Very well, don't lose the boat though. They can be known to run away." The man laughed at his poor attempt at humor before Harry and Ashara started walking away.
"Good luck to you, my friends. You will need it." He chuckled loudly, that deep booming laugh of his but there was a hint of cynicism, "If you do not return within the week, I will assume you are dead and leave you here. So don't get preoccupied with other things." Harry made an obscene gesture back toward Nesio, which only caused more laughter to ring out over the gently rolling landscape of the broken island.
All of the Freehold's great dragon roads were made of fused stone, the stones of hell. As Harry took his first steps across the black stone, he could feel the old magic of it in his toes.
He and Ashara walked side by side, the muted padding of their boots on the stone the only sound as the minutes passed by in silence. There were no birds singing their songs, or beasts prowling about. The desolate landscape just felt foreboding, weighing heavily upon the mind with every step they took. The Doom truly still rules Valyria.
Two tortuously slow hours into their journey, they heard a hissing noise over the next ridge. Startled by the noise they both hastened their steps. On the other side of the ridge there was a fissure parting one of the hills. Leaking like blood from a wound, lava glowed hot and red as it seeped across the dragon road ahead of them. The black stone was deformed there though not gone, and even twenty feet away Harry could feel the heat of it in the stone. Every hill for 500 miles opened up and spewed fire and ash into the air the day of the Doom, and some of them have never stopped.
Harry noticed as Ashara started wringing her hands around the shaft of her weirwood bow before she bolted off at a run, in moments she was upon the trail of lava and with one jump made her way over to the other side and just kept running, the soles of her shoes smoking slightly. When she came to a stop, she turned to look at him. There was a challenge shining in her eyes. He bounded after her, and quickly came to stand beside her, an uncomfortable heat coming from his feet that he was doing his best to ignore.
Ashara giggled slightly before speaking, her voice raspy from disuse, "This isn't quite like exploring back at Starfall. Bit more exciting honestly. "
Harry barked a quick laugh, "I don't know. I would say Starfall was just as exciting. There haven't even been any killer eels lurking just behind me," He snapped to look behind him demonstratively, as though he felt something brush his leg, "… well, not yet anyway." The both chuckled at that, and the oppressive silence that had overtaken them over the previous hours, almost as though from the very land, dissipated. For the first time in centuries there were two people enjoying themselves in Valyria.
Time passed faster then, as day turned to night with them speaking as easily as they always did. They encountered many more broken hills leaking lava. In the waning light they set up their tent and ate their delicious meal of dried meat and water. As darkness fell Harry conjured a bluebell flame; none of the wood nearby anything more than charred and useless for making a fire. Though there was a faint red glow all about the hills of the island.
As they sat there together around the flames, staring at the blue fire, Ashara asked him a question he had long been expecting, "Why did you decide to do this?" Until now she managed to let him keep his own council on the matter, but he knew sooner or later that her curiosity would get the better of her.
"Ever since we first read of the wonders of the Freehold as children, I have dreamed of venturing here myself." He said evasively, knowing that he would tell her but also enjoying the little huff of frustration she gave at the answer, "And with my magic, I thought it was a real possibility."
"That I know," She reached over and shoved his shoulder playfully, he just grinned unrepentantly, "But that wasn't what I meant and you know it. Why did you decide to do this now? What do you hope to gain from it?"
Harry lay back, the bubble head charm conforming but not puncturing. His dark hair blended into the dark ash beneath his head; Ashara did the same, her own raven tresses fanning out within the confines of the bubble, "There isn't just one reason behind this decision," he confided in her after a time, "The simplest reason is magic." She furrowed her brow in question, "Valyria was the center of all things arcane for millennia before its fall, and so little of what they could do, what they knew, remains. If I find anything of what they could do magically, I will be contented with the success of this trip." Perhaps one day I will even travel to Qarth, Asshai, or even Yi Ti, and learn what secrets of magic they still practice.
Ashara snorted amusedly, "Leave it to you to be most interested in books and knowledge." He went to pinch her arm but she pulled away with a yelp, "Not that it's a bad thing. I would be much the same." She quirked her mouth slightly, "Though I would be lying if I said I wasn't hoping to find at least one dragonbone bow within the city." Harry grinned widely, having expected as much, "But this isn't just about magic."
The smile quickly fell from his face, "No it isn't," He agreed, "This is also about wealth and reputation." The declaration caught Ashara off guard. Understandable given that I have never voiced concerns over such things before. "My family's name was once respected, even feared, and I am the last one. If it is within my power, and I believe it is, to return my name to its proper place, then I will do whatever I can to ensure that happens." He ran a hand through his hair, pushing some of the ash from it, "Men will respect the people that braved the shores of Valyria and returned. My name," He paused briefly, "our names will be known throughout the Seven Kingdoms and the Free Cities too."
