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Chapter Text

PART ONE I

Cersei gripped his hand and tilted her head as a gentle gesture. Her belly was starting to get bigger, and Harry was fascinated by that. She swore after seeing his little boy reading for the family with perfect intonation and excelling creativity that she would kill anyone to see a Golden Crown on him, to see him at the top of the Iron Throne.

Harry was born in the body of an infant and screeched in the mirror when he saw himself in it. He didn’t know his “new” name until he was five years old when Cersei called him Hadrian, perhaps because Harry was too simple for their world. 

Cersei screeched too when he saw her little boy. A black-haired baby with bright green eyes, there was something eerie in them and the baby was also looking at her carefully as if she was a study object. 

There was nothing of Jaime there. It was all Robert, her husband. And it made her weak, it made her enraged, but it didn’t mean she didn’t love her miracle. 

All the features could fade away if she was gazing at his green eyes. Harry found that his mother was called Cersei, and they had a motto: “Hear me roar” like an old fairytale, like those mystic books Hermione loved to read when they were younger. 

By the age of six years, he realised that his mother was a Queen and the plenty of servants who called him Prince weren’t doing it for fondness. It was their duty. 

Harry was a little bit afraid of Jaime, his uncle, and found that he was stared at when they were together by his mother. He assumed it was to search for any striking similarity, but in fact, Jaime Lannister was a sly man, and he was sure that all those appreciative glances he had with his mother weren’t merely superficial. 

Robert played with him, and let him carry a big wooden sword like the dutiful Prince his father said he was. He wasn’t present all the time, partially because of his drunkenness or the arguments he had with his mother. They seemed abrasive between each other. Also, he understood at a young age that his mother let the man fuck her as he pleased because he was the King. 

Cersei Lannister once loved her husband, but when those sentiments weren’t reciprocated she left the love on the door and spat on it. Harry had seen it. She was sad. She was always sad. In turn, she tried to be the best mother to him, but it probably wasn’t enough for her.

Maybe Lily Evans had died too young, and maybe he didn’t have an extensive knowledge of motherhood. Only Molly who was once the woman who knitted him sweaters every year and he used them proudly. 

But Cersei wasn’t one to let him with strangers. When she didn’t appear during the morning and only Jaime was there, sitting with him during breakfast, he got worried.

 Two guards were behind him all the time, and he thought it wasn’t necessary. However, when his uncle was near, there was a tingle of danger hovering over the man. 

“Where is my Mother?” He questioned warily, and Jaime peered up from his delicious piece of cake which he stabbed on it like he had a personal grudge over it. 

“She didn’t tell me anything.” The man answered back, quite easily and without an ounce of concern for her. 

Harry could be a child, but he wasn’t stupid. Instead, he clapped back. “You always know where she is.” A little vicious, a little taunt just to see the gleam on his uncle’s eyes and the discontent he felt towards him. 

“And my father?” He asked again, using the fork to cut his fruits. His mother had ordered explicitly that he had to eat more healthily. 

“Drunk, as always.” Jaime didn’t hesitate to say that. There was a kind of antagonism between them. The man knew about it. 

He didn’t like leaving his mother alone with his brother and while he never saw anything suspicious, he was sure the glint on Jaime wasn’t for anything which was why he ended up accompanying his mother to every place she went, even against her desires. Harry was used to it. Having a maniac Dark Lord in his mind made him wonder about the skills it created in him. 

(Inside the Lannister House everyone was a lunatic, including the Queen and the King. His parents. And it seemed they weren’t the only ones, because the Maester had explained to him about the Targaryen who were mini copies of Lucius Malfoy with the cusp of platinum hair and tyranny.)

He didn’t answer his uncle, and fortunately, the man ate breakfast and left to his Royal Duties which were just an excuse for not having to take care of him or to spend time with him. After he finalised his food, he sneaked past the guards who left him in his chambers to visit his Father who was still sleeping. 

The Seven didn’t bless you. Jaime said once to his mother, while he was making braids on him. His black messy hair was getting longer by the day and his mother learned from the servant how to make little braids with the strands. He doesn’t have any Lannister features. He continued, but Harry couldn’t understand at that moment what he was implying.

He was more a Baratheon than a Lannister, but it didn’t matter, because he carried his mother’s blood on his veins and Hadrian Lannister was a lion.

“Father,” He chirped gently, “You have to wake up. It’s sunny outside.” He blew some air on the man’s face, and Robert started squirming away from him like a toddler. It was endearing, even if his father’s marriage was in shambles. 

