As always, thank you all for the reviews and the continued support. I deeply appreciate it.
I've made some last-minute additions to the chapter, so in case there are contradicting bits within the chapter or some stuff feels weird, do let me know. I tried to add everything seamlessly, but maybe something slipped past me.
In this one, Desmera finally begins to get some answers. Onwards onto the chapter!
V
"Mermaid? I prefer siren, but yes, I should hope so, or I've been living a lie all my life!" Ligeia said, grinning widely. Desmera closed her eyes for a moment, rocking on her heels as the pure warmth and joy of the sound washed over her.
"You're supposed to be a myth." She couldn't say whether she was stating a fact or asking it.
"Are you sure about that? You think that hug just now was a myth too?" Ligeia asked, mockingly waving her webbed fingers at Desmera.
She stared at the blonde, mouth agape, and no sound left her throat.
"I think you broke her," Harry said, chuckling as he sat down next to her, nodding to his friend. "How was your dive?"
"Interesting still. The seas are similar, yet so unfamiliar from back home. I swam with schools of rainbowfishes and sang with dolphins and whales – and let me tell you, there are some bratty whales in these waters! It was… fun."
"So long as they don't eat you."
"They wish! I know how to handle annoying babies."
"Good to know." He seemed genuinely happy for her, but he sobered quickly, offering Ligeia an apologetic look. "Can't say I had as good of a time as you did. Still no luck in locating the exact point of arrival, sorry."
"Oh."
Ligeia fell silent. Something resembling disappointment flickered across her otherworldly face, but it was gone in a flash. Desmera watched as she floated on the water, staring at the ceiling.
"Who are you two? Where do you come from?" she finally asked. The whole thing still made little sense to her. Desmera didn't like that – she hated being left out of the loop.
The question seemed to amuse the mermaid, who snorted out loud. "First question is hard for Harry. He just has so many options! How many titles have the landwalkers given you?"
Harry stepped to the side, crossing his arms with a deadpan look. "Ignore her, Desmera. Just call me Harry."
"No, don't listen to the Man-Who-Conquered here. Call him that, it annoys him."
"Because it's a bloody stupid title, that's why," he grumbled, rolling his eyes.
The mermaid laughed, and Desmera heard again the sound of tinkling bells playing in her ears. "How do you landwalkers say it? I rest my proof."
"It's rest my case."
"I just said that," Ligeia said with an affronted look.
"No, you didn't."
"Bah! Your English is hard. Go… suck on a puffer!" the siren exclaimed, splashing some water his way, but it was his turn to laugh as he so simply made a flourish with his wand and his clothes dried in an instant. Looking at them, no one could tell they'd been soaked just moments prior.
"You're- you're really not from Westeros at all, are you?" Desmera questioned, looking back and forth between them. "Your words – you speak strangely, with an accent I have never heard before. Your clothes are so different from what I'm used to, and your magic to boot… no one can use magic. And mermaids! Everyone thinks they are myths!"
He was a bizarre oddity. They both were, if in Ligeia's case it was merely because as a mermaid she should not exist at all.
"Siren, not mermaid. Clever little human though, aren't you?" said mermaid mused, giving her a look of interest. "I like her, Harry."
"Doesn't take much for that to happen. Now, be serious." He shot his friend an unimpressed look before he turned to Desmera. "You're right. As I said earlier, we're not from around here. In fact, we're not from Essos either or even anywhere from Planetos."
Desmera's knee-jerk reaction was to declare his words false, but she remained silent. Hadn't she seen enough to at least give him the benefit of the doubt? It was an absolutely outrageous claim, but Harry hadn't seemed to be a man given to falsehoods so far. Given she was seeing a living, breathing mermaid –siren– in the flesh… well, Desmera was inclined to take his words at face value.
'What would he get from lying about something like this, anyway?'
"If you're not from Planetos, then… where?"
Harry opened his mouth to explain, but immediately closed it again as his brow creased. "That's… actually a hard question to answer. We better get some food for this. I'm going to prepare something, and then we can talk. You want anything, Ligeia?"
"Don't you get ever tired of your brown meat and your potatoes?"
Harry shrugged. "I could say the same thing about you and fish, you know. British cuisine might not be outlandish, but it can be good…"
"Self-delusion is a sign of madness, Harry. Keep your human food, the sea will give me all I need."
"Suit yourself. C'mon, Desmera."
Wordlessly, she followed him, only to pause and turn around when she heard a loud splashing behind them. Ligeia was nowhere to be seen, as if she'd been nothing but a figment of her own delirious imagination. The only clue to her existence was the rippling of the water's surface.
Following Harry through the door he'd used, she entered a room that had many cupboards and kitchen tools. Desmera surmised the room had to be the kitchen, but she saw no firepit or anything similar.
'Of course, that's probably something he doesn't need with magic.'
Harry flicked his wand several times, and Desmera watched with wide eyes as vegetables and appliances started flying around the room. They formed a bizarre whirlwind, flitting about everywhere but never crashing against each other. Organized chaos was the only way Desmera could describe it.
A floating knife began to chop up the vegetables on a wooden board, while a pot of water was put to boil above a fire, and she was taken aback when flames sprouted from a circular black disc placed underneath a steel grill. Somehow, it didn't need logs to keep the fire going.
