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123 AC, Oldtown
Otto Hightower sat in the office provided to him in the Hightower and couldn't help but think back at how things could have gone so wrong. Mere moons ago, he had been the Hand of a weak king, ruling the Seven Kingdoms in everything but name. His obedient daughter shaped the court. Aegon's succession was assured, having given birth to twins. Sure, his behaviour had needed work, but Viserys had proved that it did not take much effort to be King.
Aemond might eventually make a good Hand to the boy, after Otto, of course, or perhaps even Daeron. The boy had been progressing very well in his studies and seemed motivated by martial pursuits. He was not quite as gifted as Aemond, but the lack of a troublesome attitude more than made up for it.
Things had looked up, and yet, here he was, in his nephew's tower, being forced to entreat with the Faith about matters far beneath his competence, "I beg of you, Ser Otto. Oldtown is the heart of the faith in the Seven Kingdoms. The riots are a danger to the entire continent. Septons and Septas have died or perhaps suffered fates worse than death. Was it not the Warrior who urges us to defend our home, our faith?"
The High Septon had not even come to see him himself and instead had sent some random Septon to treat with him. HIM. The former Hand of the King. Not even one of the 'Most Devout' had come to greet him. It was a useless order, truly, of Septons and Septas with a modicum of power and authority. Each one was the creature of some lord or another, either through kinship or gold. He knew that because his nephew currently held the authority over a large group of them.
Then again, they were too afraid. Even now, he had no idea why the riots started. Still, they mostly seemed to focus on targeting rich Septons and Septas, and unfortunately for the Most Devout, wealth often came with corruption. They loved displaying their wealth in pride when they walked the streets of Oldtown and preached patience and detachment from worldly goods.
And so, they sent this bumbling oaf to him. Gods, even if the proposal was beyond outlandish, he would have refused it for the insult alone. "I am not reinstating the Faith Militant, Septon. Besides, the situation is dealt with."
The Septon scoffed in derision, "Dealt with? My brothers and sisters of the Faith are trapped in our own home, unable to show the Light of the Seven to the people of Oldtown. We are starved of our purpose, or holy mission, and we cannot do so without a guarantee that we will not be beaten to death while doing so."
The situation had been partially handled by the time he had returned to Oldtown. His nephew, Lord Ormund Hightower, had ordered the members of the Faith to be secluded in the Starry Sept and posted guards around them to ensure that the smallfolk would not try anything unwise.
The man had asked Otto to find the perpetrators of the riots, and to this day, he had failed in this mission. His agents in Oldtown told him of known rioters, of people who committed murders, but not the source of the act itself. He had ordered the perpetrators hanged after interrogating them, and found that there was very little connecting them, bar the burning hatred and envy for the Septons and Septas.
Otto could understand, somewhat. The large difference in wealth and station between the Septons in Oldtown and the Smallfolk would anger the latter easily, but it had not been a problem before. To make things worse, sentiments across the Faith had spread far quicker than one might think possible in the Seven Kingdoms, not just Oldtown.
Someone had been planning, scheming to tear away the foundations of the Faith and given its closeness to Oldtown, obviously to hurt House Hightower, and with it, Aegon's cause. The suddenness of it suggested a single master manipulator, one who was able to shave the Seven Kingdoms to his will, someone likely close to Rhaenyra and Daemon. There was only one person who was capable of all of this, one who had shown himself time and time again to be the greatest threat to Otto's ambitions.
"Well?!" the useless Septon prattled, breaking him from his thoughts.
Otto simply raised an eyebrow, unwilling to say that he had lost any attention, and the Septon bristled at that, "The 'Most Devout' had come to the conclusion that should you not provide sufficient protections for Septons and Septas of Oldtown, they shall handle the matter themselves."
"And I will have no choice but to send a letter to the King, explaining the Starry Sept's ultimatum, and making a parallel to Maegor's rule. I foresee, at the very least, taxes on the Faith's incomes, and perhaps even dragon fire at the worst, depending on his Grace's mood. Treason is a crime with very harsh consequences."
Otto disliked being threatened, especially not by someone so beneath him. To make it worse, it was completely unnecessary. The harsh punishments of any who attacked members of the Faith in Oldtown, followed by the sudden 'One-Day Winter', had struck fear in the eyes of the Smallfolk.
To this day, he did not know the source of this sudden day of winter day, when the sun refused to rise, and half of the bay froze completely. It was an unnatural day when winter ruled the Reach more harshly than it ever had before, perhaps even that the entirety of Westeros had not seen before. It was especially disastrous to Oldtown, given its location as a trading hub, but Otto spread rumours that it was the result of the wrath of the Seven for the attacks on Septons and Septas, using it to lower the unrest in the city.
