The Divine Ascendant

Silence lingered in the Dragonpit. The smell of Euron Greyjoy's blood hung in the air, a grisly reminder of how quickly a life could be extinguished by the being now standing casually in their midst.

Tyrion exhaled slowly, his eyes fixed on Harry, Lord Aether, with a mixture of fear and wariness. He might not be all that close to his family anymore, but he'd be lying if he said they didn't still hold a small place in his heart. Seeing them about to provoke a being who could explode heads with a snap of his fingers was giving him a premature ulcer.

He could see the veins throbbing in Cersei's neck and knew that her pride was about to outpace her survival instincts despite what just happened.

"Cersei... Jaime..." Tyrion stepped forward, his voice strained but clear. "This is Lord Aether." He paused, looking at his sister's sneering face, hoping to convey the sheer magnitude of the threat. "He is a god. Try to act accordingly."

The word 'god' rippled throughout the pit. Disbelief and confusion warred on the faces of the Lannister guards, while the Northern lords looked at Jon Snow for confirmation. To some, it was a blasphemy against their belief and gods like the old gods and the Seven.

"Are you mad?" Cersei finally spoke, her voice dripping with that familiar contempt she reserved for her younger brother. "Do you truly believe that bringing some sorcerer here to perform tricks and intimidate us would work? To dare claim this man is a god... You really have lost your mind working for that Targaryen bitch."

Tyrion didn't even bother looking at her. He turned back to Harry, offering a shallow, respectful bow, his hands trembling slightly. "Forgive my sister, Lord Aether. She has never been one for faith."

"Oh? It's not that she's never had faith, Tyrion," Harry said, his voice carrying a playful, melodic chill. "It's just that she's lost it."

With a lazy flick of his fingers, a couch materialized out of thin air behind him. Harry sat, crossing his legs and leaning back.

"I remember the time when you used to pray so fervently to me, Cersei," Harry said, his green eyes locking onto hers.

Cersei sneered, opening her mouth to retort, but the words died in her throat as Harry's voice suddenly changed. It wasn't his low, masculine tone anymore. It was the voice of a young girl, high and hauntingly familiar to the Lannisters. It was a voice that hadn't been heard in Casterly Rock for decades, not since she was a little girl.

"Please... I beg you, bring back my mother..." "Please... kill the monster who took my mother's life..."

Cersei went deathly pale, her entire body going stiff as if she had been turned to stone. Jaime's hand moved instinctively to the hilt of his sword, his eyes wide. That was Cersei's voice, precisely as it had sounded when she was a child, weeping for Joanna Lannister.

"Do you remember?" Harry asked, his own voice returning, carrying a bite of amusement. "You once asked why I allowed Tyrion to be born, the 'monster' who took her. why I took your mother instead of him. I believe your faith died shortly after that... or was it after the prophecy?"

"Prophecy?" Jaime asked sharply, looking between the stranger and his sister.

"Enough of this mummery!" Cersei stood up abruptly, her voice shrilling with a mixture of rage and terror. She pointed a shaking finger at Harry, her authority crumbling. "Kill this fool! Ser Gregor!"

The Mountain moved forward to fulfill the order. He raised his greatsword, the same weapon that he once used to cleave a horse in tow, and brought it down toward Harry's head with all the strength he had.

Harry didn't even look up. He simply waved his left hand as if shooing an annoying fly.

The impact was deafening, a sound like a thunderclap in the confined space. The Mountain was launched backward as if hit by a giant's hammer. He slammed into the rear stone wall of the Dragonpit with such force that the ancient masonry cracked and buckled. The knight remained there, embedded three feet deep into the stone, his limbs twitching uselessly like a broken toy.

"As I was saying," Harry continued, ignoring the gasps of terror from the room. "Your sister wanted to know her fate, so she went to a witch. She was told she wouldn't marry a prince, but a king. She thought of Rhaegar, but she got Robert. She was told she would have three children, and the king sixteen. She was told they would all die, one by one. Gold shall be their shrouds, and gold their crowns."

