Third Person POV
298 AC, Uruk Docks – Morning
The briny air of Uruk's bustling docks greeted Jon Snow as he stepped off the ship from White Harbor, his cloak heavy with sea salt, his grey eyes scanning the vibrant chaos. Uruk's port teemed with life—merchants hawking silks and spices, fishermen unloading shimmering catches, and Pokémon like Gyarados patrolling the waters, their scales glinting under the Essos sun. Jon hefted his meager pack, the pouch of 50 gold dragons from Eddard Stark clinking softly. Seeking a tavern for the night, he wove through the crowd, asking a fishmonger for directions.
Before the man could answer, two Unsullied soldiers approached, their bronze armor gleaming, spears held with disciplined precision. Their faces, trained to stoicism, fixed on him. "Are you Jon Snow, son of Eddard Stark?" one asked, voice flat.
Jon's hand drifted to his sword hilt, cautious. "Aye, I am."
"The king invites you to the palace," the other said. "King Dominic wishes to meet the son of Eddard Stark."
Jon's brow furrowed. "What does the king want with me?"
"The king desires your presence," the first replied simply.
"I'm a bastard," Jon said, his voice low, testing their intent.
The Unsullied exchanged a glance. "The king cares not if you are trueborn or bastard. You are summoned."
Jon studied them, then nodded, curiosity outweighing wariness. "Lead on."
The Unsullied escorted him through Uruk's gates, a city unlike any he'd imagined. Three concentric walls. The outer wall, towering and broad, guards fields and cattle. The middle wall encircled the city proper. The innermost wall, delicate yet unyielding, cradled Egalmah, King Dominic's palace, which is a ziggurat-like structure, inspired by the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. The building has multiple tiered levels, each with lush greenery, including palm trees, cascading down the sides. The structure is made of stone with a sandy beige color and features wide staircases leading up to higher levels. The topmost level has a more elaborate design with columns and a flat roof. The surrounding landscape is arid. The overall scene evokes a sense of grandeur and historical significance.
The chariot ride to Egalmah was swift, the Unsullied silent as they passed silk-draped bazaars and forges glowing with unnatural heat. Jon's eyes drank in Uruk's splendor, a stark contrast to Winterfell's austere stone. At the palace, guards opened its gates of white marble, revealing a courtyard of blooming jasmine and a central fountain shaped like a dragon. Jon was led through vaulted halls, their walls adorned with tapestries of Uruk's triumphs, to the throne room.
The throne room was vast, its ceiling studded with star-like gems, light cascading onto a throne of polished obsidian. King Dominic Augustus sat commandingly, his 6'6" frame radiating power, golden eyes sharp with mischief. To his left, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, silver hair and violet eyes aglow, smiled warmly. To his right, Queen Missandei, her dusky skin and dark curls radiant, exuded quiet strength. Unsullied stood guard, their presence a silent promise of Uruk's might.
Then herald anounces " You are in the presence of Domonic of House Augustus, King of Uruk, and his wives, Queen Missandei of House Augustus, and Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen."
Jon, even though he was shocked that a Targaryen was the queen, stepped forward, bowing stiffly. "King Dominic, Queen Missandei, Queen Daenerys, thank you for your hospitality."
Dominic's grin was mischievous, his voice warm. "No need for thanks between family, Jon."
Daenerys and Missandei chuckled, their eyes twinkling. Jon's face twisted in confusion. "Family? I… don't understand. How are we related?"
Dominic leaned forward, his tone teasing. "You know nothing, Jon Snow."
Jon's eyes narrowed, a spark of frustration. "Can you tell me how we're related, Your Grace?"
Dominic's grin softened. "Do you know your mother?"
Jon frowned. "Are you saying we're related through her?"
"No," Dominic said, his voice firm. "Through your father's line." He paused, his gaze piercing.
Then Jon says with a frown, "Then can you enlighten me?"
"Let me tell you who you are, Jon. You are the trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. Aemon of House Targaryen, third of your name. Born king, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, Rhoynar, and First Men, Protector of the Realm. By relation, you are nephew to my wife, Daenerys."
Jon's face went slack, shock rooting him to the floor. Daenerys's voice was gentle. "Hello, nephew."
Anger flared in Jon's eyes, his voice sharp. "Is this a jest?"
Dominic sighed, his tone earnest. "No jest, Jon. Why do you think Eddard Stark, the epitome of honor, traveled to Dorne after the rebellion to find his sister, only to return with her body and a child he claimed as his bastard? He did it to protect you. Robert Baratheon would've killed you as a babe if he knew your true parentage. Ned tarnished his honor to keep you safe."
Jon's world tilted, his breath shallow. "So… my whole life's a lie?"