He started prying in his father’s closet because the man had dozens of different uniforms with different colours, but the iridescent black and gold were part of it. The clothes weren’t new either. The symbol chipped in one of the uniforms, and there was one of them who had the Baratheon house’s motto: “Our is the fury.”

The Pureblood had mottos. He remembered the Black one and the Lestrange one. They were radical and muggle-hater. However, Sirius’s face was dear to him. Just like Robert Baratheon. Even if the man didn’t take care of himself anymore. “What are you doing here, little Lion? Where are your guards?” His father’s voice was sleepy and raspy. It made him flinched.

He turned around quickly and jumped on the bed. Fortunately, the man wasn’t one of decorum and extreme politeness. 

“I was trying to see if you were alive, Father. I had a conversation with Uncle Jaime because I wanted to know where Mother is.” He explained it impassively, and his father stared fondly at him. The man recognised in him a dear son, so when he stretched his hand and caressed his cheek, Harry leaned.

“You don’t have to trust  in Prince Jaime.” Robert admonished him quietly. Harry rolled his eyes. He had known that piece of information since the tender age of five years old. 

Jaime wished he was a Prince. He wasn’t worthy of the title. 

“Yes, I know. I trust in you and Mother only.” Harry shrugged his shoulders and sprawled on the bed, but his father grabbed his wrist delicately and straightened him again. 

They were facing each other, and Robert had bright eyes like Harry was missing something else in them. They were like two pools where he could get lost. 

“You are The Heir, Hadrian. If anything happens to me, I wish you to have everything. All of this. I know you love your Mother, but beware of her surroundings.” It had a taint of darkness in every word the man said. And he was sober for the first time. He wasn’t all uncontrolled limbs and uncomfortable comments to their servants.

 Beware of The Heir rang in his head. And now he was The Heir, the next in line for the Throne.

“Now, leave. You are not a woman to be daddling in my chamber. Keep studying. I may join you for dinner.” Robert muttered and dismissed him. The stench of alcohol hit him for a few seconds, so he closed his eyes, pressed his lips, and left the chambers. 

As a solely one child in his past life, he never had to fight for a “throne.” The Potters had a bank account and he enjoyed their gold, living a peaceful life after Voldemort’s death. 

Finishing with his lessons for the day, he walked to the Palace Gardens, overlooking Blackwater Bay, and using parchments and quill he began writing a letter to his cousin, Shireen. 

He never saw her because his uncle Stannis, told him she had a curious disease which was why she couldn’t gather with people. 

But they wrote letters, usually. It was a little bit of fun, outside all the expectations and the weight of his duties. His mother required him to be more precise, and ambitious, so he had rigorous classes with the Maester the entire week. 

Shireen had a pretty lettering and she was bored like him. They gossiped with each other, nothing out of the ordinary, because his Mother re-read his letters after sending them. Her last words were that someone called Melisandre was trying to get closer to her. 

Cersei searched for him around the Castle and even threatened one of the servants if they didn’t find him when she arrived back at The Castle. However, hiding behind one of the pillars and stretching over the gardens was his little miracle. 

Hadrian had grown into an attractive young boy, with short black hair, even if he resembled too much of The Baratheon part, but had the sharp features that the Lannister bore. It was a perfect combination. His green eyes were her sun in the sky and his right hand was scribbling fast on the parchment, without any utter care for the world in general. It was peaceful. 

“Mother, I know that you are there. I was waiting for you all afternoon.” Harry voiced politely, and Cersei snickered like a bashful maiden. 

She wasn’t that surprised. Harry was soft but sharp, not a weak princeling. Cersei missed him fervently, so she trotted to him and circled his waist with one of her arms. “I am so sorry, dear. I had Queen duties, but I assured you that you have two personal guards with you all the time. I didn’t want to leave you alone.” Pressing a kiss to his cheek, Harry gazed at her. 

Cersei was glowing, her green eyes were shining like two pearls and her lips were twitching into a smile. “What happened to you, Mother? There’s something different about you. I perceive something different.” 

“I have wonderful news, my love. But it’s too soon.” She expressed, mysteriously, and Harry nodded. When his mother was set on something, she was too stubborn. Queen Cersei wasn’t easy to cheat and pleased. “Let’s go with your father. He is expecting you.” 

