A/N: Hope you all have a blessed 2019.

Not beta'd. Mistakes? Let me know.

While we're on that, would anyone like to be my beta? Help me with grammar and such? Just Pm or review. Thanks.

'Thoughts'

"Speech"

"Spells."

&Parseltounge&

#Valyrian#

*Dothraki*

302 A.C

&You're tired and in pain,& Harry said, standing on the edge of the grassy plateau, &I get that. But did you have to leave us here of all places?& There was no sign of anything resembling civilization in sight. And Drogon - as he had heard the queen call the dragon - refused to take them anywhere else. The Targaryen seemed to push the issue, but Harry didn't care much. He was just curious as to why here of all places. Why in this particular direction?

"Is that how you understand him? You just...hiss?" She turned to him, shifting her gaze from the dragon. They had engaged in small talk on Drogon, and it was the most awkward Harry had ever felt.

"In essence, yes."

"And this is related to you supposedly being a Potter?" She wore a frown.

"Supposedly? You don't believe me?" Harry also adopted a frown.

"The Potter line ended thirteen-years ago during the Tourney at Lannisport."

"And the Targaryen line ended after the War of the Usurper. Yet, here we both are," Harry gestured to both of them, "Only the Potters have been known to communicate with Serpents. How could you possibly explain me having the ability?"

She became silent, observing him for a moment. Before asking, "Why didn't you fight with your people?"

"Fight with my people?" Harry raised an eyebrow, and his confusion rose when her eyes widened slightly.

"You left Westeros after what happened to your parents didn't you?"

"Yes. I've been fighting in that pit since I was eight," He answered, frowning again, "What does that have to do anything? Was there some sort of war?"

She nodded, "The lords of the Snowfields declared war on House Lannister. They claimed that they were the ones responsible for the death of your parents, and your own. The Crown ordered them to drop their banners, and return home. They refused."

"And?..." Harry drawled, even though he knew the answer.

"They were destroyed."

He felt that was coming. His fate would've been no different if he had returned home that night, "Who was placed as Warden?"

"No one. The Snowfields were amalgamated into The North," She paused, adorning a sympathetic expression, "I'm sorry."

He turned back towards their mountainous surroundings. That meant he would have to fight The North to liberate. Therefore the crown itself. Even all of that was assuming the bannermen would even accept him. Things didn't seem so simple now."What are you doing in Meereen?"

"Freeing the slaves."

"Is that what you were doing when you were watching me, a slave, fight for his life?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"The Sons of Harpy refused to obey the new laws. Accomodations needed to be made to protect the people. I detest slavery and all those who partake in it," The way she had said, the venom on her tongue when had said the word 'slavery' made him believe her. He still didn't fully understand it still, but he figured that now wasn't the time.

Harry coughed, "We need to go."

As if remembering what she was doing before, she turned to Drogon - getting on her knees.

"That won't work. He's far too tired and hurt," He looked down from the edge of the plateau, "We need to find the closest settlement."

"I don't know where that is," She admitted, "But I'm not leaving him here, alone. He's hurt. He needs me."

"It's either that or we stay hungry. I don't fancy dying of starvation. Let's at least go look for food."

She stroked the dragons head silently. And Harry felt like she was ignoring the situation altogether, but she rose and addressed him, "We should go back in the same direction we came in. Back to Meereen."

Well, perhaps going back wouldn't be the worst idea. He doubted she would just leave him where she found him now that she knew who he was. But it was quite a bit of distance away from where they were. However, he saw no alternative. It would take sometime before Drogon fully healed. And they couldn't take off in a random direction, "This looks like the least steep point up here, we'll have to climb down."

"Do you have any experience climbing?" She raised an elegant eyebrow.

"No, but he obviously isn't going to take us down from here," He gestured towards the now sleeping dragon, "And there's no path down. So we're forced to climb. Keep that cloth around your hands to protect them," He started climbing down. It wasn't too steep, now that he started climbing down. He definitely didn't hang off the side of the plateau, and there were ledges he landed on when his muscles started to ache.

He felt he could do it faster alone, but he stayed beneath her - guiding her legs onto a standing point whenever she couldn't find one on her own. It felt like hours later, but they eventually did reach the bottom. He felt his fatigue truly catching up to him. He hadn't gotten any rest since before the gladiator fights in the Pits of Meereen. His hands shook when he tried to raise them, and he couldn't focus - and his mind wandered off more than usual.

"Are you tired?" He heard her voice from behind him. He nodded without looking at her, "We could rest, for a -" He collapsed to the floor before she could finish her sentence, heaving a sigh. She shook her head, before laying the weight of her back on a rock behind her.

