Title: Dragonlord of House Flamel
Chapter One: Awakening
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or A Song of Ice and Fire so please don't sue me
Warning: I am a free writer, and I write when I feel like it. I am not on a schedule, so therefore updates will be infrequent.
Warning: If I lose interest in this story I might just stop writing all together, though in the future I may find interest in it again and then take up updating it then.
Warning: There may be lemons, profane language, character death, prostitution, possibly torture or abuse, lying, and probably other sins. If this bothers you, then don't read. You have been warned.
Warning: Harry will participate in a polygamy, bigamy, extramarital relationships, and other acts of sexuality, though no homosexuality. If this bothers you, then don't read. You have been warned.
Warning: There are elements from other stories in this one such as Mithril from Lord of the Rings, and the rider-dragon bond from Inheritance Cycle. These are very minor crossovers but for the sake of not getting sued this is a disclaimer to them as well.
XXX
As he opened his eyes the blackened stone of his room's ceiling greeted his vision. The black stone taken from the Fourteen Flames, melted by dragon fire, and then shaped by magic was a common sight in Oros. In fact after the art was mastered it became a staple of Valyrian artistry as much as engineering.
As he took in his first breath in what felt like an age dust that had inexplicably settled on his body entered his lungs. His hacking spell which followed created something of a smokescreen. The layer of filth which seemed to be an inch thick over his entire body launched into the air. This caused him even longer to catch his breath. Eventually though things cleared up both inside and outside his body.
"What the hell?" Jaehaerys, the first of his name, had never been unknowingly covered in filth.
As he looked around he found his room to be just as he remembered it yesterday only now it was completely filthy. He could not fathom how his room which put the palaces of kings to shame had fallen into such disrepair. Even the banner of his house which had once been such vibrant shades of red and gold was now faded with a thick layer of dust. He no longer felt any pride when he saw it. In fact the way the dust clumped off of it was a bit disgusting.
"This isn't right." A horrible feeling started to build up in his gut. "There is no way this happened overnight."
While he could stand there coming up with countless theorems on what happened action was probably the wiser choice. Still he could not leave his room looking like a tomb. With a wave of his hand an unnatural wind began to circulate around the room. As it grew stronger the dust that had settled in his room began to get sucked in. after a moment nearly all of the dirt, dust, and debris in his room was compacted into a single ball floating just over his outstretched hand.
"Geez." He eyed the mess critically. "That was a lot more than I had expected."
He took the clump of trash to the walk through windows at the end of his room. Not paying them too much attention he flicked his hand once again. This time the metal shudders made of a gold as strong as steel flicked open. Had it not been for years of emotional, mental, and physical control training he would have dropped the floating ball of dust instantly.
His home was burning. It singed into his brain like a hot iron. For as far as the eye could see unobstructed by the poisonous smoke there was only destruction and fire. Lava was pouring out of the Fourteen Flames melting everything it could not burn. From the vents the lava flowed so freely from shot pockets of poisonous gasses accompanied by ash that blotted out the sun. There was seemingly no end to any of it.
Looking further south he saw the ruins of the greatest civilization to ever exist. The buildings not fused together were little more than rubble. Buildings constructed of the fused black stone had held together better. They were also pretty destroyed but the areas lava or large falling debris didn't hit them stood only a little worse for wear. Still not one of them appeared to be useable. Giant holes, missing walls, or crumbling foundations made them useless.
"How could this have happened?" It was a rhetorical question. The evidence that the Fourteen Flames had erupted was pretty obvious. "The only thing that could protect our home is the runes mother put up. Still, others had similar defenses, so why did ours make it yet theirs didn't?" He thought on it for a second. He turned to look at the walls. "Oh, that's right. Father just finished creating that new substance that retains, enhances, and channels magic better than anything created in the past. What did he call it? Ithildin I think it's called."
He couldn't dwell on that right then though. He needed to find his mother and father. It they didn't come for him then that must mean they were still asleep. His mother no doubt put them to sleep using a stasis spell. Her reasoning being they would wake up when things were safer. That or they would die in their sleep peacefully not knowing they were burning to death.
Before he left he sent the ball of dust flying through the air. Before it had time to break up he conjured a ball of fire in his outstretched hand. It projected from his palm in an instant like a comet flying across the night sky. As it made contact with the ball of dust it ignited instantly. The dust was then reduced to ash before being scattered on the winds.