"I'll make some beef stew. Nothing too fancy: carrots, potatoes, clover and onion, some red wine…" Harry said, taking a bottle from one of the cupboards before he paused, giving her a look. "If that's okay with you, of course."
"Huh… the stew sounds good," Desmera replied, still dazed at the many disconcerting sights around her. Curious, she approached the ever-burning fire and reached out. She could feel it heating up her hand, even without a firepit to keep it going.
"Careful you don't get burnt." He held up the bottle he'd taken for her to see. "Some wine? From where I come from, no one under eighteen is allowed to drink alcohol, but you look like you need it."
Desmera quickly nodded. Some wine would settle her spirits. At a gesture from Harry, two glasses floated from one of the cupboards, and she marvelled at their facture: there were no blemishes or imperfections to their surface, and they were so transparent she could see perfectly through them.
"These must be outrageously expensive! How can you afford such a thing for mere glasses?" she questioned, watching as Harry poured a generous amount of wine for both of them.
"Not… really? Glass is cheap to make from where we come from. Isn't it like that here?" he asked, handing her one of the glasses with a bemused look.
"What? No, not at all! Only lords and really wealthy merchants can afford Myrish glass. And other types are just much worse."
"Huh. Interesting. Well, maybe I should sell them for a good price, then!" he mused with a short laugh.
There was a lull in their conversation after that. Harry sipped calmly at his wine, while Desmera took a large mouthful the moment she had the glass to herself. As the liquid hit her palate, she hummed with some surprise. It was different from the typical Dornish Red or an Arbor Gold; she'd never tasted this particular brand of wine before, but it was quite good. Not better than an Arbor, of course, but good.
Nursing her wine, she watched the kitchen tools work unguided, animated by Harry's magic. It was such a bizarre sight to her. It wasn't how she expected her day to go, that was certain. 'Now that I think about it, I'd be in Mermaid's Palace now if the ironborn hadn't…' The sudden thought left her gloomy, and Desmera drank more wine. She knew Harry was watching her, but he said nothing. 'Though that reminds me…'
"Thank you, by the way," she told Harry, earning a quizzical look from him.
"Hm?"
"For saving my life. I realize I didn't actually thank you when I woke up earlier. If you hadn't shown up, the ironborn…"
"Well, you saved mine, so I'd say we're even. Besides, all my run-ins with them haven't been peaceful, to say the least. Your home is better off without these ironborn."
Desmera nodded, unable to fully suppress the wave of dark satisfaction at the thought of their deaths. "Yes. I'm glad you killed them. They deserved nothing less."
Harry sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner."
"Me too," she muttered, looking away.
He pursed his lips, sipping lightly from his glass as he took in Desmera's angry, brooding stare, affixed on the flying cutlery around them. He took in the way her fingers tightly gripped the glass in her hand, drinking another large mouthful of her wine.
Perhaps he was trying to come up with the words to comfort her. They'd be nothing more than empty platitudes. Words could not bring back the dead.
"You're the one that's been sinking ironborn ships these past few months, am I right?" she asked before he said anything else, trying to change the subject.
Harry nodded, not surprised in the least. He was probably expecting such a question sooner or later. "Yeah, that was me. I guess your people took note of that?"
"That would be correct. My father has been searching for you ever since the first reports came in, to question you on what was going on with the ironborn. Especially with all the reports of your magic."
"Is that why you set the guards on me all those months ago? You guys chased me all around town."
"You… remember that?" Desmera asked, feeling a spike of embarrassment. That had not been her greatest moment, but she didn't regret a thing.
"Hard not to, when some firecracker girl kicks off a town-wide chase, and you're the one running for your life! You definitely gave me one hell of a time. I recognized you when I brought you aboard my ship."
The split second decision hadn't come without a cost, but to her own surprise, Harry himself didn't sound annoyed or angry at her for it. If anything, he sounded impressed.
'It's nice being vindicated,' she thought, all too aware of the surge of warmth blooming in her cheeks. It coursed down her body and melting through her brooding anger. She watched as he took a knife and began chopping some onion leisurely, pouring it all into the pot.
However, the mention of the chase brought back something she'd wondered about that day. "Wait, back then, you did something – I know you did. My cousin Loras and the guards broke off to the harbour, saying they saw you go there, but I could see you going straight. What was that?"
"Oh, that? It was a Confundus charm: a spell of confusion, which should be self-explanatory. I meant to throw you all off my trail, but I do remember it didn't work on you for some reason," Harry explained, giving her a curious look. "Well, I guess it's not that strange. While definitely rare, there are records of some Muggles having a stronger magical resistance than most. Maybe that's what happened."
"Muggles?"
"Non-magical people."
She hadn't even considered the notion she could apparently have some sort of natural resistance to magic, but she supposed he'd know better. It was certainly an appealing prospect; she rather doubted many could lay claim to such a feat.
She considered his words, watching absent-mindedly as he puttered about in the kitchen. A spell of confound utterly the target, to the point their very senses were addled.
'What a terrifying power he has,' Desmera thought, bringing her glass to her lips, only to find she'd finished the strong liquid moments before.
"More wine? I'd tell you to pace yourself, but you probably need it."
"We Redwynes are a family of winemakers, I won't get light-headed from one such as this," she retorted, prompting him to pour some more into her cup with a light chuckle. The sight of it made her remember all of a sudden one glaring fact.
