Chapter 1

“Speech”

‘Thoughts’

S-Parseltongue/Dragon Tongue-S

Valyrian

A big thing I hate is more than 1 person crossing over, this will only be HARRY.

I Have No Beta. Reach out if you would like to be mine, PLEASE. :)

I have been contemplating writing a Harry Potter and either Game of Thrones, or House of Dragon Crossover, but I just couldn’t decide which. Turns out, I forgot the most important rule of fanfiction, Stories are meant to be new and unique! Why must I pick between one set of characters, when I can just have both to work with. This is a Harry Potter X GOT X HOD.

Now I have not read ASOIAF or Fire and Blood, but I have watched them all, so this will follow those characters from the shows more than the books. However, something may be from the books, I have picked up things I liked while reading other people’s fanfictions.

Don’t Worry Folks, I Have a list to help you with the confusion.

!!!MUST READ!!!

This is AU, so please read this or you will be so very confused.

       As of Year 125 AC

House Targaryen – Royal Family

King Viserys I Targaryen (Age 48)

• Dragon: Balerion the Black Dread (Alive but slumbering)
• Wives:
  • Aemma Targaryen nee Arryn (R.I.P.)
  • Alicent Hightower
• Children:
  • Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen (Age 27) – See Blacks
  • Prince Aegon II Targaryen (Age 17) – See Greens
  • Princess Helaena Targaryen (Age 14) – See Greens
  • Prince Aemond Targaryen (Age 11) – See Greens
  • Prince Daeron Targaryen (Age 9) – See Greens
• Siblings:
  • Aerys Targaryen II
  • Rhaella Targaryen
  • Daemon Targaryen

Prince Aerys II Targaryen (Middle brother of Viserys & Daemon)

• Age at death: 42 (died in wildfire, madness)
• Wife/Sister: Rhaella Targaryen (Age 38) – See Blacks
• Children:
  • Prince Rhaegar Targaryen (Age 31) – See Greens
  • Prince Viserys II Targaryen (Age 16) – See Greens
  • Princess Daenerys II Targaryen (Age 10) – See Blacks

Prince Daemon Targaryen (Age 37) – Unaffiliated

• Dragon: Caraxes
• Wives:
  • Rhea Royce (R.I.P.)
  • Laena Velaryon (R.I.P.)
• Children:
  • Baela Targaryen (Age 11) – Dragon: Moondancer
  • Rhaena Targaryen (Age 11) – No dragon

Blacks (Rhaenyra’s Faction)

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen (Age 27)

• Dragon: Syrax
• Husband: Laenor Velaryon (R.I.P., faked death, fled)
• Children:
  • None

Princess Rhaenys Targaryen II (Age 50)

• Dragon: Meleys
• Husband: Corlys Velaryon (Age 66) – Master of Ships, Driftmark
• Children:
  • Laenor Velaryon (R.I.P., faked death)
  • Laena Velaryon (R.I.P.)

Princess Rhaella Targaryen (Age 38)

• Dragon: Aero the Beautiful
• Husband: Aerys Targaryen II (R.I.P.)
• Children:
  • Rhaegar Targaryen (Age 31) – Green faction
  • Viserys II Targaryen (Age 16) – Green faction
  • Daenerys II Targaryen (Age 10) - Black faction

Daenerys II Targaryen (Age 10)

• Dragon: Drogon

Greens (Alicent’s Faction)

Queen Alicent Hightower (Age 37)

• Husband: King Viserys I
• Children:
  • Aegon II Targaryen (Age 17) – Dragon: Sunfyre
  • Helaena Targaryen (Age 14) – Dragon: Unknown
  • Aemond Targaryen (Age 11) – Dragon: Vhagar
  • Daeron Targaryen (Age 9) – Dragon: Tessarion

Prince Rhaegar Targaryen (Age 31)

• Dragon: Vermithor
• Wife: Elia Martell (R.I.P.)
• Children:
  • Princess Rhaenys Targaryen III (Age 13) – Dragon: Silverwing
  • Prince Aerys Targaryen III (Age 11) – Dragon: Veno

Prince Viserys II Targaryen (Age 16)

