The Prince that Time Forgot

Chapter One: Awakening

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I own A Song of Ice and Fire, so don't sue me

-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.

-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.

-There maybe lemons, profane language, character/death, prostitution, possibly torture or abuse (though not on Harry), lying, and probably other sins. If this bothers you then don't read. You have been warned.

-Harry will participate in polygamy/bigamy, extramarital relations, and other acts of sexuality, though no homosexuality, so if this bothers you then don't read.

-The pairings are undecided, if you have a suggestion I will be putting up a poll soon, so use that. Do not message me when I have a poll up. It defeats the purpose of having a poll in the first place.

XXX

This is a rough draft. I may go back and change some stuff or just clean it up

XXX

Dragonmont had been rumbling for days now. A stream of smoke could be seen slowly rising from the side of the volcano and slowly raising up towards the sky. The one of the Maesters feared that the mountain would explode, but the other believed that there was a hole in the volcano and that the lava inside would flow out on the uninhabited side of the island.

Regardless of which was right the new Lord of Dragonstone, Stannis Baratheon, had mobilized a small fleet around Dragonstone incase evacuation became a necessity. Only the people in the keep would make it to the ships in time, but at least some of the small folk would survive. Even if they had dragon's blood in their veins, much to Stannis' distaste.

What none of the Maesters or lords could have guessed was that the cause of the smoke was twofold. The weakening of a magical stasis field that had helped reinforce the walls of Dragonmont and the awakening of a dragon whose very presence strengthened the magma via magical properties. As the master woke up and the spell weakened so to did the volcanic wall. Soon magma would spill over and down the mountain.

Along with the mighty dragon was its rider. He had inherited the dragon from his mother many years ago but blood relations were not enough to claim a dragon. Had he not been strong enough in either body or mind the great beast would have snapped him up for dinner regardless of his relation to its last rider.

Slowly his eyes began to open. A shade of purple not seen since Aerion Targaryen that glowed with power. Those two eyes glowed with an unnatural power and made them visible even inside the dark cave.

Slowly the owner of those two eyes groaned a bit as he slowly sat up from the bed that felt more like a stone slab. He moved slightly and the sound of cloth tearing spread through the dark tunnel. More groans echoed from the subject though now for a different reason.

With a snap of his fingers a glowing red bulb of fire started to float over his outstretched hand. The small orb of fire did not give off any heat but did produce enough light to illuminate the cave its creator resided in at the moment.

Hair like polished silver instantly came into view followed by a strong porcelain face. The face belonged to a young man in his late to early twenties. The two amythest colored eyes seemed to glow in the presence of such light. From his defined muscular figure to his chiseled face the youth was seemingly perfect.

He stood up and the rest of his clothes tore leaving him in nothing but his small clothes. Cursing he walked over to a small chest that he had prepared just for this occasion. Leather breaches, silken shirts, leather belt, and his sword were all reapplied. They were basic though that had been the point considering when he went into stasis he was being hunted down

Being completely ignored by the human was a monstrous creature resting behind him. Its scales were like polished silver reflecting the fiery light beautifully. On its head the two horns that stuck up were a molten gold color like a natural crown resting above its brow. Along the dragon's back the spinal plates were also a molten gold color separating the silvery scales and silver spinal spikes. Finally the eyes of the beast which were like two molten pools of gold reflected a brutal animal cunning.

The dragon was of a size that it could swallow an entire horse whole without any difficulties. It being the second largest dragon of its age before its sequential entombment inside this cave was once well known. It had fangs like long swords each polished to perfection reflecting the image of any unlucky soul unlucky enough to get close enough to see such a thing. In truth it was the destructive element of fire made flesh.

Behind it a thick billow of smoke was rising from behind it. Because the dragon's heart had been stopped as well as its breath there was no fear of the smoke suffocating it. What was causing the smoke no doubt was lava from Dragonmont. It seems the volcanic mountain was more active than previously believed. Whether it would blow or if it was just a crack in the walls was unknown. It was believed that leaving was the best option for not even a dragon could survive being dipped in magma.

It was possible dragon riders would be coming from House Targaryen to see what was going on. He had evaded them last time, but who knew how long it had been or what was going on now. He may have evaded one war only to get caught up in another. That just wasn't something he was interested in.

The young man looked over at his sleeping dragon and contemplated what he should do. On one hand the magma could pop up any moment to consume it though there was a change it wouldn't come at all.