As he left his room he took note that even the hallways were pretty dirty. At least the painting of his ancestors over the last several thousand years were intact. Those were heirlooms that could not be replaced.
Eventually he made his way to his parent's room. It was only slightly larger than his own but with his family's tendency to be active they were rarely used for anything besides sleep. But as he examined practically every square inch of it he was disheartened to see they were absent.
"The only other place I can think of is the vaults." Hopefully they were both safe. It was weird. He couldn't remember anything going wrong before waking up in his bed covered in dust.
He moved swiftly through his family's keep. Eventually as he traveled deeper and deeper below ground level he came to an elongated tunnel made of the same black stone so loved in the Freehold. Only this stone had glowing blue-white markings running down its length in artistic designs. The designs of course were Valyrian runes mainly used for concealment and protection but they were none the less beautiful. They ran the length of the celling, the walls, and the floor before coming to an end at a massive metallic door used to protect the vault.
As he moved down the length of the tunnel he recounted how the runes were made from Ithildin. On top of its other qualities it was rather useful for lighting. As it glowed in the absence of natural lighting it became perfect for illuminating the dark tunnels under their keep. This saved the servants a lot of time replacing burnt out torches or replacing oil in oil lamps. While it was barely noticeable their family was smart enough to realize it also improved their finances as it never needed to renewed and they no longer needed to buy torch material or oil for the lamps.
The massive metallic door which protected their investments and stored their most valuable possessions was also rune incrusted. A symbol at the right about waist level was formed into a circle. Not thinking much of it he bit his thumb and smeared his blood across it. Only once he heard the mechanism inside the door start to unlock did he remove his hand.
He had always hated how practically everything in Valyria required blood in some manner. While he acknowledged using blood was the most secure way to protect their secrets it didn't mean he had to like it any less.
He placed his left hand over his bleeding thumb before channeling his magic into it. When he removed his hand the injury was gone. His thumb looked like it had never been injured in the first place. Not even a scar remained.
He paid his thumb no heed after a moment. The magic was an old hat to him after the many hours of practicing his swordplay in the courtyard only to be injured and in need of healing. At first his mother had been happy to do it but she was a buys woman and he as growing into a man. He would, in her own words, need to look after himself one day.
As he stepped into the first chamber of their vaults he began to look around. Piles upon piles of treasure stretched for as far as they eye could see. Gold made up the majority of the piles yet silver, platinum, and other precious metals were there as well. Scattered amongst their hoards was jewels of every shape and size. From diamonds to emeralds they were perfect down to their cut to their purity.
Mom!" He called out into the large chamber. "Dad! Can anyone hear me?" There was no reply. Silence was his only companion.
He told himself that they were probably further in. he refused to believe them dead without even seeing a body. It just didn't make sense that he would survive so casually when they did not.
Oddly their vault was not like others. In fact it was a series of four vaults connected to one another in a line starting with what they valued least and working their way back. With each chamber one entered it became increasingly more difficult to receive access to the next one. This of course being intentional in the unlikely chance someone is able to even reach the first chamber without someone noticing them. In five thousand years this had never happened once.
Not to say that they did not have their fair share of people trying to rob them. It's just after five thousand years of servants, Valyrians, slaves, and Dragonlords trying to steal from them and failing people seemed to realize it was a fool's errand. That and the destruction they would bring down on anyone caught trying. While a peaceful family they were fiercely protective of what was theirs. They had earned it and no one was going to just profiteer off of them without putting in the work.
As he moved passed the common treasure he came to a second door. This one you had to use blood but you also needed to draw the symbol of House Flamel over the allotted area. Once this was complete the nearly indestructible doors would open into the second chamber.
The second chamber acted as a warehouse for important or dangerous artifacts they couldn't just leave lying about. Off to the side there was suits of armor made from various metals that his father had been tinkering with. Several of them were even made from Valyrian Steel. The master smiths of their house were even able to forge it so that the white ripples in the metal appeared to be dragon scales. This only furthered the exquisite quality of the pieces.
Off to the side Jaehaerys took notice of something that seemed to shine even in such low lighting. It brought a smile to his face as he already knew what it was. He should, after all, he had been the one to make it.