• Dragon: Seasmoke

Dragons –  Reference- New

• Vhagar: 492 ft, ~200 years old (Aemond)
• Meleys: 300 ft, ~125 years old (Rhaenys)

• Aero the Beautiful: 218 ft, 112 years old, Green w/ silver accents, silver-green flames (Rhaella)
• Drogon: 135 ft, 51 years old, Black w/red accents, orange flames (Daenerys II)
• Veno: 70 ft, 16 years old, Maroon, red flames (Aerys III)

House Stark

Lord Eddard Stark (Age 32)

• Wife: Catelyn Tully (Age 31)
• Children: Robb (11), Sansa (8), Arya (6), Brandon (4)

Cregon Stark (Ned’s Brother)

• Children: Rickon Stark

Benjen Stark – Ranger of the Night’s Watch

Lyanna Stark (R.I.P.)

• Husband: Unknown
• Child: Jon Snow (Age 11, father unknown)

House Lannister

Lord Tywin Lannister (Age 44) – Master of Coin

• Wife: Joanna Lannister (R.I.P.)
• Children: Jaime (19), Cersei (19), Tyrion (13) (Aged down for Plot)
• Brothers: Jason (39), Tyland (39)

House Baratheon

Lord Robert Baratheon (Age 31) – Numerous bastards

• Brothers:
  • Stannis (27)
  • Renly (22)

House Tyrell

Lord Mace Tyrell (Age 43)

• Wife: Alerie Hightower (Age 41, Alicent’s cousin)
• Children: Willas (23), Loras (19), Garlan (16), Margaery (13)
• Olenna Tyrell (Queen of Thorns) (Age 68)

Kingsguard

• Lord Commander Barristan Selmy (58)
• Harrold Westerling (54)
• Steffon Darklyn (46)
• Criston Cole (32)
• Arthur Dayne (23)
• Erryk Cargyll (21)
• Arryk Cargyll (21)

Small Council

• King Viserys I – Monarch
• Otto Hightower – Hand of the King
• Lord Corlys Velaryon – Master of Ships
• Grand Maester Pycelle – Grand Maester
• Lord Tywin Lannister – Master of Coin
• Lord Lyonel Strong – Master of Laws
• Petyr Baelish (Littlefinger) – Royal Treasurer
• Barristan Selmy – Lord Commander of the Kingsguard

Other Characters of Note

• Lord Corlys Velaryon (66) – Driftmark, Master of Ships
• Samwell Tarly (10) – Horn Hill
• Theon Greyjoy (11) – Iron Islands (no rebellion)
• Jorah Mormont (35) – Essos
• Lord Commander Jeor Mormont (61) – The Wall
• Oberyn Martell (26) – Sunspear
• Sandor Clegane (22) – Casterly Rock
• Gregor Clegane (27) – Clegane’s Keep
• Brienne of Tarth (18) – Evenfall Hall
• Grand Maester Pycelle (74) – King’s Landing
• Varys (38) – Pentos
• Melisandre (284) – Asshai
• Missandei (15) – Astapor
• Davos Seaworth (45) – Smuggling in Free Cities
• Petyr Baelish (29) – King’s Landing, Royal Treasurer
• Bronn (24) – Unknown
• Grey Worm (19) – Astapor
• Otto Hightower (58) – King’s Landing, Hand of the King
• Larys Strong (26) – King’s Landing (Clubfoot)
• Mysaria (29) – King’s Landing (White Worm)
• Lord Lyonel Strong (47) – King’s Landing, Master of Laws
• Harwin Strong (29) – King’s Landing, City Watch Commander

I do not own Harry Potter or ASOIAF sadly, wish I did but alas…

Please Favorite/Follow and Leave comments I read them all!

12 Grimmauld Place

It turned out…life after the war wasn’t all sunshine and fluffy rainbows. Actually, those didn’t fucking exist as far as Harry was concerned. 17, that was the age he was when the war had ended, nearly 8 years ago now as Harry himself had just turned 25. Yet he did not feel like a 25-year-old, no he felt fucking ancient. Something had happened to him after he killed Voldemort, his body, for whatever reason, had begun to lose its strength. He had seen doctors, both muggle and magical, spending a good deal of his fortune to figure out what was wrong, but none could come up with a decisive prognosis.