The other factor that needed to be looked at was that when said dragon was woken up it would be very hungry. There were not many things as dangerous as a hungry dragon in their world which was well known. Even with his natural disposition for controlling animals thanks to his father's side of the family it was still not easy controlling such a powerful beast driven to hunt and destroy to sate its innate hunger.

In the end he decided it best to just let the dragon sleep a little longer. The spell keeping it asleep would only hold for a short while longer. It was best to scout out a good place to direct its hunt while looking for some grub to sate his own hunger than hold onto the creature's mind while doing his search.

He grabbed a black cape and took off. He traveled quickly through the tunnel before exiting to see the starry night sky. Off in the distance he saw Dragonstone. It didn't look any different from when he left so he assumed he hadn't been asleep for as long as he had suspected.

XXX

Things had not gone as he had assumed. Getting to the town outside of Dragonstone hadn't been so difficult. Traveling down a mountain wasn't so bad. Walking through a large forest was no big deal. Doing both in the dark with only stars to guide him made things a bit trickery but not impossible. Buying something, impossible.

From out of nowhere soldiers of House Baratheon had swarmed him before tackling him to the ground. They had him beaten down and shackled in a matter of moments. His head was still ringing from the knee he took to the temple from an especially violent one.

They didn't even give him the dignity of walking. They just tied him up and threw him over an ass which carried him to the keep. Of course his insults didn't help him any and soon on top of being bound he was gagged as well. He didn't question what the rag had been used for previously. He didn't want to know. It could be a douche rag for all he knew and that wasn't something someone wanted to live with in their memories.

He had assumed that maybe a Baratheon lord had come to Dragonstone for some reason. More than likely a tourney. Anything fighting and you had yourself a hot spot for Baratheon activity. But no tourney was taken place as far as he could see. Oddly enough none of the guards sported House Targaryen sigils. They were all of House Baratheon.

They took him down to the cells underneath the Stone Drum Tower. Like the rumors said it was warmer than expected though still as damp as any island such as Dragonstone was expected to be. At least they let him sit on the wooden stool. That was nice of them.

It didn't take long for the Lord of Dragonstone to show up. First impression? This guy has never smiled once in a day of his life. His face was so hard, so dour, so unnaturally stern that it might crack if he tried to smile at this point. Second impression? Same as the first.

He didn't say anything as he sat across from him. He just placed his elbows on the wooden table and folded his fingers together as he glared at him. They sat like that for a while before the dour man spoke. And what a dull voice it was.

"You were arrested in town earlier today" began the Baratheon.

"Yea I am aware" replied Harold as he lifted his hands up. The rattling of chains and the visual presence of the cuffs did not cause any change in the man's facial features. "My question is why?"

"You were arrested for treason against your king." He glanced down at Harold's shirt. "You wear the sigil of House Targaryen. Why?"

How had he committed treason against his own house? He hadn't even gotten a chance to say anything besides how much some meat was before he was arrested. He questioned if the Baratheon believed him to be a peasant wearing the sigil of House Targaryen. That is a crime after all.

"I am a member of House Targaryen." Seeing no change in the man's facial features he continued. "The name is Harold Stark. I am Rhaenys' son!"

The Baratheon made a gesture to the guard standing behind Harold. The guard nodded before walking forward. Fast as lightning he smashed a wooden stick across Harold's back causing him to hiss loudly.

"There have only been two Rhaenys Targaryens in the history of Westeros. The first was the sister wife of Aegon the Conquer. The second was the daughter of Elia Martell who was murdered by Ser Amory Lorch during the Sack of King's Landing. Now, unless you wished to be flogged once again, I suggest you start telling me the truth."

He didn't know who Elia Martell was, but he did know who the Martell Family was. He didn't know a Ser Amory Lorch though if he ever met him he would run his blade through his heart. And most importantly he didn't know what the Sack of King's Landing was. Perhaps it happened during his niece and nephew's war.

Ignoring the pain in his back he looked back up at the Baratheon. "I want word to be sent to the King. He should know what is happening to a member of his own house!"

He received another lashing for that. Whether it was for ordering him to do something or just his tone he didn't know. It could have also been because he didn't say what the Baratheon wanted him to. Either way he was going to get him back for this.

"Listen, Dragonspawn, I don't know what you are getting at, but House Baratheon rules the Seven Kingdoms, not House Targaryen." He could hear glass shattering in his head from the shock of that statement. "And I am Stannis Baratheon, younger brother of King Robert I Baratheon! So if I were you I would start talking and show a bit more respect."

XXX

Twelve lashing later and they had thrown him into a tiny cells with only straw to keep him from sleeping on stone. He was sure that the whelps on his back were going to hurt just as much tomorrow as they were hurting him at that moment.

