"I asked who you are."
Daenerys Targaryen's voice rang through the high, vaulted throne room of the Great Pyramid of Meereen. She stood with her back straight, every inch the conquering queen that she had made herself out to be, but her eyes betrayed a flickering uncertainty.
The young man sitting on her throne did not flinch.
He lounged as though born to it, one leg lazily crossed over the other, a small silver bowl of grapes resting in his palm. His attire was foreign, she noticed. His eyes were a beautiful, vivid green that seemed to glow in a certain light. A pair of curious glass lenses rested on the bridge of his nose.
He looked at her, popped a grape into his mouth, and smirked.
"Don't you have any manners?" Harry asked lightly, his voice carrying effortlessly through the cavernous hall. "A guest arrives in your city, enters your home, and you offer him neither wine nor water. Such poor hospitality. I expected better from the scion of Old Valyria."
A few Unsullied shifted, their spears gleaming as they pointed at the intruder. Tyrion Lannister, standing by the Queen's side, stared at Harry with curiosity. Few would actually dare to be so freely in the presence of Daenerys, even more so after her actions just a day ago.
Daenerys' jaw tightened. The disrespect the man had for her was as clear as day. "Remove this fool from my chair," she commanded coldly.
The Unsullied advanced on the man, ready to follow their queen's command. Harry sighed, a sound of genuine disappointment.
"Anyone who tries," he said casually, his voice losing its amusing edge, "will lose an arm and a leg. I'm a man of my word, and I'd hate to ruin such a nice floor with more blood."
They ignored him. To the Unsullied, Daenerys had given them an order, nothing more should be considered, certainly not the words of the man who was clearly her enemy. The moment the lead soldier's sandaled foot touched the final step of the dais—
SHRCK.
A sound like tearing silk echoed through the hall.
Then came the screams, or rather, the lack of them, followed by the wet thuds of flesh hitting stone. In a heartbeat, every man who had crossed the invisible line Harry had drawn in his mind fell apart. Arms and legs are separated from torsos.
They tumbled down the pyramid steps in a cascade of blood and polished metal, their disciplined silence finally breaking into shrieks of pure, unadulterated agony.
No one had seen him move. No blade had been drawn. One moment, the men were reaching for the man, and the next, they were losing their body parts. Arms and legs on the ground as blood flowed out of them.
Daenerys staggered back, her hand flying to her throat. Yara and Theon Greyjoy unsheathed their swords, the steel ringing out in the sudden silence of the room, though they looked like they wanted to be anywhere else but in that man's line of sight.
The doors at the far end burst open, dozens more guards flooding in, alerted by the noise.
"W-what just happened?" Daenerys muttered, her voice trembling. She looked at the carnage, then back to Harry, who was calmly picking another grape. "Sorcerer. You practice the black arts of Asshai."
Tyrion, pale as a ghost but keeping his wits, stepped forward. "Well," he said, his voice cracking slightly before he steadied it, "it seems we have not been properly introduced. My name is Tyrion...."
Harry raised a brow at the dwarf. "I know who you are, Tyrion. I know who you all are."
His eyes slid to Daenerys, who was struggling to maintain her composure as her guards tensed. He was sure that they were ready for a suicidal charge if he made a move towards her. "And it is precisely because of who you are... that I am here today. I wanted to see if the rumors of the 'Breaker of Chains' were exaggerated."
Outside, A shadow larger than a ship swept past the high windows, followed by a roar that shook even the inside. Harry looked toward the window on the wall where the sun spilled in and snorted.
It seemed she was trying to call her dragons, well, good luck to her.
"And what a show you put on," Harry chuckled, leaning back. "When I arrived in Meereen, the first thing I saw was you barbecuing the Masters' fleet. Looked spectacular, I'll give you that."
A Dragon's screech shook the pyramid again. Before a great black dragon crashed through the side of the structure, stone exploded inward as massive black claws gripped the marble pillars. His head, the size of a carriage, thrust inside, molten eyes locking onto the intruder sitting on his mother's throne.
The room trembled. The Greyjoys and Tyrion rushed to the far side of the room to avoid the falling masonry. The dragon's presence seemed to have given Daenerys a surge of renewed confidence.
"Surrender yourself," she ordered, stepping toward her child. "Or I will order Drogon to kill you where you sit."
Harry looked the beast in the eye. He snorted at that, really all it took was for an overgrown lizard to appear, and he guessed she was now feeling like she was on top of the world.