They all would tell him the same thing, while he may be sick, it did not seem life threatening, as his magic was the strongest, they had ever seen, and everyone knows magic faded as the life force leaves the body. Harry, of course, knew that was horseshit, at least in his case. His magic was like a fucking volcano, just waiting to Erupt. He couldn’t control it, not for more than a year now. A simple cleaning charm ended up scrubbing his entire house…even the labels on the food. Despite all that, Harry knew it was horseshit because he was undoubtedly dying. He spent countless hours poring over tomes, dedicating the last nearly decade of his life to finding something, anything to heal him. The magic he had learned, spells both old and new had been astounding, but none of it mattered. Sure, he was the most powerful magical on the planet, probably ever too, but he was dying. His body felt like it was going to collapse, and after years of trying to figure it out, Hermione finally came up with a plausible solution.

“Harry. You said your magic is overflowing right? And that you can’t even control it anymore?” His best friend asked as she sat at his bed side. Harry looked at her weakly, his eye sockets sunken into his head, yet his green eyes brimmed with more power than should be possible.

*COUGH* *Cough* “Y-Yeah. That’s about right,” Harry muttered.

“What…What if you have so much magic that your body isn’t strong enough to contain it, and it’s killing you from the inside?” Hermione asked carefully. Harry frowned, well more of a grimace as it hurt to even move his face anymore. It made sense, ever sense he had killed the dark wanker he had begun to feel like shit, and he had also felt increasingly powerful. Now that he thought about it, the stronger his magic seemed to feel also tended to be the weaker his body felt.

“I thi..nk y-your right. *Cough* B-But how?” Harry asked, struggling to even form sentences anymore. Hermione seemed to ponder for a moment before she replied.

“It would have had to be some phenomenon. Something you did, a ritual, perhaps. Was there anything of the sort?”

“N-No. No. I never did a…” Harry trailed off as he gulped. He had done a ritual, not on purpose, but it was still one, kind of. All those years ago, he had become the Master of Death.

“Shit,” He sighed as he closed his emerald eyes with a groan.

“You did something didn’t you? This is great Harry! Now that we know what it is we can solve it!!” Hermione exclaimed with a shit eating grin; one Harry didn't even have to open his eyes to see due to the excitement in her voice.

Harry opened his eyes once more and tried his best to give his companion a comforting smile, though it probably looked horrible on his shrill body.

“T-This i…isn’t something y-you can f-f-fix Hermione,” Harry said sadly.

“What did you do!?” She demanded as she looked at him in horror. Harry opened his mouth to answer, and he really was going to answer, until then he felt something pull on his soul, yeah, his god damn soul, and he knew it was over. With the last of his strength, he reached out and grabbed his best friend's hand with a squeeze.

“Master of Death. How ironic,” He mumbled, before closing his eyes for the last time.

On October 31st, because of course it was, in the year 2005, Harry James Potter died.

Unknown

Harry opened his eyes with a frown when he noticed that all the sudden, he was back at King’s cross…again. The very same one he was at so many years ago.

“Not again,” He sighed. He knew how this worked, after all it wasn’t his first time.

“Things are different now,” a voice said to him. Harry turned, expecting to see Dumbledore, that crazy old bat, but instead he was met by a man so pale he would put even Riddle himself to shame. The man was tall, far taller than Harry who stood at a whopping…5’9. Yeah, not exactly the tallest out there. However, this man was huge, well over 8 feet if he had to guess. He was dressed in a pure black suit, not a touch of another color, and his ghostly black hair was slicked back. His hands were pale and boney, and he was clutching onto a black cane, one that he most definitely did not need.

“You're not Dumbledore," Harry observed, much to the amusement of the man.

“No. Albus Dumbledore shall not be returning for more of his…what did he call it. Yes, Guidance,” The man replied.

“Guidance?” Harry asked with a frown. Well, that did sound like the Dumbledore he knew.

“Indeed. Such a strange term for what he did to you. Are you even aware of why you died?” The man asked him as he leaned onto his cane with both hands, his black, soulless eyes peering into Harry’s emerald ones.