He hadn't offered her neither salt nor bread.
Desmera froze up.
Did he know about such act or even its significance? He'd claimed they were not from Westeros or even the Free Cities, which also respected guest right. Did that mean they didn't have that where they came from? Or was this merely a subtle way of letting her know the truth?
She didn't know what to think and she didn't dare to call him out on him, afraid her worst suspicions would be confirmed. Was he planning to poison her with his food?
She brought her glass to her lips with the slightest of trembling to her hand. "We really didn't have a chance, did we? To catch you, I mean." Her voice didn't waver and for that, she was grateful. She couldn't show her hand just yet.
For his part, Harry snorted, drinking from his glass. He seemed utterly carefree, unaware of her suspicions. "Not really, no, but I was trying to keep a low profile. Didn't want to blatantly start using magic in full view of everyone. Force of habit, I guess."
Desmera nodded, considering his words. "So, how did it happen? Sinking ironborn ships, I mean. Surely there's an explanation for that."
"Would you believe me if I said it started because of a dumb reason? Ligeia got cocky and didn't think anyone could catch her, but she was careless. The ironborn fished her out of the sea by pure luck, and I had to come save her scaly arse. Of course, she didn't need it –she could run circles around those idiots– but it was the principle of the thing. I wasn't about to let them take her back to their home as some sort of sick trophy."
"They would have," Desmera grimly told him. "To the people of Westeros, mermaids are folktales, legendary beings from thousands of years ago. They say one of them became a human woman and married Durran Godsgrief in the Age of Heroes. If the ironborn found out they were real… they'd have taken her to the Iron Islands for sure. Either that or they'd have done unspeakable things to her."
Harry's face was sombre. "Yes, well, we didn't know the type of people we were dealing with then, so I was willing to take her back and let them go with their minds wiped. Didn't take us long to figure out the kind of people they were, however. One promised to, quoting him –sorry for the coarse language, by the way–, 'carve a cunny into the mermaid bitch with mah sword and then spear her with mah cock.' As you can imagine, I kind of took offence to that. We both did."
'Minds wiped?'
"And then you killed them," she said instead, keeping the unnerved question under lock and key. Desmera doubted she actually wanted to know.
"No, no – if it had just been that, I… well, I don't know what I'd have done, but I wouldn't have killed them just for being complete dickheads. But then, they actually tried to go through with it. And they also tried to kill me."
"Oh."
Harry didn't speak immediately afterwards. He shook the glass in his hands until the wine inside sloshed and swirled, staring down at the tiny maelstrom he'd created. When he looked up to meet her eyes, Desmera saw a cold anger in them, and it sent a shiver down her spine.
"I'm not proud of what I did to them, but I don't regret it either, given what they were trying to do."
"Better them than your friend," she muttered darkly, nodding. Despite her doubts, she could admit that much. The stew in the pot began to bubble.
"So, why does your father want to bring me in, exactly? Sounds to me as though he should be happy someone else is taking care of these pirates for him."
Desmera shook her head. "That is the problem, though. My father is one of the Tyrells' main vassals. As Lord of the Arbor, he's expected to keep the peace and ensure his own vassals and people are taken care of," she explained. "It's his job to keep the Sunset Sea waters near the Arbor free of anyone who would threaten the King's Peace."
Harry seemed to catch onto what she was trying to say, nodding along. "And when someone else shows up all of a sudden, that delicate balance is thrown out of whack. I get it." He sighed. "If someone told me as a child I'd find myself knee-deep in some sort of feudal world with lords and peasants, I'd have laughed in their faces. Shows what I know, I guess."
"Yes, well. That's why my father wanted to bring you in. You are an unknown to him, and all these reports about magic are enough to make a lot of people nervous."
Harry considered her words, unmindful of the knives and other cutlery flying about around them. "And what about you? Do I make you nervous?"
There was only curiosity in his voice, but Desmera had no idea how to answer the question. She didn't know where she stood on that issue; she hadn't even known about him until Herryk had revealed it to her and her brothers with mother's permission.
She adjusted her grip on the wine glass, unsure of what to say. What a foolish question. Of course he did. "Nervousness has nothing to do with it. That's a luxury I can ill-afford in this situation."
"Heh. A perfectly neutral reply that answers nothing, but that's okay. Still, we don't want to cause any trouble," Harry offered, leaving his glass of wine on the counter. It was mostly untouched. "We only deal with the ironborn if we run into them by chance, or they try to board our ship. We're not going around looking for them, it just so happens there's a lot of them, apparently."
"That means nothing. Neither my father nor his vassals know that you mean us no harm," Desmera pointed out before she realized another problem. "And… I would try to avoid going to any of the harbours in the Arbor."
"What? Why?"
"Well, I, huh… might have given my father a description of how you look," she said, unable to keep the sheepishness from her voice. She didn't dare look at him, preferring to keep her eyes on the spoon that stirred the contents of the pot without a hand to guide it. She took a sip from her wine. "And since they don't have a name, they only know you by the moniker they gave you."
Harry groaned, raising a hand to pinch his nose. "As if I didn't have enough of those… So every guard in all the nearby towns will be on high alert looking for someone like me, huh?"
"Sorry," Desmera mumbled under her breath, but he just shrugged.
