The Brightest Sun

Chapter 43

They are fine, he told himself, breathing deeply as he fought back the tide of despair. They'll be fine. They'll be safe. Elia is…Elia…

He squeezed his eyes tighter, cursing the Unspeakables once more, cursing himself for not paying attention to what he had been doing. He was in a foreign world – his wife's homeland, sure – with no wife and no children, and no idea of where he might have sent them.

Quentyn had left him, slightly worried over the panicked prisoner, but Harry had been unable to care too much. He did not know how long he waited – only that the sun had begun to go down, the air beginning to cool as the colours of the sunset filtered in through the windows.

The door to his room opened, the footsteps sauntering forward as Harry took a shuddering breath to calm himself. He was overreacting; Elia was the expert on Westeros and he was more than confident that she would see them through this. He just had to make sure he got out of this cell alive.

"Who's destroyed his face?" a drawling voice asked, and he cracked his eyes open, seeing a man stood over him. He was tall and slim, around his age with thick black hair in a widow's peak. It was the eyes though, the eyes convinced Harry he was speaking to Oberyn, and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Have you seen her?"

Surprise flashed in his eyes, and Harry saw Oberyn glance at his companions before he returned a smirk at Harry.

"Don't tell me you've run off with another soldier's woman?" he laughed. "I should have expected a Stormlander would rush off with his cock in the middle of battle. Look at the man they call king."

His guards chuckled, smirking in amusement as Oberyn moved closer, crouching so that he was level with Harry. His eyes were cataloguing the blood and bruises, attempting to make out familiar features.

"Or was it a whore? Your king is so very fond of them, I imagine you were hoping to compete" Oberyn sneered.

"You know," Harry drawled, a fit of irritated madness passing through him. "I'd have thought you outgrew being a wretch, but I guess you're still the same man who called her suitor Breakwind."

Ahh fuck, he thought, wheezing as Oberyn's hand tightened on his neck. His eyes were filled with rage as he slammed Harry back against the wall, cold steel pressed firmly below his jaw.

"Where did you hear that?" he hissed, cutting Harry with the point of his knife. "WHO TOLD YOU THAT?"

Fucking hell Potter. Way to go, he thought, blinking as his vision swam. Magical exhaustion was exhausting – even more when he was being slammed into walls by a known poisoner. Most poisons did nothing to him, but Harry had no way of telling exactly how capable he was of withstanding whatever it is Oberyn might have coated his knife with.

He felt the pressure of the knife recede, blinking as he saw frustrated anger from Oberyn, the sharp sting of a slap bringing him round as he saw double.

"What the fuck is on that knife?" he slurred, blinking furiously as he attempted to stay awake.

"Take him," Oberyn spat, gesturing sharply for his guards as Harry shook his head, hissing softly as a spot of pain bloomed in his head. "He goes to Sunspear with us."

He blinked quickly; giving in to the weight and closing his eyes as he felt a pair of hands grab him.

He was quickly becoming familiar with waking up in unknown places, but even so, this was definitely different.

He was lying across the body of a horse, a guardsman grabbing his arm to drop him roughly on the ground. Harry blinked rapidly, eyes stinging from the light of the sun.