“Too much magic, right?” Harry replied. The man seemed a bit surprised but nodded his head.

“In a way, yes that is correct. How’d you know?”

“Hermione guessed and I pieced together the rest. My body was deteriorating, and the stronger I got magically the quicker it happened,” Harry replied with a shrug. The man smiled, a smile that sent shivers all the way from Harry's spine to his toes.

“I should have known Miss Granger was the reason. I am so looking forward to meeting her, though her time will not be for many decades,” The man, who Harry was starting to figure out was Death, replied.

“Your Death?” Harry asked, figuring there was no harm, he was dead anyway.

“Right again. My, My. I did not expect your observation skills to be so on point, considering how you were played like a fiddle all your life,” The man replied.

“Gee thanks,” Harry replied with a grimace, it wasn't like he didn’t know that. First the prophecy, then Dumbledore and Snape. After the war it had just gotten worse. As time passed on, the more the world turned to him, to play “Politics,” God what an awful fucking word. The bane of his fucking existence. Give him a war any day over having to sit around in meetings and display “proper etiquette” and ‘respect” to those fuckers with sticks shoved so far up their asses they couldn’t even sit in a chair comfortably.

“Moving on. Yes, your body could not hold the power that was gifted to you as the “Master of Death” as your people like to call it,” Death replied.

“Wait, that's real? I’m the Master of Death??? Why the fuck am I dead then?!” Death just shook his head.

“Master of Death is a poor wording for what you are. You are…untouchable by Death, aka me. Well, your soul is at least. Do you recall when the Hallows blended together and then entered your body?” Harry nodded his head; it had been the strangest thing. He had just killed Voldemort, and the first thing he had done was run to the Forbidden Forest lest someone find the stone and use it, he couldn’t let that happen. When he did pick up the stone, all the sudden the other two Hallows appeared as well, before the three turned into a gas that blended together and struck him in the center of his chest, right next to his heart.

“Uh yeah,” Harry replied lamely.

“When that happened, you became an embodiment of Death, so to speak. I cannot kill you, any more than you can kill me. Now, you do not have the mantle, that is mine, so you don’t have to be the “Reaper” as your people call it, but alas, you cannot die. This in turn causes your magical power to shoot up for obvious reasons. Since you are no longer mortal and your body was that of a mortal, it could not take the new levels of magic,” Death explained.

“Okay. That makes sense, I guess. So, what now, I just like, chill out here with you?” Harry asked in confusion.

“That’s an option if you want. There is no reason for you to have to stay here though, you don’t have a job like me. I could go and reincarnate you instead, you would have all your memories since your soul cannot be touched or altered,” Death replied with a shrug.

“Reincarnate? Like I live a whole new life?” Harry asked with wide eyes.

“Yes and no. You would retain all your memories. Even if I wanted to get rid of them I can’t, your soul is beyond even my reach, and I am technically omnipotent. But as far as where you are, who you are, who the world thinks you are, that would all change,” Death replied. Harry blinked. A new life? No meddling old men, or people constantly seeking his approval, no fame, no need for glory. A life all for himself!

“Wait,” Harry said quickly, realizing something terrible. “Won’t I just die again because of my magic?”

“Oh right. Yes, you would eventually. Good catch, I might be omnipotent but I’m not omniscient. You would die, so we would need to get you a stronger body. Something inherently magical,” Death began saying, as he reached his hand out and a book appeared before him.

“Let’s see,” Death mumbled to himself. “With the amount of power flowing through you I can estimate your life span for each race, given that it is mostly the same power I hold, just without the title.” Harry strained to hear what the deity was saying, wait…was he a deity too now? Whatever.

“Wizard. 9 years.”

“Dwarf. 13 Years.”

“Centaur. 5 Years.”

“Dark Elf. 39 Years."

‘High Elf. 62 years. 62, not bad actually,” Death mumbled as he turned to Harry.

“How about it? A High Elf, you'll live for 62 years too,” Death said. Harry just frowned. 62 years? That’s it? Wizards were supposed to live to over 100 easily, and all he was getting was 62 years as a fucking elf?! The species known for their long lifespan. Just how much magic did he actually have?

