A/N: First of all… full blame on PeekabooFang and her rants on parallels between Game of Thrones and Phantom of the Opera on her Tumblr. This crazy plot-bunny which refused to let go of me came out of it. So, note that this isn't a crossover, for the reason that there are no characters from the GoTverse coming here. Just the characters from POTO who get… Westerosified. They'll get their houses from the GoTverse, and their first names are going to be slightly modified to fit better in the universe. Also, you will recognize some events from the series. But I try to follow the plotline of POTO here as much as I can, while adapting it to the exigencies of this story. So a mish-mash of both, so to say.

The story is rated T for now. I don't expect to write smut, because I never do in my stories as a matter of principles (yeah, I know). But if it gets too gory, it might get an M rating. Well, we are in freaking Westeros, after all… You'll be warned of it if it happens.

Disclaimer: I own nothing coming from Susan Kay's Phantom, Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera, George R. R. Martin's Song of Ice and Fire or HBO's Game of Thrones. Anything coming from Le Fantôme de l'Opéra by Gaston Leroux belongs to the public domain.

Prologue

The King was mad.

It was no secret for the court – he was mad since childhood, in his bloodlust that reminded people a bit too much of his dragon ascendency. Well, with his gloats claiming that he was THE Dragon, you had no choice but to admit it.

Dragons in old stories were said to be noble creatures, helping the innocent, giving them freedom and burning the villains in painful fire, even hotter than the fire from a forge. Now, the canon for the dragon had changed: they had been at first a way to scare children in a way of making them obey to an adult's every whim. Now, they were pretty much put on the same level as the Devil.

The Targaryens had come from the continent of Essos, more than three hundred years ago, mounting dragons and conquering six of Westeros' seven kingdoms, quickly rallying people to their cause by their sole charisma. There were four of them, two kings and two queens, known for their sense of justice and gentleness, but also their bravery and fierceness in battle. They had reigned, and each of them was mourned greatly when they came to pass away.

The brothers had married their sisters. They claimed that dragon blood ran in their veins, and in consequence, the purity of their race had to be conserved. Their blonde, almost white hair, their purple eyes, and most especially, their immunity to heat and also fire, gave not only credibility to their claim, but also an aura of supernatural that immediately gained them an almost religious respect who turned with the years and as the Targaryens' madness grew, fear.

The same incestuous arrangement happened for a few generations. Not very often, but still. There had been for example a case where a Targaryen princess, the youngest of eight siblings, had married a Stark and became therefore Lady of Winterfell. The characteristics, in such unions, seemed to be unfortunately unable of transmitting themselves to their progeny. Only the case mentioned above of the union between a Stark and a Targaryen saw some descendents showing House Targaryen's gifts. But again, they would only manifest themselves at every three generations.

In the end, all the consanguinity, instead of showing itself physically, like it happens often in such cases, showed itself in bloodlust, thus especially each time a Targaryen felt his pride insulted, it growing more and more as the generations went on. You were rather surprised of such a thing, when you would see their stainless, angelic beauty, which gave them an air of serenity which seemingly couldn't be troubled by anything. But it was nothing but a mere façade.

King Chaerys, third of the name, had married his sister Madelenya, despite all the non-stopping demands of the fathers of the other houses who wished to see their daughters Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The King, despite his reputation, had rather been popular among the ladies and their subjects of gossip. He was handsome, like his father and predecessors before him, of course; but it is often said in our world, in the present days, that girls have a tendency to prefer bad boys. Despite his silvery hair, there was definitely something darker about Chaerys' features. The serenity of his ancestors was gone. All that was left was a glimmer of some sort of twisted intelligence, not to say even malice; a haughty posture, though made so regal an average mortal who would have tried out such an attitude would have seemed quite laughable; and that crooked smirk…

Queen Madelenya Targaryen didn't really show signs of what seemed to be now House Targaryen's curse. She did, however, seem a bit too clingy on her brotherly husband and was exceptionally childish and capricious. But every single whim of hers was obeyed, and with eagerness, despite how ridiculous they could be from time to time. She had been raised as a living doll, treated like a living doll. Her pouty lips, doe-eyed purple eyes, and porcelain cheeks only emphasized that look. She was all dolled up indeed, and watched closely: if the bridles that retained the prize-winning mare called Madelenya would have been released, it would be most certain that she would try out her womanly charms on other knights, for the little pest was quite conscious of them. But as much as she was a jealous wife, the King was a jealous husband as well.