"You never told me your name, you know," Harry stated, becoming quiet for her to answer. He moved his hands to his sides to relax them.

"Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen," She responded after a heartbeat.

"How did you manage to survive the War of the Usurper?" The last Potter questioned.

"My brother and I were taken to exile in the Free Cities before Stannis could take Dragonstone, not long after I was born."

"Stannis... That name sounds familiar," Harry murmured, but she heard him.

"He's Roberts brother. Stannis Baratheon," She explained.

"Wait... Did you say you had a brother, just before?" He raised his upper body through the muscle aches, turning to her with his eyebrows furrowed, "What happened to him?"

"My husband killed him," She said simply. Harry felt like there was more to that, but his own curiosity wasn't worth it. He laid back down, closing his eyes. He needed to rest, they had a long journey ahead of them.

"It's easy for you to say, you were sitting on a throne while I was fighting for my life in front of you."

"Did you want me to leave you?" Daenerys asked him. They were both walking in the same direction they had come in on Drogon. Harry wanted to sleep for a few more hours, whilst she wanted to travel as far as they could before night came.

"You couldn't, even if you wanted to. I may have been young when I left Westeros, but I was getting an understanding on how the world worked," Harry started, "Imagine what would happen to you, a Queen, if you were found travelling alone. You would be unsafe travelling alone. You know that."

"Then why didn't you just continue sleeping? If you think I truly need you so much?"

"Because I had a feeling you would've left anyway," He rubbed his temples, "Don't misunderstand. I need you too. Imagine what your advisors would do to me if I showed up without you, and told them you were raped and killed. I doubt they would wait for an explanation. They -" Harry stopped walking and she did the same. He heard horses. He turned back, and saw hundreds of men on them - some distance away, but approaching fast.

He turned back ahead of them and saw a man stop his horse close by, a long-tipped spear in one hand. Another group of four approached them from their right, "Who are they?"

"Dothraki," She answered, removing the ring she wore and dropping it, "They'll take me as captive. But they will try and kill you."

"I..." Harry gulped, "There's no way I'm beating all those people."

"You don't have to," She told him, almost calmly, "They'll send one of their riders to kill you. Kill him, and they'll let you go. They respect strength and have a distaste for weakness."

"Killing is just as unavoidable here as it is in the fighting pits isn't it?" He asked no one in particular, but he felt her slowly turn to him for a moment, before turning back to the incoming Dothraki again. "I regret leaving my weapon in the Pit."

"Pray a Bloodrider isn't the one to fight you," Daenerys warned.

"Prayers have never helped me," They were both soon surrounded. They gave out fierce war cries as they surrounded the pair on foot. That added to the intimidation Harry was feeling - which he figured was the point of the war cries. They respected and hated weakness, and that meant he had to go against his thought of surrender. He adopted a serious expression and dug his right foot into the ground. A method he had created in his time in the Pit to show his opponent he wasn't scared of him, even if he was a couple of time bigger than he.

The sounds they made were soon replaced by silence. A bearded Dothraki on his horse was in front of them, on his horse - eyeing them, or more so, Daenerys. He seemed almost dismissive of Harry's presence. And he broke the silence, *Pluck his eyes out. Take the white-haired bitch*

The Dothraki that was next to him moved towards them on his horse slowly, one hand held the rein on his horse, the other an Arakh. Harry knew he wouldn't be able to beat him whilst he was on his horse. The last Potter had no weapon, and he wasn't on a horse. His disadvantage was absolute. And for the first time in a while, he had no plan in battle. He saw no way out.

"A rock," He heard a whisper from behind him, just before the sounds of mild struggling. His eyes found the grass, spotting a sizeable rock just next to him - he immediately picked it up, an idea forming. If he could just manage to get him off his horse, that would give him a fighting chance. He threw it with all his might at the approaching rider, who was surprised enough at his sudden movements for the rock to him square in the face.

The Dothraki jerked his horse's reins as he fell backwards, causing the horse to neigh and lift up into the air, knocking its rider off its back. He was on top of the disoriented man just as he hit the floor, punching him as hard as he could and as many times as he could. The man seemed to catch his bearing for a moment, grabbing his Arakh with his free hand and tried to strike Harrys back.

His wrist was caught by the Potter, who twisted it and forced him to drop the weapon. The Dothraki brought his hands to Harry's head, trying to gouge his eyes with his thumb. Again, he was overpowered by Harry, who used his own hands to remove the man's hands from his face. They locked eyes, and everything became silent.

