Chapter Text
The Dragonpit thrummed with wild magic. Harry inhaled the air of the place; despite the heat, it felt revitalizing.
Getting past the guards was simple. Blending into the shadows was child's play, with the night as the perfect accomplice.
He felt the presence of the various dragons within the pit. One in particular felt peculiar and familiar; he assumed it was Caraxes, his sire's dragon. The dragons of this world were different—strange, unnatural.
These were surely the results of experiments the Valyrians had conducted. From what he'd read, they were supposedly a combination of breeds: wyverns and firewyrms. To tell the truth, Harry didn't know the full history. What was certain was that the Valyrians had managed to form bonds with these mythical beings and build their now-extinct empire.
Due to his Targaryen blood, Harry possessed the same capacity. He had been denied a dragon egg in his cradle; that right was reserved strictly for members of the royal family. And even though Harry was part of that line, it had been denied to him all the same. He suspected someone had argued against giving him what was his by blood right, but he didn't truly care.
He ventured deeper into the pit. He felt the dragons stirring, Caraxes being the most proactive. However, there was another, more powerful, more intimidating, and older dragon that had caught his attention—and it seemed Harry had caught its attention as well.
"Well, you called me here. Don't keep me waiting any longer," Harry murmured, his eyes gleaming in the dark.
A roar made the pit tremble. A bright flame briefly illuminated the place, lighting up Harry's figure.
Draconic eyes stared at him intensely—reptilian eyes the color of bronze, much like its body and its scales of bronze and cinnamon.
Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, watched him. Harry smiled softly as an unnatural hiss escaped his lips.
~~It is a pleasure to meet you, Vermithor.~~~
A flicker of what seemed like surprise shone in the dragon's eyes. Then, what looked like arrogance replaced it.
~~A…Speaker.~~ Its voice sounded halting, as if it hadn't been used in years.
Harry approached the dragon, who did not appear threatening, only curious and proud.
The dragon lowered its head. Harry placed his hand on the old dragon's snout.
Harry startled as images began to flood his mind. He saw through the eyes of the Bronze Fury—from its hatching, its battles, its history.
Smiling, Harry spoke softly to the dragon.
~~You have lived a long life,~~ he said. ~~Now we are companions.~~
Just as in his past life, dragons understood Parseltongue. It was a surprise he had retained this ability, even though it had been granted to him by that abomination of a Horcrux.
Then, footsteps were heard, and a dozen guards entered.
"In the name of the King! Step away from the dragon!"
Harry sighed. It seemed he hadn't been as discreet in his incursion as he'd thought.
He felt Vermithor bristle, ready to burn the guards. Harry had to admit these men were either brave or fools; despite their fear, they did not lower their swords.
Harry pulled back his hood and met their gazes with his bright green eyes, the single streak of silver hair the only hint of his ancestry. Yet, it was enough to be recognized.
"Prince… Harrison?"
Harry smiled.
"I wish to see the King. If it's not too much trouble, ser?"
—
Otto Hightower, he discovered, was an irritating man. In that, he had to agree with his sire: Otto Hightower was an imbecile.
"This is a flagrant lack of respect! Not only did you not inform the King of your arrival in the city, but you also skulked about like a common thief! You stain your name, Prince Harrison. You stain the name of your King and liege!"
They were in the council chamber: Otto Hightower, Viserys Targaryen, Harry, and a pair of guards. The atmosphere was tense, though all the tension radiated from the Hand of the King.
Harry looked at him with boredom, then at the King, who remained silent, observing his nephew. Completely ignoring the Hand, Harry spoke.
"It is good to see you again, uncle."
Viserys, the First of His Name, still dressed in his sleeping robe, sighed in exasperation.
"When you sent me that letter all those days ago, I did not imagine it would be like this, Harry."
Harry smiled guiltily, but without a trace of remorse.
"Well, I thought it was a good time."
Viserys shook his head.
"In the middle of the night? And by all the gods—the Bronze Fury, of all dragons!"
"What can I say, uncle! Did you expect any less?"
Otto, irritated at being so brazenly ignored, interrupted them.
"Forgive my intrusion, Your Grace. Were you aware that Prince Harrison intended to claim a dragon?"
Viserys looked at him, slightly embarrassed.
"Well, yes. But I did not expect it to be in this manner." He then looked at his nephew. "Are you aware that Aemma and Rhaenyra will make you pay for not greeting them upon your arrival?"
"Yes, but the idea was to surprise them. Did it work?"
Viserys sighed again, exasperated. He looked at his guards.
"Escort my nephew to his chambers. Do not let him stray from the path." He paused and looked seriously at Harry. "Tomorrow, with clearer minds, we will speak seriously of this. Is that clear?"
"As crystal, my king."
"And by the gods, Harry, do not sneak off.”