“Isn’t there anything longer? 62 years isn’t a lot of time. I want to at least live to 100, hopefully longer,” Harry replied. Death sighed and went back to the book.

“Angel, 89 years.”

“Demon, 97 Years.”

“Devil, 121 Years.” Death looked up to gauge Harry's reaction.

“Absolutely not. I don’t want to be a fucking DEVIL!” Harry shouted.

“So picky. Fine. I’ll keep looking,” Death said as he continued through the book. Death continued to flip through for what felt like hours as Harry sat down on the ground with a sigh. Why was this so difficult? Why couldn’t he just be a regular guy, living his life, have a wife and some nice kids. Maybe settle down and have a farm. Yeah, a farm sounded nice.

“No. No. Maybe but eh. Definitely not. Oh? Actually, nope you would hate it. Ah. This could work,” Death said as he looked up with a smile.

“What is it?” Harry asked nervously.

“How about a Dragon? Lifespan would be pretty much unlimited, a dragon’s lifeforce and body is fueled by their magic, and with your magic you wouldn’t exactly age. Even the regular dragons of this world can live for thousands of years,” Death replied. Harry nodded, a Dragon wasn’t too bad. Sure, he wouldn’t be able to use human applications but, hey beggars can’t be choosers.

“Wait?! What do you mean that world?” Harry asked. “I’m not going back to my world??”

“Oh, yes. I forgot to mention that. You can’t go back there. Harry Potter is dead, and even if you reincarnate because your soul is the same you will still be considered as “Harry James Potter” by the world’s laws. It’s just not possible. So, a new world it is!” Death clapped. Harry could feel his headache growing but at this point he didn’t even care.

“If I can’t go back to my world, can I make a request then about this new one?” Harry asked. Death raised a black eyebrow skeptically.

“You don’t exactly have a lot of choices, kid. There's only one body there that could reasonably contain your magical power, so I can’t really adhere to any demands. The good news is you will be able to shift between a human and dragon form, though you will take on some behavior of your new species, but it shouldn't impact your mind much,” Death said.

“Really?! Thank God. I was so worried about being a dragon all the time. Does that mean I get to use my magic too?” Harry asked excitedly. Death nodded.

“There is no God. Just me, my wife, Magic you call her, and our daughters, the Fates. Anyway, more or less, though the output and ways you use it will definitely be different. No more wands or spells, a lot more elements and intent, but still, you will be able to use and feel magic,” Death replied. Harry nodded, no spells was fine, he hated having to say those silly words anyway, and the wands were just a weakness if you asked him, plus he hadn’t needed one since fusing with the elder wand.

“Are you ready then?” Death asked Harry. Harry nodded and soon felt the cane pushed against his chest, before quickly realizing he had forgotten to say his request.

“Wait! My request! Please no politics.” Harry shouted as he faded from existence.

“Did he say no politics? Whoops,” Death said with a knowing grin as he disappeared from the mystical London station.

On the Waters South of Qarth

A ship was floating across an empty ocean slowly, two men at the hull peering out as the night sky slowly receded to the thick, hot air of the morning. It was always hot where they were, south even from the southernmost free cities. On the right was a man starting to grey around the temples, his black hair thinning as he was well into his forties now. The captain of said ship, Davos Seaworth. To his left was a larger man, standing 3 inches taller than his captain at 6 '1, with light brown hair and eyes to match. His skin was a deep tan, clearly of dornish descent. He was a bit younger than his captain, late 30s at most.

“I still don’t like it,” Davos said to his first mate.

“You’ve been saying that since we left. Do you know how much money those people offered us? 3 fucking million Golden dragons. Can you even fathom how much that is Cap? Cuz I know I can’t,” Dorrick Feller replied as he took out the far-eye and looked out across the sea.

“It’s not right I say. We’re smugglers, not tomb raiders,” Davos replied with a huff. Dorrick turned his head to look at his best friend and Captain for the last 20 years.

“Yet you took the job,” He replied with a raised eyebrow. Davos Snorted.