Still his mind barely acknowledge the stinging throbbing pain in his back. He was so confused. House Baratheon ruled the Seven Kingdoms? How had that happened? Did they sneak attack the Targaryens after that war when they were at their weakest? Surely the other houses hadn't gone along with that.

Still a war between two factions of Targaryens wasn't a small event. Who knew how destruction his family wrought in that war. Maybe the other lords just said enough and rebelled. Maybe the older dragons had been killed in the war and the younger ones useless against the massive forces rallied against them.

He didn't know, he couldn't know, until someone started to answer some of his questions. While racking his mind he almost didn't hear the sound of the door to his cell opening up. Turning over he was surprised to see a young girl, probably ten years old, standing there with a small jar in her hands.

He instantly noticed the similarities between her and the Baratheon from earlier. Must be his daughter, poor girl, probably hasn't had much fun in her life with a dad like that. Still he put that on hold as she approached him.

She had big ears and Greyscales. The ears absently reminded him of a friend who once had large teeth that had bothered her. The shrinking charm had taken care of that. The Greyscales was something else entirely. How this little girl had survived without being taken over by it was amazing in and of itself.

"Uhmm" she had a timid tone. "Does your back hurt?"

Anyone else would have received heavy sarcasm and insults, but not this little girl. She had a look in her eyes like she knew suffering and he wouldn't be adding on to the pile.

"Just a little" he lied heavily. "The pain has subsided quite a bit." Another lie.

"Well" she began as she stepped forward and stretched out her hand holding the jar. "This paste is supposed to help with swelling and prevent infection. Would you like some?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. Where were the guards posted outside of his door. Surely this little girl wasn't able to order them away. If she wasn't working alone then he was worried about what may be in the jar. Still, it was worth the risk. His back was killing him already.

"Yes, please" he said softly. They had taken his shirt and burned it for being the marking of defeated noble House of Targaryen. The Baratheons didn't seem to care for the former rulers of the lands too much which was odd as they were the most loyal to the crown before the war.

She went to open the jar but a large balding man walked in and crossed his arms. "My lady, you do not have time to stay here. If your father finds out you will be in big trouble."

"Alright, Ser Davos Seaworth" spoke the girl before she handed Harold the jar. "Sorry I cannot apply it to your back for you."

"No, thank you, this is very nice of you." He didn't mention how he didn't want a sweet little girl to see what her father had done to his back. It wasn't pretty that was for sure. "My name is Harold. What is yours?"

"Shireen Baratheon, the only child of my father Stannis Baratheon." She smiled a bit which caused the Greyscales on her cheeks to crinkle slightly.

"Well Shireen, thank you for doing what you did" but then his tone became a bit more ominous. "No matter what happens tonight, do not leave your room. Do you understand me?"

She didn't seem to get what he was saying, but the knight surely did. His hand slowly reached for his blade but did not draw it. No doubt he would be telling his lord soon enough. It mattered little. By sunrise the next day this Stannis Baratheon would be dead as well as that guy who went to town on his back. That ass whipping reminded him a bit too much of his first life. That was a man he wish he could have fed to a dragon.

"Ok" was all Shireen said before the knight ushered her out of the room.

After applying the salve he fell asleep on his stomach.

XXX

He didn't get much sleep however. Though that was understandable for anyone who had just been flogged several times. In his dark cell the light of a fire cast darkness from its presence waking up Harold. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he turned over to see who had decided to come visit him. He sighed in annoyance as soon as he saw her.

She was an interesting one. His first visitor was a little girl now a woman has come to see to him. He figured he was lucky it wasn't torturers and sweaty men. Still, this was not the type of woman he wanted visiting him in the slightest.

Hair like burnished copper and skin that was pale and unblemished. She was graceful, slender, and taller than most of the knights that he had seen in his lifetime. Her breasts were full, her waist narrow, and her face heart shaped.

It was her clothes and that choker around her neck that made him unhappy to see her. He had seen her kind before. Priests and Priestesses of the Red God R'hllor. He was happy that they hadn't found many willing to convert to their religion in Westeros. Bunch of black magic using morons who didn't know a thing about what they were really doing.

"Now what would a Red Priestess be doing in a place like this I wonder." He spoke sarcastically but he was genuinely curious. He hoped that the cults of R'hllor were not common in Westeros now.

"I tried to look into your future and do you know what I saw?" He didn't like his questions answered with questions but he decided to play along and shrugged. "I saw this keep burning. I saw men burning alive, I saw stone melting, and I saw darkness twisting from the forest."

