Third Person POV
299 AC, Uruk – Morning
The golden light of dawn filtered through the silken drapes of Dominic Augustus's opulent bedroom in Uruk's palace, casting intricate patterns across the marble floor. Dominic, leaning against the carved headboard of the massive bed, stretched languidly, his golden eyes glinting with satisfaction after a night of passion with his wives, Daenerys Targaryen and Missandei. The air was warm, scented with jasmine from the open balcony, where the distant hum of Uruk's vibrant city—its markets, and forges.
With a thought, Dominic summoned his status panel, a translucent interface shimmering before him. His gaze flicked to his Gacha Points (GP): 31. "Not bad," he murmured, reaching into his inventory for 100 gold dragons. He converted them, watching the GP climb to 131. "Time for a roll." He initiated 43 rolls, leaving 2 GP, his fingers tingling with anticipation. The results flashed: Ace (Roger's Sword), Poison Resistance, Shoto Todoroki, Levi (Attack on Titan). Solid haul, he thought, applying the Poison Resistance to himself instantly, a faint warmth spreading through his veins as his body became impervious to toxins.
As he contemplated his next moves—Uruk's rise, the looming threat of Viserys, and Jon Snow's impending arrival—Daenerys stirred beside him, her silver hair spilling across the pillow, violet eyes fluttering open. "Morning, my love," she said, her voice soft but rich with warmth, a smile curving her lips.
Missandei, her dusky skin glowing in the dawn, propped herself on an elbow, her dark curls framing her face. "Good morning, Dom," she said, her tone teasing. "You look far too pleased with yourself."
Dominic chuckled, leaning down to kiss Daenerys, then Missandei, his lips lingering. "Morning, my Sun and Stars. My Moon of My Life. Can't help it—last night was… memorable."
Daenerys blushed, swatting his arm. "You're incorrigible. You did not stop even when we begged."
"Then why did you curse me when I stopped the first time?" he teased, winking.
Missandei laughed, rolling her eyes. "You nearly broke the bed, Dom."
"Worth it," he grinned, sliding out of bed, his bare feet hitting the cool marble. "I'm heading to freshen up. Join me?"
Daenerys stretched, her lithe form outlined by the sheets. "In a moment. I need to wake up first."
Missandei smirked. "Five minutes, then we're invading your bath."
Dominic strode to the adjoining bathroom, a marvel of Uruk's engineering—polished stone walls, a steaming pool fed by hidden springs, and enchanted mirrors that never fogged. He sank into the water, letting the heat soothe his muscles, his mind drifting to his plans: Viserys's approaching khalasar, Jon Snow's redirection, and the ritual Daenerys would perform today. Five minutes later, as promised, Daenerys and Missandei entered, their laughter echoing as they joined him, the water rippling around them.
"Dany, you're hogging the warm spot," Missandei complained, splashing her playfully.
"There's enough for all of us," Daenerys retorted, flicking water back. "Dom, tell her to share."
Dominic chuckled, pulling them both closer. "Plenty of warmth to go around, ladies. Uruk's springs are magic."
"Everything here's magic," Daenerys said, her voice softening. "I still can't believe this is my home."
"It's ours," Missandei corrected, leaning against Dominic. "You've built something incredible, Dom. But… what's on your mind? You've got that scheming look."
He smirked, brushing a wet strand from her face. "Just planning the future. Viserys, Jon, the Seven Kingdoms… and today's ritual."
Daenerys's eyes lit up. "The dragon eggs. I'm ready, Dom. I can feel it."
"I know you are," he said, kissing her forehead. "You're a dragon, Dany. Today, you'll prove it."
After their bath, the trio dressed in silks from Uruk's looms—Daenerys in violet, Missandei in sapphire, Dominic in black edged with gold. Servants brought breakfast to their room, a feast of honeyed flatbreads, spiced eggs, and fresh mangoes from gacha-enhanced orchards. They sat at a carved table by the balcony, the city's golden walls gleaming below.
Daenerys sipped her tea, her expression turning somber. "Any news of my brother?"
Dominic nodded, cutting into a mango. "Viserys is riding for Uruk with his khalasar. Six weeks out, if they push."
Daenerys sighed, setting her cup down. "He's still chasing his crown. I hoped… maybe he'd change."
Missandei reached for her hand. "I'm shocked his khalasar hasn't rebelled. He's unhinged, Dany. Even the Dothraki must see it."
Dominic chuckled, leaning back. "They haven't rebelled because they think I'll hunt them down if they kill him. My reputation's keeping them in line—for now."
Missandei's lips twitched. "The City of Death, they call us. You've got them terrified, Dom."
"Good," he said, grinning. "Fear buys us time. Speaking of time, Jon Snow's due in a week."
Missandei nodded, her Emma Frost telepathy humming. "Jon's a wildcard. Honorable, like his Uncle, but he's got Targaryen blood. What's your plan for him?"
"Guide him," Dominic said, his Erwin Smith leadership shining through. "He's key to Dany's vow—Aemon's hope for a Targaryen on the throne. We'll train him, show him Uruk's strength."
