The Wizard of Fury Chapter 31

Margaery blinked her eyes slowly, still processing everything the best way she knew how to. Reacting rashly wasn’t in her nature or what she’d been taught to do. She was a proper lady who took time to understand everything presented before her.

But even still, how could this be real?

“Magic?” Margaery repeated, staring into her beloved’s eyes.

Harry Baratheon nodded with a sympathetic understanding in his eyes. “I could hardly believe when I… when I learnt that I had such abilities. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.”

Margaery had heard tales of skinchangers and greenseers and even warlocks in her time, but they were all stories told to children. Any man or woman she’d met claiming to be one of them had been a charlatan. While there were reports of such things in distant lands, it was hard for her to put much worth into such words.

And then there were the odder sorts. Shadowbinders from Asshai, sorcerers from Yi Ti, and maegi from Essos all seemed unbelievably strange and unconvincing in their grandiose tales. Yet, there had to be some slight truth to them.

Anyone who’d ever met Margaery would claim her to be a devoted follower of the Seven. Her grandmother had always scorned the priests and septas and institutions that upheld the Seven, but even she was a true believer of the Gods. Magic had no established place within the Faith of the Seven; none of the Gods represented magic in a way that was even remotely similar to the magics that were said to be upheld by the Old Gods in the North. However, that didn’t mean that magic wasn’t real; it merely meant that it didn’t come from her Gods, or, if it did, it wasn’t understood by people as of yet.

Whatever Harry was—a wizard, he claimed to be—it was utterly unique in all of the tales she’d ever heard.

Perhaps if she’d been in the right frame of mind to hear of such things, Margaery would’ve been more receptive to hearing what Harry had to say. But then he’d walked in with Arianne Martell of all people—a woman who, if court rumours were to be believed, was here searching for a husband.

At first, Margaery feared that Harry had slept with Arianne and that she was now with his child. But once he’d explained the true circumstances more, she’d become utterly baffled. The Tyrells and Martells had been at odds for centuries given the fact that they shared borders, and never once had she heard of a Martell being skilled with magic other than the songs that claimed that Princess Nymeria had been a witch queen who allowed the flow of clean waters to return to Dorne to rejuvenate the deserts. The fact that Arianne appeared to be blessed with the same magic as was claimed her ancestor had would beggar belief from anyone, but it was the fact that Harry was the one claiming it that made Margaery rethink her opinion.

The confusion that Arianne plainly showed on her face as well helped to alleviate Margaery’s worries. She didn’t seem to doubt the recounting of the situation she and Harry had been apart of only hours ago, but she did seem genuinely lost at all of this talk about magic and what it meant for them. If she was confused, then that meant that she had no part in creating this fictitious-sounding tale.

But for as fictitious as it seemed, Margaery knew that there was a simple solution to this.

“If you truly believe that you have some magical powers, then show me,” Margaery insisted, looking Harry seriously in the eyes.

In the privacy of Harry’s chambers, there was none who would see them if he truly did have the powers he claimed to. Curtains were drawn over the window to prevent anyone from the castle or the yard below from looking up at them. The door was shut too, and candles illuminated the small room.

Harry smiled with an acceptance that seemed as though he’d expected such a request. “I can show you a few things,” he promised her. “First, would you please lock the door to my chambers.”

Keeping her eyes on him and Arianne, Margaery stood up from her seat and barred the door as Harry instructed. As she returned back to her spot, Harry stood up and raised his hands before him.

In a strange intonation, he spoke aloud. “Alohomora.”

His hands had a strange movement through the air, but Margaery only noticed that for a second before she witnessed the long bar of iron suddenly raise upwards, unbarring the door.

Instantly, Margaery’s mind ran wild with the possibilities. There had to be some trick to this. Perhaps there was a hidden string or something that allowed someone else to raise the bar, or there could be an odd mechanism that she didn’t know of that caused the iron bar to act that way. Even as outlandish as those thoughts were, they seemed less outrageous than the idea that Harry truly possessed magical powers.

“Here’s another talent of mine,” Harry said as he picked up a small wooden twig from his bedside table.

He handed it over to Margaery. It was small, thin, and brittle. With just the slightest pressure, she broke off a tiny piece at the tip of the twig.

“Hold it in your open palm,” he instructed her.

So, she did. With her hand open, she stared up at Harry as he readied himself once more. This time, he spoke no words, but his hands moved oddly, and then Margaery felt something cool upon her hand.

Glancing down, she was taken aback at the sheer purity of the metal in her hand.

“A needle?” She spoke aloud, trying to stop her mouth from hanging agape. There’d been a twig there only seconds ago, and now there was this…

“Exactly,” Harry grinned at her. “Isn’t it fine?”

