The Crow Lord - A Guiding Hand busted. (Patreon)

Aelora Targaryen, The Red Keep – King's Landing.

"I… I didn't know Lord Potter had a fleet," her beloved mother, Princess Alys Arryn, declared as they sat together in one of the Red Keep's beautiful gardens, enjoying a magnificent view of Blackwater Bay, where an entire fleet of at least twenty ships had appeared on the horizon, all of them beautiful, all of them imposing.

And all of them bearing black sails and that golden dragon-raven that now dominated the skies above King's Landing.

"How did the people react to the presence of Lord Harrys's… pet?" her beloved mother asked curiously, watching as columns of Potter soldiers and servants marched toward the fortress in perfect synchronization, undoubtedly carrying everything Lady Lily might require in her future new home.

"At first, they were terrified, undoubtedly mistaking Fulgarion for a dragon and believing he would bathe King's Landing in flames. At least until they realized the beast eats fish and potatoes, enjoys having his scales brushed, and is terrifyingly intelligent, capable of apprehending criminals without damaging anything in the city. Everyone in King's Landing has welcomed him with open arms," Aelora declared distractedly.

Unlike the stories they had about dragons, which had always been feared by the people of King's Landing, the princess thought absently, watching a particularly large wagon that appeared to be transporting an enormous table covered with… glass objects unfamiliar to Aelora, although everything looked extraordinarily expensive.

All bearing the colors of House Potter.

Or was it Peverell now? The princess wondered distractedly, anxiously playing with her hands. She still hadn't managed to speak with Harrys.

"Harrys certainly hasn't spared any expense, from the looks of it. What do you think all those things are? I've never seen anything like them before," her mother asked curiously, focusing upon a terrifying plant unlike anything they had ever encountered.

It was… something resembling a medium-sized shrub growing inside an enormous pot, accompanied by several other strange plants that, to Aelora's continuing disbelief, moved entirely on their own.

Magical plants, without a doubt. Yet more undeniable evidence of everything her beloved Harrys had been hiding from her, she thought bitterly, feeling that strange and complicated sensation stirring within her.

She still hadn't managed to have that uncomfortable but necessary conversation with Harrys, but she knew perfectly well that she would have it before the Lord departed King's Landing following her mother's wedding.

"The Lords will begin arriving soon for the wedding. Queen Myriah is planning a magnificent ceremony. I don't know how the Stormlords will take it," her mother declared with a sigh, causing Aelora to roll her eyes in exasperation.

"How else could they take it? Aunt Jena died a couple of years ago. It's only natural that the Crown Prince would marry another Lady. A king must have a Queen," Aelora declared matter-of-factly before lifting her teacup and taking another sip.

Her beloved mother sighed heavily, shook her head, and continued.

"I've also been thinking that we should announce your betrothal to Aelor soon. I…"

Her mother's words caused Aelora to frown and regard her with obvious irritation.

"Are you still determined to do that? I love my brother, Mother, but I have no desire to feel his touch upon my skin or have him in my bed. I…"

She attempted to continue with her usual passion.

But this time, her own mother interrupted her.

"Yes, my daughter. You love Harrys. You always have, and you always will. But that simply isn't possible," her mother declared in an understanding yet firm tone.

Aelora regarded her with determination and intervened without hesitation.

"You've seen how close he is to Grandfather. Harrys and he don't spend a single day without shutting themselves away in his private office for hours, doing Gods know what," the princess declared determinedly, causing her mother to shake her head with a sigh.

"Although you're right about that, Harrys is already betrothed. He will marry young Lady Ashford," her mother explained gently, attempting to make the young princess understand the… complicated and tangled situation in which they found themselves.

Aelora frowned and answered coldly.

"She's a minor Lady from distant lands, accustomed to mud and fields. What could she possibly know about managing an estate as respected and important as the Potter fortune? I'm certain that before Harrys arrived, she'd never even left Ashford," the princess declared with considerable indignation, as though she had taken Harrys's betrothal to that… insipid Gwyn as a personal insult.