Daenerys's eyes softened. "He's my nephew. I want him safe, Dom. But if he's to be king…"
"We'll make him ready," Dominic promised. "There is no one in the world who can chalenge Uruk and stay alive."
Then he asks, "Dany, are you ready to awaken the eggs?"
Missandei raised an eyebrow. "Dragons? You're sure about this ritual, Dany?"
Daenerys's voice was firm. "I am. The eggs call to me. My fire will wake them."
Dominic squeezed her hand. "You're ready. Let's finish eating, then it's time."
They polished off the meal, their banter lightening the mood. "These mangoes are divine," Missandei said, licking her fingers. "Your gacha orchards are cheating, Dom."
"Cheating's my specialty," he teased, standing.
Dany then gets up from the chair, her violet eyes blazing. "Shall we go then?"
The trio descended to a secluded courtyard deep within the palace, its high walls shielding it from prying eyes. A pyre loomed at the center, built from cedar and oak, with three wooden posts where bound criminals—slavers convicted of heinous crimes—stood, their faces pale with dread. Atop the pyre lay three dragon eggs from Illyrio Mopatis: one black with scarlet veins, one green with bronze swirls, one creamy white with gold flecks. Guards stood watch, their Pokémon—Arcanine and Machamp—patrolling the perimeter.
Dominic and Missandei stood back as Daenerys stepped forward, her Mera Mera no Mi igniting, flames dancing along her arms. "For House Targaryen," she whispered, unleashing a torrent of fire. The pyre roared to life, the criminals' screams piercing the air, then fading as the flames consumed them. The heat was intense, but Daenerys stood unafraid, her silver hair glowing like a beacon.
When the screams ceased, Daenerys walked into the pyre, flames licking her unburned skin, her fire immunity a gift of her fruit and blood. The courtyard held its breath. As the flames died, she emerged, a grin splitting her face, three small dragons clinging to her shoulders. The black one hissed, its red highlights gleaming; the green one chirped, bronze eyes bright; the white one nuzzled her, gold scales shimmering.
Dominic and Missandei rushed forward, their smiles wide. "Dany!" Missandei gasped, reaching for the green dragon. "They're beautiful!"
Dominic laughed, stroking the black one's snout. "You did it, Dragons reborn, What will you name them?"
Daenerys beamed, lifting the Black dragon with red highlights. "This is Morghul," she said, nodding to the black one. "The green is Rhaegal, and the white is Tyraxes."
"Strong names," Dominic said, pulling meat from his inventory and tossing it to the dragons, who snapped it up eagerly. "They're already fierce."
Missandei giggled as Rhaegal nibbled her finger. "They're adorable now, but when they grow…"
"Trouble," Dominic finished, grinning. "Just like their mother."
Daenerys swatted him playfully. "What's next, Dom? With dragons, Viserys, Jon… what's our plan?"
Dominic's eyes gleamed, his voice low. "We end slavery, free the slaves, and take the Free Cities. Essos will be ours, a foundation for the throne."
Missandei's eyes widened. "That's ambitious. How?"
Then he starts telling them about his plans for the free cities of Essos.
As they spoke, Altaria swooped down from above, her cottony wings flaring as she tackled Dominic, chirping happily. The dragons hissed, Morghul baring tiny fangs. Altaria chirped louder, fluffing her feathers in defiance, sparking a squabble of hisses and squawks. The trio burst into laughter, Daenerys clutching her sides.
"They're like siblings already," Missandei said, wiping tears. "When those dragons grow, we'll have chaos."
"Glorious chaos," Dominic agreed, shooing Altaria back to the sky. He turned to Daenerys. "Stay with them, Dany. Bond. We'll handle the city."
Daenerys nodded, cradling Tyraxes. "Thank you, both."
Dominic and Missandei left, strolling through the palace's sunlit halls. Missandei's voice grew quiet. "I want one, Dom. A dragon, or… something."
He paused, seeing her wistful expression, and pulled a Pokémon egg from his inventory, its shell swirled with blue and gold. "When this hatches, it's yours. Could be anything—luck's the game."
Missandei's face lit up, hugging him. "Thank you, Dom."
They continued inside, Uruk's future bright but perilous, its king and queens ready to reshape the world.
Meanwhile in Dorne
In Sunspear's Water Gardens, Aeron Sand lounged under a lemon tree, the past month a blur of nocturnal passion with Princess Arianne Martell. Her fire matched his, their nights leaving him both exhilarated and exhausted. Now, he stood before Prince Doran Martell in a shaded chamber, his leather armor dusted from travel, Deadpool's swords at his back.
"My prince," Aeron said, bowing. "I must return to Uruk. King Dominic has summoned me."
Doran, seated with his gout-afflicted legs propped, nodded, his weathered face thoughtful. "When do you leave?"
"Two hours," Aeron replied. "A ship sails for Uruk. I'll catch it."
Doran's eyes glinted. "Tell your king Dorne and Uruk are allies. We'll stand with you when the time comes."
Aeron bowed again. "I will, my prince." He left, his steps light but his mind heavy with Uruk's brewing storm.