"Oh, that's not good. Is Dragonmont going to erupt?" He moved a bit to get more comfortable. He took special precaution not to injure his back anymore than it already was. "Because if so I would like to at least have the door to my cell open when it does."

The light that danced across her face gave her a dark look. "I don't know what you are planning, but whatever it is R'hllor will show me and I will put a stop to it."

"Well you are doing a good job" replied Harold. "I was trying to get some sleep and you ruined that for me, so… congratulations."

She gave him a dark look and the choker around her neck started to glow an ominous red. He could feel a tendril of thought brush up against his mental shields but it was insignificant against his mental fortress. It was so weak he wanted to laugh. He questioned if she was able to read minds with such a weak mental probe or if emotions was all she got.

Eventually she retracted her probe. She must of realized that it wasn't going to work. The look of boredom she received from Harold didn't help anything either. She was playing a game of magic against a master. Such petty tricks may work on the weak minded or the gullible but they wouldn't work on him.

"A half assed witch such as yourself doesn't stand a chance against a master of the art such as me. Do yourself a favor and do what you do best. Your cheep tricks and broad words may fool those unfamiliar with real magic but they are an insult to us who practice the art in full."

She left in a angry huff. While he did believe she had no clue what magic was he didn't doubt that she knew some powerful spells. Anyone, if they practice enough, will be able to learn to use a single spell. Its just like painting a single picture again and again. Eventually you will get better results each time.

He also knew that the people of this world had a perchance for divination unlike his previous one. Even normal every day people seemed to have prophetic dreams every now and again. Her study of magic and her solid belief in her god allowed her to interpret the visions more clearly, which gave her a serious advantage.

Still, she wouldn't be a threat for long. Let her stare into the flames for as long as she wished. Come morning she will have gotten all the flames she could ever wish for.

XXX

Just before the sun rose in the east the sound of thunder echoed across Dragonstone. The skies were still the black of night yet clear enough to still see the stars above. No thunderstorm could be seen overhead or out in the distance. Yet the thunder grew louder and louder until it seemed to rattle the very stonework of the keep.

The Baratheon guards stationed on top of Dragonmont constantly gazed up into the sky searching for the source of the noise. It was not until the first died that many realized what was going on. The blinding light of dragon fire in the dark of night illuminated the keep casting crazed shadows across the black stone.

One stream was followed by a second which was accompanied by a third. Screams soon echoed through the night as soldiers were cooked alive in their armor. A beast straight out of legend which had not been seen for centuries fell from the skies unto the helpless defenders. The beast of war and destruction gave no warning besides a deafening cry that jolted the senses before unleashing its mighty flames.

A horn began to sound alerting the parts of the keep which were unaware that they were under attack. Soldier who had been sleeping off shift soon grabbed their armor and spears to meet their attackers head on. The horn was soon destroyed. The man blowing upon the massive horn was roasted alive like his brethren for upsetting the creature's sensitive sense of hearing. The narrow tower it sat atop soon toppled down as the beast rested upon it in order to feast on the man's helpless carcass.

The wanton destruction was felt at all points of the keep. Men rushed out of the keep like ants to an ant hill yet for all it did was hasten their demise. Dragons were smart for animals and knew the best places to wait for prey to come to them.

A large gate soon opened as nearly a hundred men ran out into the courtyard hoping to make it to the black walls yet they soon fell to the mighty beast's trap. Holed up at the entrance before they could get a good run a deadly stream of flames rushed forward and down the halls.

Not a single man survived the attack.

The beast, a mighty dragon nearly the size of Balerion the Black Dread, moved on. Coming to this keep it had but three purposes. The first two had been simple for such a mighty beast. Destruction and food came hand in hand to a creature such as it.

It feasted on the carcasses of the burnt defenders with a dark delight. Plate armor, leather, or burns did nothing to deter the massive beast from taking its spoils. As it dipped its head down to eat another group of dead humans a large bolt smashed into its armored side.

Unfortunately for the defender the bolt deflected from the dragon's scales harmlessly. In the end all the human manning the scorpion had done was draw in the great beast's attention. The men tried to reload for a second shot but were not fast enough. They and the scorpion burned in dragon fire that night.

The dragon gorged itself on the corpses of humans it slew until its maddening hunger abated. Once satisfied with its meal the beautiful dragon raised its silvery head upwards towards the moon and roared the roar of a conquering monster from the blackest of nightmares.

