Third Person POV
298 AC, Outskirts of Wintertown – Evening
The chill of the northern dusk settled over the outskirts of Wintertown as Dominic Augustus waved his Elder Wand, conjuring a magical tent with a flourish. Then he places a notice me not charm on the tent. The tent's exterior was plain canvas, but inside, it was a marvel of comfort: a spacious hall with plush couches, a fully equipped kitchen, three furnished bedrooms with connected bathrooms, each adorned with warm furnishings and enchanted lights. Dominic, Daenerys, and Missandei, still cloaked in commonfolk garb, stepped inside, the warmth banishing the cold.
They sank onto a couch in the hall, Daenerys's black hair—altered by the rune-etched ring—falling over her shoulders, her brown eyes bright with excitement. Missandei, her dusky skin glowing in the soft light, leaned against Dominic, who stretched his 6'6" frame, his brown tunic creased from the day's adventure.
"That was… incredible," Daenerys said, clutching a winter rose from the market. "Winterfell's so different from anything I've known. But Joffrey!" She burst into giggles, recalling the prince's humiliation. "Dom, you're awful for that farting charm."
Dominic grinned, his golden eyes twinkling. "The little brat deserved it. Sneering like he owns the North? Not on my watch."
Missandei laughed, nudging him. "You're going to start a war with your pranks one day. I can't imagine Cersei's face after she hears it."
"Oh, Cersei," Daenerys said, her laughter fading. "She looked so… cold. Like she hated being there. And Robert—gods, he's nothing like the rebel king Viserys ranted about."
"Robert's a broken man," Dominic said, leaning back. "He won a throne but lost his heart. Lyanna Stark's death haunts him. You saw him in the castle, Dany. That's not a king ruling—it's a man grieving."
Missandei nodded. "And the commotion in the courtyard? Joffrey challenging Robb, the Hound and Rodrik arguing… it's a powder keg. The Starks and Lannisters are oil and flame."
"Robb held his own," Daenerys said, smiling. "He's strong, like a wolf. But Joffrey's cruel. I felt it in his voice."
"Cruel and spoiled," Dominic agreed. "He's a liability to the crown. Cersei's coddling makes it worse. The Seven Kingdoms are fracturing, and Joffrey's the kind of spark that'll ignite it."
Daenerys's eyes softened. "And Bran… that poor boy. Dom, when are you going to treat him?"
"At the hour of the wolf," Dominic said, his voice low. "When the castle's asleep. I'll slip in, heal him, and be gone before dawn."
Daenerys nodded, then hesitated, her fingers tracing the rose's petals. "Dom… why did my brother Rhaegar kidnap Lyanna Stark? Viserys always said she seduced him, but…"
Dominic sighed, settling deeper into the couch. "It's a long story, Dany."
He began recounting the tale: Rhaegar Targaryen, the melancholic prince, believed in a prophecy of a promised savior. At the Tourney of Harrenhal, he crowned Lyanna Stark the Queen of Love and Beauty, sparking rumors of affection. When they vanished together, Robert Baratheon, betrothed to Lyanna, and Brandon Stark, her brother, assumed abduction. Brandon's confrontation with the Mad King, Aerys II, led to his and his father's deaths, igniting war. Rhaegar and Lyanna, hiding in Dorne, had married in secret, their love genuine. Lyanna died giving birth to their son, Aemon Targaryen, whom Eddard Stark claimed as his bastard, Jon Snow, to protect him from Robert's wrath.
Daenerys's eyes widened, her breath catching. "Jon Snow… is my nephew? A Targaryen?"
Dominic nodded. "Aemon Targaryen, by rights. Ned hid him to protect him from Robert's wrath."
Then Daenerys chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Viserys always screamed he was the Last Dragon. He'd lose his mind knowing Rhaegar's son is alive." Her laughter faded, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "And… are we really the only Targaryens left?"