"But will people know you as Ser Harrion of House Reyne or Ser Harry, the orphan raised by House Dayne?" It was a fair question. Most of his life he had been forced to hide exactly who he was.
"In time, they will know it was Harrion Reyne not just Harry the orphan." He said with steely conviction and Ashara had every confidence that he was right, and smiled softly as he continued to look up at the clouded sky.
"That accounts for reputation," She whispered, "but why wealth?"
"There is much I hope to achieve, and gold shall only make it easier to achieve those ends." Silence fell between them for a long moment, not just over them but over the whole island again.
Ashara shifted her body so that she was lying with her belly toward the ground. Her hands folded together atop his chest and her head just atop where they intertwined. Those violet eyes pierced right into him, "And besides rebuilding your house and its name, what do you hope to achieve Harrion Reyne?"
He poked at the bubble around her head, causing it to depress and jiggle but not break; she rolled her eyes and swatted his hand. She looked at him expectantly, "I will see justice brought to that petty piece of filth Garth Tyrell," Still the name dripped with venom from his tongue.
"And? Is that all?" She ran one of her fingers along his chest causing him to shiver slightly.
"I hope to aid the smallfolk, at least in some way." It was a desire born of years seeing the condition of the common person in Harry Potter's world against his own. The Daynes were good to the people dependent on them but most were still uneducated, but those smallfolk treated poorly by their liege lords had far worse to worry about than what they knew. To make changes, it would require position and influence something he was sorely lacking at the moment. And I may never be able to help those beyond my own lands. Of course there was no doubt in Harry's mind that he would have his own lands in due course.
Ashara's eyes widened slightly but smiled at the claim. She always had a kind heart where the smallfolk were concerned. He couldn't help but think of the games in Ashford or the time in King's Landing where she gave a silver stag to each of the children they met in the streets of Flea Bottom. "I'm glad to hear it," Her lips quirked ever-so slightly, "What else?" He knew what she wanted him to say and decided to do just that.
"You," He said decisively, and she beamed at him.
"You hope to achieve me?" She responded, feigning horrified astonishment, "I thought myself in the company of an honorable young knight but it appears that I have been proven mistaken. I must hasten away from you in hopes of protecting my virtue." But she didn't move away instead inching further up his body so that they're faces were even, the bubbles around their heads just barely separated . He chuckled at her antics; he was long accustomed to them.
"Seriously, Ash," Harry said his voice a little raspy, "I hope to have you as my wife someday," It had never been said in so many words, they had never defined the things that were going on between them but there it was, "and it is perfectly clear to me that you deserve more than a poor orphan, serving as a sworn sword to your house." Even had your father not told me just that.
"I'm pleased to hear it," Ashara responded affectionately, her hands playing rubbing into the muscle of his chest. But she didn't get teary-eyed at the declaration as so many young maidens before her might have, instead, after the private moment, she tittered, "They would be singing songs about it for decades. Like Jhonquil and Florian the Fool; the orphan who married a lady."
"You aren't particularly fond of those songs." Harry pointed out evenly.
She shrugged her shoulders slightly, "Still true." As she leaned in slightly closer she suddenly yawned, long and loud.
Huffing at his amusement, she pushed away from him, "We haven't had a good night's sleep in almost two weeks. I don't know how well we'll manage here of all places, but…" She offered her hand to him so they might go to the tent together.
Shaking his head he returned to a seated position, "Someone has to keep watch."
Ashara looked around with one eyebrow arched, "Keep watch for what? We haven't seen another living thing since we arrived here." She pointed north, "I would say the rumors about Tyria and Oros are only that, rumors."
Harry wasn't convinced though, "You saw the ship on the shore. They ventured to the city and never returned." Her retort died on her tongue as she thought that over, "Demon-haunted they call this place." He looked around the darkness, "I would rather not be taken unawares if those are more than just stories, Ash."
"Right," She leaned down to hug him, not sure what would happen if their bubbles touched, "You will wake me in four hours then." It wasn't a request it was a demand, and he had the good sense to do just that.
The night passed without incident, and while they'd slept only a short while each, they felt rejuvenated. An hour after day break, the young pair was making their way east along the dragon road again. The early morning sunlight pierced through the clouds on occasion, and in that light what remained of the great open-roofed towers of the Valyria could be seen in the distance.
They were maybe an hour from the gates when they saw the first of them, a skeleton. It was the remains of one of the great winged mounts that had seen the Valyrians reach spread from the western coast of Essos to the west of Slaver's Bay. The dragon's bones were black; part of its skull appeared crushed and broken, while the bones of its right wing were melted like candle wax. Dragons are said to be fire made flesh, yet the fires of the Doom consumed nearly all of them.
They became more frequent after that, bones of both humans and dragons littered the ground as they drew ever closer to the city. But that wasn't the only thing he noticed, Ashara seemed to become fidgety, anxious even, as though just getting closer was causing her some great discomfort.