It was indeed. The metal was purer than almost any that she’d ever seen before. There were no blemishes or unintentional marks in the metal, but there was an exceptionally fine inlay of twisting vines that led to the sharpest tip that Margaery had ever felt. She pressed the pad of her thumb down onto it, and she was rewarded with a drop of ruby-coloured blood.

“This… this…” Margaery trailed off, shaking her head.

“I’d try for something more impressive,” Harry told her, “but I don’t have a wand yet.”

“A wand?” Margaery repeated. She was beginning to feel stupid talking with Harry like this. He seemed to hold a wealth of untapped knowledge on this subject, and here she was groping at it like a drunken man at a brothel.

“You’ve seen these blocks of wood,” Harry told her as he reached inside of the chest at the foot of his bed. He removed several blocks of wood along with that phoenix feather of his, his one priceless possession, and held them out before her. “The feather acts as the core for the wand, and the wood surrounds it. I haven’t found the right wood yet… but soon I will.”

“And then you’ll be able to do even greater magic?” Arianne suddenly spoke up. “Like the water that I…”

“Yes,” Harry said, sounding full of excitement. “I’ll be able to do so many things. I just need to find the right wood to make it work.”

“But what will that mean for us?” Margaery suddenly blurted out. As both Harry and Arianne stared down at her, she felt some embarrassment colour her features. This wasn’t the type of topic to discuss before guests, but Harry had already explained so much to Arianne that it felt impossible to ignore her role in all of this. “If anyone sees you as a wizard, then they may revile you. It’ll become difficult to rule as the lord of Dragonstone if they see you like this.”

“The smallfolk will come to understand,” Harry replied, though he sounded as though he doubted his words.

“Forget the smallfolk for a moment,” Margaery told him sincerely. “Many of your bannermen may reject you for who you are. And if they leave for another liege lord, more problems may arise. You may look weak. Your… our family’s power will be diminished.”

“Not if he shows them the value of his magic,” Arianne interrupted. As she sat up, Margaery couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy at her sun-kissed skin and impressive figure. Many men would easily fall under her charms; it was only her hope that Harry didn’t fall for her. “If he can convince them that his powers could benefit them, then they’d flock to his side. Can you do anything like that?”

Harry paused for a moment and truly thought about her question. “I suppose so,” he eventually said. “I can make the heavens rain when I wish—”

“That’ll be enough to find support among the smallfolk,” Arianne said quickly.

Margaery silently fumed at Arianne. That should’ve been her saying that, not this other woman. Margaery would one day manage the castle of Dragonstone and aid Harry in maintaining proper relations with the other lords and ladies and smallfolk within his domain. It was up to her to detect such advances and to make the most of them. The fact that this woman felt keen on interjecting herself annoyed Margaery severely.

“But the lords and ladies won’t be so keen yet,” Margaery added, glaring warningly at Arianne. “Crops are not enough to sustain their coffers. They will want for more: silver, trade, gold. Can your magic provide anything for that?”

“Well, I suppose I could learn to apparate. I mean teleport,” Harry quickly corrected himself. “I could appear in a distant location in but a moment, but only if I have a clear image of the location within my mind. And the alchemy that some of my predecessors have done has allowed the transmutation of lesser metals into silver, though gold still remains an elusive task.”

“Silver will be good enough,” Margaery spoke before Arianne had the chance to.

“Then that’s settled,” Harry said. “I don’t intend to parade my powers boldly. There’s a good reason that I’ve kept them secret all these years. People in this land don’t have the same tolerance levels that others do.”

People in this land? It sounded to Margaery like Harry was speaking like someone from another land. But that couldn’t be the case; he was born in Westeros right inside of Storm’s End.

“What does this mean for me?” Arianne finally spoke up again. She was looking at Harry like a lost soul searching for a greater purpose. “I don’t know how to do… whatever it was exactly that I did in the woods today.”

“I can help teach you to control your powers,” Harry replied.

No! Margaery wanted to cry out in protest, but she held herself back. It was bad enough that Arianne Martell was already involved in their personal affairs and the matter of Harry’s magical ability. She didn’t want her to witness any strife between her and Harry.

“But how will you do that, my love?” Margaery asked as pleasantly as she could muster. “After the tourney is done, we’re likely bound for Dragonstone for our wedding, if it’s not done in the capital before then. And Princess Arianne will be returning back to Dorne.”

“I know, I know,” Harry said as he began to pace back and forth. “Correspondences will only help so much. It’s imperative that Arianne learns to control her powers.”

Margaery wanted to question him again, but again she held back because Arianne was here. Going forward, her and Harry’s relationship was going to be far different than before as they’d soon be wed. She had to support him in all things, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t try to guide his course of action in private.