He didn't even need to really look that much at the beast to know that the creature was terrified, its primitive brain screaming that it was in the presence of an apex predator, yet its bond with Daenerys pushed it toward a challenge.
The beast raised its head at him as it screeched at him, it was a loud, annoying sound.
"I believe we were talking," Harry said, his voice dropping to a dangerous tone. "If that thing screeches at me again, I'll be having dragon steak this evening. And you—" he pointed a finger at Daenerys, "—I'll have you cook him yourself."
The audacity of the threat left the room breathless. Daenerys' face contorted in a mask of fury. For this man to not only enter her place uninvited, and now he had the audacity to not only tell her he'd kill her child but to suggest that he'd eat him and even make her cook her dragon, this man deserved nothing but death. "Dracarys!"
The dragon opened its maw. A white-hot inferno erupted, a torrent of liquid fire meant to melt stone and steel alike. The blast swallowed the throne, Harry, and the dais in a blinding roar of orange and gold. Tyrion shielded his eyes from the blistering heat, certain that the intruder was now nothing but ash.
The flames raged for a dozen seconds before dying down.
Silence fell in the room before the dust settled, and there, right there, was an impossible sight.
Harry sat exactly where he had been. Not a hair singed. Not a thread of his clothes burned. He hadn't even dropped his grapes. He casually tossed another one into his mouth, the fruit bursting with a soft sound in the quiet room.
"Is that it?" he asked, though Tyrion noticed that he was no longer smiling and his eyes were now glowing.
He dropped the silver bowl. Then, he stood.
Lightning began to dance between his fingers, as it started to take shape in his hands. In an instant, a spear of pure, condensed lightning formed in his palm. Before anyone could blink, he threw it.
The spear pierced through the dragon's left wing like it was wet parchment, the lightning cauterizing the wound even as it tore a hole large enough for a man to walk through. The dragon roared in a new kind of agony, a sound of pure terror as it lost its grip on the building, struggling desperately to stay aloft.
"Drogon!" Daenerys screamed, rushing toward the edge.
"Stop him!" she shrieked to her remaining men.
Dozens of Unsullied rushed Harry at once. He didn't even look at them. He walked forward toward the edge of the pyramid where the dragon was clinging from the outside.
Anyone who got within five feet of him simply fell apart, arms and legs separating with no one having any idea what was going on.
Tyrion watched in horror. It was a walking slaughter, though he had noticed that not a single person had been outright killed yet.
He didn't know why he wasn't killing them, but he didn't have time to be thinking of these things. He realized that if this man reached the edge, his queen's dragon would, without a doubt, be killed just as the man had said he'd do.
Driven by reckless impulse, Tyrion threw himself in front of Harry.
"Wow! Let's—let's calm down, friend!" Tyrion shouted, his hands raised. Harry stopped. Those green eyes lowered to the dwarf, cold and void-like. "Why don't we just settle down and talk? We were talking, were we not? Let's not let dragon steak be the final word."
"I am a man of my word, dwarf," Harry said, his voice not even carrying a hint of emotion. "I said if it screeched at me again, I would kill it."
"Ah, but technically!" Tyrion interjected, his voice trembling but his mind racing. "Technically, it didn't screech at you. It spat fire at you. Those are very different vocalizations."
Harry stared at the dwarf. The silence stretched for a long, intense minute. Tyrion felt like his soul was being weighed.
Then, as everything had just been a dream, Harry burst into laughter. It was a rich, genuine sound that broke the tension in the room.
"You really are something," Harry said, patting Tyrion on the shoulder with enough force to nearly knock him over. "To think you had the balls to try and lawyer me. You're far more interesting than the rest of them."
Like, what could Harry even say about that, like can you believe this shit, here he was trying to make a point ot the dragon queen and this man actually had the balls to say this to him in the middle of his tearing men apart.
Harry waved his right hand. A blast of wind hit Drogon, knocking the massive beast off the side of the pyramid. As Daenerys screamed when the dragon tumbled, but instead of crashing, it found its wings mending in mid-air, the lightning-torn flesh knitting back together by Harry's whim.
Then, Harry turned back to the room. He waved his hand again, and the destroyed wall of the pyramid began to reconstruct itself. Stone flew back into place, dust settled, and cracks sealed as if time itself were reversing. Within seconds, the throne room was pristine once more.
He walked back to the throne and sat down, staring at the stunned, terrified assembly.
"Rejoice, mortals," Harry said, his voice echoing with the weight of a thousand storms. "For divinity has appeared before you."
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