"Don't sweat it, it's what it is. What are they calling me, anyway?"
"The Seafarer."
"Great. Well, at least it's accurate so far – better than most others," Harry grumbled good-naturedly. "Anyway, this is a problem. Conjured food isn't permanent, and I'm kind of sick of fish as it is by now; even my stores of food will run out eventually. I didn't plan on being at sea for this long."
"You can't multiply your food with magic?"
"Not sure if that's surprise or sarcasm I'm hearing, but no, I can't. This might be surprising to you, but even magic has rules, you know?"
"I didn't know magic was actually more than just rumors and hearsay until today!"
"Well, now you do," Harry smoothly replied as he checked the stew pot with a critical look. "We'll have to resupply at some point soon. I could disguise myself with magic, but it's honestly a hassle to get things just right. If only I were a Metamorphmagus… self Transfiguration isn't my strongest point. Maybe Disillusionment? But then I'd have to dispel it to buy food… Hm."
"Trans- what's that even supposed to be?"
"A type of magic. Changes and transforms an object into another," Harry said without missing a beat, going back to the pot with the stew and snatching the stirring spoon out of the air. Sipping a bit from the stew, he nodded to himself. "Anyway, I'll have to think about it. For now, time to eat! This is just about done."
"Already? That can't be right, stew takes much longer to make."
"Sure… if you don't have magic to help you out," he said, shooting her a grin.
Desmera only gave him an unamused look in return.
"Wow, tough crowd. Don't give me that look, you're getting food sooner, aren't you? C'mon, help me a bit and get some plates and cutlery for us, eh? Plates are in this cupboard, cutlery in the second drawer to the left. Chop chop."
Surprised that he actually asked her to help, Desmera found herself nodding before gathering a handful of plates and spoons. She followed Harry, who carried the wine bottle and their glasses. A quick glance behind her revealed the stew pot trailed after them, tumbling and twirling happily in the air as if an invisible, flamboyant man carried it.
'I should be more shaken about seeing this with my own eyes.' Yet after seeing so many things that defied belief, one after another, the sight of a flying stew pot ranked low on her list of things to be amazed with, to be quite honest.
In a way, it was more shocking to her being asked to do the work of a servant. Mother would be scandalized if she knew. As for her… well, it wouldn't do to annoy a wizard that could turn her insides out or turn her into a stuffed animal.
A warlock, a highborn lady carrying cutlery and a flying stew pot all enter a tavern… What a sight we must make!'
When they went back to the central hall outside, Ligeia was already there, combing through wet blonde locks with a carved bone comb. A swordfish and a large red salmon rested on the planks close to Ligeia, at the edge of the cut-out area that led to the open sea. The salmon was still alive, weakly flopping about.
"Well, that didn't take long," Harry said as he and Desmera set down the things they were carrying on a table.
"I just got back." The mermaid looked like she was about to say something else when she stopped and sniffed at the air, nose scrunching in disgust. "Stew? How British of you."
"You say it like that's a bad thing. You're missing out, you know," Harry said. "You sure you don't want some?"
"No."
And with that, she pulled her catch into the water with her, disappearing from their sight once more. Desmera's stomach rumbled queasily when she saw the water turning a shade of red as it began to froth and rumble.
"Is she…?" she muttered, trailing off.
"Well, she didn't catch those fishes to make them look pretty, that's for certain."
A wave of nausea washed over her at the thought of Ligeia eating raw fish like some sort of beast from the depths. Desmera turned back to her food in an attempt to push those thoughts aside. A very inviting smell came from it and Desmera felt her stomach growl, but her own doubts stayed her hand. Out the corner of her eyes, she saw Harry dig in with a spoon and her watched transfixed as he ate.
He seemed okay.
Taking a cautious spoonful, the stew's warmth travelled down her throat, seeping all over her body in a very pleasant manner.
Desmera blinked, enjoying the feeling with a smile. It really was an amazing stew, all things told.
'Well, if it's poisoned, I'm sure it'll be a much more painless way to die than by an ironborn's sword,' she wryly thought. 'At least I'll die with a full stomach.'
The next few minutes were spent enjoying the food, sipping from her wine to wash the bread down. She had to make a conscious effort to pace herself, because she was so hungry she'd start wolfing everything down otherwise. Harry took a more sedate pace, eating leisurely. He said little, letting her enjoy a moment of peace while they ate.
Desmera didn't know how to feel about that. She appreciated the sentiment, yet the silence only brought her thoughts to the surface once again, and the events of yesterday cast a gloomy shadow over her demeanour. Now that her mind wasn't preoccupied with other concerns, it was free to trap itself within the dark hallways of her thoughts.
Ligeia returned some time later, breaking through the water and splashing it everywhere when she shook her hair. The commotion pulled Desmera out of her dark thoughts as they turned to the mermaid.
"Hey. Was the salmon good?" Harry asked.
"Certainly better than that horrid thing you call cuisine," the mermaid shot back with a grin. It showed her sharpened teeth, bloody from her food.
He made an affronted noise. "I'll have you know Desmera thinks it's excellent! Don't you?"
Desmera blinked, not expecting to be addressed. "Huh- yes, it's great!"
"See?"
Ligeia scoffed. "The girl was starving, she'd eat the moss off the rocks if she could."