While the air grew heavier with heat and the stillness of the place seemed to become all the more encroaching, there was nothing to cause such a reaction from the young woman. He was growing more concerned as they were within half a mile of the broken gates of the city, the few remaining towers looming high overhead.
He was startled when she actually squealed like a frightened child as they came upon a corpse, not burned by the fires of the catastrophe that had taken place so long ago, but with an arrow sticking out from the back of its chest. There were two other bodies nearby that had suffered a similar fate. Someone else made it this far.
Harry grabbed Ashara by the shoulders then and forced her to look at him, "Ash," His voice was tender and caused her wide, frantic eyes to focus clearly on his face, "everything is fine. We have seen far worse." She was nearly hyperventilating and it was rather disconcerting to see her so affected.
Holding her close for a long moment, she relaxed against him. Her voice reached his ears, muffled and confused, "I don't like this place Harry. It feels like I'm being driven mad with every step we take."
Harry truly didn't know how to respond to that. Perhaps this is where the rumors of demons came from, but why would it affect Ashara but not me. The only answer Harry could think of was that somehow his magic was keeping the influence at bay. She should return the way we came. The secrets of Valyria aren't worth her sanity.
She cut him off just as he made to speak, "I'm better now though, thank you." She gave him a look as though she knew what he had been thinking before turning toward the corpse by the road. The body was surprisingly well preserved thanks to the ash; there were still bits of flesh clinging to the blackened bones. She leaned down to turn it over and revealed a golden lion emblazoned on the chest, "I believe that ship once belonged to King Tommen II of the Rock."
Harry frowned thoughtfully, "So it would seem." In truth that had been his hope upon seeing the ship. But where are the others then? This could prove interesting.
As they grew ever closer to the gates of the city, Harry thought he could hear voices calling out from within its confines. He looked to Ashara, thinking she might hear it as well but she gave no indication of such even though she remained on edge. Maybe I'm growing madder with every step too.
It took another half an hour before they passed beneath the broken gates, rent at the hinges. It was flanked on each side by surprisingly pristine sphinx statues, their painted eyes seemingly following them as they passed. Compared to the bones within the city, those without were sparse in number. Everywhere the pair looked there the remains of the dead, some piled up against the walls of the fallen buildings thanks to fierce winds that had plagued the island over the years. Others were fused together because of the intense inferno that had raged through the city on the catastrophic event.
Ashara touched her fingertips to one of the masses of what used to be many people and whispered sadly, "These unfortunate souls." The greatest civilization in the history of the world, or so they say, and it was all snuffed out in a day.
The voices grew louder within the city, and it was only as he saw them for the first time that Harry understood what he was hearing, ghosts. But not the sort of ghosts Potter saw in Hogwarts all those years. They were ethereal, passing in out of sight in the noon day light but there all the same. The great difference was that they didn't even realize they had form; instead they cried out in horror, staring up into the sky disbelieving, running for their lives or asphyxiating on the thick ash. All were stuck in the perpetual horror of their own deaths. Pureblooded Valyrians or slave it didn't matter, every specter was terrified. Could it be that the remnant of death within the city drives all who seek it out mad? These are the demons so long feared?
As they navigated the rubble from shattered buildings littered along the path, Ashara unwittingly passed through one of them and it sent an unpleasant chill through her body, "I don't like this place."
"No," Harry agreed absently as he avoided a specter in his path, "neither do I."
Now to it was Ashara who looked concerned, "Harry, are you alright?"
He turned his widened emerald eyes on her, "I'm fine," She raised one dark eyebrow skeptically, "I can see them." He muttered in answer, "I can see the specters of the dead."
Ashara looked dubious before she considered what he said, "Must be your magic then." He nodded his agreement as they continued through the city. Many of the buildings were ruins, the black stones somehow broken others melted at their foundations in a river of lava. As they drew nearer to the center of the once sprawling city, they reached one of the tall towers that could be seen in the distance. It was in far better condition than any other.
Looking at the circular building, it seemed to be one of the last remaining monuments to the splendor of the dragon lords within their capital city. The black stone gleamed and reflected the red light. In its surface elaborate designs could be seen depicting beasts intertwined with old, powerful runes. It extended into the skyline seemingly endless, balconies and windows dotting its side.
Most importantly to Harry, the door stood open. The stone, inlaid with gold and silver, was scorched slightly but otherwise untouched, "There," Harry pointed to Ashara, drawing her wide-eyed gaze. He couldn't help but think that despite their color, they looked a little like Luna Lovegood's. "Let's look inside."
Ashara's gaze traveled up the expanse of the massive building before nodding stiffly, "Agreed. It seems the sort of place where treasures might be found."
