Father did not rise to the bait. "He would have been terrified of me regardless. You three are my children; you have been conditioned since childhood to view me as a father. You have never truly grasped how unnatural I appear to a mortal who shares no bonds with me. The citizens of the Imperium have had over fifty years to grow accustomed to my presence. The state-mandated education and the Imperial sermons have deliberately conditioned them to view me as a force for absolute good—their protector, their saviour. That was entirely by design, ensuring they never succumb to the false narratives of rival faiths that would brand me a sorcerer, a heretic, an anathema or a blasphemer. That belief shapes perception which in turn shapes power. Daemon was raised on the reverse side of that coin. He knew nothing of me beyond the dismissive, fearful drivel the Citadel's Maesters taught him. Upon meeting me, he was violently forced to reckon with the reality that there are beings in this world who entirely shatter the standard by which he measures reality. That kind of brush with truth leaves scars. scars that take years to heal, and even then, the mark forever remains."
"Is there truly no path where I can find lasting joy?" Lily asked, sounding utterly destitute.
Father closed the distance between them, gently raising his hand to tilt her chin upward. "My sweet Liliana, your joy does not stem from the mere presence of one person. It is something far greater and much deeper, forged entirely from within yourself. I am not forbidding you from pursuing what you have kindled with the Valyrian. History is full of mortals who have defied the darkest circumstances to forge entirely unexpected destinies. I merely wish to warn you that the path you are choosing is incredibly treacherous, and you must be thoroughly prepared for the heartache it will undoubtedly bring."
We stood in heavy silence as Father and Lily shared the tender moment. Octavian watched them with a deeply serious glint in his eyes, while my heart simply broke for my sister. She had fallen deeply in love with a man whose very existence guaranteed a tumultuous life. That relationship alone would be an exhausting struggle, fought simultaneously while the crushing responsibilities of the Empire waged their own separate war upon her shoulders.
After a long moment, Lily looked back at Father, her green eyes hardening with sudden resolve. "I wish to see it through. Even if the ultimate outcome is not what I desire... I still wish to walk down this path."
Father smiled, a genuine expression of paternal warmth. "You certainly have my blood. Such monumental stubbornness could not have come from anywhere else. I have no qualms about your decision, and I truly hope you find the peace you seek, Liliana."
"Thank you, Father," Lily whispered, diving forward to bury her face in his chest.
After they separated, Father looked towards me. "Now, let us be off."
After saying so, he walked toward me, and as soon as he reached me, he placed his palm firmly upon my shoulder. Space violently distorted.
CRACK.
...
CRACK.
We Apparated into a vast, sprawling meadow, the wild grass growing as tall as my waist. The air was entirely devoid of the rich perfumes, burning incense, and heavy waxes one could always smell in the palace. Instead, it tasted of raw earth and crisp wind. The sun hung exactly at its zenith, but the unusually long winters dictated that it only cast a mild, warming glow upon us. Despite the season, it felt as though spring had already blossomed within these plains.
I took a deep breath, brushing a thick stalk of grass from my stola. "Where exactly have we landed, Father?"
"We are at the southwestern border of the Imperium," Father answered, his emerald eyes scanning the endless horizon. "This was the farthest I could safely take us through the ether. From here on, we will be walking until we find a village or can purchase a horse."
He turned to me, his expression turning serious. "Keep your use of magic strictly limited to ordinary spells, Hermione. We must avoid drawing the attention of any lingering local gods. Once we cross the border into the ancestral Rhoynar lands, we will have far more leeway in our use of the higher mysteries. Until then, let us simply enjoy this brief tryst with adventure and exploration."
He finished the stark warning with a boyish, entirely genuine grin, looking more like an eager scholar than the immortal Emperor of Rome.
We then proceeded to walk.
The journey was immensely taxing. Unlike Lily, who had spent years hardening her body within the Legions, I was a creature of the library. Pushing through waist-high grass and navigating the uneven, untamed terrain demanded a physical toll my body was wholly unaccustomed to. The days bled into one another as we trekked across the endless expanse. We camped beneath the open, glittering canopy of the stars, relying on simple camp fire and the absolute minimum of warming charms to survive the chilling nights.
Finally, by the evening of our third day of marching, the faint, hazy silhouettes of wooden palisades and rising hearth smoke appeared on the horizon.
It was a modestly fortified village settlement clinging to the edge of the frontier. The people were weary and deeply cautious of strangers, but Father's heavy purse of Imperial coins quickly smoothed over their initial hostilities.
To my great surprise, the impoverished village possessed a remarkably large and healthy stable of horses. When I inquired about the anomaly, the village elder nervously explained that they deliberately bred the finest mounts possible solely to gift them to the wandering Dothraki khalasars. It was a desperate, calculated tribute paid to avoid being entirely raided, slaughtered, and dragged to the slave markets of Vaes Dothrak.
Father purchased two sturdy, well-fed geldings without haggling, securing riding leathers and fresh provisions for the road ahead.
By the following dawn, we were travelling westward on horseback, leaving the safety of the Imperial border far behind us.
Despite the change in our mode of transport, Father did not allow my education to stagnate. The open road simply became our classroom. As our horses maintained a steady trot across the rolling plains, he seamlessly resumed my apprenticeship, pivoting our discussions to highly complex magical theories.
He lectured on the volatile nature of ambient mana in the world, explaining how deeply ancient, blood-soaked battlefields could permanently warp the magical leylines running across them. He taught me the theoretical differences between the refined, structured array magic we utilized in Ctesiphon and the wild incantations and blood rituals favoured by the shadowbinders of Asshai.
I absorbed every single syllable. I questioned his hypotheses, furiously debated the runic arithmetic of spatial displacement, and entirely lost myself in the intoxicating depths of the higher mysteries. It brilliantly distracted me from the agonizing soreness in my hips from the saddle, making the vast, empty world around us feel significantly less daunting so long as he rode beside me.