Harry shook his head, but said nothing and turned to Desmera. "Oh, you already finished. That good, huh? Fancy going for seconds?"
"If it's not too much of a bother… It is really good," she praised, watching as Harry, grinning smugly refilled her plate with more stew from the pot.
"Good to hear, at least someone here appreciates my cooking! Feel free to eat as much as you like- uh… Ugh, I just realized I sound like Molly," he suddenly said to Ligeia, who laughed out loud. Whatever he meant, it clearly made sense to the mermaid; Desmera didn't know who he was talking about.
Whatever, she didn't care; she was too busy attacking her second helping of Harry's stew to pay it any mind. And yet, no matter how delicious his food was, she couldn't stop thinking about the strange pair.
It was impossible to ignore. They hadn't tried to hide the fact they didn't come from anywhere close to Westeros, but they hadn't clarified or explained anything in detail either. Father would be disappointed in her if she didn't find out what exactly were their intentions being here.
Questioning them would help her in pushing her dark thoughts aside.
"I thank you for the food, but I believe I'm due some answers. Where exactly do you come from? You say you are not from Planetos, but you almost look Westerosi, and I've only heard of warlocks being deep in Essos – and I thought most of those stories to be tall tales!"
Perhaps tellingly, neither Harry nor Ligeia answered immediately; instead, they shared a charged look between them. "I know I promised to tell you, but… are you sure you want to know? I doubt you'd make sense of most of it," Harry warned.
Desmera glared at him. "Strange way of earning my trust, by keeping me in the dark. I'm not a simpleton, try me."
He pursed his lips, but Ligeia only tittered, appraising Desmera with greater interest. "She has fire in her veins, just like in her hair! Tell her, Harry."
"Seriously? What happened to not telling anyone?"
"You really think these humans could best you? If you didn't hold back because they have no magic, I mean. And even then." The way she phrased it, it was clear the mermaid thought Harry was being an idiot.
"Getting cocky is the best way to get yourself killed."
"Good thing you're anything but that, then!"
"Your sarcasm is noted," Harry replied with a deadpan voice, but then he turned to her. "That said, she does have a point – not like it matters much by now, anyway."
Desmera crossed her eyes. She wouldn't budge from her demand. "I'm listening."
Harry stirred the little stew left in his plate with his spoon with a thoughtful expression; she could only guess he was putting his thoughts in order. Eventually, he spoke.
"We come from a place called Earth. We have no kingdoms like you do- well, we do have some, but not as you understand them. We've many countries instead; a couple hundreds of them, actually. They're basically our modern version of kingdoms. Anyway, spread all over those countries is an entire society, hidden away from nearly everyone. We call it the wizarding world, filled with wizards, witches and many other magical beings. Ligeia and I are part of it. Humans that can't use magic are called Muggles. They don't belong in the wizarding world, and all but a few don't know of our existence. With me so far?"
"Yes, I remember you mentioned these Muggles before. What confuses me the most right now is the name itself – this Earth. Why would anyone want to call their kingdom after dirt?!"
Ligeia burst out laughing.
"That's… not the first question I expected," Harry admitted.
"She's got you there! It's even worse than that, because there's more water than land back home! Maybe we should rename it Water instead of Earth," Ligeia japed.
"Hush you." Harry shook his head, chuckling despite himself as he turned back to Desmera. "I suppose it sounds weird to you, but that's how it is."
"How come I've never heard of such a place before, then? Is this… Earth on the other side of the Sunset Sea?" she asked, but Harry shook his head again.
"No. You won't find it on any map; as I said earlier, Earth is not in Planetos at all, remember?"
"I did not think you were being serious."
Harry lifted an eyebrow. "I don't really have any reason to joke or lie about it."
"Still… a different world? Never mind how ridiculous such a claim is, if it were even possible, it would be- that's the realm of the gods, not men!"
Despite her denial, Harry looked unperturbed, finishing his stew even as her own food was left forgotten. "Where magic is involved, I've discovered, very few things are impossible to achieve. Except cheating Death. Death always has its due."
There was something deeply ominous about those last words, delivered with a solemnity she hadn't seen Harry show before, but she had more pressing concerns. "There is a difference between creating fire or lifting things in the air and travelling through the stars to a different world!"
"No one said there wasn't, but we're here, right? There are ways."
Watching him shrug it off, Desmera rubbed her eyes. Travelling through worlds… it sounded like such a bad jape. Her eyes wandered over the hall for a moment in an attempt to come to grips with what he was saying. Her eyes fell upon the portrait of the sleeping man, hung on one of the walls.
Was it her imagination, or wasn't his odd hat completely straight before, instead of crooked as it was now?
"I guess that explains the lack of guest right," she muttered to herself. It made sense; if they really were from a different world, mad as that affirmation sounded to her own ears, it stood to reason they'd have no idea of what guest right was or what it entailed. Truthfully, it was a relief to know. The lack of guest right was one borne from ignorance and lack of awareness of such, not from some sort of insidious malice.
"Hm? Did you say something?" Harry asked.
Desmera cleared her throat. "I meant to ask – why are you here, then? If what you say is true, if you really come from another world… why come to Westeros? To Planetos?"
This time, it was Ligeia who answered her. "We didn't come here on purpose, red child." The mermaid was leaning against the edge of the wood planks, surrounded by pale red water.
