A disbelieving silence gripped the Dragonpit. The people around couldn't believe it, they couldn't believe what they had just seen, the sheer impossibility of what had just occurred, a miracle that defied every law of the Seven and the Old Gods alike.
Tyrion Lannister stared, his mouth slightly agape, his breath hitching in a chest that felt far too tight.
His gaze wasn't on the Sand Snakes, nor the Six dragons circling above mountain ranges. It was fixed on the two new figures standing amidst the scorched stone of the dragon pit.
He had not been particularly happy when the god had brought back the children of that bastard woman, she had been the one to take the live of his niece, what right did she now have to cry over her own dead children and then ask a god to bring them back when they were not to different from her, all of them put together were not even half as pure as his niece and yet she was the one who died and they were now alive.
So yes, he was not happy and had even almost shouted at the god why. Then his thought went to asking if he could bring Myrcella back, but he didn't have the courage to ask.
When Lord Aether had smiled and plucked strands of hair from both Cersei and the Queen of Thorns, Tyrion had held his breath. Now, his heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Standing there, blinking against the harsh sunlight of King's Landing, was Myrcella. Beside her stood Margaery Tyrell, looking just as bewildered as the young princess.
"Myrcella…" Tyrion choked out, the name catching in a throat thick with unshed tears.
Of all his family, his niece was the only one Tyrion never had anything against. Even Jaime, whom he loved, was a man he'd had bitter fights and deep-seated problems with over the years. But Myrcella? She had been different. She was a light among the darkness of the Lannister legacy, a gentle soul born somehow from his cruel sister's womb. How someone like her could make someone like Myrcella is still a mystery.
When he heard the news of her death, Tyrion had collapsed into a pit of self-loathing. He blamed himself entirely, after all, it was his plan that had shipped her off to Dorne, his 'clever' diplomacy that had placed a cub in a den of vipers.
He had spent nights drinking himself into a stupor, dreaming of a thousand different ways to kill the bitches who had stolen her life. Even now, looking at Ellaria Sand, his fingers twitched with the urge to find a blade and slit her throat.
Seeing Myrcella stand there was like a weight being lifted from his soul. Myrcella stood whole. Alive. But she was also entirely unclothed, a fact that registered in Tyrion's mind a split second after the joy.
The girl was frozen in shock, her hands instinctively moving to cover herself as her face flushed a deep, humiliated crimson. Beside her, Margaery Tyrell was doing the same, her eyes wide with terror as she realized she was naked before the gathered lords of Westeros. Lady Olenna was already halfway out of her chair, her aged hands trembling.
"Lord Aether…" Tyrion cleared his throat, forcing a shred of composure as he gestured subtly to the girl's body. "If you could be so merciful as to… well, you know. A bit of dignity for the resurrected?"
Harry waved a hand dismissively, looking as though he were swatting a fly. Instantly, fine silks shimmered into existence, weaving themselves around the girls. Myrcella found herself in a gown of Lannister crimson and gold, while Margaery was clad in the soft green of Highgarden.
"Myrcella!" Cersei's voice tore through the air, shrill and frantic. The Queen surged from her chair, her eyes wild.
Unfortunately for her, she didn't make it to the girl. Cersei slammed into an invisible wall with a sickening thud, the impact throwing her back into her seat. She looked stunned for a moment before standing again, clawing at the empty air, screaming to be let through to her daughter.
Harry didn't even glance at her. His unblinking green eyes were fixed on Ellaria Sand. The Dornishwoman was clutching her own daughters, but her gaze was fixed on Myrcella with a look of anger and hate.
"What? Do you have a problem?" Harry asked. His voice was calm, but it carried a weight that made Ellaria flinch, realizing he was talking to her as he had noticed her glaring.
"No… I… I just…" Ellaria stammered, her voice failing her. "Why bring her back?"
Harry raised a brow. "Why bring your daughters back?"
Ellaria recoiled, the hypocrisy of her question hanging in the air.
"Are you under some delusion that I like you, woman?" Harry's voice sharpened, turning cold enough to compete even against the coming winter. "Did you believe I was giving you some special treatment? You, who killed this innocent girl. She believed you had accepted her into your family. She who defended you against her own blood, saying you wouldn't hurt her, only for you to poison her just to spite her mother. I didn't save your daughters because I care for you. It was a whim. Only I decide who stays and who returns."
To Harry, the whole Dornish vengeance plot was pathetic. Oberyn Martell had been someone whom Harry had thought deserved his death. He had been a fool, having his enemy on the ground and ready for the final blow, only to start 'clowning around' and get himself killed.
Harry had zero sympathy for people who were fools.
"Now, back to the matters at hand," Harry said, his voice ringing through the pit.
Getting the attention of everyone in the pit. He turned to look at everyone there.
The Northern people had remained silent since the beginning, trying their best to stay invisible. Cersei was still yelling for Tyrion to release her daughter, her voice a grating background noise until Harry's voice boomed, "Will you shut up!"
The sound was deep and cold. The command seemed to vibrate in the very marrow of their bones. Cersei went silent, her mouth snapping shut as those emerald eyes stared her down.