XXX

There was a clashing sound coming from outside of his cell. The guard who had been sent to watch him stood up clutching the long sword at his hip. Soon a group of men burst through the door charging the lone guard. He did not last long. A sword through the thigh and an ax to the neck snuffed the man's life out rather quickly.

Harold watched these men closely. At first he had assumed it was some of the Stag Lord's men come to finish him off. Assuming they were smart enough to put two and two together to figure out that he was responsible for the dragon at their walls that is. That being said with the Stag Lord's personality it was more likely the man would want to finish him off with his own bare hands. That or give him to his witch for ingredients in some twisted spell or other.

That though was tossed out the window when the guard was killed. The men who were wearing black cloaks soon removed them to reveal the emblem of House Velaryon. The sea green and gold seahorse was a sigil Harold was quite familiar with considering they were lords who had come from Valyria as well.

The leader of these Velaryon men took a step towards the dead guard's body before fishing out the cell keys. He wasted no time in unlocking Harold's cell and then unlocking the shackles around his wrists and legs. Once freed of such confines Harold stood up rubbing his wrists which had turned red from how tight they had been.

"My lord" spoke the Velaryon as he and his men took a knee. "When I saw the mighty beast in the sky I knew then and there your claim to the House of Targaryen was true. I rallied my men as quickly as I could so that we may come and rescue you."

Harold had a feeling something like this was going to happen. He had no clue someone from the House of Velaryon was in Dragonstone but he had assumed the Baratheon soldiers or some of the natives would turn on the Baratheon Lord and try to rescue him once they realized the power he had at his disposal.

Not that he needed rescuing. His dragon would take care of the soldiers all by itself. Either they would die or flee but regardless he would be safe. Once the coast was clear a bit of magic was all he would need to be a free man once again.

Having some followers would help matters though. No one likes to do all the work themselves. Plus this way he could run his sword through that red bitch and her hornless stag.

"And who might I have the pleasure of speaking with" questioned Harold as he looked down on the fair haired man. They looked so much like Targaryens it was ridiculous.

"I am Lord Monford Velaryon my lord" replied the man not looking up from his kneeling position.

So he was talking to the Lord of House Velaryon. That was surprising. "What were you doing on this island Lord Velaryon" demanded Harold.

"After the Upsurper took the Iron Throne the loyalists had to go into hiding until we could build up our power once again. We were also absent a Targaryen to follow so we were forced to follow one of the Upsurper's brothers while we waited."

So the Baratheons had only recently taken the Iron Throne it seemed. "When you said that you couldn't find any Targaryen to follow what do you mean. Is the House of Targaryen dead or simply absent in the male line?"

The Velaryon Lord looked up in confusion but said nothing. "The Upsurper killed Prince Rhaegar at the Trident. Lord Tywin sacked King's Landing under the flag of truce where his men raped and killed Prince Rhaegar's wife Princess Elia Martell. His men also had her two children killed as well. The traitor's son turned his blade on the king killing him even though he was a member of the Kingsguard."

That was all surprising. It seems like the Lannisters and the Baratheons teamed up to take out House Targaryen. What was more shocking was that the Lannisters had allowed the Baratheons to keep the throne. That was very un-Lannister-like of them. No doubt they had a payment plan in mind. Probably positions of power in the new government would be their price.

"What of the Queen? Did she survive?"

"Queen Rhaella was sent here to Dragonstone during the end of the war my lord. She brought her son with her before giving birth to a daughter which soon killed her." The Velaryon Lord actually looked ashamed at this point. "Unfortunately a storm blew in destroying much of the royal fleet. Only a single ship survived which took the Prince and Princess to Essos where they have lived in obscurity ever since."

It took Harold a moment to absorb all this information. What it all boiled down to was a rebellion yet the information he had gotten was nowhere near complete. He would need to do some serious researching once he had secured Dragonstone.

"Uhg what a headache." He gestured for the Lord and his men to stand. "First things first we take Dragonstone. Once we have the keep we can plan for the future." He looked at the Velaryon Lord for a moment. "You may want to prepare your own forces. No doubt this Baratheon King will try and retake Dragonstone and all those who support me will be at risk."

The Velaryon Lord bowed his head once again. "My lord my forces will be ready the moment you call them."

"Good, now help me find this Stannis Baratheon. He and another man who flogged me need to be taught a lesson." He began to walk to the door when a question formed in his head. "What year is it?"

"My Lord?"

"I asked you what year it was." Harold gave the man a serious look.

"It is 298AC my lord."

Harold's purple eyes grew proportionally. "Oh my god!"