"So it was an accident?" That made no sense to her. How could one travel between worlds by accident?
"Accident would be a massive understatement," Harry replied, but there was an angry undertone to his wryness. "We fell into an ambush. They were waiting for us, and we activated a trap. When I tried to get us out with magic… well, things went spectacularly bad; to say the least. The clash of energies sent us here. The trap wasn't even meant for Ligeia, it was meant for me. She just happened to be there at a bad time and got caught in the crossfire."
The sudden sound of something hard hitting water followed his words and Desmera's head snapped towards Ligeia. The water roiled angrily, waves rippling away from her. "I would've fought had I had the chance! When we return to our waters, I will gather my sisters. We will fall upon those foul grubby beasts and kill them all!" she promised.
For a split second, her countenance twisted into a cold, ugly thing. The angry snarl that adorned her face gave her the look of a stalking predator, and her teeth almost seemed to enlarge, sharpening into daggers. Nothing fair remained in her face beyond the mocking hint of a false humanity and Desmera was given the unpleasant reminder that, for all her beauty and enchanting voice, Ligeia was not human at all.
But the moment passed.
Within a blink, gone was the monster, replaced by the beautiful woman once more. There was a sad smile on Ligeia's face, tinged with regret, and her eyes were filled with understanding. It was only then that Desmera realized her own face was twisted into a grimace of fear.
Fear of her. Fear of Ligeia.
"I- Ligeia…" Desmera tried to stammer an apology, but the mermaid just looked away, hiding her face behind an opaque veil of blonde locks.
"It's okay."
Harry made no comment on it. His eyes had become flinty and stony, but they were distant, looking past Desmera as if he were far, far away from them. Perhaps he hadn't even taken note of the exchange between them. "I was their main target, but Ligeia and some of her people had been helping me with something. I guess that's why they didn't care much if the trap also got anyone else besides me," he muttered.
"Who could have that much power?" Desmera asked, but she was distracted as well, far more concerned with the one that had retreated to the other side of the false pool. She wanted to say something to Ligeia, anything that could alleviate this uncomfortable feeling of guilt brewing in her chest.
Harry blinked, seemingly regaining awareness of where he was. He furrowed his brow upon seeing Ligeia so far, but said nothing, choosing instead to answer her.
"They can't do it again, it was a one-off thing. Anyway, they are called goblins, a magical race highly skilled in forging weapons imbued with magic. They also oversee the banking system of the wizarding world. They're extremely greedy people, they'll stab you in the back if it suits their interests, and they will stop at nothing to achieve their goals. So not very nice people."
"People like that don't seem prone to hunting someone down without good reason," Desmera pointed out. Harry had seemed very… measured in his reply. As if he were holding himself back from saying what he truly was thinking. Desmera got the strange sense of a wrathful beast struggling to get free from its chains.
"Depends on whether you'd consider their reasons justified. Let's just say they've hated my guts since I broke into one of their banks to steal something years ago," Harry explained with a shrug. "It was a matter of life and death, but they weren't interested in apologies or amends. They've tried to make my life hell whenever possible since then. This reached the tipping point a few months ago, when we came into conflict over something they badly wanted."
"What was it?" Desmera asked, watching as Harry summoned an apple from the kitchen with his wand.
"You see, there are fabled places and cities in our world, shrouded in myth. I'm sure your own world has places like those," he said, taking a bit from the fruit. "Anyway, investigating a personal matter, I discovered the ruins of one such place – the sunken city of Atlantis. The details aren't really that important right now. What matters is that the goblins got wind of it and wanted to take the ruins for themselves."
"I assume it was because this Atlantis would have valuable things they could loot and plunder?" Desmera mused out loud.
She could understand the irresistible allure such a place could have on the hearts of men. Many had sailed to the ruins of Valyria to claim the riches and wealth in it, and all had met their doom there.
"More or less, yeah. Atlantis was once the birthplace of magic, and it was thought lost beneath the waves millennia ago. Never mind the discovery of the ruins themselves, as you said, it's very possible there are magical artifacts or long-lost lore in it. The goblins saw an opportunity and demanded that I reveal its exact location to them. I refused, of course: I found the city first, before they even learned it actually existed. They didn't like that."
"And so they sent you here. Both of you," Desmera finished, connecting the dots.
Harry nodded, taking a bite of his apple. "We were in open waters when it happened. I was using this ship at the time, which is why it also got caught in the trap. We've been trying to find a way to go back ever since. That's why we've been staying around the ocean – we appeared in the middle of it in a great storm and the magical residue should be stronger out here."
"We need to find the spot with the highest concentration of it, but it's not easy. Even if we find it, we need a way to cross to the other side again," Ligeia added all of a sudden.
Desmera quickly turned to look at her; the mermaid peered at them from behind her wet blonde locks, but Desmera felt a pang of guilt when she realized the mermaid was avoiding her eyes. Regardless, they did not stray from Ligeia's veiled face, hoping that the mermaid would look at her just once and see the regret in her eyes.
She didn't want Ligeia to be mad at her.
"Which is something we still have no idea how to do," Harry added with a helpless shrug of his shoulders. "So for the time being, we're stuck here."
"I see…" Harry's tale bothered her more than she wanted to admit. Desmera didn't consider herself particularly religious even if she did believe in the Seven, but the feats Harry described should be the purview of gods, not mortals.