Dominic dropped a bombshell, his voice calm. "No, Dany. There's one more. Aemon Targaryen, your great-granduncle, son of King Maekar. He's over a hundred, a maester at the Wall."
Daenerys gasped, leaning forward. "I want to see him!"
Dominic nodded. "We'll fly from here. I can't Apparate to places I haven't been."
Missandei tilted her head. "What about Jon, Dom? He's your nephew, Dany. Will you meet him? He might join the Night's Watch."
Daenerys's eyes blazed. "He's the rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms! He shouldn't rot at the Wall. I'll help him take the Iron Throne."
Dominic chuckled, amused by her fire. "You can do what you want, Dany. I'll help you. But first, we need to stop him from taking the black. I'll arrange for him to come to Uruk with us."
Daenerys nodded, determination hardening her features.
Dommonic said, "The kingdom's heading for war. A game of thrones is starting. We can use the chaos to seat Jon on the throne."
"Smart," Missandei said, smiling. "Dany herself can fight against the whole army without breaking a sweat, but if she does that, all that will be left is ashes."
Domonic nods and says, "The North will follow Jon if his parentage is proven. The Riverlands, tied to the Starks, would join. Dorne is itching for revenge against the Lannisters for Elia Martell's murder. Some Crownlands houses resent Baratheon rule. The Reach will side with the highest bidder. The Vale's a problem—Lysa Arryn's under Petyr Baelish's thumb, and he's a delusional schemer who wants chaos to crown himself king. Westerlands and Stormlands will back the Baratheons and Lannisters."
Then after talking about the future plans for a while and then they shifted topics, reminiscing about the market. "Those winter roses were divine," Daenerys said. "And the Uruk goods! Your seeds and blueprints, Dom—they're changing Westeros."
"High-quality gacha pulls," Dominic said, grinning. "The seeds grow crops twice as fast, and the blueprints let us craft tools and fabrics that outshine anything here."
Missandei laughed. "The spider-silk dresses were a hit. I saw ladies eyeing them like treasure."
"Speaking of treasure," Daenerys teased, nudging Dominic, "you're our treasure, Dom. But gods, that Apparition was awful."
"Never again," Missandei declared, shuddering. "Dragonite's smoother."
"You'll learn to love it," Dominic said, winking. "Or I'll carry you both next time."
Daenerys blushed, swatting his arm. "You're impossible."
"Yet you love me," he shot back, pulling her close. She giggled, leaning into him, while Missandei snuggled against his other side.
They talked late, the fire in the hall crackling, their bond a warm shield against the world's brewing storms.
Evening – Dinner
Dominic stood in the kitchen, his wand levitating a pot of stew simmering with Uruk spices. "Hope you're hungry," he called, setting the table with a flick of his wrist.
Daenerys inhaled deeply, her brown eyes sparkling. "It smells like heaven."
Missandei smirked. "Dom's cooking is better than his pranks."
"High praise," Dominic said, serving them steaming bowls and butterbeer. They ate, savoring the rich flavors, their laughter filling the tent.
Night – Bedroom
Lemon Warning
After dinner, Dominic led Daenerys and Missandei to the master bedroom, its wide bed draped in spider-silk sheets. The air thrummed with anticipation as he pulled Daenerys close, kissing her deeply, his tongue exploring her mouth. She moaned, her hands tugging at his tunic, her altered brown eyes dark with desire.
Missandei pressed against his back, her lips grazing his neck. "Don't leave me out," she whispered, her Black Widow grace evident as she slid his tunic off, revealing his chiseled frame.
Dominic chuckled, turning to kiss Missandei, his hands roaming her curves. "Never, Missy." He lifted her dress, magic tearing it away, leaving her bare. Daenerys, emboldened, shed her own dress, her Mera Mera-enhanced warmth radiating.
He guided them to the bed, laying Daenerys down, his lips trailing down her neck to her breasts, sucking a nipple as she gasped. "Dom!" she cried, her fingers in his raven hair.