The Dragonpit went cold. The Northern lords and Daenerys's council watched as Cersei's face contorted in rage. Olenna sat there just watching the bitch queen with a small smile.

"And you were told that another... younger and more beautiful... would come to cast you down and take everything you hold dear, weren't you." Harry laughed softly. Harry didn't miss the way most glanced at Daenerys with that last line, and neither did the two queens. The Dragon Queen sat up a little straighter, her eyes flashing with a triumph she didn't bother to hide, and Cersei, on the other hand, looked ready to burn the world around her.

"This is your fault!" Cersei screamed at the air, her composure utterly gone. "You gods took them from me! You took my children to fulfill your twisted words!"

"Hey now, don't blame anyone but yourself," Harry said, tilting his head with a funny look. "Prophecies are tricky things, Cersei. They follow choice, they don't dictate it. You were told your children would die. Did the witch ever say they would die young? Or did you just assume it and start acting like it was inevitable?"

Cersei froze, the breath catching in her throat.

"Did you expect them to live forever? Every mortal dies, Cersei. But you made the choices that led them to their specific graves. Joffrey, Myrcella, Tommen... they died because of the world of poison and paranoia you built for them. You were so busy looking for the 'Younger Queen' that you didn't see the enemies you were making. Did it never occur to you that it could have been Margaery, who would have married your son and become his queen? Or perhaps even your own daughter, had she lived to take the crown? You destroyed your own house over a few words you didn't understand."

Cersei collapsed back into her seat, her eyes glazed over.

Harry immediately lost interest in her. He shifted his gaze to Daenerys. She straightened instinctively, her chest puffing out, her eyes holding a desperate, hopeful anticipation. She knew what he was looking for, and she just hoped for it.

"Congratulations, Daenerys," Harry said, "You've succeeded in winning our little game. You've shown you can lead without just being a girl with dragons. You've shown some patience, and more importantly, you've shown growth."

Daenerys gripped the arms of her seat so tightly her knuckles turned white. She tried to speak, but her voice squeaked, betrayed by her nerves. She cleared her throat and tried again, her voice finally catching. "Thank you... Lord Aether."

Harry sighed in amusement. He raised his right hand, and dark, swirling smoke gathered in the center of his hand. A large purple egg appeared, floating toward Daenerys. It was warm to the touch. She stood up, her breath hitching as she reached out to catch it.

"Call the others," Harry commanded.

Daenerys didn't hesitate, she knew who he was referring to. She closed her eyes and reached into that deep connection she shared with her children. A moment later, the sky above the Dragonpit was torn asunder by dragon roars.

The Lannister guards shrieked and dove for cover as five massive shadows eclipsed the sun. Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion were joined by Baelon and Rhaenon, five full-grown terrors of the sky, their scales glinting like jewels in the afternoon sun.

"Fucking hell..." someone on the Lannister side muttered, their voice trembling. It was the sound of a man realizing the war was over before it even began.

Because how the hell were they supposed to beat that. Aegon the conqueror had taken over the seven kingdoms with only three, now this woman had five. Did they even stand a chance.

Harry stood up, raising the purple egg. It began to glow with a blinding, violet light, then he tossed it into the sky. The shell shattered, and a small, sleek purple dragon emerged, floating above. Everyone watched in stunned silence as the creature began to grow, literally stretching in the air, its wings unfolding and its tail lengthening, until it was nearly the size of its elder siblings. It landed in the pit with a heavy thud, its scales shimmering like amethysts.

Daenerys approached, her hand trembling as she touched its snout. The dragon purred, a low rumble that vibrated through her entire being.

"I'll call you... Shaeragon," she whispered, naming it after the headstrong grandmother she had heard so much about. She turned to Harry, tears of pure, unadulterated joy in her eyes. "Thank you."

"That was the reward for the game," Harry said. "Now for the bonus. I think you've earned it, given the restraint you've shown."

He summoned a vial of glowing golden liquid. A single drop flew out, hovering for a second before landing on Daenerys's forehead. A soft, radiant warmth rushed through her body.

"Is it...?" she whispered, touching her belly with a reverent hand.