An insipid Lady who, according to Lady Shiera herself, shared Harrys's bed every night, while he took liberties with the young woman as though she were already his wife. Something that would ordinarily have caused a scandal, but considering the immense power Harrys possessed, not merely economic but now political as well… any Lord would turn a blind eye.

Aelora couldn't help snorting. That fat Lord Ashford would undoubtedly offer Harrys more daughters to warm his bed if he had any, considering the meteoric rise of his House thanks to House Potter's patronage.

The last Gwyn had heard was that the family's heir would marry a Hightower maiden in exchange for certain trade concessions in Oldtown, something that would have been unthinkable only a couple of years earlier.

"She may be a minor Lady, but the betrothal remains in effect, and I can't imagine your grandfather being able to annul it easily," her mother confessed with a sigh.

Aelora didn't answer, lost in her thoughts and schemes about how she might approach Harrys, who now seemed as unreachable as her own grandfather, the King.

The princess was so lost in thought that she barely noticed her brother's arrival. His footsteps were soft and cautious, something that had become increasingly common lately, ever since he had begun spending more time with Ser Brynden.

"Beloved Mother, beloved Sister," Aelor declared as he entered the balcony with the gentleness and elegance characteristic of a prince of the Realm.

"My son, how is your eye?" their mother asked worriedly, examining Aelor's face.

Aelora couldn't help giggling at what she saw. Half her brother's face was purple, his eye swollen shut as a result of the stupidity he had attempted the previous day.

Riding one of the Potter hippogriffs.

Aelora had witnessed it, and merely remembering the incident filled her with amusement. Her brother had approached the beautiful, proud beasts with arrogance, intending to treat one as though it were an ordinary horse.

A notion that Harrys's hippogriff, Arion, had immediately corrected by delivering a powerful kick with his hind legs directly into Aelor's face, leaving her brother completely unconscious and with a reminder that would accompany him for several days.

Lady Lily had offered to heal the injury immediately, but Grandfather had forbidden it, declaring that if Aelor had been stupid enough to ignore Harrys's instructions, then he deserved to endure the recovery as punishment.

"I'm fine, Mother. It… doesn't hurt too much anymore. Lady Lily gave me a potion for the pain," he declared softly, leaning over the balcony and sighing as he watched the caravan of carriages approaching the castle.

Before focusing upon the immense fortress Harrys had raised upon Rhaenys's Hill when he arrived a week earlier, where the Dragonpit had once stood, one of the symbols of House Targaryen's power.

Now an impossible vision rose in its place, a Heavenly Pillar constructed from the remnants of the Dragon House's legacy, so tall that during the mornings, its summit disappeared among the clouds. Harrys's soldiers had established themselves within the immense structure, while the sight of Fulgarion, the Lord of Storms, as the servants and commoners had begun calling him, dominated the skies from his nest atop the Tower.

"I thought your grandfather had forbidden anyone from treating you," their mother asked curiously, causing Aelora to lean forward as well, eager to hear the answer.

Aelor nodded gently.

"Yes, but Lady Lily simply didn't care. She arrived at my chambers carrying a red, bubbling liquid and ordered me to drink it. I concluded it would be wiser… not to argue with her," Aelor declared with an uncomfortable grimace.

The princess merely snorted and answered.

"In other words, you were too terrified to say no," Aelora declared with amusement, and her brother's silence said everything.

Aelor was preparing what Aelora knew would be either a sarcastic or stupid response when Fulgarion's powerful roar shook the entire fortress.

"CAAAAAAW!"

The thunderous cry was followed by a current of wind so powerful that Aelora watched several sentries upon the walls desperately cling to the battlements and the ground to avoid being blown away. A second later, Fulgarion's elegant, elongated silhouette appeared in the skies above King's Landing as usual, dazzling everyone with his magnificence as he soared upward before descending toward the Heavenly Pillar, directly toward his nest.