'No matter how powerful their magic might be.'
Perhaps sensing her inner struggle, neither Harry nor Ligeia spoke further, and Desmera chose to go back to her food, mulling over everything she'd learnt. It was so much, everything hitting her so suddenly at the same time and challenging things she thought set in stone. It amazed her that she'd managed to understand Harry's explanation at all.
'Well, mostly,' she considered with pursed lips. Some of the things he'd spoken about were strange to her, no doubt because they were unlike anything Westeros had seen or known about. 'What if there weren't all these tales and rumours of magic and warlocks far in Essos, in places like Asshai or Qarth? I probably would have thought Harry to be the Stranger personified, no doubt!'
The next few minutes were spent in silence as Desmera worked her way though her second helping of Harry's stew. Luckily, the food was excellent, and the wine was exquisite.
Ligeia swam placidly around the small pool in the middle of the ship's hall. The only sounds around them were the ones she made with her tail as she paddled and swished in the water. Desmera glanced at her surreptitiously. It was still hard for her to wrap her mind around the fact mermaids did exist – at least, as far as Harry's… world was concerned. Her eyes jumped from her food, to Ligeia, and to Harry and back again.
She wanted to say something to her, to apologize for her gaffe and make things right, but she wasn't comfortable doing it when Harry was right there. 'What would I even tell her? I didn't think I'd ever meet a mermaid of all things, much less make her mad right after the fact!'
Unbidden, her mind conjured an image of Ligeia.
Swimming through shallow waters, the sun would shine on her back, its light glinting off her scales and casting the waters around in a thousand shades of green. Her blonde hair would flow around her like a divine halo as she cut through the waters with uncanny elegance, gliding over schools of multicoloured fishes and mazes of rock formations. Desmera imagined the sight of a nude Ligeia crossing the ocean, luring in unwary sailors with both her voice and her looks.
She could not get it out of her mind, and she felt a flush making its way down her body. Her ears burned. Embarrassed and ashamed, she reached out for her glass and took a long mouthful of her wine. Already there was a pleasant buzz settling in her, but she still had a way to go before she truly became inebriated.
Desmera wondered if she could get the whole bottle of wine, maybe then she'd forget her own blunder. How could she think of such things after offending Ligeia so grievously? She was the worst.
"What do you plan on doing now?" she asked Harry in an attempt to clear her head. "Surely you don't mean to stay at sea indefinitely until you find… whatever it is you're looking for."
He frowned. "Not really, no, but me might have to," he said, taking one last bite of his apple and munching thoughtfully for a few moments. "We're still looking for the exact point we arrived at and we really can't leave for now. I'll have to resupply soon, but from what you told me before, any nearby place we could go to will be looking for me. Not a lot of options without relying heavily on magic."
That was true enough, but there had to be a way to at least ensure her father's men or his vassals didn't hound Harry wherever he went. Desmera considered it, watching as Harry waved his wand at the apple's core and made it disappear. It was honestly quite simple, truthfully. "What if we took away their reason for hunting you down?"
That definitely grabbed his attention. "What do you mean?"
"My father sent out men to search for you because he doesn't know you or what you might be capable of, but you both have a common enemy in the ironborn – we all do. It should be easy enough to ensure his goodwill once he learns you saved me from being r-raped or killed. It wouldn't even be a lie!"
"Interesting. How would that work, though? No offence, but I've got no interest in becoming the servant of some lord I don't even know."
"You wouldn't enter his service indefinitely if you don't wish to. Plenty of hedge knights seek fortune and gold serving different lords for a time or in tourneys. We could do the same here: my father will be grateful for saving me, and I'm sure he'd be eager to enlist your help with the ironborn once he sees what you can do. That is, if you don't wish to keep your magic a secret," Desmera hurried to add at the end.
From his look of surprise, it didn't seem like Harry had even considered that notion. "That's… it could work," he admitted before he glanced at Ligeia, who had been listening attentively to the conversation. "What do you think? It's not a bad plan, but the Statute…"
"Does that even matter if we're here? These people might be Muggles, but there's no Ministry to enforce iron-fisted mandates here," Ligeia said with a shrug, creating gentle waves around here.
Harry only hummed in reply, scratching at his stubble with a pensive frown. Desmera waited in silence, focusing on the deep emerald green of his eyes. She remembered her maester's words many months ago when he revealed the reports about Harry's existence.
The ironborn had claimed his eyes glowed with an inner fire, but if such a thing was true, she'd certainly hadn't seen it so far. 'Now that I think about it, I don't remember them glowing back in the… the Aurora, either.' They were bright and even intense sometimes, but no glow at all. The realization was a tad disappointing, but perhaps it was for the best.
She rather doubted it'd be a useful thing to have, glowing eyes.
"Alright."
Desmera blinked. "Really?"
"Yes, really. As long as I can leave at any moment, then I will go with you – not that you guys could stop me, but, well, you know… That said, I won't make mention of Ligeia and neither will you. That's non-negotiable."
"I can speak for myself, Harry, thank you," an affronted Ligeia hissed, but when they turned to her, she just crossed her arms, sending ripples around her. "What he said."
Desmera snorted despite herself. "Well, good, that was… surprisingly easy! Honestly, I expected to have a harder time convincing you," she admitted.