They entered the building cautiously, a sword drawn and bow in hand. Better to be prepared and not need them than be caught unawares. He cast a lumos that hung above his hand, causing Ashara to shield her eyes briefly at the unexpected light. They passed through an entrance hall, before coming to the main room of the first floor. It appeared as though this particular room would be used for feasts and social events just from the size of it.
Even in the dim light provided from the doorway, the interior was equally as impressive as the outside, a staircase of solid marble rose up to the second floor to their right. While on the other side there was a doorway that likely led into the ground. Furnishings, dusty but otherwise unperturbed, were made of fine silks. On the floor was a massive mosaic depicting two white herons facing one another on a sea of blue, each with a leg raised and crossed. The sigil of the family perhaps. On the domed ceiling there was an equally impressive mosaic depicting a great battle between the dragon lords and what Harry guessed was the Ghiscari Empire, though he doubted any actual harpies had been present.
Ashara whistled lowly, drawing his attention from the splendor before him, "Makes the Red Keep look like a beggar's hovel even after four centuries." They both sniffed a laugh at the thought, "So up or down then?"
Harry mulled that over for a moment before gesturing toward the marble staircase, "Up. I imagine the slave quarters are below."
"Makes sense," Ashara agreed as their footfalls echoed loudly in the cavernous room, "Any ideas why this building survived almost entirely unscathed while many of the others have been destroyed?"
"None," Harry replied with a shrug, "hopefully we'll find out on the way up." The trek will probably take us half the day or longer.
The second and third floors proved to be very much like the first, only there were long tables covered in ornate dining utensils instead of the fine arrangements of furniture in the first. One of their shrunken chests was retrieved at that time and filled to the brim with the various dishes and utensils. Harry was slightly ambivalent about scavenging such things but gold was gold and silver was silver.
It was when they reached the fourth floor that the layout changed.
Reaching the landing, there was a door that opened up to a long corridor that branched off along the way. There must be twenty rooms here alone. However upon entering various different rooms, they came to realize there was little point in perusing each of them. While large and finely furnished, they were all the same. Guest rooms it would seem. This continued for three more floors. As they trudged up another set of stairs, Harry quipped, "The family that lived here must have had truly impressive legs."
Ashara gave a breath of amusement, "Or maybe their dragons just had exceptionally strong wings."
On the sixth floor, Harry stopped and looked out over the city from one of the balconies. Ashara came up behind him, "Can you imagine what it would have looked like in all of its splendor."
"Honestly no," Harry replied, as even ruined one couldn't help but be impressed by the Valyrians, "rather sad that." He said wistfully. He looked up at the expanse of stone above them. Barely half way up, "Long way to go yet, Ash."
"Yep, you'll probably be quite sore tomorrow." She teased in a sing-song voice, "Spindly boy that you are." He felt a pinch on his bum causing him to jump. Ashara's quickly retreating form was shaking with her giggles. At least the anxiety seems to have left her. He chased after her and grabbed her around the waist, tickling at her sides as they reached the stairs which only caused her giggles to continue.
The next floor was a surprisingly sparse room, but it was when they reached the next floor that the reason why became clear. The room below was where any sort of attacking force would find themselves dying in droves. There was a lever to open hatches for pouring hot oil, or worse, and another that opened slits for firing arrows. A fortress in the center of the most powerful city in history; I wonder if they feared attack from their fellow Valyrians if this was a necessity? But then the fortress may be old enough that it was built in a time where there were genuine threats from without.
More importantly to Harry and Ashara, this was also the armory for the household guard. Sitting in racks along the wall were simple hilted swords, and many barrels, some filled with bows and others with arrows. They inspected the weapons carefully; the swords despite their simple designs had the tell-tale smoky coloring and wavy pattern associated with Valyrian steel, while the bows had the black hue distinctive of dragonbone.
Harry could only gawk at the dozens of weapons lining the wall. All of them together would be worth more than a small kingdom. Ashara meanwhile was sifting through the bows, a similar look of awe on her face. After a few moments, she apparently found what she was looking for as she pulled one from the barrel and threw it over her shoulder while keeping her weirwood bow in hand. When she looked to him, she was grinning like the cat that caught the canary, "Alright, we can leave now."
Harry snorted and shook his head, grabbing one of the swords from the rack. Like the black stone, he could feel the magic in the blade. Silently, he tried to shrink the weapon and was disappointed when it remained its proper size. The magic of the sword is resistant to more than just the rigors of battle apparently. He placed the sword back on the rack and started toward the stairs, "These are resistant to my magic, and we will collect as many as we can on the way back down." Ashara gave her silent approval and they traveled up another flight of stairs.
On the ninth floor there was a distinct shift in the feel of the rooms and corridors. It was warmer, more inviting with tapestries hanging from the walls that had a clear personal touch. From there and everywhere above, they would be in the quarters and home of the family that once called the great tower home. This thought came with the unsurprising revelation of yet more spirits. They were not as distressed as those out on the streets, but some quietly sobbed against the walls while others screamed out loudly. Still they either ignored or didn't recognize the living presence among them.
