Third Person POV
299 AC, Meereen – Morning
The white-and-gold city of Meereen, newly liberated, buzzed with the energy of rebirth under the cobalt blue Wings of Liberation banner, the emblem of Uruk's freedom. Dominic Augustus, King of Uruk, stood in the Great Pyramid's audience chamber as he oversaw the city's reorganization. His black silk tunic, edged with gold, shimmered in the torchlight, he issued orders to freedmen and Unsullied captains. Slaver's Bay was his, but the game of thrones was about to shift.
A raven arrived, its scroll bearing grim tidings from Westeros: King Robert Baratheon was dead, gored by a boar, and Eddard Stark, accused of treason, languished in King's Landing's dungeons. Dominic unrolled the parchment, his lips curling into a predatory grin. "The game has begun," he murmured, his voice low, resonant. The Seven Kingdoms were fracturing, and the board was set for chaos. Without hesitation, he apparated, reappearing in Astapor's red-brick palace, where Daenerys Targaryen and Missandei are staying.
Astapor – Midday
Astapor's palace, once a den of slavers, now thrummed with purpose under Daenerys and Missandei's rule. The Plaza of Pride, cleansed of blood, hosted markets where freedmen traded freely. Daenerys sat in a high-backed chair in the council chamber, her silver hair braided, violet eyes calm but fierce. Dark Sister rested at her side. Missandei, in sapphire silks, stood to her left. Jon Snow, in black leather, his grey eyes troubled, his Aemon Targaryen identity a quiet burden. Ser Jorah Mormont, grizzled and loyal, stood at the rear, his sword hand steady, his redemption a daily vow.
Dominic strode in, his presence filling the room like a storm. "News from Westeros," he announced, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "Robert Baratheon is dead, gored by a boar in a hunt. Eddard Stark, accused of treason, rots in King's Landing's dungeons. Joffrey, a bastard born of Cersei and Jaime Lannister, sits the Iron Throne, with Cersei pulling his strings."
Daenerys's eyes narrowed, her fingers tightening on her chair. "Robert dead? And Ned Stark is imprisoned? This is dire, Dom. The Lannisters move swiftly."
Missandei's voice was soft, sensing the weight of the news. "The Seven Kingdoms will tear themselves apart. Cersei's ambition knows no bounds."
Jorah stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "Your Grace, Lord Stark was an honorable man. If he's accused of treason, it's a lie to silence him. The North won't stand for this."
Jon Snow's face darkened, his grey eyes blazing with resolve. He rose abruptly, his chair scraping, and moved toward the door, his boots echoing on the stone. "I'm going to save my uncle," he said, his voice tight, resolute.
Dominic raised a hand, his magic stirring, and Jon halted, lifted an inch off the ground by levitation magic. Dominic's voice was calm but firm. "Where are you going, Jon?"
Jon spun, his eyes fierce. "Where else? I'm going to save my uncle! He's family, Dom. I can't leave him to rot in a Lannister cell."
Dominic lowered Jon gently, his golden eyes studying him. "And how, exactly, do you plan to do that? Storm King's Landing alone? Fight through a city of gold cloaks and Lannister knights?"
Jon's jaw clenched, his voice raw. "I'll go to Winterfell, rally with Robb, help in whatever way I can. The North will answer. We'll march south, demand my uncle's release, and bring him home."
Dominic nodded, crossing his arms, his voice measured. "You know Joffrey's mad, right? A cruel boy with a crown, drunk on power. You think he'll keep your uncle alive if Robb calls the banners? What's the guarantee, Jon? That he won't parade your uncle's head on a spike to cow the North?"
Jon froze, his expression stunned, the weight of Dominic's words sinking in. "Then what else can I do?" he said, his voice cracking. "I'm only one man, Dom. I can't sit here while my family suffers. I have to try."
Dominic sighed, his gaze softening, though his grin was sly. "You're not alone, Jon. You have us, your family, here, across the Narrow Sea. You can ask for help, you know. We're not just bystanders in this game."
Jon's eyes flicked to Daenerys, Missandei, Jorah, then back to Dominic. "Will you, then? Will you help me save them?"
Daenerys rose, her voice firm, her violet eyes blazing. "Of course we will, Jon. Ned Stark is your uncle, your blood. We'll find a way."
Missandei nodded, her voice gentle. "We're stronger together, Jon. You don't need to bear this alone."
Jorah's gruff voice cut in. "The Lannisters are snakes, but they're not invincible. With Uruk's strength, we can tip the scales."