To this day, the Citadel was utterly baffled by the event, calling it a coincidental act of nature or an act of the gods. The only thing they claimed was that it was becoming warmer every week, but nothing more than that.
He inwardly suspected that the blasted sorcerer, Harry Potter, had something to do with it. It was so utterly unnatural that magic had to be involved. It was only the scale that made him doubt it, but he could see it being an attack on Oldtown to hinder his efforts somehow, even if Otto had managed to use it to his advantage somewhat to quell the Smallfolk's unrest.
After all, while the Smallfolk's distrust and discontent remained, they were tempered by fear. Finally, it seemed like Oldtown had regained a fraction of its former stability, which meant that Otto could finally return to working on his own ambitions and securing Aegon's claim to the throne.
It also meant that the request of arming the Faith did not hold any merit, other than empowering an organisation, which might, in the future, pose a threat to the stability of Aegon's rule, and perhaps even stop many from supporting his cause. Politically, nobles did not like having their authority challenged, and creating a new Faith Militant would do just that.
This was nothing more than an act of desperation with empty threats. His thoughts were proven to be correct as the Septon paled in fear at Otto's words. After all, bringing the matter to the King, even peacefully, would likely not end well for the Starry Sept.
Deciding to use this to his advantage, he continued, "So, let us not resort to hasty measures. After all, House Hightower and the Faith have been great allies for thousands of years. That said, what I do propose is to start sermons in the Starry Septs once more. House Hightower will provide guards to ensure that no act of violence occurs, and the occupancy will be limited. That should allow the true faithful to make their prayers, while ensuring your safety."
It would also serve as a test to see the Smallfolk's sentiment on the matter after the One-Day Winter in a much more controlled setting, while also compromising with the Faith. As he expected, the Septon smiled, "Thank you, Ser Otto. I will bring this to the Most Devout at once."
"Don't you mean the High Septon?"
"Ah, of course," the man mumbled, his face reddening, "Just a mistake. Forgive me," before quickly leaving.
Ah, it seemed like the Most Devout wished to overthrow the High Septon. It was true that the man had gotten old, but he provided a certain stability to the Faith. Then again, the recent chaos highlighted the need for someone with an able body as well as mind. Perhaps change was necessary.
His agent in the Capital, Septon Eustace, came to mind as a possible candidate. He had been one of his most useful pieces back when he was Hand of the King, helping spread rumours of Rhaenyra and the parentage of her brood, often with people just assuming that Aegon would be a good king, the second coming of the Conqueror, his namesake, that his reign would bring prosperity after 'Sickly Viserys'.
Otto would not have his legacy tarnished, not more than what it was already with his daughter's foolishness. Even if Viserys had been convinced of keeping Rhaenys as his Hand, there was no reason to all but banish Otto from the Capital, especially citing only troubles in Oldtown that he had only spoken out about with Alicent.
With the lack of a Master of Whisperers, Viserys would not have the network to know of the riots. This meant that Alicent did not simply fail her task but actively contributed to his banishment, making it quite hard to arrange for Rhaenys's authority to become… troubled. He had planned on helping incite them in King's Landing to show the failure of having a woman as Hand, and help solve it himself, hence landing a heavy blow to both Rhaenys and Rhaenyra.
Alas, his foolish daughter had been manipulated into sending him away, her greatest ally, the man who had worked the hardest to ensure her son's birthright was not usurped. And yet, here he was, a former Hand who was little better than a Castellan to his nephew, Ormund, the Lord of the Hightower after his brother's passing.
A knock on his door brought him out of his musing, which was strange, since he had personally asked not to be disturbed after the meeting with the Faith's representative.
When the door opened, he stopped whatever retort his nephew entered. His face reminded him of Hobert, the boy's father, in his youth. The man gave him a respectful look and a wooden smile, "I see that the matter with the Faith remains unresolved, Uncle."
Otto's lips pursed at the slight, true that statement might have been, "Things have calmed down for now, but the source of the riots remains… elusive. It is akin to the Smallfolk having suddenly lost faith in the gods themselves. I cannot help but think that something… unnatural might have been its source."
Ormund's wooden smile turned into a slight grimace. "You have shared your thoughts with me before, Uncle. We cannot blame our troubles on Grumkins and Snarks, not when there is likely a true enemy of the Faith afoot, one with the influence to affect all the Seven Kingdoms."
"And what would you call the King's healing. His rotten flesh regrew, Nephew. That is not something that even the finest healers of the world are capable of. Harry Potter is not a Grumkin nor is he a Snark, but he is very real and a weapon of the Blacks that they have used to deal a grievous blow to our cause. I told you of Aemond's testimony, of the events of Harrenhal. You cannot deny that."
