Walking through cities, hoping against hope for someone to take pity - though her brother would never call it that - on two beggar claimants to the Iron Throne was not an unusual habit for Daenerys and Viserys Targaryen. Remarkably, there wasn't a whole lot of money in being the children of a deposed King of a fallen dynasty, even a dynasty of Dragonlords. Former Dragonlords.

Anyway, this was the current expedition Dany found herself on. It was just them against the world. Dany wasn't really ever sure why they had to be against the world - she liked the world perfectly fine, and didn't particularly see why she should hate it. Other than slavery. Essosi slavery disgusted her. Otherwise, though, she didn't incredibly care either way. She'd be happy playing nice with the world. At least it would be peaceful that way. But never mind that. They were in a shadier side of the town - Braavos, she thought, but it could be Lys, her geography wasn't spectacular in any way, shape, or form - when all of the sudden they came across a boy.

Well, to be more specific, the boy came across them. There had been nobody one second, but the next Dany was on the ground, her vision blocked out by black. Was that hair she saw?

Abruptly as he appeared, he was wrenched off by Viserys. His eyes were aflame; evidently, the boy had woken the dragon. Her elder brother reached for a knife strapped to his belt - an inexpensive one, but probably one of their most practical pieces of property - then put it to the boy's neck.

Danny's eyes widened. He wouldn't! The boy had done nothing, just ran into her. Apparently. "Wait, Viser-" She broke off when the boy's eyes suddenly snapped wide open. They - in a word - were the most beautiful things she had ever seen. Her mother's crown, back when they still had it, had a single emerald. It was such a pretty gemstone, calm like a sapphire but bright like a ruby. The boy's eyes were exactly that shade. She'd heard that green eyes were common in parts of Westeros, but she couldn't imagine they were like these. These were no exaggeration to call unearthly.

She only realized about a second later that her breath had caught in her throat. She looked back at Viserys. Her brother, it seemed, had removed his hand from the boy's neck. He was glancing back and forth between something, his eyes darting between the boy's - Seven hells were they beautiful - and somewhere else.

Viserys hummed. "Hmm. My Lady sister has seen fit to spare your life." Briefly, his eyes met hers, and she saw ice in those eyes. She knew her brother well enough to tell that something was going on that she didn't know about, that she couldn't figure out, but for the life of her she didn't know what. She supposed she would have to play along, and - at least if he wanted to live - the boy would have to play along as well. "Thank her, peasant."

The boy blinked, before bowing to her. "Th-Thank y-y-you, my L-l-ady..."

Dany smiled. Even if her brother was going to use this boy - for whatever reason - she'd at least try to make it some semblance of enjoyable for him. "You're forgiven. What's your name?"

"Har-Harry, Harry Potter, my Lady..." A wry silver eyebrow rose on her brother's face, which she supposed she understood. That was an awfully Westerosi name for an Essosi boy, not to mention his having a House - not every street urchin is of noble blood. "Why were you running?"

"Well, I-I was running from Dudley..."

"Dudley?"

"My cousin, my Lord."

"Your Grace," he corrected.

"My c-cousin, Your Grace. He was chasing me."

"I assumed as much. Why?"

"I don't know, Your-Your Grace. I-I think he enjoys it..."

"Hmm. Are you Westerosi?"

"Y-yes, Your Grace."

"And you're of House Potter?" Harry answered in the affirmative. After a few more questions, Viserys seemed to come to a decision. "You still assaulted royalty, a crime, though my Lady Sister spared you." He waved his hand, almost dismissively. "Swear yourself to her, and in return, you shall be spared."

"And I can-?" He broke off, realizing what he was saying. She did not hear anything good about whomever Harry lived with during Viserys' questioning, but his desperation sent shivers down her spine.

Viserys just smirked a shade. "Yes, you will accompany us, providing your sword-blade and any other abilities you have."

The boy's eyes were wide now, not that Dany was complaining. Even after a few minutes, she still enjoyed just looking at the ethereal green. He knelt immediately, and unfortunately lowered his gaze down to the ground. "Do you know the oath?"

He nodded slowly. "I offer my services, Lady..."

"Daenerys."

"Lady Daenerys. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New."

Dany swallowed, hoping meanwhile that neither of the two others noticed. "And-and I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table." She paused for a second, trying to remember the rest. "And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Arise."

He did.

She turned briefly towards Viserys, and he nodded. "Very good, sister. Queenly." He turned towards the boy who apparently was now her sworn sword. "Swearing as a knight? A tad presumptuous, wouldn't you say?"

As the boy stiffened up, Viserys pursed his lips. "Worry not; I didn't expect you to know any other version of these oaths. Who knows, Gods willing I may one day knight you if you do your Lady proud."

And so, a legend, a story that would echo throughout the ages into eternity like those of the Dragonlords themselves, began where all true stories begin: in the secluded, tight streets of a busy, packed city, with a brother, a sister, and a street urchin boy.

So, it turned out they were in Myr. Shows what Dany knew, she supposed. Harry seemed to know the city like the back of his hand; there was one point where she could've sworn they were on one side of the city one moment, and on the complete opposite the next. And that was ignoring the increasing amount of...odd...events that happened around him.

Dany giggled, shaking her head. Magic isn't real. At least not anymore; she assumed Dragons were magical, but there was a severe lack of those these days. Anyway, it was increasingly becoming clear that recruiting Harry was probably one of the greatest decisions they could have made. It was admittedly unclear why he stayed loyal; once Viserys let him more than a foot away, the boy could escape easily. Maybe he thought Viserys really could become King.

She turned, hearing soft footsteps coming up behind her. "Hello, Harry."

"Hello, my Lady." Quiet as always.