Then, they had come, in the same way the Targaryens had come more than three hundred years ago.

They were from Essos as well. But to the people of Westeros, they seemed even more exotic than the Targaryens themselves, with their dark skin, hair and eyes. The savagery of some of the men intrigued them, as they were just barely dressed. Their ruthlessness as well – for sure, the Seven Kingdoms weren't quite what you could call a perfectly policed place, but their easy relationship with sex and violence shocked more than one.

The Hanessari had been nomads for many years. As they travelled their world, which had been limited to the continent, they had taken some habits and techniques from other nations, personalizing them into their own. Soon, they had become one of the most feared nations in Essos for their savagery. Then, their King had married a Lady from a more civilized city, and the city became theirs: with the new Queen and the city's treasures came culture: it was only then that the Hanessari were considered as a proper nation by everyone.

But the arid desert which they now dominated was not enough. At least, that was Neihro's opinion. His brother was King of the Hanessari: he could have perhaps plotted to overthrow his brother, for he had been given the command of a great portion of the Hanessar army. But Neihro's childhood had been full of tales of Westeros and of the Seven Kingdoms. His nurse came from those countries, since her father had ran away to avoid the then-Targaryen king's wrath.

Neihro had heard them all, from the roses of the Highgardens to the sternness of the North, and of the splendors of King's Landing and most especially, the legendary Iron Throne, built by the four Targaryen kings and queens with all their war trophies. And he knew that on that sat a King who counted dragons in his ancestors, and whose madness increased as the generations passed on.

He left for Westeros, with his brother's blessing, his dream made realistic with the thousands of men following him and willing to die for him. He came to the oppressed people as some sort of Messiah, being the only one who would laugh at House Targaryen's so-said divinity. Their dragons weren't there anymore. The last ones had proven unable to lay any eggs, for some obscure reason they were never able to explain. But, at least, the Targaryens' reputation was made and seemingly all solid. Seemingly. It was in reality nothing more than a house of cards, and a small pinch, but a well-placed one, would prove itself to be more than enough to make it all shatter.

Neihro was in a sense innocent. He could not understand the so-said supernatural. As he made more and more progress, noble families joined on his side. There were indeed many great Houses in Westeros, who had each ruled a kingdom before House Targaryen came and united all seven of them to dominate them all. House Lannister was the first one, and remained Neihro's most faithful ally. Then later, slowly, with time, as they all saw that Westeros needed change, the other houses, Stark, Tully, Tyrell, Frey, Arryn, Baratheon and many others all joined as well. And the Night's Watch, who guarded the Wall far, far away in the North, seemingly neglected by everyone and welcoming all the unwelcomed ones such as the Houses' bastards, had not been forgotten and had played a great part in the Hanessari's conquest of the Seven Kingdoms.

There were only a handful of noblemen who remained at the Targaryens' side. They were forced eventually to flee, despite Chaerys' frantic argument and later furious ire that he was the Dragon and that he was to transform into one when Neihro's army would come to vanquish them all. But for once, Madelenya, who usually always obeyed her brother-husband's every whim, had decided to follow the counsel of their advisers.

After all, she was now expecting a child.

And Chaerys and Madelenya being the last remaining of House Targaryen, the child was their only chance.

Lanya had said that he would be the One who would save House Targaryen from annihilation. Lanya was their prophetess: and everyone in all the Seven Kingdoms knew about her very special links with the Gods and the fact that she was given the privilege of seeing glimpses of the future.

The Targaryens and their remaining allies were now roving: not knowing where to go, for they had pretty much no place to go, actually. The Hanessari were tracking them down mercilessly. Neihro knew that the only way of annihilating them definitely was to kill them all, to show the people in Westeros that they had nothing to do with gods.