Ormund snorted in derision, and Otto couldn't help but grit his teeth at the dismissal. Hobert would have believed him, would have trusted him, just as he had in their youth to aid their house from the Capital. And he had done so, for the realm had a Hightower Queen with Dragonriders for children.
Unfortunately, Otto did not share the same bond with his nephew, having spent most of his years during the boy's youth in King's Landing, and when he had returned after his banishment from the Capital, the boy had gone to squire to Donald Tarly in Horn Hill.
Their interactions were minimal at best, and Otto's recent setbacks had tainted the boy's perception of him. After all, he had allowed himself to be banished from the Capital, spent an entire tourney being humiliated by the court, where he had been constantly taunted that he was being replaced by a woman, no matter his competence in governing the realm for decades.
But what was competence in the face of a man who had rendered the largest fortress in Westeros to rubble? Harry Potter was a threat that he needed to deal with promptly. He had spent the last few moons crafting a plan to do so, but he was quickly running out of time.
Larys' Shadowbinders had failed miserably, and to this day, Otto still awaits Asshai's retribution for the death of seven of their number. He had made inquiries to the Faceless Men, under a false name, of course, and had been offered the deed for a sum that was likely more than all of the Gold in Casterly Rock, tenfold, and they had refused any attempt at negotiation. He was sure that the sum was outrageously large on purpose, to avoid trying to kill him or his wife.
He would have normally tried to contact the Warlocks of Qarth, but they seemed to have been wiped out, likely by the Red Faith, whose influence was quickly growing across Essos. He had contacted the Red Faith in Volantis out of desperation but had received no replies.
Finally, Ormund broke the uncomfortable silence, "I did not come here to speak with you regarding your… theories."
Otto could almost hear the distaste the man held for him, but it was of no matter. He needed to save his family from the sorcerer, the one who was coming for them all. However, his attention was instead drawn by the unsealed letter that his nephew brought him. He froze as he recognised Viserys' personal seal, "These have been sent to every notable house in the Seven Kingdoms."
The letter was brief and to the point. In celebration of the One-Day Winter, the king invited them all to a Grand Tourney, with some very attractive prizes. He also claimed that something would be announced there, and that the attendance of each house, or perhaps their representatives, was expected.
This… This changed things.
He knew Viserys and his propensity for dramatics, and this was likely one of them. Whatever he wished to announce would be very significant.
Otto slowly set the letter down, the weight of it settling into him like a stone. "And Rhaenyra will be expected to attend," he murmured. "Daemon too. The entire realm, all gathered in one place."
Ormund raised a brow. "You speak as if this benefits us."
"It might," Otto answered sharply. "If the King wishes to stage a spectacle of this scale, it means he intends to present something unprecedented, a public declaration of some sort. Whether that is to our benefit would depend entirely on the announcement and if the King could be convinced to alter it. After all, if he were to name Aegon as his heir, then the entirety of the realm would be forced to swear their oaths then and there."
"But you do not think that this is the case," Ormund sufficed.
"I do not. The Court had been chaotic as of late, and Viserys would not have sent me away if he had planned on doing this. There is also the fact that Harry Potter will likely come as part of Rhaenyra's retinue."
His nephew slammed his fist on Otto's desk in frustration, "Fuck Harry Potter. This is an opportunity that you could use to return to the Capital and eventually regain your rightful place as Hand of the King. The fool has already legitimised much of Rhaenyra's position by choosing to replace you with a woman of all things, and yet, here you are, thinking of nought but some sorcerer in Dragonstone of all things. I am inclined to force you to stay here if this is how you wish to shame our house."
Otto gritted his teeth and simply nodded. There was no reason to argue with a fool too blind to see the danger before him, "Very well, my lord."
His nephew agreed with him, "I, unfortunately, will not be able to attend. The situation in the Citadel is… delicate, and I will need to be there to mediate."
"The Archmaesters still blame each other for the theft?" Otto guessed.
Ormund simply nodded, "I have been apprised of some of the stolen items, and I can understand their anxiety. Only Archmaesters knew of the presence of the vaults beneath Oldtown. Worry not, I will deal with the matter as the Lord of the Hightower. In the meantime, you are to return to the Capital once more, victorious, having fulfilled the King's mission, and inform me should you realise the King's coming plans."
Otto finally nodded, though he was inwardly disturbed. While he would have loved nothing more than to return to King's Landing, Harry Potter's likely presence there unsettled him deeply. He would be expected to stand in the same hall as the creature who had reduced Harrenhal to rubble with little more than an afterthought, who had mended Viserys' dying flesh as if repairing a torn sleeve, who had crippled the Faith and half the intrigues of the realm merely by existing. The idea alone was enough to sour his stomach.