A suit of armor seemingly made from polished silver stood on a stand towards the back. Over the breastplate was the sigil of their house though besides this there was very little ornamentation. A few flawless diamonds did stud the magnificent piece but there was less than two dozen of them.
Running his hand over the metal he remembered fondly the day he had invented it. Mithril he had named it. He had only tried after his father had a little too much to drink and started to complain about Valyrian Steel. He had called it a flawed product. The imperfect blending of several materials put through an imprecise tempering.
Jaehaerys had found his ramblings to be funny. Out of curiosity he had decided to try and create a superior metal. As luck would have it he succeeded. Once his product was done it would be as light as linen, harder than steel, as beautiful as polished silver, and would never lose its luster. He had wanted to call it Dragonsteel because it was as hard as an ancient dragon's scales but decided against it. Too much was named after dragons and he wanted to be more original. After a series of events he had landed on the name Mithril. It was almost as beautiful as the metal it described.
Unfortunately, like Valyrian Steel, it was very hard to make. For that reason he had only made one suit of plate mail, chain mail, a shield, and a sword of the stuff for himself. He had a month later made a sigil ring for his father. After seeing the results he was quite proud of the jewelry Mithril could be used to make. It far surpassed any other metal in beauty.
It made his mother's friends and rivals all quite jealous when they saw her sporting a tiara, a necklace, earrings, a ring, and a bracelet made of the stuff. They had wanted some as well but he had decided to make it only for family. He liked making the stuff but wasn't about to go into business selling the stuff.
As in the first chamber of the vault he had searched for his parents. He didn't find them and they did not respond to his calls. After a time he had to give up and move on.
The third vault required blood as the first two had but this time you had to recite the words of the house instead of drawing their sigil. Once he passed he healed his thumb and moved on. He had made a joke in the past to his mother about what his thumb would look like without their healing magic. She had found it amusing to say the least.
The third vault was the smallest and in all likelihood it would always be that way. Its only purpose was to store dragon eggs. That didn't take much room. Sure they could have made things all fancy, practically creating a shrine to each one, but they hadn't. Unlike the rest of the Dragonlords his family remembered that dragons were created not found in the Fourteen Flames as so many believed.
His father had once remarked how amusing it was for their people to practically worship their very own creations. It had been a shocker to him as a kid as he too had believed they were natural creatures. His father had sat him down and explained how their ancestors had bred together Firewyrms and Wyverns using blood magic. The key objective being to create a creature that could breathe fire like a Firewyrm and fly like a Wyrvern. In time they had obviously been successful.
They only knew this because one of their members had been a bloodmage who had contributed to the research. Ynnead Flamel had written everything down in a series of books, notes, and journals throughout his life. Thanks to this they knew from a firsthand experience what had really happened.
Jaehaerys didn't stick around in said room for too long. While the dragon eggs were beautiful he had been in said room enough times that it was no longer that big of a thing. Other than the first time he entered the room and the day he received his dragon it had never really meant all that much to him.
The last door in the chambers was actually rather tricky. If one used blood, even the blood of someone in the family, then things would get ugly for said person very quickly. Instead all that was required was for the person seeking access to place their forehead on the metallic door and say, "Knowledge is Power" which was their house words. Once this was done the last defense would fall away to reveal House Flamel's greatest treasure.
To call it a library would be an insult. For five thousand years the House of Flamel had been gathering and storing knowledge inside this seemingly endless cavern. Books, scrolls, and even stone tablets dating back to a bygone age lost to any other annul of history were present in this gathering of knowledge. Nothing was beyond them so long as it had some value to it. Anything from geology to magic to engineering was stored within and guarded like a female dragon does her young. This world archive was without a doubt the greatest collection of information in the known world.
Protection of this massive chamber went beyond the radicicolous. A special resin was mixed in with the liquefied black stones before they were used in their formation. This had given the material far greater resistance to both physical and magical damage. On top of that the greatest spellsingers had chanted the entire time it was created weaving spells into every inch of the substance. Spells for protection, for preservation, for anti-detection, for anti-thievery, and notice me not enchantments were used liberally.
Had that not been enough after inventing Ithildin his father had used the stuff to put runes over every square inch of the flat surface. Now nothing, not even an ancient dragon's fire, could break through those walls. Not even the Fourteen Flames erupting could break past their defenses.