"His Grace wanted me to summon you. We are leaving for Pentos on the morrow."

Dany blinked. It had been quite a while since they had moved cities. They certainly didn't have the money to... "Did he..." she trailed off, struggling to form the question.

After a moment, he replied, "His Grace was personally invited."

Well. That was very good news. If they were personally invited, they'd pretty much be able to stay there indefinitely. At the very least, they'd be safer than roaming the streets of Myr. She smiled. "Where is he?"

"Welcome! I assume you are His Grace, King Viserys?" The Prince Magister of Pentos was a rather rotund man, in Harry's quiet opinion. Much like a certain man he didn't really care to think about any more.

"I am. You are Magister Illyrio, no? This is my sister, Princess Daenerys, and her retainer."

The man bowed his head to Daenerys. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lady." He turned, beckoning a woman who, from her demeanor, appeared to be a slave. Undoubtedly, the man would simply pass it off as her being a servant. Which, I suppose, isn't false. "Lead the Princess and her sword to her room."

The two followed the slave. Tempered leather muffled his steps on the cold wood floor, something he was rather grateful for; wood was notoriously difficult to walk across silently. After they entered, the slave woman closed the door behind them. Seeing them alone, Daenerys opened her mouth, but Harry raised a quieting finger. The walls have ears here, my Lady, he mouthed. Be careful. He had no doubt that the slave woman was right outside, and she would probably be rewarded immensely by the fat man for anything Daenerys betrayed of consequence.

She nodded. "Please guard outside, Harry."

He bowed his head. "Of course, my Lady." He pivoted, and proceeded to make his way out of the room. As he rather expected, the woman was waiting outside, pretending to sweep the floors of all things. She had the decency to at least look abashed when he glared at her.

This was far, far to much like his old 'home.'

Magister Illyrio looked at Harry with appraising raised eyebrows. "So you are a sword sworn to Princess Daenerys?"

There wasn't many times wherein Harry felt some semblance of thankfulness towards his Uncle and Aunt. Those times when he had to choose words carefully, like now, were one of those exceptions. "I am."

"You look Westerosi. What is a lordling doing on this side of the Narrow Sea?"

He couldn't lie; he knew that much. However, the full truth was, quite frankly, none of this man's business. He hadn't told Daenerys, he certainly wouldn't tell this man. "I was born to a house that went extinct during the Usurper's Rebellion." Having been burned alive while visiting a brothel - yes, his whole family, seven individuals, including three women - or so he'd been told, but the distinguished Magister didn't need to know that. "I was sent to live with my mother's family, a minor merchant house in Myr."

"Hmm. My condolences."

He nodded. "Thank you, my Lord."

"Why did you swear to the Princess, then?"

"There is only one true King of Westeros, and I am Westerosi at heart. I fully intend to be involved with my homeland." Mhm. That sounded good. Not a single lie. Harry's vaguely fanatic façade also helped; he certainly seemed patriotic, and that would work well for keeping Illyrio from paying too much attention to him.

"That level of loyalty is respectable; it's certainly higher than the loyalty of some of the Kingsguard." The Magister quirked an eyebrow, clearly thinking himself fantastically clever for coming up with such a segue. "Are you aiming to be part of His Grace's Kingsguard?"

"It would be quite an honor, but I am still far too inexperienced."

Harry's head perked up, and he glanced around quickly, eyes darting from shadow to shadow. "Assassins."

They where in the middle of eating. The Magister, a ways across the table near Viserys, perked up. "What?"

Harry disregarded the question. He didn't know how he knew there were assassins around, but he would be nothing if he didn't trust his instincts. And his instincts told them there were hired knives around somewhere. There were three doors to the room they were in. Solid oak, thankfully, but far too many for his taste. He wouldn't be able to protect everyone, if the enemy came in all three doors. As such, he'd have to attack. He wrenched the door open, and dashed out into the hall. He glanced left; he thought he had heard something there.

Duck! his instincts screamed at him. He pulled his head below his shoulders, hoping the knife would be no lower. His gamble was rewarded as steel hummed above his head, the air gasping as razor-sharp metal missed its target. Like lightning, thoughts ran through his head. Alright, he's probably right behind me. If I... He jabbed his elbow backwards, ramming the bone into the man's stomach. A crunch resounded behind him. Huh?

He didn't have time for thoughts much, however. "How many?" That, he assumed, was a question every assassin was familiar with.

"Th-" There was a heavy, wet breath. What? Did he have blood in his throat or something? He couldn't possibly have been hurt all that much. It was just an elbow. "Three..."

Three assassins, and not half-bad ones at that? Who has that kind of money? He ran into the main room, where, to his relief, there were several guards, all with much more ability than him. Not to mention, they had a man tied up, another assassin, from the looks of it. He sighed.

"How did you know?"

"...I'm sorry?"

"How did you know there were assassins?" the Magister clarified.

Harry shrugged. There was a time and a place for pleasantries, and this was decidedly not it.

"Where there others?"

"There was one outside the door I exited through. There was also..." His eyes widened. Where's the last one? He glanced around, but he couldn't find anyone. And then he glanced over towards the only person in the room he rather respected, Daenerys. And he saw an arrow flying towards the girl.

And then reality shifted, and pain ripped through his shoulder.

"Sēter!" cried the Magister, panic running through his bloodstream. Magic! The boy! He had - he was in one spot, and then he was in another! Impossible!

And then a series of pops rang through the room. He glanced over to the source, and there were more people popping out of nowhere. An old man, snow-white beard defining his face; an old woman, who even a glance struck a decent level of fear into the Magister.

"Merlin! What happened here? Minerva, get Poppy. I'll deal with the muggles."