Missandei straddled Daenerys's hips, kissing her passionately, their tongues entwining. Dominic's fingers slipped between Daenerys's thighs, teasing her folds, her wetness coating him. "So eager, my dragon queen," he murmured, circling her clit.
"Yes!" Daenerys moaned, bucking against his hand. Missandei moved lower, her tongue flicking Daenerys's other nipple, their shared pleasure building.
Dominic shed his pants, his arousal evident, and positioned himself between Daenerys's legs. "Ready?" he asked, his voice husky.
She nodded, pulling him closer. He entered her slowly, her warmth enveloping him, her moans filling the room. Missandei kissed Daenerys, muffling her cries, then moved to Dominic, her hands guiding him deeper.
"Gods, Dom," Missandei gasped as he pulled her close, his fingers finding her core, teasing her as he thrust into Daenerys. The bed creaked, their rhythm syncing, a dance of fire and magic.
Daenerys's nails raked Dominic's back, her climax nearing. "Dom!" she screamed, her body trembling as he drove deeper, her walls clamping around him.
Missandei, lost in her own pleasure, straddled Daenerys's face, moaning as Daenerys's tongue explored her. "Dany!" she cried, her climax hitting as Dominic's fingers worked her.
Dominic grunted, his release flooding Daenerys, triggering another wave of her pleasure. He pulled Missandei down, entering her swiftly, her cries echoing as he moved, his magic heightening their sensations. "You are mine," he growled, his thrusts relentless.
"I'm Yours!" Missandei screamed, her body shaking as she peaked, collapsing beside Daenerys.
Exhausted, they tangled together, sweat-slicked and sated. Daenerys and Missandei passed out, curled into Dominic, their breaths soft.
Lemon End
Dominic slipped from the bed, dressing quietly, and sat in a chair, waiting for the hour of the wolf. To pass the time, he activated his gacha system, his 201 GP allowing 67 rolls at 3 GP each. He discarded minor items—candles, spices, a rusty dagger—but kept the significant pulls: a Pokémon egg, Super Soldier Serum (x2), a Weakness Removal card, Talia al-Ghul's character card, Shanks' character card, and the Resurrection Stone. Not bad, he thought, pocketing the items.
Hour of the Wolf – Winterfell
At the hour of the wolf, Dominic cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and Apparated to Winterfell's courtyard, his seismic sense guiding him. He slipped into Bran Stark's room, finding Catelyn Stark asleep in a chair, Summer, Bran's direwolf, at the bedside. The wolf's head snapped up, sensing him, but Dominic's wand flashed, a Stupefy spell rendering Summer motionless. Another spell stilled Catelyn.
Approaching Bran, Dominic used Grindelwald's magical knowledge, his wand glowing as he scanned the boy's body. A fractured spine. With precise magic, he mended the bones, knitting them seamlessly. The Three-Eyed Raven will try to influence him, he thought, recalling Bran's destiny. He wove a mental barrier in Bran's mind, shielding him from external forces, then stepped back, satisfied.
Leaving the room, Dominic roamed Winterfell, his mind scheming. Time to mess with the royals. A dark chuckle escaped him as he scanned the castle with Observation Haki, pinpointing Arya Stark's room. Entering silently, he pulled Talia al-Ghul's character card, applying it to the sleeping girl. She'll cause chaos with those skills, he thought, imagining Arya's ferocity enhanced by Talia's assassin training.
Next, he crept to Joffrey's room. With a flick of his wand, he cast Rictumsempra. Joffrey jolted awake, laughing uncontrollably, flailing in his bed. Dominic smirked, Apparating back to the tent, leaving the prince to his humiliation.
Dominic settled into the chair, the tent quiet save for his wives' soft breathing. The night's work was done, but the game of thrones loomed. With Jon Snow's claim, Daenerys's ambition, and Uruk's might, the Seven Kingdoms would soon feel the Golden King's shadow.