"Why? Your reasoning makes sense; things will be easier if we can dock freely around the Arbor. So long as your father doesn't try to order me around without reason, I don't see a problem. Besides, we can hash out the details before we arrive, we have time," Harry said, drumming his fingers on the table. "However, I'd also ask that you don't mention the fact I'm not from Planetos. It would complicate matters too much, I think; I don't fancy having to repeat myself every time someone questions my words. Best if we just go with me coming from a distant land or something. A much more believable lie to most."
Desmera nodded. She didn't think it would take too much for her father to believe in other worlds once he saw real magic, but she could see the point he was trying to make. As he said, it would muddle the waters a bit too much. She didn't like it, but it would be more expeditive to lie outright.
'It's not like my father could do anything with such information either way.'
"Then, we could always say that your lands from Earth are well in the west, past the Sunset Sea. No one has charted deep into this ocean – that we know of, at least. So even if the people don't believe you, who could dispute your claims?"
"And it gives us a reasonable cover story without having to offer much proof. Our people are so different that anything I say about England will sound outlandish to pretty much everyone," Harry reasoned, adding onto her train of thought. Nodding to himself, he gave her an impressed look. "That's actually a great idea, Desmera!"
Desmera had known Harry was handsome before, but the moment he smiled, it was like everything clicked in place. His eyes all but lit up from the excitement, and she couldn't look away from them. The roguish appearance he had from his wind-swept hair and stubble suited him a lot.
Blushing, Desmera smiled back. "Huh… thanks," she managed to say after a brief moment, when the silence was just beginning to become awkward. She hated the way her cheeks burned, both from embarrassment and the realization she wasn't altogether indifferent to Harry.
"Well then, we really shouldn't put it off. The ironborn attacked your ship only yesterday, but I'm sure your family will soon realize you're missing. The sooner we get you home, the sooner we can get things to calm down."
Harry flicked his wand and gave it a small wave as he pointed at the empty plates in front of them. In response, they lifted into the air and soared through the hall to the kitchen area.
"Accio!" Harry slashed the air with his magic wand once more, and several rolls of parchment floated to them from another room.
"What's this?" Desmera asked, lifting her wine glass to make more space for them.
"These are maps from one of the ironborn ships we sank, shortly after arriving. We didn't know where we were and since they tried to raid us, we decided to return the favour," Harry explained as he unfurled the maps over the table. "Since your father is the lord of this region, you must've sailed a lot around these waters. I was hoping you could tell us the best way to reach your home."
Interested, Desmera leaned in to examine the navigation maps. She'd never seen ones made by the ironborn; she was curious to see if they matched up to the ones made by Redwyne sailors at all. Unfortunately, she was disappointed. There was a rough quality to them, unpolished – as if whoever made them hadn't truly bothered to put in work beyond the bare minimum to be usable.
It was a far cry from the incredibly detailed maps one could find in Ivyhall. Many of them were centuries old, created during the Conqueror's time. Two of them were even quite older than that! The making of nautical charts and maps was an art, as their own proved, and they were one of her families' treasured possessions.
For all their supposed self-declared superiority on the sea over the greenlanders, the ironborn maps looked like they'd been doodled by mere children.
"These look like shit," she stated bluntly. "But they're good enough to give us a rough idea of where we are. This is Vinetown, the place where I found you last time." Desmera pointed to a rough sketch of a house on the Arbor's northern coast. Then she moved her finger inland to the crude drawing of something resembling a tower or a keep. "This must be Ivyhall, my family's ancestral seat. There's a river, the Vine Rush, that opens up to the sea from Vinetown – the waters flow from the Red Spires, the mountain range behind Ivyhall. We can sail upstream until we reach my home."
"Sounds like a plan. Which direction should we go to reach this Vinetown?"
"About that, how are we sailing there? I've yet to see any crewmates in your ship," Desmera questioned, growing alarmed when she realized that indeed, there had been no crew to direct the ship or engage the ironborn. How had she not even taken notice of that?!
"Magic, remember?"
"Oh. Do you use magic for everything?"
Ligeia laughed out loud. "You should get used to that, red child – magic is the answer to many problems for wizards. Makes them lazy."
"Excuse me, who are you calling lazy? You've got no room to talk, you lounge and sunbathe on any rock you find to your liking!" Harry exclaimed with faux offence, rising to his feet. Ligeia only laughed again, plunging into the water and disappearing. "And there she goes… Well, I better go redirect the ship. Desmera, you're free to roam as you wish over the ship, but if you see anything that moves on its own or looks weird, well… best ask me first. Just in case. If you need anything, I'll be upstairs at the helm."
Nodding, Desmera watched him go. Despite the fact he'd known her less than a day, here he was, seemingly unbothered by the prospect of Desmera finding out more about him. Did he now have any secrets to hide? No information about him he didn't wish to share with others?
He showed her a lot of trust – perhaps a foolhardy amount of it, some would say. Desmera herself couldn't decide which it was. She gazed over the hall, now empty except for her. The enormity of a simple decision such as just choosing what to do in a wizard's boat weighed on her.
What strange marvels would she see, Desmera wondered. What nameless horrors could she unleash by opening a mere door? It was a rush, thrilling and terrible at the same time.
After finishing the food, she rose from the chair, filled with an odd sense of anticipation.'Time to step into the unknown.'