They stopped in each room, pillaging the valuables of the extinct family. They both found it particularly hard to stomach when they came upon the remains of two children embracing atop a bed, it was all the more harrowing for Harry as he could see their spirits there as well.
They came to the lord and lady's quarters but found it oddly absent neither spirt nor skeleton to account for their presence. Atop a desk in the room there was a parchment. Ashara hummed to herself as she read over the Old Valyrian, "This tower belonged to the House Vaelerys. Their last lord was Daenor."
"Anything else from that?" Harry questioned.
"Just that the family owned lands outside of Volantis that he was planning on selling." Ashara told him as she set down the parchment. They went about their business, only difference being Harry emptied a chest filled to the brim with fine silk clothing and shrunk it. Having filled six of the chest as of yet, he thought it best to think ahead.
It proved for the best, as on the next floor they found what he really had been looking for. The library of House Vaelerys was extensive; the walls of the room were lined with bookshelves while the rest of the space had been made into multiple comfortable sitting areas, "Are those shelves made from weirwood?" Harry questioned aloud as he approached the one nearest him, a distinctive white with hues of red. There are thousands of books here. He knew that there was every likelihood that many of them would prove useless to him, covering things that the maesters had set down in the Common Tongue. But for every hundred that might be useless to him, he could find one that taught him of new and extinct magics.
The day passed in a haze for Harry from that moment on as they poured over the excess of tomes. Ashara suffered his obsession good naturedly helping him differentiate between those books that would prove worth his while and not. She even stopped at one point and sifted through a book on the great families of the Freehold. She didn't seem in the least bit surprised to learn that, "House Vaelerys was one of the oldest of the great families. They were constantly among the two score families who dominated the politics of the Freehold. At one point the lord of their house was even voted archon."
The tomes that went into their three different chests numbered in the low hundreds, most of them being discarded as they dealt with history they had already learned over the years. Despite that fact, Harry was now the owner of the most impressive collection of arcane knowledge of any Westerosi.
By the time they finished pouring over the thousands of tomes the light coming through the window had dimmed considerably. Ashara looked from the stairway to him, "You found what you hoped here Harry. Time to go further up?" He noted that any of her earlier discomfort had been replaced by her usual eagerness. "I want to find out what happened to the lord of the house."
The floor above them was perplexing to the pair. There were no hallways or corridors, no windows or balconies, no elaborate or lavish decorations; instead, there was a single wall of black stone gleaming because of the light hovering above Harry's hand. Both had the same thought as they walked along its expanse. Things of great value must be behind this wall.
"Harry," Ashara said, her gaze still fixed on the fused stone, "try opening it with magic."
Well it's worth a try if nothing else. He placed a hand on the smooth surface and he could feel it thrumming with magic. Focusing his own magic on the wall, he willed it to open. It was an odd feeling as something shifted within the wall but it was only a part of the key. Unsure how else to proceed, he pulled away, "It wasn't enough. It requires more than magic to open." Neither could hide their disappointment but they soldiered on all the same.
Both paled at what they found just above the vault. Skeletons were piled within the room from end to end, their bones charred from fire. The implication was clear, something had done this to them but it wasn't the Doom. And yet there wasn't a single earthbound soul dwelling within the room. Hurriedly, they sought to leave the morbid sight behind and came to stand in the highest room of the topless tower, awash in moonlight.
The lingering magic there almost forced Harry to his knees and it was only compounded by the dozens of specters there. Yet despite the abundance of spirits there, there were only thirteen charred skeletons. Eleven of which lay in a circle around the open space; the last two rested side by side against the wall to their right.
There was a distinct difference between most of the spirits reliving their last moments here as opposed to those below. They were not suffocating or burning but instead child and adult alike had their heads pulled back roughly by invisible hands and their throats gashed open. Stains of blood thick and black could still be seen where each of them had been forced to step forward and die.
Ashara noticed the look of disgust that came over Harry's visage then and rested a hand on his shoulder in silent comfort. He gave a small smile but it faltered as he explained, "Valyria was built on blood and fire, and they were happy to use the blood of their slaves to try and stave off death." Ashara's expression soured as they made their way to the two skeletons set apart from the rest. Each of them had a blade run through their chests. The hilts were beautiful, inlaid with gold and silver, adorned with runes and with a heron's wings spread along the cross-guard.
Harry inspected the weapons as Ashara took far greater interest in the book clutched tightly to the ribcage of the one on the right. She wrenched it from the death grip, bones snapping in the process, and began reading.
In the meanwhile, Harry pulled the swords free and inspected them. The weapons of a dragonlord. He pulled his own castle-forged blades from the scabbards Ashara had made for him and replaced them with Valyrian steel.