Was this a trick, a scheme on the sorcerer's part to get Otto to come to him? The thought alone made his fingers curl against the arm of his chair. It was not impossible, and that made it all the more unsettling.
But he could not refuse.
His legacy, everything that he had worked for, would have been for nothing. The sorcerer could easily convince the King to renew the oaths to Rhaenyra, something that he could not afford.
"Then I will depart at first light," Otto said resolutely.
"And take Daeron with you. I will be distracted with my affairs in the Citadel in the foreseeable future, not enough to focus on his squiring. It would also be a good show of unity against the Blacks to have all of the King's sons in attendance."
Otto inclined his head in agreement. Something was brewing in the Citadel; something related to the thefts. Ormund had been very secretive on the matter, choosing to handle it personally, especially regarding the items that had been stolen. Then again, he had enough to worry about regarding his return to King's Landing than to care about the antics of Maesters of all things.
However, he had somewhat forgotten about Daeron. Between planning the inevitable battle against Potter, dealing with the Faith, and the Smallfolk riots, he had not had the time to speak with his grandson much. At a distance, the boy seemed to have been growing well, his son, Gwayne, having told him that he held some skill with a sword, but not nearly as much as Aemond.
He seemed like a polite young man, who thankfully, was not as fervently religious as his mother. It was one thing for a Queen to display her piety, but another for a prince, especially one who might very well become King should war break out against the Blacks.
It would perhaps be interesting to spend time with the boy, even if he would likely not be very helpful in Otto's bid to regain his authority once more. Though his potential as a Dragonrider was still growing, and Alicent would hopefully be too preoccupied with the boy in the Capital to do something foolish again.
Ormund thankfully seemed satisfied enough by Otto's nod of agreement, enough to take his leave. The moment the door shut, Otto allowed his shoulders to sag, just slightly.
He had no doubts that what awaited him would be a trial unlike any other, but he was a second son. He would succeed. He had climbed his way up as nothing more than a second son, to Hand of the King and father of the Queen, and he would do so again. Perhaps he would have done so if it weren't for the constant danger of Potter.
If only the blasted sorcerer had died to the Shadowbinders. If only he had not come to Dragonstone or wedged himself into the very heart of Westeros. If only he hadn't healed the King and started all of this. Otto's jaw tightened painfully at the reminder of every setback, defeat and humiliation he suffered through because of Harry Potter.
It was an affront to the order of things. An aberration. And Otto Hightower had been forced to live in the wake of his whims.
His fingers curled into a fist atop the desk. "If there is justice left in the world," he muttered under his breath, "then someone, somewhere, must see the threat for what it is… Alas, I am alone, forsaken, in a realm of blind men and fools."
"We are not quite as blind as you believe, Otto Hightower."
Otto startled, his head snapping towards the door, only to find no one. Had he finally gone mad? Had the sorcerer found a way to curse him from Dragonstone?
He turned and froze as he realised that a figure stood across from him as though she had always been there.
It was a woman with red hair, red eyes, and a red dress cut in a manner far too bold for it to be made in Oldtown. Essos would be his guess. She had simply appeared out of nowhere.
He stood at once. "Who are you, and how did you enter this chamber?"
"I am Melisandre of Asshai. The Lord of Light has learned of your plight and found kinship in your fears. You face an enemy cloaked as a man, one whose presence unravels the threads of the world. He is no mere conjurer from across the sea. He is an agent of the Great Other, a creature of cold, darkness, and ruin, set upon this realm to feast on its weakness. You were right to fear him, for the night is dark and full of terrors."
Otto's breath steadied. Fear still tightened his chest, but for the first time, he saw a path forward. And for the first time in moons, Otto smiled with renewed purpose. For he knew that he had finally found an ally against Harry Potter and his cursed magicks.
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AN: This is another semi-interlude chapter. I guess that most of you can see what I'm setting up with this. I wanted to portray Otto's fall and how he would do anything to claw his way back up, even allying himself with Melisandre in his fear of Harry. The idea was to make him sort of sound like a conspiracy theorist, blaming Harry for everything, something that everyone ignores, while he happens to be right.
As for the situation with the Red Faith, it's a bit more complex than I showed previously. The Faith itself has factions, and even then, Melisandre is something of a free agent, who is also trying to actively manipulate Otto, so take her words with a grain of salt. That said, if you remember the events of the previous chapter, you might see why certain members of the Red Faith might be angry at Harry. I'll go into more detail about it in the future. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
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If you want to support me, check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions on them, so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.