The magnificence of the room, a room that had golden book shelves as well as Weirwood ones, was ruined only by the two bloody bodies lying on the floor at the entrance. They were clutching onto one another caring nothing for etiquette. In their last moments they simply embraced one another.
"Mom! Dad!" The youngest Flamel wasted no time rushing to his parent's side. By the time he got there though it was apparent they were already dead. "No! No you cannot be dead! Please, wake up!"
He grieved heavily. His moans of pain echoed lonely throughout the massive room. It hurt so much worse than he could have ever imagined. His kind father who was something of a goofball with a one tract mind was not someone who could be replaced. Nor was his stern but kind mother who always seemed to know what was wrong with him and how to fix it. They could have been dead a million years but to him it was as if it had just happened.
He didn't know when but he had pulled them to his side. Both their heads filled with flawless silvery gold hair that fell down like silk rested motionlessly on their grieving son's chest. Their blood which was pouring from their mouths was ignored as tears fell onto them. They stayed like that for an unknown amount of time. Hours, a day, maybe even several. To Jaehaerys it no longer mattered.
Eventually through the sobbing and tears he heard the crumble of paper. He calmed himself down marginally to see in his mother's hand was a balled up piece of paper. He slowly reached out and took it from her ice cold fingers. Unraveling it he began to read.
Dear Jaehaerys Flamel
Son, we just wanted to tell you that we love you very much. Your father and I could not be any more proud of you than we already are. For that you have out eternal gratitude for being the son we could only hope for.
I know you must be scared and confused. The world must seem as if it was scorched by the sun but I am afraid that is not the case. To put it simply my son the Fourteen Flames have erupted. Your father and I left to meet with the other Dragonlords to discuss possibilities on stopping it. Unfortunately during the meeting a fragment of molten stone landed on the meeting place killing many in the processes.
Your father and I were safe though your father's dragon Yaxel did not make it. As we flew back it became apparent there was no stopping this from running its course. The very ground we stand upon is cracking like glass. Ash, lava, and steam are rising from below. It would not surprise me that if at any moment it exploded.
With no way of saving our home we attempted to return. The vaults should be strong enough to protect us from the worst of it. Unfortunately we did not realize how powerful the toxic gasses in their air were becoming. Before we even arrived it became apparent to use we would not make it. Our magic had been used up in the meeting and my dragon Skydancer is on her last leg. She does not have the power to draw on in order to heal us without dying and if she were to die we would never make it back to you.
Knowing this may very well be the end we decided to put you in stasis. After that we used what we thought to be our last moments securing out family's legacy. I am grateful for one thing. What limited time we have left has allowed us to say our goodbyes to you.
We cannot save our home, our people, our dragons, or ourselves, but it is ok because we can save you. For that reason alone I am eternally grateful. But do not be sad. While we may be gone you will not be left alone. Your companion is safe. And he shall continue to protect you.
We love you son and cannot wait to see you again. That being said if you come before your time we will find a suitable punishment for you.
Find yourself something you enjoy, meet a girl to fall in love with, make me lots of grandchildren, and once you have lived a full life filled with happiness come see us again and tell us all about it.
Love Lady Helaena and Lord Jacaerys of House Flamel
Tears fell from his eyes like a river. It took ten minutes for him to regain his compusre. Once he did he took the note gingerly in his hands. He smoothed it out before usingmagic to ensure it would not fade or being to fall apart.
'This is a valuable piece of knowledge from the fall of our people' thought Jaehaerys giving himself a reason to keep the piece of paper.
He used a bit of magic once again. This time the sheet of paper floated up off of his hand before whisking itself away. It would organize itself. Had they not had this piece of magic then their library would be nothing more than an overly stuffy confused pile of papery mess. He would have done it himself but at that moment he needed to take care of his parents bodies.
In a true Valyrian style he decided they should be cremated. It was how all those of the Dragon's Blood honored their dead. Still, his mother and father would kill him for making so much as a spark in that room. Because of this he levitated their bodies and brought them back to the third chamber. Because of this he used magic to levitate their bodies up off of the floors. With a gesture they began to float behind him as he left the fourth chamber.