“You have both been through much today,” Margaery said suddenly. “Now is not the time for us to be planning out our future. Take time to rest and recover. I’m certain that Prince Doran would be quite pleased to have his daughter returned to him. Word must have already spread that she’d returned to the Red Keep.”

At least at that Harry finally seemed to remember the oddity of this situation. In any other case, a highborn lady caught up in a fight would’ve been brought back directly to her family. To have her in the private chambers of the man who rescued her was scandalous to say the least. Had Margaery not also been present, it would have looked far worse.

“You’re right, my lady,” Harry nodded in agreement. Arianne was still sitting in a chair near the side of his bed looking completely overwhelmed. Whatever sharp tongue and clever wit she was said to have was failing her today, and she made no protest when Harry offered her his arm so that she might stand up easier. “We should return you to your lord father.”

Margaery opened the door out of Harry’s chambers and watched as he guided Arianne out. He murmured something to her that Margaery couldn’t quite make out, and another burst of jealousy struck her.

They crossed the yards and climbed the steps up towards the throne room. Both places were rife with activity as gallant knights returned from routing the bandits. Highborn lords and ladies crowded around, keen on picking up any bit of gossip they could. Margaery kept her eyes peeled for Garlan or Loras, but she figured that they must still be out by the tourney grounds performing a sweep of the woods if any of the murmurings around her were to be believed.

Prince Doran was in his wheeled chair near the front of the throne room with his wife, Lady Mellario, and his son, Trystane, at his side. She recognised the sigils of Houses Dalt, Qorgyle, and Manwoody embroidered on the robes of several lords surrounding them. Prince Doran looked old and tired, more so than Margaery had expected even hearing of his troubles with gout, but his eyes lit up with true joy when he saw Princess Arianne walking in between herself and Harry.

“Father,” Arianne said by way of greeting.

The tone in which she spoke suggested that she wasn’t as close to Prince Doran as Margaery had assumed. She tucked that information away for later as she continued to listen.

Before Prince Doran could speak, Lady Mellario came rushing around to wrap up her daughter in a warm hug. “You never should’ve been out there,” Mellario chastised Arianne. She spoke with an accent from one of the Free Cities in Essos.

“I fear that my brother may have influenced the situation,” Prince Doran spoke. He was slow and cautious with his words, and his warm smile reflected a fondness for his brother and a hint of annoyance at him too.

“I did as I wished,” Arianne replied defiantly. Her eyes flickered over towards Harry and Margaery for a moment before she let out a low sigh. “The matter has been dealt with. I am fine.”

“Let us be thankful for that,” Mellario replied. “You could’ve been seriously hurt or worse.”

Prince Doran looked past his wife and daughter to Harry. “I heard that I have you to thank for the safety of Princess Arianne.”

“In truth, she played just as important a role in the safety of me,” Harry replied politely. “She was quite brave in the face of danger.”

“Was she now?” Prince Doran mused. It didn’t sound like he doubted Harry’s words, more that he was surprised by them. “In any case, I am still grateful for what you have done for my family. If there’s anything that you would ask of us…”

“I could not in good conscience do such a thing without offering such a boon in reply,” Harry said earnestly. “With all due respect, I must decline.”

That was certainly a bold move, Margaery noted. Some lords would take offence to such an offer being rejected, but if Harry’s claim that Arianne had saved him too was accepted by Prince Doran, then he might not take it the way that others would.

Margaery watched Prince Doran closely, but to her surprise, his face betrayed few of his emotions or thoughts. For such an obviously ill man, he showed a remarkable amount of restraint and self control to be able to mask himself like this. She wondered how many others even recognised that—were it not for her grandmother’s teachings, Margaery feared that she’d be just as innocent and foolish as so many other highborn ladies often were.

Eventually, Prince Doran offered a slight dip of his chin in acceptance. “You must at least do us the honour of dining with us one night. Lady Margaery here would be most welcome as well, and your lord father too.”

Now this would be an offer that was outright rude to reject. Harry quickly agreed, and the future meal was planned.

After a few short kind words, Harry and Margaery retreated, leaving House Martell to maintain its own affairs. But as they walked back towards Harry’s chambers, Margaery couldn’t help but think over her history with Harry.

From the very first moment that she’d met him, she’d felt something was odd about him. She’d almost been transfixed by the mere sight of him when his father’s ship came to the Arbor all those years ago. And then their moment on the balcony together had ended with the oddest sensation coursing through her body when she’d touched Harry.

Was that an effect of his magic?

And more importantly, if he wasn’t the only person to have access to such powers, she wondered how they could be acquired. Margaery would never allow anyone to be closer to her husband than she was, and if he could somehow teach her the ways of magic, then she may have less to worry about Arianne than she feared.