“Aye, I took the job. Boys would have had my head if I didn’t, and you can’t tell me that you expect to continue with this lifestyle. After this one job, we’ll have the money to finally call it quits. You know the saying,”

“Theres no such thing as an elderly pirate,” The two best friends said in unison. The two stood together grimly, both knowing that their time on the sea was becoming more and more dangerous as the years passed. Before, it had been far easier, smuggling a couple of items, sometimes a person, into King’s Landing. Now, after gaining a bit of renown, they were hired and outsourced for bigger jobs. Sure, they paid more, but they were far more dangerous. And no job worth 3 million Golden Dragons, was going to NOT be dangerous. They knew that their crew knew that, and yet the sum was so worth it that it didn't matter. Freedom, that’s what it meant for all of them, the freedom to do whatever they wanted for the rest of their lives. The two stood out there for another hour or so before Feller piped up.

“Think I got something,” he said as he twisted the far-eye to get a better angle. Sure enough, far off in the distance, he saw the island they were meant to go to. Davos took the far-eye and peered into it, seeing the same as his first mate.

“Aye. There it is,” Davos said, resisting the urge to gulp. It took the crew another hour or so to make their way to the island, and by the time they were there, a pit of fear had settled deeply in his stomach. The island they were on had no name, none that was known anyway. It was an old place, and boy was it hot. Davos and his crew had been to the summer isles before, but nothing compared to the heat they felt wafting off of this particular island.

“Gots to be over 120 degrees out ‘ere,” one of his men commented as they rowed the boats towards the islands. There was no dock, so he had to leave a few of his men on the ship, anchored a way away so as not to sink in the shallows. 

“Aye, a right scorcher today,” Another answered as they pulled the boats up onto the shore.

“What ‘re we looking for Cap?” the navigator, Waylar Blest, a man of short stature from the summer isles, who had no hair remaining on the top of his head asked.

“The Thirteen said it should resemble a Sept,” Davos answered as he got ready to set off. All the men seemed a bit on edge, and for good reason. As far as they knew, no one had ever even been to this island before, whether that was true or not, the fact remained that either way… no one had ever come back.

The sand was coarse, yet cold, something that was odd given the tropical climate of the island. It was not unwelcome, yet it was a touch unnerving. As they walked the sand slowly molded into dirt, until they were before the jungle. 

“Fuck me,” Dorrick whispered in awe as he stood side by side with his captain, both of them staring up at the massive twisting trees that seemed to block out the sun itself. They towered over them, well over a few hundred feet in the air, a size that no tropical tree should have grown to, yet here they were. The leaves were only at the top, instead giving way to vines at the base that were thicker than a man’s leg.

The 15 men brought from the Black Betha, the ship's name, were in different states, but the universal feeling was fear, there was a presence in these trees, a presence they knew they should not disturb, and yet 3 million golden dragons was well worth it to them all.

“I’ll lead,” Dorrick said as he unsheathed the curved cutlass at his waist and began chopping through the vines, the sharpness of the first mate's ever polished sword making quick word as the group trailed behind him. As they walked deeper and deeper into the island the terrain began to shift. Less and less trees became visible, and the land began to slope as bumps turned into small hills, and then into mountains. They didn’t know exactly how long they had been traveling, but Waylar estimated it to be around 4 hours when they came across the first ruins. A large keep, one that was missing 2 walls along with ¾ of its roof. The keep itself was not too large, yet would have been suitable for any minor Lord of Westeros.

“How old is it?” Davos asked Cyrus Cartwell, a learned man who was once a Maester but had given up the chain when he had strayed from the citadel’s teachings and had a son, a son he would not see bastardized due to him wanting to retain his position. Cyrus was old now, well into his 60s, having left the citadel 12 years ago, already being one of the top scholars in the world. He was a boon to their cause, his knowledge always pulling them out of sticky situations.

“Old Captain. Far older than anything I have had the privilege of seeing before. If I had to hinge a guess it may have well been around the time of even the first men,” Cyrus answered as his hands brushed over the ancient stone.

“What the hell did we get ourselves into?” Davos mumbled to himself, shaking us head in disbelief. If Cyrus was to be believed, they had stumbled upon ruins from nearly 8000 years ago, and that wasn’t even what they had been tasked to find.