Behind Fulgarion, Princess Delia Martell's cries of delight echoed throughout the castle as she rode Arion, Harrys's personal hippogriff. Her laughter reflected freedom, a freedom Aelora felt she would never truly understand.

The weight of duty toward her family crushed her every morning, the things expected of her…

There was no room for dreams or freedom. She was a princess of the Realm, with everything that entailed, both good and bad.

And Aelora, being the dutiful daughter she was, would fulfill her obligations, even at the cost of her own happiness. But that didn't mean she wouldn't fight, that she wouldn't struggle one last time to obtain what she truly desired, the only thing she had ever genuinely wanted in her entire life.

The love of Harrys Potter.

She would speak with him… with her Harrys. Lord Potter possessed more gold than he could ever spend, power, Fulgarion, and now magic. Without a doubt, he was the most powerful man on the continent, far surpassing even her own grandfather, King Daeron II.

Aelora wasn't Daella, and although the princess loved her Dornish cousin, the truth was that Daella had always been too wild, too… Dornish to be a proper Lady worthy of taking Harrys's arm.

Aelora had spent her entire life practicing to be perfect. The perfect wife, the perfect mother, and the perfect lover.

And all with one person in mind.

Her Harrys.

When the… incident had happened a couple of years earlier, her grandfather's words, the outcome between Valarr and Harrys… she had believed that cruel fate had stolen everything from her, that the Gods had condemned her to live without her one true love.

But now…

Now she had another opportunity. Harrys was here, with more power and influence than ever before, possessing a status worthy of a princess of the Realm such as herself.

And Aelora would achieve her goal, one way or another.

After all, she was a Targaryen.

King Daeron Targaryen, The King's Office – King's Landing.

"Are you certain about this, Father?" his beloved Baelor asked, regarding the door solemnly as the King and his princes awaited their guests.

Beside him stood the rest of his beloved sons. Maekar watched the door solemnly, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed. Aerys absentmindedly stroked his beard while voraciously reading one of the mathematics books Harrys had lent them, while Rhaegel, as usual, appeared distracted and absentminded.

Daeron hadn't discussed the matter with Harrys, but he hoped the young man might be able to… examine his beloved son's mind. Sometimes Rhaegel was perfectly fine, and then, out of nowhere…

He would descend into madness without any explanation whatsoever.

"I am, my son. I witnessed Shiera's memory at Potter Manor with Harrys, and unlike us, he possesses an effective means of obtaining reliable information," the King replied, leaning over his desk as he waited patiently.

Meanwhile, Rhaegel peered over Aerys's shoulder, curiosity evident upon his face, although Daeron doubted he genuinely understood what his older brother was reading.

"What are you reading, Aerys? I thought you'd be more… euphoric about all this magic," Rhaegel asked curiously, and as always, Aerys answered in a patient, controlled voice.

A virtue Daeron admired in his son. Nothing could make Aerys lose his composure, absolutely nothing. It was almost as though…

"Shit," Daeron whispered to himself while Aerys answered as usual, politely and with a disinterested tone.

Now that his vision was clear, he could plainly see that something was wrong with his family. It was as though, for the first time in a very long while, he could finally see the strings of whatever was lurking behind everything.

"It's a very advanced mathematics book. I'm certain many maesters would struggle to understand it, and according to Lady Lily, this is basic education in Britannia. Harrys mastered it when he was fifteen. It's absolutely impressive," his son declared in his mechanical voice, while Rhaegel merely stared at him, scratching his head.

"Where's Harrys?" Maekar asked as he looked through the window, his attention completely focused upon the now-famous Heavenly Pillar of King's Landing. Undoubtedly, he was observing the sea of people, commoners and nobles alike, who spent hours at the foot of the tower gazing toward the sky, vaguely hoping to catch a glimpse of Fulgarion.