Dominic raised a hand, his tone shifting to strategy. "We can help, Jon, but we've just brought Slaver's Bay under control—Astapor, Yunkai, Meereen. If we pull our forces now, chaos will creep back. Slavers will rise, freedmen will suffer. We need a plan, not a reckless charge." He paused, his grin widening, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "How about this?"
He reached into his gacha inventory, pulling out a shimmering parchment—a soul contract, its edges glowing with arcane light. "Sign this, Jon. It binds you to never betray me or plot against me. In return, I'll give you power beyond your imagination—power to save your family, to shake the Seven Kingdoms."
Jon stared at the contract, his grey eyes searching Dominic's face. "You're asking me to sell my soul?"
Dominic chuckled, his voice warm but edged. "Not to the devil, Jon. To a friend. I'm offering you a chance to protect your family, to be more than one man against a kingdom. What's it worth to you?"
Jon's jaw tightened, his resolve hardening. "Everything," he said, seizing the quill and signing his name without hesitation, the ink flaring briefly. "I don't care what it costs. I'll keep my family safe, even if it means binding myself to you."
The contract vanished in a burst of motes, sealing the pact. Dominic's grin widened, and he reached into his inventory again, producing a vial of super-soldier serum and a card of Shoto Todoroki template. "Drink this," he said, handing Jon the serum. "This card will give you the power of ice and fire."
Jon downed the serum, grimacing at its bitter taste, then clutched the card. A surge of energy coursed through him, his muscles tightening, his senses sharpening. Frost crackled at his left hand, flames flickering at his right, his grey eyes glowing briefly with dual power. He stared at his hands, awestruck, as ice and fire danced in harmony.
Dominic clapped him on the shoulder, his voice approving. "Now you wield ice and fire, Jon. Use it wisely. You're no longer just a man—you're a force. Try it, go on."
Jon raised his hands, exhaling. A blast of frost shot from his left, coating a stone pillar in ice, while his right conjured a flame that spiraled upward, warm but controlled. The council chamber buzzed with awe, Missandei's eyes wide, Jorah's jaw set, Daenerys smiling with pride.
Dominic nodded, his tone serious. "Good. Now, are you ready? Pack your essentials. We'll go to King's Landing, rescue your uncle and cousins, and I'll return after. I can't stay long—Slaver's Bay needs me—but I'll get you there."
Jon's eyes burned with determination. "I'm ready. Let's do this."
"Go pack," Dominic said, waving him off. "We leave soon."
Jon nodded, striding out, his new powers a mantle of hope. As the door closed, Daenerys turned to Dominic, her voice low. "Are you going to kill Joffrey and Cersei? End their reign before it festers?"
Dominic's grin was wicked, his golden eyes glinting. "Now, where's the fun in that, Dany? I want to watch them squirm, claw their way through this mess, all to realize the inevitable—they're going to lose. I'll let them dance a while longer before the curtain falls."
Daenerys laughed, her voice rich with amusement. "You're evil, Dom. Truly."
Missandei joined in, her smile sly. "A devil in king's clothing, plotting their downfall with a grin."
Dominic shrugged, his tone playful. "When did I ever claim to be a saint? I'm just playing the game, and I play to win."
Jorah shook his head, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "You're a dangerous man, Your Grace. The Lannisters won't know what hit them."
An hour later, Jon returned, a small pack slung over his shoulder, his face set with resolve. Dominic eyed him, nodding. "Ready?"
Jon's lips twitched at the name, but he nodded. "Ready."
Dominic pulled two items from his inventory: a two-way mirror and the Lasso of Truth. "This mirror," he said, handing it to Jon, "links to mine. Speak my name, and I'll see you, hear you, no matter the distance. Use it when you need us." He held up the golden lasso, its glow faint but potent. "This is the Lasso of Truth. Bind anyone with it, and they'll speak only truth, no matter their will. The place you are venturing is a nest of vipers, Jon. This'll cut through their lies."
Jon took the items, his fingers tracing the lasso's cord. "Thank you, Dom. For everything."
Dominic waved it off, his grin warm. "We are family. Now, say your farewells."
Jon turned to Daenerys, who embraced him fiercely. "Be safe, Nephew," she whispered. "Come back to us."
Missandei says, voice soft. "Trust your heart, Jon. We're with you."
Jon nodded, his grey eyes shining. "I'll return. I promise."
Dominic took Jon's hand, his voice low. "I'll be back by tonight, you both. Be ready for anything." He winked, then focused, his apparition magic flaring. With a crack, he and Jon vanished, reappearing in a shadowed alley in King's Landing, the city's stench and clamor closing around them. The game was afoot, and the wolves were coming.