It had finally happened – the Targaryens, thankfully for them, managed to escape, but carrying with them a severely wounded Chaerys who seemed on the bridge to death. A witch accompanying them proposed to use black magic to help the King survive and heal, thus by using some of the baby growing in Madelenya's body's vitality, assuring them there would be absolutely no negative consequences on him or her. The Queen accepted, for she was unsure that her allies would still stay with them with only her and a frail baby who hadn't even peeked into the world and his cruelties yet, may he be the One or not.

But the King was too far away on the river leading to the other side to be saved. And so Chaerys III Targaryen died, only a month before his son would come into the world. The sorcerers had attempted a bit too much to revive him, taking so much energy from the soon-to-be-born child it came to the point it was dangerous for the latter's life.

Everyone was therefore afraid the child would be born with some weakness. But he was the One, after all. That was what Madelenya was tirelessly repeating to herself as time went by and that her allies' patience seemed to get thin.

The Queen, a month after her husband and King's death, gave birth to a boy.

But the black magic that had been attempted to use on Chaerys, the consanguinity, and… even the dragon ascendency, to judge with what had just happened, seemed to have literally rubbed off on the heir given to House Targaryen.

The child was born grossly deformed – no, deformed wasn't appropriate for the monster beautiful Madelenya had given birth to.

On his back and his arms his very white skin turned into scales at places, and tiny dragon wings could be seen. His finger nails seemed more like claws, emphasizing his already bony hands for a baby. His hair was black – which was rather surprising, since all Targaryens' hair was white. He already had all his dentition, but his canines were slightly longer than usual, almost looking like fangs. And finally, half of his face seemed to be in decay: the skin seemed to peel off, revealing at those places a pudgy pinkish grey thing reminding a bit too much of a brain.

Madelenya had screamed in hysterics at the sight of her child, claiming that it wasn't hers or Chaerys'… but it was. His father's traits were already recognizable on the more human parts of his face, and the resemblance would become even more striking as he would grow up.

And for Madelenya, it was the end.

Those who were formely House Targaryen's allies, despite the prophecy, knew it would be only a fool who would now support such a monster as King of the Seven Kingdoms. Madelenya and her child were betrayed, and it didn't take long before they were the Neihro's prisoners.

Madelenya was quickly executed. She wasn't of much use anymore, anyway. The poor thing had become insane, unable of speaking coherently and laughing mad at times. For the child, however, his destiny was to be different.

Such a monster was to be killed, of course. He was to all the true face of House Targaryen finally revealed, and his death would not only signify their end, but also, all the hatred the people had slowly and quietly gathered for them would be multiplied and satisfied, therefore assuring Neihro's popularity.

But Neihro had just married a girl among his people. Ayura was the new Queen's name. And under her demure, sweet outer shell and her flawless beauty, hid a calculating, intelligent, devious woman who had a very strong tendency to sadism but who knew how to hide it.

She had seen the half-dragon, half-human child; and from the very first day, he had fascinated her.

It didn't take much for her to convince her husband and King to spare the Targaryen monster's life. A few waterfalls of tears, begging, begging, kneeling, putting her maternal instincts in front… Neihro was touched, though hesitant. She then decided to reveal a bit of her plans for the child in the future.

He would be a puppet, nothing more than an enslaved puppet, definitely humiliated.

What is worse than death, anyway?

The King accepted, leaving the child's fate all to Ayura.

But he was, after all, still a baby with certain needs. No nurse agreed to take care of him: no one, except a stout woman among the city who accepted to take care of the child until he would reach his second year. She didn't seem to be intimidated or scared of anything. She even claimed to have seen much worse than the Targaryen monster.

After all, she did come from beyond the Wall…

It was only two weeks after she had begun that she realized that the child had been given no name.

She decided to call him Erik.

In her native language, Erik meant "eternal ruler"…

A/N: I know this part was very narrative… but this was the prologue to explain all the stuff that happened in the past. The real story with dialogue and all will start next chapter, I promise!

Reviews, por favor?