Harry smirked, confusing the man enough for him to quickly roll off him and pick up the weapon that his opponent had dropped. His opponent was on his feet as well, but weaponless. Harry expected the others to help his opponent, but they did not. He rushed forward, and the Dothraki rolled back to avoid a swing that did not come. When he got onto the crouching position, appearing ready to make some sort of counter - Harry stood over him.

"Sorry," Harry sliced his head clean off, some blood splattering onto his face. He turned towards the surrounding Dothraki horde. Their numbers were overwhelming, and if they decided to send more than one to fight him, he would lose. Another charged on his horse, spear in hand. Harry looked at the weapon in his hands, it was long enough. He slashed horizontally, before rolling back to avoid the horse that now had a large cut on its neck from falling onto him. Like the horse itself, the Dothraki on it fell forward - in front of Harry.

He lazily swung his arm, cutting the throat of the man directly underneath him. He released an audible breath through his nose - taking a moment to turn to Daenerys. They had tied her up, but she looked relatively okay. He turned to the man who had told the others to kill him. Half anticipating another Dothraki to come and try to kill him.

None came.

They had offered him a horse. An offer which he would've gladly taken if he knew how to ride one. His father had been so focused on honing his archery skills, he had never taught him how to ride a horse. They were taking him to meet their Khal, along with Daenerys. He didn't know what that entailed, but Daenerys assured him that they would give him the opportunity to join the Khalasar.

One of the riders happened to understand and speak Valyrian, he translated speech for him. Luckily for Hary. He wouldn't be able to understand most of what they said otherwise.

He kept the Arakh. He shared as much distrust for them as they did for him, and he wasn't going to take chances. He was cautious, prepared to defend himself at a moments notice. They were in a wasteland. He couldn't understand for the life of him why anyone would want to be around this area. A place that looked devoid of any life, or even water. These people were interesting.

He trudged next to the translator, behind the man that Harry was almost certain was the first person he wanted to kill. He whipped Daenerys for no reason. When she tripped, lifted her hand to wipe the sweat off her forehead or even randomly. He laughed after, something that further displeased the last Potter. Harry nearly did react when he had asked the translator to interpret their words.

They threw insults at her. Conversing about fucking her, as if she wasn't there, but reminding her that they knew that she was by staring at her. He didn't like it, but it made sense to him. She was the first person he's talked to that didn't want to kill him - or didn't expect him to be killed - in awhile. She also wanted to stop slavery. Only someone kind of heart would do that... Or someone who wanted to make an appearance.

His instinctive actions were prevented by the Khalasar stopping near a water source. Something that surprised Harry. The conditions here seemed to worsen the further into the wasteland they went, but water was somehow still present.

He was directed towards the side of the lake by the translator, #Stay here, foreigner,# the Dothraki commanded, throwing him a water skin, and galloping away on his horse. Harry took the time to drink water, to be safe. He laid down again, his weapon still held firmly in hand. He had grown used to being under the scorching sun, it wasn't a bother anymore. At least as much as it once was.

He remembered the constant sunburn he would get when he was a lot younger from being exposed to the sun. They made his life even more hellish than it already was. He wouldn't be given any sort of lotion to treat them or even a break for his body to recover. He had to endure them, as did every other gladiator. But his body adapted a lot faster than the others. And with the help of trick he had learned, they disappeared in time.

Someone being shoved to the floor next to him broke his train of thoughts. She had her back turned to him, and he could see the painful marks of the repetitive whipping she had been victim of through the little parts her back her hair didn't cover. Which he was sure the sun didn't help with. He crouched, "How much does it hurt?"

She remained silent but turned to meet his eyes. He expected to see her tired and sore. But she had a determined expression to her, even though there was a hint of fatigue, "It..." She released some air through her nose, closing her eyes, "Hurts. It hurts quite a bit."

Harry nodded in understanding. He filled the waterskin with water, crouching in front of her - and helping her drink. Her hands were still tied.

"Thank you," She said after she had gotten her fill.

He nodded again, filling the waterskin once again. He sat down with his back to the rest of Khalasar, raising his left knee to cover as much of the between her back and it as it could. He could sense her unvoiced confusion, but he chose to continue. He moved some of her hair away, before gently placing his index and middle finger on her back.

She flinched away, turning to look at him with narrowed eyebrows, "I'm helping. I promise," He said. She stared at him, something he assumed was her considering whether or not to do what he wanted to do. The Targaryen turned away, and he understood it was permission for him to continue. He placed his index and middle finger on her back, and concentrated.