"Now that the family reunion is settled… You all came here for a reason, didn't you?"
Tyrion, holding Myrcella's hand firmly to keep her from running into the arms of her uncle(father), Jaime, and Cersei, nodded. He gave her that familiar look from her childhood, the 'just do as I say for now' look he used when he was trying to sneak her and Tommen out of trouble. It would be better for her to just stay still for now, they just got her back, and Tyrion would not allow something to happen to take her away from them so soon.
"The Walkers," Tyrion managed.
Harry snapped his fingers. A heavy wooden box appeared and burst open. A wight lunged out, its blue eyes burning like stars. It snarled, a sound that wasn't human, and rushed toward the nearest living target.
Which was Harry, who didn't even give the walker a chance as he blasted it back away from him.
Chaos erupted. Men who had survived a dozen battles screamed and scrambled backward, tripping over chairs like little girls. "This is what you're up against," Harry told them, his tone almost cheerful.
Jon Snow, finding his focus now that the threat was something he understood, stepped forward. He cut the creature in half with his sword, Longclaw, before Sandor Clegane handed him a torch to finish the job.
"You can kill them with dragon glass," he said, pulling out a short dagger before putting it back, "or you can kill them with fire."
He told, as he set the corpse on fire, The stench of burning flesh filled the Dragonpit as the wight turned to ash.
"Well," Harry said, standing up and stretching. "Time for me to go."
"What?" Daenerys stepped forward. "You're leaving? Just like that?"
"Will you not help us?" Jon asked, looking at the man who had just brought people back from the dead as if he were their only hope. If this god joined them, they would surely win.
"Why should I?" Harry asked. Jon stuttered, unable to find an answer. To a god, the survival of a few kingdoms must have seemed like a trivial thing, Jon thought.
Harry turned away, ready to rip open the void, when Cersei's voice, now a shriveling sneer, cut through the air. "Running away? What kind of coward god are you? You come here acting all powerful, only to flee when a real threat—"
SPLAT.
Blood sprayed across the stones.
A scream of pure, unadulterated agony tore through the Dragonpit. Cersei collapsed, clutching the stump of her right arm. It had been ripped away so cleanly and quickly that no one had seen Harry move.
One moment he was just standing there, and the next he had a server hand in his hand.
Harry stood away, Cersei's arm held casually in his hand. He turned slowly towards the woman, his boots crunching on the gravel as he started walking towards her.
Step. Step. Step.
He reached the writhing Queen and squatted down. He raised his hand, his palm glowing a violent, searing red. Then, in the next second, he pressed it against the wound. Steam hissed, and the smell of burnt flesh filled the air as he cauterized the stump.
"There," Harry said, a huge smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes. "You have to be careful, woman. You don't know which god you might insult by mistake. Not all are as forgiving as I am."
He stood up, looking at the terrified assembly. "I am not mortal. To me, this is nothing more than entertainment. Whether you live or die is on you. If I decide to help, it's on my terms, and right now, I don't feel many of you deserve saving. Besides, I've already helped in my own way, haven't I?" He glanced at the dragons circling above, making Daenerys look at her children, and couldn't help but agree that the three extra dragons were quite a bit of help.
He gave them all a look over before ripping open a rift and vanishing into it.
Harry touched down in his manor, the air instantly shifting to the scent of vanilla and home, not that shit air you breathe in that foul world. He moved straight to the study where he sensed Daphne.
She was at her desk, working. Harry came up behind her, peppering her neck with kisses. "You have to rest," he murmured.
Daphne sighed, deadpan. "Why are you here? I thought I told you to leave."
"But I want to be here when the baby comes!"
Daphne finally looked up, grabbing his hands. A soft smile played on her lips as she drew him in for a kiss. "Harry, I am only a few months pregnant. You will not miss the birth. Please, go do what you normally do. Everything will be alright."
Harry stared into her blue eyes, his overprotective instincts warring with his trust in her. Two months ago, when she told him she was pregnant, she had thought he'd be scared or something else, she had not expected him to be that happy.
He'd grabbed her and twirled her around, screaming in joy, before he'd gone into a paranoid, clingy 'overprotective mode' that had eventually forced her to chase him out of the house after weeks of him sticking to her like glue.
"Fine," he sighed, kissing her once more. "I'll check on Tonks and Anya before I leave."
After spending time with his family, he decided to try a new world. He stepped through a rift and landed on a bustling street.
A modern world, it looked like his world, though a little bit advanced.
He checked the year.
2018.
Harry walked a few blocks, observing everything around him as he went sightseeing, trying to see if he knew anything about the world. After about an hour, and he found nothing, he decided maybe this was just a normal world, only to be kicked in the nuts by what he saw.
He stopped as he saw a billboard in the distance, a look of recognition hitting him.
"No fucking way," Harry muttered. He groaned, rubbing his temples. "Why this shit world?"
For the first time in a long time, Harry didn't look excited to be in a new world. He looked deeply annoyed.
————————————————————
If you want to read ahead and access 40 advanced chapters, check the patreon. $4 Dollars
Link:patreon/Phantomking785