Ashara made a noise somewhere in back of her throat that drew his attention. A scowl marring her lovely face, she said darkly, "This was the journal of Daenor Vaelerys, and I know exactly why it is this tower survived unscathed." She turned back the pages twice; he waited patiently for her to continue, "When the earth rent and flames spewed forth from the ground, we hastened to protect ourselves. Eleven of our number all well practiced in the arcane traveled to the top of the tower." She swallowed thickly, and continued with a tremble in her voice, "There thirteen slaves were put to the knife and their blood was used to cast a protection over the tower."
She turned the page, and shook her head with her eyes closed before continuing, "Within an hour, those few survivors within the city realized we managed to avert the crisis, temporarily at least. They clamored toward our doors trying to escape the poisonous fumes. This proved fortuitous, for it was clear that the spell would not hold against the onslaught of fire bursting forth from the first of the fourteen."
"Any soul that came to the door was welcomed with open arms, and each of them sacrificed in turn to prolong the protection afforded our house." Ashara's fingers flitted across the pages yet again, shaking slightly in anger, "It has proved futile, the flames have ceased but the poison and ash continues spewing into the air and neither slave, nor noble, nor even dragon remains to power the spell. Only minutes remain to us. But my sister-wife and I shall leave this world together, by our own hand with heads held high, not gasping for breath hopelessly." She book closed with a soft thump, "That's the last of it."
The harrowing tale left them both silent as the wind swirled about the open topped room. Breaking the stillness, Ashara clutched the book to her chest with one hand, and grabbed his with the other pulling him toward the door, "Let's head back down. We're going to sleep in a bed tonight." She said wistfully, "We can explore more of the city tomorrow."
The pair ended up in the lord's quarters. Despite its age the bed was still comfortable, and Harry fell asleep quickly with Ashara's fingers idly stroking his hair as she read Daenor's journal.
He was awoken the next morning by an insistent nudging on his shoulder. He opened his eyes to see Ashara looking at him, a light of enthusiasm in her eyes. She waited patiently as he quickly broke his fast, and took care of his daily ablutions in private. When he returned she appeared almost giddy with anticipation, "Come on then."
With a skip in her step she led Harry back to the stairs upward, "Ash," Harry said, "You're feeling alright aren't you?" While her behavior had returned to the norm, he knew she could easily be hiding her discomfort for his peace of mind.
The smile on her face faltered and she grimaced slightly, "I'm fine Harry, really. I can still feel… whatever it is that is causing my discomfort. But focusing on what we're doing here has allowed me to ignore it; as has your calm presence." Harry smiled slightly and ran his hand down her back soothingly as they came to the floor with the single black wall, once more a lumos came to life above his hand.
As they came to stand before it, the grin returned to Ashara's face, "I know how to open it."
Harry's gaze snapped to look at her as she reached down to her hip, unsheathing her dagger, "My mother's family weren't among the great dragonlords of the Freehold but Valyrian blood runs in us all the same." She cut her hand along the palm, wincing slightly as the cold metal dragged across warm skin. Blood quickly pooled in her palm as she placed that hand on the wall. She started speaking in hushed Valyrian. Harry caught only a few whispered words but she was speaking with such quick fluidity it was hard to follow. When she noticed he had yet to move, she tilted her head toward the wall, waiting expectantly, "You too."
Following the command, Harry placed his hand on the door just beside Ashara's and started to push magic into it as he had the day before. However unlike then, both of the locks seemed to break and there was a loud wrenching noise as the wall opened inward for the first time in centuries. Beyond the door was exactly what Harry expected and more, there was gold and jewels… a great deal of gold and jewels that glinted and glimmered in the bright light as they both stepped into the vault. They rested in such large piles that they could not even see to the far side of the room. There were weapons, tapestries, old tomes, dragon's skulls and just beside those, a single dragon's egg.
The last caught both Harry and Ashara's interest immediately. She picked it up between her two slender hands, and it appeared huge between them, "It's beautiful." And she was right; the silver-scaled egg had distinct swirls of purple intermittently along its surface. It is rumored the last of the Targaryen eggs were destroyed along with King Aegon V. He turned to look at Ashara, the grin on his face one of childish glee, "We're going to need to find more chests." A similar grin blossomed on her face and they rushed back down to the bedrooms.
After emptying every chest they could find, they returned to the vault. The egg was placed in a bag, as he was unwilling to damage it by performing magic upon it. The books were placed with the others while thousands of gold coins were stored away until there wasn't a single chest left unfilled, and yet there was yet more to be plundered. As he was closing up the last chest Ashara called out to him from further within the room. He came around another stack of gold and found her back to him. Her body blocking whatever drew her attention from view.