They saw a beautiful winged beast commanding the skies, but Daeron… Daeron wasn't stupid. He knew perfectly well that Fulgarion represented even greater power and influence for Harrys in Westeros.

That was a headache he didn't even want to contemplate. Not yet, not with the matter of Malleon so close and imminent.

He needed to remain focused upon the present, upon the immediate threats facing his family, not upon what Harrys might become in the future.

Besides, considering how matters were progressing, it was quite likely that Harrys would end up with not one, but two Targaryen maidens in his household.

But all of that could wait.

The true test for Daeron was only beginning. Controlling his fury, restraining the Dragon enough to avoid ordering Maekar to smash the disgusting maester's skull with his own hands.

"Harrys is conducting Kiera's weekly examination. Valarr and he will arrive once everything is in order. My son wants to look the man responsible for his wife's suffering in the eyes," Baelor replied, causing Maekar to nod gently.

But before he could say anything further, someone knocked upon the door.

The guest Daeron had been expecting.

"Enter," he declared calmly, while his four sons immediately took their positions.

Baelor and Maekar positioned themselves like imposing towers on either side, their considerable heights more than intimidating enough for anyone, while Aerys and Rhaegel remained on the sidelines, although still close to their father's desk in case they were needed.

The door opened slowly, revealing Grand Maester Malleon, looking as innocent and submissive as he had always pretended to be. If Daeron hadn't witnessed Shiera's memory and heard his sister's oath… he would never have believed that this man was responsible for Kiera's miscarriages.

Daeron inhaled sharply. He had to follow the plan. He possessed the magical liquid Harrys had given him, and Baelor had already moved to prepare everyone's goblets, making certain to pour the wine in front of the maester so he wouldn't suspect anything.

Unaware that the drops were already in his goblet.

"Malleon, I'm glad you came. We've requested your presence because we would appreciate your wise opinion on certain matters concerning Lord Harrys," the King declared, leaning forward.

Setting the bait for the arrogant man.

The fact that the King and princes of the Realm were requesting his assistance was something the man couldn't possibly refuse. And indeed, Daeron immediately noticed the way he straightened his back, the glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes, as though he took pleasure in House Targaryen requesting his help, some kind of personal gratification.

"Of course, Your Grace. I'll assist you with anything you require," he declared with a smile that, although submissive, also carried a certain arrogance.

Daeron merely shook his head. He truly had been blind not to notice… this before. But the King dismissed the thought. He would deal with one demon at a time.

There would be time enough to open the can of worms that would be the journey beyond the Wall, he thought as Baelor poured the goblets of wine and began speaking, distracting the maester.

"Harrys spoke with me a couple of days ago. His men are already constructing a fortress at Sharp Point, near Dragonstone. Apparently, he intends to build not one, but two ports, using the Narrow Sea for commerce and Blackwater Bay as a military harbor. The fortress will be constructed directly between both ports, and we'd like your opinion on the trade routes Harrys has planned. He intends to complete the castle and both harbors within six months," Baelor declared, handing the maester a parchment.

The man raised both eyebrows at his son's words, as though his mind couldn't comprehend how Harrys intended to accomplish such a feat. And to be truthful, if Daeron didn't know what Harrys's magic was capable of, he would have been just as skeptical as the old man.

"I understand, Your Grace. Allow me to examine it," he declared softly, beginning to read the parchment with interest while taking small but frequent sips from his goblet of wine beneath Daeron's icy gaze.

After several minutes, they began discussing matters in greater depth: logistics, taxes, and the kinds of considerations one would expect from a project of such enormous importance. Their meeting was interrupted by another knock at the door, announcing the arrival of Valarr and Harrys.

"Enter," Daeron declared, while Baelor and Malleon continued discussing Harrys's trade route.

"It's brilliant, extraordinarily so. A bidirectional trade route between the North, the Vale, the Riverlands, and the Crownlands. A constant flow of commerce and therefore gold. The tax rates are fair, and everyone benefits. Who designed this?" Malleon asked with obvious intrigue in his voice, just as Valarr and Harrys entered the office.