Fire was always the easiest element to master for a Valyrian. One bonded with a dragon will find the natural aptitude they had possessed before bolstered greatly afterwards. As one such person Jaehaerys had no issue conjuring flames in one hand. His only problem was turning these flames on his dead parent's bodies. Looking into their faces, which had been preserved the moment of their deaths by the spells in the fourth vault, was like looking at them sleeping. Any moment it seemed they would just wake up. He hoped they would but knew they wouldn't. After a painful moment he did what he knew needed to be done.
As their bodies burned he noticed the dragon eggs lining the walls of the smallest chamber. He could hatch two dragons from his parent's pyre. He had all the ingredients needed, but he wouldn't. House Flamel had long ago transcended such primitive methods of hatching dragons. That didn't mean he didn't want to. To be able to keep any part of his parents seemed to be his greatest desire. Yet he was strong and wise. To fixate on them and to imprint their images onto dragons would be an insult. And insulting his parents he could not do. Especially now that they had passed on.
As he watched his parents' bodies get reduced to ash by his magical flames he could not help the hollow feeling that settled in his heart or the nagging question of what he should do next.
XXX
After his parent's funeral Jaehaerys had returned to his room. He was still quite an emotional wreck at this point. His mother and father were dead. He got an emotional goodbye letter they wrote him in their last moments. His only comfort was that they had died together in each other's arms instead of alone and scared as their world turned to ash around them.
As he moved through his admittedly overly large room he caught sight of his own reflection. The Obsidian Mirror his mother had given him for his fourteenth birthday reflected his entire body in its black reflective surface.
The glass candles were the main communication devices of the Freehold for thousands of years. His mother had taken their theory and improved upon it when she had created the Obsidian Mirror. Of course because of their power and abilities she had only created three. One for herself, one for his father, and later one for him.
The mirror was ten feet by four feet in diameter. It was framed in an enchanted gold with very aesthetically pleasing artwork. Along the center were runes done in black gold that ran along its edges. At the center wasn't normal reflective glass. Instead it was black obsidian they had gotten from the Fourteen Flames. In a more refined manor than what was used to make the glass candles his mother had worked the material until it had a flawless surface. She wove her spells into it during the creation process using spellsinging and dragon fire. Once it was done the Obsidian Mirror became one of their houses greatest resources and deadly weapons.
He approached the Obsidian Mirror. It instantly recognized who he was and his reflection died away as it awaited his orders.
"Show me Valyria." With that simple order the mirror went to work immediately.
The reflective glass soon seemed to melt away. In its place was a picture so clear one would assume they were seeing it with their own eyes. Yet no one would want to see the smoldering wreckage that was the once great city of Valyria had become. If at all possible it may even be worse than Oros. At least their city had one still standing building.
"Seems they didn't escape the destruction either." He soon began to look for other cities in the Freehold. With each one he saw it became clearer and clearer that the Freehold was no more.
Eventually he gave up. He threw a purple satin cover of his mirror. This was done not because he feared someone would spy on him as was the risk involving a glass candle but because he didn't want to leave it lying on the floor. It was a gift from his mother and he wanted to keep it clean as possible. That meant all of its pieces.
"Am I really the last Dragonlord?" It almost was beyond his realm of comprehension. As he tried to accept this he remembered something. "Wait a second. Didn't that fool Aenar Targaryen leave the Freehold for that spit of land near the savage kingdoms? If they were all the way across the Narrow Sea when this cataclysm occurred then maybe they survived."
That would be Jaehaerys' luck. For the only other Dragonlord to survive to be that that fool Aenar and his lowly family. He half hoped he was the last Dragonlord if only not to deal with that idiot. Still he had to give his daughter some credit. She had predicted the destruction of their people, something no one else had been able to.
Still the possibility did open up some opportunities for him. If one Dragonlord survived then maybe others did as well. There was no way that all of the Dragonlords had been in Valyria during its destruction. He would be willing to bet at least a dozen of them were somewhere else. Many of the younger ones liked to fight in wars against the people of Essos to gain prestige for their deeds. Surely some of them had survived.
'Screw it.' Jaehaerys' thoughts were too heavy with grief. If he didn't get some rest he would have a mental breakdown. 'I need to lay down. Hopefully this is all just a bad dream.' It was wishful thinking but he would hold onto it as long as he could.