Coming to stand by her side, he could understand her fascination. It was armor. What drew the eye was how the scaled armor, edged with white-gold, had the distinctive rippling, smoky patterns of Valyrian steel, though those ripples folded to form arcane symbols within the steel. The solid metal greaves, pauldrons, and gauntlets had a similar appearance while the helm had heron's wings on the crown of each side. Valyrian steel blades in the kingdom but there isn't a single set of armor. I doubt a complete one remains in the entire world. Harry grabbed the helmet from the stand and placed it on Ashara's head making her giggle slightly, "We'll be taking this as well." She smiled from behind the overlarge helm and nodded her head.
The material proved to be just as light as Harry would have expected. It can't weigh more than a silk shirt. Like the swords, the armor could not be shrunk and so it was stored within the bag with the egg which Harry threw over his shoulder.
They departed the home of House Vaelerys in the late morning leaving much of their spoils magically locked behind the main doors as they went off to search the rest of the city.
But as they wandered their way through the ruins it became abundantly clear that Daenor, whatever else he might have been, was the only dragonlord able to protect his house from the onslaught. They passed another topless tower, though this one had fallen crushing a smaller building. Its foundation rested within a pool of lava making it impossible to enter. Harry diligently tried to ignore the wretched screams of the spirits cursed to live their tormented deaths again and again.
They reached the center of the city where there was a great forum. All free landowners had say in the governance of Valyria, this must be where they met. How many thousands didn't even know as their fates were decided in this room when the dragonlords decided to go to war? There was a great heat coming from the center, lava bubbled there. Resting, almost as though sleeping, in one of the seats was a single body.
Harry placed a hand on Ashara's shoulder, "Wait here," Even from a distance the heat was nearly unbearable and he would not have her venture closer. Harry could feel sweat beading on his forehead as he approached the lone corpse. There was still skin visible upon the skull, petrified and cracked. Harry was elated though when he noticed the resplendent golden armor and the rampant lion of House Lannister upon his chest. But that was not most important. No, Harry wanted the lion-pommeled greatsword strapped across his back. What would Lord Tywin be willing to sacrifice for the return of Brightroar I wonder?
Wanting to be away from the great, stifling heat, he hastily removed the sword from King Tommen's back and only hesitated upon seeing the singed and tattered book sitting on the bench beside him. He picked it up and as smoke began to rise from his clothing, he hurried back toward Ashara who had an odd mixture of concern and amusement on her face in equal parts, "Did you just discover the remains of the long-forgotten King of the Westerlands?"
"I did," Harry responded, "I admit to hoping such a thing might happen when we discovered the corpse along the road."
"A Reyne with the ancestral sword of House Lannister," Ashara mused, "I believe Tywin would die of rage should he learn of such a thing." We will find out sooner or later. Ashara took the greatsword from him and strapped it over her own shoulder. It was rather amusing to see the massive weapon upon her person.
In the late afternoon they came to a massive depression in the earth from which ash and soot still rose into the sky, the heat even greater there than within the forum. Every building and even a large section of the wall had been consumed by the fires there, "That must be more than a hundred feet down," Harry commented as he stared listlessly into the bright flames below. There were a few charred corpses on the precipice of the downward slope, skin molted and black. Most likely more of the king's men, but what burned them?
The bright light reflected in the purple of Ashara's eyes, "I would guess this was the first of the Fourteen Flames that Daenor commented on in his journal, where they discovered dragons."
"This is where it started that day," Harry ventured. There were great many spirits there all of them screaming out in agony, many of them close by. He paid it no mind when they seemed to grow even closer, but Ashara did.
Suddenly, her fingers were digging into his bicep with enough strength to actually cause pain, "Harry," She hissed his name with urgency, and a hint of genuine fear, "I can hear something coming."
His gaze finally lifted from the flames below them to find something new before him. These were not the tormented yet benign spirits that littered the city, no the things before him, wreathed in flame, moved toward them with clearly ill intent. These were wraiths, perverted by the magic of the place where they had died. Or perhaps Septon Barth was correct and the magic failed here to cause the Doom. And these were those slaves present when it happened. He glanced down at the bodies upon the ground. Well this explains their condition.
The pair took a quick step backwards as the creature hastened as it seemed to recognize the living in its presence. Behind it, more of them came, and Ashara spoke in his ear frantically, "We must go."
They were pursued throughout the city. The wraiths, unimpeded by any obstacle, followed them screeching, always close upon their heels. Harry gave a short snort of amusement through slightly labored breaths. Ashara looked at him as though madness had come over him then. Despite the precarious situation they found themselves in, he just laughed louder at the look before explaining, "It would appear that the rumors were true, this place really is demon-haunted."
Ashara looked murderous, "And how is that funny Harry?"
"We'd managed to avoid any life or death situations on a trip into Valyria," Harry explained evenly, "I should have expected my luck would have caught up with us." Ashara just rolled her eyes.