The group continued on, deeper into the jungle still, leaving the ancient ruins in their wake. The sweat could be seen pouring down their backs, drops were falling from foreheads and arms alike. The heat was oppressing, like it was trying to get them to bow to it, to give in, but for them it didn’t matter. 3 million Golden Dragons is what mattered, and you could be damn sure they were going to get it after journeying for 2 weeks across the ocean to an ancient, deserted island. The group came to a halt when Dorrick held up a fist.

“Dorrick?” Davos asked his best friend.

“We’re here,” His first mate answered in awe as he stared into what appeared to be a massive cavern. Confused by what was going on, Davos pushed forward to see what his friend saw, only to stop short. What lay before him was probably the most shocking site he had ever seen in all his 45 name days.

The entrance to the Cavern was small, maybe fitting 3 men side by side, but once they got inside, it opened up into the largest chamber he had ever seen. It could have easily housed all of the Royal family's Dragons with room to spare, even those giants that the King and Prince rode (Balerion and Vhagar). In the center of the cavern was a massive white structure, with not a single scuff or smidge of dirt on it. It encompassed a circular roof that ended in a sharp point at the top, standing higher than even the Red keep, perhaps even rivaling the tower in Oldtown.. There were no walls, or battlements, nothing to guard the massive tower, as it seemed all but deserted.

The men were in awe, walking forward almost instinctively; failing to take any note whatsoever of their surroundings as they pushed their way into the odd tower. The interior was bare, bar for what appeared to be a…dragon egg? Davos frowned as he stared at the strange egg in question. Now, he was no noble by any means, and he was especially no Targaryen, yet even he knew Dragon eggs should not be so large.

“No wonder we got paid 3 million Gold Dragons!” Dorrick exclaimed as he stared up in awe at the massive white egg. Now Dorrick was not a short man by any means, he was taller than Davos himself, and yet the egg towered over him still. It had to be well over 10 feet in height, and at least double that in width.

“Do you think they knew what was here?” Someone asked.

“Doubtful. If the thirteen of Qarth knew what lay here, the spies for the Royal family would as well, and there is no chance they would not have come to claim this first. No, I believe that the Thirteen must have found some recountence of a buried treasure, something beyond measure in value, the fact that it is a dragon egg will most likely be just as shocking to them as it was to us all,” Cyrus replied as he peered at the egg.

“You ever see one before at the Citadel, Cyrus? A dragon egg?” Dorrick turned to ask the only learned man among them.

“Indeed. I was given the privilege once, it must have been…well around 30 years ago now. Prince Baleon The Brave gave me his youngest son’s egg, Prince Daemon, to see if I could not find a way for it to hatch. A moot point as the young Prince claimed Caraxes within the moon,” Cyrus replied.

“How’d it compare?” Davos questioned, curious to the answer, a curiosity it seemed his crew shared.

“It was nothing such as this. Significantly smaller I’d say, perhaps 2-3 feet in height, and around half that in width. It couldn’t have weighed more than 20 pounds,” The ex-maester replied.

“WAIT!!” Dorrick shouted as one of the men reached out and placed a hand against the giant white egg. Davos sighed when he felt the ground rumble; first rule of stealing anything, always check for traps.

“GRONTHA VELAR DOZUNTHA BALOK SHETTARA NUXL DRIMTHOR!” A feminine voice screeched, causing the room to tremble.

“Oh fuck,” Dorrick mumbled. In an instant, much to their collective surprise, a woman dropped down and stood before them, seemingly falling from the ceiling itself.

She was gorgeous, a beauty that could not even be described by words. Her skin held the same pale hue as the Valyrians of old, completely unblemished in any way. Her hair was long and dark, nearly black, yet it had a faint hue of blue in it as well, and was braided down, reaching her lower back. Her lips were full and cheekbones impossibly high, though those weren’t her most striking feature, that was claimed by her eyes. A blue so fair in the wrong lighting they could have been mistaken for white, though in the cavern it was easy to tell they were in fact an icy blue. She stood tall, taller than Davos himself at around 6 feet in height, her figure was clad in a strange fabric that almost seemed to have a scalelike quality to it, the same shade as her hair actually. It failed to cover much, mainly just her womanly bits.