He heard her moan in relief, a sure sign for him that it was working. Harry grinned. He's only ever done this to himself, or rather, it's only ever worked for himself. He's tried to do it on Marar on a single occasion when the other gladiator had gotten hurt - but to no avail. Marar didn't know of his attempt, of course. Basically, it was meant to accelerate the healing process by gently focusing some magic throughout the body.

Well, that was best he could explain. It was magic. A source of power only he had access to, he was the first Potter to inherit it in centuries. It was also something he had little understanding of. He tried not to think about it because his anger would swell at thought of his father teaching him archery instead of what would've truly given him an edge in battle - magic. It didn't mean anything now, however. He'd learned to survive. Magic or not, he was going to continue to do so.

He continued the healing process until the only evidence of her being hurt was the red colour her skin had momentarily adopted on her back. He stood up, picking up his weapon as he did so. The last Potter glanced around, making sure no one had seen him. He could see the Queen trying to formulate a conclusion on how he just did what he did.

Before she could directly ask him, the very same Dothraki that been whipping her and his friend hoisted her up. The translator also walked past Harry, #Come# Harry followed him. They were taken to the biggest tent, in the centre of the entire Khalasar. There were three men and two women. The one that stood out the most was the one sitting on the leather chair, he had a braided beard and tanned skin. He wore a half-dismissive and half-intrigued expression.

He must be the Khal.

*For you, my Khal. The white-haired girl we found in the hills,* She was shoved towards him. The Khal eyed her silently. The words were translated for Harry by the Dothraki who knew Valyrian silently, being whispered into Harry's ear.

*Look at those lips, blood of my blood,* One of the men sitting down commented.

*Blue-eyed women are witches*

*It is known* The women to the Khal's left agreed.

*Cut of her head, before she casts a spell on you,* She continued. That didn't sit well with Harry, he needed her alive and well. If they went through with that, he'd have to fight them to save her.

*Even if I was blind, I'd hear my wives say - "Cut off her head" - and I'd know this woman is beautiful. I'm glad I'm not blind. Seeing a beautiful woman naked for the first time, what is better than that?*

*Killing another Khal?*

*Yes, killing another Khal* The Khal conceded.

*Conquering a city and taking her people as slaves, and taking her idols back to Vaes Dothrak.*

*Breaking a wild horse, forcing it to submit to your will*

*Seeing a beautiful woman naked for the first time is among the five best things in life,* The Khal said, clearly irritated. Harry had to stop himself from scowling as the words were translated to him. Nearly thirteen years later, he still questioned how people would find pleasure in things such as 'war' or 'killing'. Perhaps he should ask one of them. That would be quite the conversation for him.

The Khal gripped on Daenerys dress - which somewhat surprised Harry, but he took a step forward still. The Queen said something to the Khal in Dothraki as well, but the translator was silent behind him. The Khal seemed unsure as to where to turn, between him or Daenerys.

*You did not tell me of the other bitch,* The braided man finally said, but his attention was drawn again by the Mother of Dragons.

*I am Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of the Great Grass sea, the Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons.*

Silence descended into the tent. Harry had no idea what she had said, but it was apparently prominent enough to give them pause. That was until they started laughing, and she visibly deflated. He grabbed her hair.

"Stop or he'll kill you."

The Khal turned to Harry once again. Staring at the last Potter, *A boy is unbefitting of such a woman. I will cut your dick out and feed it to you before I lay with her*

*I do not lay with children. I was wife to Khal Drogo, son of Khal Bharbo."

Another silence befell the tent, and Harry was completely lost. The translator behind him had stopped speaking to him. Though he did indeed stop his attempts to help, as she had told him - heeding her warning. If this man was the strongest of all these people, what were his chances of beating him?

*Khal Drogo is dead*

*I know. I burnt his body*

*Forgive me. I did not know. It is forbidden to lie with a Khal's widow. No one will touch you. You have my word,* The Khal cut the rope that bound the Queen, *When a Khal dies, there is only one place for his Khaleesi. Vaes Dothrak. The temple of the dosh Khaleeen. Where she will live out her days with the widows of dead Khals. You will be taken there*

She visibly deflated, making Harry raised an eyebrow. What did they tell her now?

The Khal turned to him, *What of him?*

The translator spoke to Harry again, who replied, #I wish to join the Khalasar,#

*He wishes to your Khalasar, my Khal,* The man now standing next to Harry translated, #He killed Avvo whilst unarmed and proceeded to kill Daeko with Avvo's' Akrah. Which he now wields as his own*

The Khal moved to sit down again. A moment passed.

Before he nodded.

A/N: Thanks for reading.

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