"Yes," Harry said, waving his hand as the golden glow faded. "Your line will not end with you. You can have your heirs now."

Daenerys choked back a sob, a weight lifting from her soul that she had carried since the tent in the Dothraki Sea. But before she could speak, Harry turned his gaze toward the other side of the pit, his expression sharpening.

"You," he called out.

Ellaria Sand froze. She still remembered her foolish, desperate request to have her daughters back, and the terrifying anger it had provoked in the god the last time they spoke.

"Lord Aether... please," she trembled, her only living daughter clutching her arm with white-knuckled intensity.

Harry walked up to her and, before she could flinch, plucked a single strand of hair from her head.

He had been planning this experiment for a while. He wanted to test his "Faith Energy", the raw power a god accumulates from the collective belief, fear, and prayer of others.

In this world, belief was a ripe, untapped resource. It was the energy used to create miracles by gods, and what better way to cement his legend in this world than a resurrection.

"You asked for your children back," Harry said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of a mountain. "And I'm in a good mood. I'll grant you this mercy."

Ellaria's head snapped up, her mouth falling open in a silent 'O' of shock. Around her, the lords of Westeros leaned in, their hearts hammering against their ribs.

"But," Harry held up the strand of hair, "you have to choose. Which daughter returns to the light, and which remains with the Stranger?"

Ellaria's world stopped. Was she to choose between two of her beloved daughters? She...she didn't think she could. Ellaria was many things, but one that she was more proud of was being a mother and a mother to the children of her late beloved. Now she had to choose who to bring back and who to give up on.

"Choose? I... I can't. They are my blood, my heart. I can't choose between them!"

"I... !" Tyene started to say, her voice cracking, but Harry silenced her with a single, sharp look.

"I asked your mother. Not you."

"I can't," Ellaria sobbed, collapsing to her knees and burying her face in her hands. "I cannot choose. Take my life, but don't ask me to choose."

Harry hummed, a sound of thoughtful consideration. "I see. Then I'll choose for you."

Using the hair as a link, Harry channeled the massive reservoir of Faith Energy he had stored. He reached beyond the veil of this world, finding the "afterlife" here, and looked for the souls that had the mark of Ellaria on them.

people are marked in life by who they are, what they have done and everything they could become, and a parent and child will always have marks of each other regardless of whether they have met or not, if they were close or hated each other because for a child that was their beginning and for the parent a part of their eternal soul is what forms the soul of a child.

Finding the souls, he quickly looked for the ones he was searching for among them and pulled, bringing the soul out of the afterlife. This little act helped confirm without a doubt that no gods existed in this world.

He reconstructed their physical forms from the memory of their soul and forced their souls back into the new vessels.

A blinding explosion of white light filled the Dragonpit when Harry started. When it faded, the assembly let out a collective gasp. Two young women stood there, alive and breathing, looking at their own hands in absolute confusion.

They were as they had been in life, unclothed and vulnerable, but undeniably alive.

A Lannister guard in the back fainted, his armor clattering against the stone.

Ellaria crawled toward them, sobbing their names as if they were a prayer. "My daughters... my daughters..."

Harry shrugged, a faint, satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he turned to walk back to his chair. "Hey, what can I say? I'm a generous god when the mood strikes me."

He felt a genuine sense of satisfaction. Resurrection was a hell of a trick, and the surge of belief and fear hitting him now was intoxicating.

Harry nodded inside as he looked at his work. Honestly, he didn't like Ellaria, he just wanted to try the power of faith, and he was in a good mood even after months.

The news Daphne Greengrass had given him two months ago, that he was going to be a father, was still giving him a high that no amount of divine power could match.

He looked at the weeping mother and the restored children and couldn't help but hope he'd be able to love his children greater than even her and hoped they would love him the same.

He felt himself shiver. Oh, she just couldn't help it. It looked at Tyrion, who was looking in shock, but the man also looked like he was biting his lips to keep himself quiet from saying something to Harry, and Olenna, too, was gripping her chair.

'Ah, what the hell, I'm in a great mood'.

He really was in the spirit of giving.

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