"I did. What do you think of it?" the Lord asked curiously, causing Malleon, much to Daeron's interest, to respond in a rather… peculiar manner.

"It's an excellent plan, a perfect economic projection. The fact that it came from the mind of a filthy foreigner practicing magician like you is an insult to the glorious Order," the maester declared naturally, only for his eyes to widen in utter astonishment at what he had just said.

"About fucking time," Maekar whispered, approaching the table and regarding the maester with ravenous fury.

Valarr stepped forward and spoke with complete composure.

"Who caused my wife's miscarriages, and why?" he asked without hesitation, demanding answers. And to Daeron's satisfaction, the old man was incapable of refusing to respond.

"I did, by decree of the Order. We were required to erase Baelor Targaryen's bloodline," he declared, his eyes widening in terror and disbelief before he shook his head and attempted to stand, only for Baelor's firm hand to force him back into his chair.

"What other crimes against the House of the Dragon have you committed?" his son Baelor demanded, his eyes radiating monstrous hatred, and Daeron watched with satisfaction as the pathetic man answered.

"The murder of Dyanna Dayne, the extermination of the dragons after the Dance, and… and…" the old man declared, making an almost inhuman effort to avoid answering the final part.

At least until Harrys asked directly, undoubtedly employing some magical trick to accomplish it.

"And what else?" he demanded firmly.

"And the Blackfyre Rebellion… we couldn't… no… no… AHHHHG!" the old man screamed, clutching his head between his hands, causing Daeron to rise from his chair and lean toward Malleon with icy eyes.

"What couldn't you allow?" the monarch demanded in a voice promising pain and suffering for the old man, although he was hardly in any position to concern himself with that.

The old man was… hyperventilating, his hand pressed against his chest and his eyes bulging, as though he couldn't believe what he had just confessed.

The monarch watched with satisfaction as the Grand Maester made a titanic effort to keep his mouth shut. But to Daeron's pleasure, after several seconds, he answered.

"We couldn't allow Daemon Blackfyre to reveal the existence of our Order," he declared in utter agony. Malleon's body was convulsing when Maekar asked the final question, his mace ready to deliver the killing blow.

"What Order?" his youngest son demanded, his voice filled with hatred and venom that was impossible to conceal.

And a few moments later, the old man spoke.

"The Order of the Guiding Hand. The… the Order that guides Westeros toward Enlightenment," the old man declared in terror, his eyes wide and blood pouring freely from his nose.

Daeron regarded Harrys with determination, confirming Shiera's testimony. The two nodded to one another before Daeron turned toward Maekar and, with a slight nod, gave the order.

His son didn't hesitate. The Targaryen prince swung the lethal instrument with precision, striking Maester Malleon's skull and ending his life instantly.

The body collapsed onto the floor of his office like a sack of potatoes, while Daeron and his family regarded it impassively, watching with satisfaction as the corpse shuddered with uncontrollable spasms until it simply stopped moving, completely inert, the last reflexes fading from the dead flesh.

Daeron felt immense satisfaction at the sight of one of the architects of his family's misfortune. This… this wasn't justice.

It was vengeance.

And it felt extraordinarily satisfying.

Immediately afterward, Daeron raised his gaze, regarding the men gathered around him, some of the most important men in the Realm, preparing himself for a lengthy conversation.

Daeron sighed before focusing his weary eyes upon Harrys, who returned his gaze impassively, before speaking softly.

"It would appear that Shiera's testimony was entirely true," the King declared, causing Harrys to nod solemnly, his attention fixed completely upon Malleon's corpse before raising his gaze toward the King.

"So it seems. Which leaves us with more questions than answers. What the fuck is this Order of the Guiding Hand?" Harrys asked solemnly before looking around at everyone present.

Daeron didn't answer.

That was the real question.

The King was certain their troubles had only just begun.

They had much to plan.