Dominic's voice softened. "Just because Ned didn't sire you doesn't mean he's not your father. He raised you, loved you, and protected you. Don't blame him—he did what he had to. I know it's a lot. You'll need time. Stay here in Egalmah for the foreseeable future, think on it."
Jon nodded numbly, his mind a storm. Dominic gestured to a servant. "Show him to his quarters."
As Jon left, Daenerys's voice was quiet. "Will he be alright, Dom?"
"He'll be fine," Dominic said, squeezing her hand. "He just needs time to come to terms."
Missandei nodded, her Emma Frost telepathy sensing Jon's turmoil. "He's strong, Dany. Like you."
They left the throne room, Uruk's golden walls a backdrop to their plans.
Next Morning – Egalmah Dining Hall
Dawn painted Egalmah's dining hall in soft gold, its long table laden with breakfast: honeyed flatbreads, spiced eggs, and gacha-grown mangoes. Dominic sat at the head, his black silk tunic edged with gold, when a servant announced Jon's request for a meeting. "Invite him to break his fast," Dominic said, sipping tea.
Jon entered, his face haggard from a sleepless night, but his grey eyes resolute. He bowed. "Your Grace."
"Sit, Jon," Dominic said, gesturing to a chair. "No titles here. So, what did you think about all night?"
Jon took a deep breath, his voice steady. "Lord Stark didn't give birth to me, but he's still my father. My siblings—Robb, Sansa, Arya, Bran, Rickon—they're still my siblings. That doesn't change."
Dominic nodded, a smile tugging his lips. "Good man. So, what's next? Will you claim your throne?"
Jon shook his head. "My plans haven't changed. I'll travel Essos for a year or two, then join the Night's Watch."
Dominic leaned back, his tone thoughtful. "Fair enough. But know this, Jon: the only way to make sense of change is to plunge into it, move with it, join the dance. There will be lot of changes in the future, troubled times are ahead. Until then, join my army. We're planning to liberate slaves in Essos, conquer the Free Cities."
Jon's eyes widened, then he nodded. "I'll fight for that. Freeing slaves… it's honorable."
"I'll speak to Daemon, commander of the Unsullied," Dominic said. "You'll train with them. Now, about Essos—"
Daenerys and Missandei entered, their silks swishing, interrupting. Jon stood, bowing. "Queen Daenerys, Queen Missandei."
Daenerys smiled, waving him down. "No formality, Jon. We're family. Call me Dany—as those close to me do."
Missandei's eyes twinkled. "And I'm Missandei. Sit, please."
Jon nodded, easing back. "Alright… Dany, Missandei."
Then Jon asks after they have taken seats, his voice curious. "Dany, what about your brother, Viserys?"
Daenerys hesitated, then recounted what he is doing: Viserys's khalasar, his march on Uruk, his madness. Daenerys's face fell, her violet eyes shadowed. "He's… lost," she said softly.
Jon frowned, unsure how to respond.
Daenerys seeking to lighten the mood, said, " I have hatched dragons a week ago. do you want to see them?"
Missandei said, "Yes! Morghul, Rhaegal, Tyraxes—they're small but fierce."
"Can I see them?" Jon asked, his voice tinged with awe.
"Of course," Dany said, delighted. "After we eat."
Missandei leaned in, teasing. "They're adorable, Jon, but already hissing at anyone who comes near Dany."
Dominic chuckled. "Altaria's not thrilled about sharing the skies."
Then Jon asks, puzzled, "Altaria?"
Dominic says, "It is a magical bird only found in Uruk."
Hearing that Jon, who already knows about the rumours of magics surrounding Uruk just nods.
The conversation turned to their travels. Dany recounted their tour of the Seven Kingdoms, her voice animated. "We pranked Joffrey Baratheon in Winterfell with a laughing spell. He rolled on the floor, farting!"
Jon snorted, a rare laugh escaping. "Gods, that was you. Robb and Theon howled when they heard about that incident. We thought he was mad or something when he started laughing hysterically."
Missandei giggled. "He's a menace. Arya must've loved seeing him squirm."
Jon's eyes softened. "Aye, Arya's fierce."
Dany's voice grew wistful. "We visited Aemon Targaryen at the Wall. Our great-granduncle. He's blind, frail, but wise. He gave me Dark Sister, our house's sword."
Jon's jaw dropped. "Maester Aemon? A Targaryen?"
"He swore to the Watch," Dominic said.
Jon shook his head, marveling. "I never knew… Gods, it's all so strange."
Dany touched his arm. "It's a lot, Jon. But you're not alone. We're family."
The breakfast ended, plates cleared, laughter lingering. Jon felt lighter, Uruk's warmth easing his burdens. As they rose, Dany promised to show him the dragons, Dominic to arrange his training, and Missandei to share tales of Uruk's Pokémon. Egalmah's halls echoed with their voices, a new bond forming, as Essos's future loomed.