By the time they reached the tower of House Vaelerys again both were sweating profusely, their clothing water-logged as a result. And despite their efforts, they could feel the heat of their deadly shadows just behind. They were within twenty yards of the door, Ashara slightly ahead, when Harry felt a searing pain burn into his arm as one of the wraiths gripped him. He screamed out in agony, a guttural noise ripped from his throat that drew her attention and that of each of the wraiths.
Lashing out unconsciously, Harry did not have any purpose behind his magic other than to drive the specters back. There was a resounding rush of air, as suddenly the grasp upon his arm was removed. Just glad for the momentary reprieve from pain, Harry immediately started sprinting toward the tower, Ashara at his side.
As they closed the door behind them, Harry caught his first glimpse of the horde that had followed in their wake. Seven bloody hells, there must be more than a hundred of them. They could only hope that whatever magic used to build the great tower remained strong enough to hold the monsters at bay. They retreated into the main room of the first floor, and waited. Ashara was doubled over with hands on her knees panting slightly while Harry stared with baited breath wondering whether the room would be alight with the flames of those wretched spirits. After a minute, Harry breathed deeply as it appeared that they could not enter.
There was no beating on the door, no noise from without and as Ashara righted herself, she asked softly, "Do you think they've left?"
Harry didn't hear her as he finally looked down to his arm. What remained of his skin was a vivid red in some places while blackened in others. But more disconcerting were the few bits of bone that could be seen where the finger tips would have been. It appeared like a brand in the shape of a handprint. Even if I can heal some of the damage, that mark will always remain.
Rousing himself as she asked her question again, he focused on the matter at hand, "Let's go find out." They climbed to the second floor, and made for a window. The sun had set and in the darkness, their predicament appeared all the more dire. The wraiths surrounded the structure, the light from them looked almost beautiful as most were red, while others were green, blue or even black.
"How can we possibly escape now?" There was desperation in Ashara voice, and tears forming in her eye. Her voice was haunted as she turned to look at him, "We're going to die here."
"No," Harry retorted passionately, "we're not."
"We're surrounded Harry!" She pointed out emphatically, "There is no way out. We either try and fight our way out and burn to death or starve within these walls."
"We will gather what we stored here, and then we shall leave." Something in the tone of his voice broke past her fear ridden thoughts. She looked him in the eye for a long moment and turned.
Scant minutes later, they stood once more in the darkened first floor of the tower, shrunken chests within their pockets, Brightroar upon Ashara's back, the other Valyrian swords bundled and held beneath her arm, and the armor and egg in the bag upon Harry's back.
"Take my hand, and hold on tight." She appeared confused, but listened all the same, "This is going to be uncomfortable." This didn't inspire any confidence in her as Harry closed his eyes and remembered the feeling of being squeezed. Better than dying here.
He thought of that alcove along the shore and reached out with his magic. There was a loud pop as they disappeared from the spot. It was painful, the squeezing, constricting pressure that worked against every part of his body. But as quickly as it came it was over. They arrived right where he intended… outside of Nesio's tent. He took a great gasping breath. He tasted the hint of sulfur in the air, and noticed the lack of a bubble around his head. He reapplied the spell for both himself and Ashara.
Disoriented, she looked slightly pale but otherwise no worse for wear. She punched him with as much force as she could muster in the arm, "That was awful," she ran and down her face, "but better than dying I suppose."
He gave a short laugh, before a great pain, which he had been expecting from prior experience, shot through his body, every muscle drawing taut. His magic burned within his body from his exertions. As he fell to his knees from the tremors, Ashara yelled his name in panic. He looked up into her eyes as the pain turned to a dull ache that radiated throughout his every bone, "Still better than dying." She gave a wet laugh, as footsteps approached. Nesio's dark eyes were wide with surprise, and through his pain, Harry managed a laugh of his own just from the look on the man's face.
Nesio approached them slowly, almost as though he weren't sure they were really there or not, "It would appear, my friends, that you are the first to visit the Doom and return to speak of it." It was with that statement that darkness claimed Harry's vision.
AN: So a few things. First and foremost, if there is anyone who has never read the books but reads this story because they enjoy TDOMCM and have only seen the show, the stone men do not attack Tyrion in Valyria but in the ruined and flooded Rhoynish city of Chroyane. There is nothing that explains exactly what haunts Valyria, only that it is demon-haunted.
Second, I'm sure some people are going to question why Harry couldn't shrink the Valyrian swords, armor, or horn. As I see it, Valyrian steel is forged and enchanted to resist any sort of damage, either magical or mundane and shrinking it would be a form of damage.
Thirdly, he has yet to see the endless expansion charm which I thought was terribly convenient in the canon to begin with. So shrinking and featherlight charms were the most convenient thing he could think of.
Finally, thanks for reading.