The men seemed to appreciate the sight as the whistling began as soon as they saw her, much to Davos, Dorrick and Cyrus’ collective horror. It seemed, the fools that they were, had completely forgotten where the hell they were, or just what the situation they found themselves in was. Davos knew the kind of men in his profession, but hearing their words he could not help but feel the disgusting building inside of him.

“Come here baby!”

“She’s mine first!”

“Jim, you told me I got the front this time!”

“Fine! But we switched halfway!”

“Hey! It’s my turn this time! You guys can have her after!”

The only saving grace seemed to be the fact that the women did not understand them; the look of disgust that had been on her face the moment she had appeared had not changed since the men started catcalling her. Davos for some reason, got the feeling that he absolutely did NOT want to be associated with those men, and moved away from them. It seemed Cyrus, Dorrick and even Waylar all had the same idea as they quickly stepped aside to where he was standing.

“Pathetic Humans! You dare to disturb His Grace’s slumber?!” The woman shouted at them. Davos frowned, it was clear that the language she just spoke in was not the same as the one before, yet he still did not understand her.

“That’s not good,” Cyrus muttered. Davos raised an eyebrow at his learned friend.

“You understood her?” Dorrick asked, managing to just beat him as Davos was about to open his own mouth to ask the same.

“I believe so. It sounded eerily similar to High Valyrian, though far more polished and refined than that in which I have heard from our own royal family,” Cyrus explained.

“What’d she say?” Waylar asked nervously, eyeing the woman in question.

“I think she called us…well. Pathetic Humans,” Cyrus replied with a terrified chuckle. “And then she accused us of interrupting ‘His Grace’s Slumber’”

“We’re so fucked,” Wayar moaned as he dropped his head into his hands.

“Humans? She called us Humans? That mean she’s not human?” Dorrick asked, shooting a worried glance at the women. Before Cyrus could answer, one of the ship hands had finally had enough of the other group's arguments and stepped towards the women. That, it turned out, was the worst and last mistake of his life.

In the blink of an eye the women had moved, and she now stood in front of the group 10 men that had been having a bidding war on who got to fuck her first. The 11th man, the one who had stepped forward, well his neck was held in her right hand, which she proceeded to break with no visible effort before throwing his body aside like a rag doll, sending it a good 30 feet away.

“That BITCH! She killed Jim!” One of the men roared as he unsheathed his cutlass and swung at her head. The woman in turn easily caught the blade in her left and proceeded to snap it in half as if it wasn’t made out of steel itself.

“So not human,” Dorrick muttered. Davos just nodded dumbly as the women proceeded to tear apart his crew as if they were made of silk, not flesh and bones. In under 10 seconds all 11 men had died some of the most gruesome deaths he had ever seen, and then the women turned her glare onto them. Before she moved however, a loud noise emanated through the cavern.

“Creeeakkkk…”

“THHHHRRRKKK…”

“CRRRAAAACK…”

“SKRRTCHHH…”

“CRK-CRK-CRK…”

“SHHRRAAAKKK…”

 “PSSSHHHHHHT…”

“THOOM…”

“KRSSSHHHHH!”

Davos watched in fascination as the pieces of the shell fell away to reveal a dragon, as beautiful and white as fresh snow.

*THUMP*

He quickly turned his head and saw that the woman who had just killed more than half his crew had walked out of the pile of bodies and fallen to her knees. She was bowing deeply, even pressing her forehead against the ground. The lady then turned her head, saw them still standing, and proceeded to shout at them. Davos didn't understand what was said, thankfully Cyrus did, and he translated.

“Kneel you Filth. You stand before King Harrax Peverell, First of His Name, Archon of the Freehold, Master of the Fourteen Flames, Heir of the Blood of Old Valyria, Winged Sovereign of the Skies, the Dragon King."

What did everything think? Hope you enjoyed it!

Now Harry will be taking a wife in this fic, don’t worry only 1, but I cannot decide on who it should be. There will be time jumps, so don’t stress about their current age. Who do you guys think it should be? These are the options as of now

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Margaery Tyrell

Helaena Targaryen

Visenya Targaryen: The Warrior Queen– (I have a way to make her alive if needed)

Let me know of ideas if you have them Via PM or Comment!