Harry got up from the grass and picked a flower to change the one which was withering on the dinner table. As his Mother said, Robert was waiting for him, only having small bites of food, but he swallowed bitterly when he saw the man again drinking wine. His Mother, a marble statue, was also disgusted with him. 

“Father, when we are dining together, I don’t want you drinking alcohol,” Harry uttered, and Cersei smiled pleasantly, sitting beside her husband. Her beautiful crown was shining against the latter lights of the afternoon. 

Robert stared at him playfully. “As my Prince wishes.” He pronounced it lightly. Fortunately, his father was in a good mood. 

“But you would be a man, Hadrian. You would understand later the finest pleasures in life. Drinking wine and sleeping with—...” Cersei cleared her throat just in time. But Harry knew what he was going to say. 

A week later, Cersei told him that she was pregnant and Harry, wide-eyed, questioned her about everything. He knew that Ron had a lot of brothers and also a sister, but Shireen, his cousin, was the only family she knew outside of his parents (closer to his age). 

“You will have a brother now, Hadrian. But he would be too young when you enter the youth. Youth defines a man. I am raising you to be a man who will have the intelligence and the strength that will be required of you as a King.” Cersei stretched the words, and Harry paid attention to the liminal space between them. It squeezed his heart with all that responsibility. Every single word was tainted with theoretical knowledge his mother had about him. 

Every single word was cursed. He once held a big responsibility, it felt like the Wizarding World was hanging on him like he was a coat rack and he was resilient. He could be resilient and patient. Also, ambitious, Alistair told him he could be part of Slytherin. He had all the relevant qualities of the Houses. 

During his eleventh name-day, Robert made a feast for him inviting his other brothers. Renly and Stannis, while Cersei had all her family too. It also consisted of a spectacle of sword fighting. Jaime and Stannis fighting against each-other. He watched and watched the ceremony for him until he tired out. They went overboard with all the jewellery, all the decoration, all the food, all the privilege.

Cersei gripped his hand and tilted her head in a gentle gesture. Her belly was starting to get bigger, and Harry was fascinated by that. She swore after seeing his little boy reading for the family with perfect intonation and excelling creativity that she would kill anyone to see a Golden Crown on him, to see him at the top of the Iron Throne.

Chapter Text

“The youngest of the Targaryen asked for a feast upon his name day,” Robert grinned after saying it while they were having dinner. Harry paused eating and glanced at his Father. 

He didn’t know of any “youngest” Targaryen. The Maester would have told him of such relevant information probably. 

“Draco Targaryen is his name, dear,” Cersei said, placing her fork on one side of the plate. She was feeling nauseous that day. While it soothed her heart Harry made her a special tea, they weren’t utterly gone. 

A gasp was caught in his throat when he heard that name again, after so many years, after so much despair. How didn’t he know about that?

“Are we invited to this feast you are talking about, Father?” Harry questioned warily and noticed his father's faint twitch on his lips. Cersei hadn’t said anything else. She was caressing her swelling belly but paying attention to him. 

“Of course, little lion. The Targaryen are a pit of vipers. But you should know one thing about them. They would never let an opportunity pass to be arrogant and flaunt their wealth.” His father explained gently and Harry wanted to snort. Draco as Prince wasn’t something unheard of. 

The boy was a pureblood Prince in the Wizarding world and his blood was more valuable than once. However, the two of them were Princes in their reincarnated lives and Harry shouldn’t be frightened by that prospect. It was something he could exploit.

“Prince Rhaegar Targaryen is an honourable and brave man,” Cersei added and smiled candidly at Harry. He mimicked her gesture. Robert snorted and rolled his eyes like a toddler. It was obvious there was some kind of resistance between Baratheon and Targaryen. He didn’t know them. Only tales and myths from The Maester’s mouth.

“They said that Prince Draco has magic.” The King pressed on. Harry furrowed his brows. It couldn’t be true, right? If there was something he feared more than Voldemort when he was young was having magic again or knowing a user of magic. 

Draco was a nightmare in his best days and his worst days he used to be a murderer for The Death Eaters. He knew the boy changed and faced his father with all the accusations, but the resentment was still there. 

His mother got up from the seat, the tailored dress touching the floor behind her and left, not without pressing a kiss to his forehead and ordered him to remain with his father, which Harry didn’t protest, but she wasn’t in a good mood either. It seemed that speaking about the Targaryen irked a nerve in her. 

Robert continued eating but looked up from his plate to see his wife had left the dining room. “She liked that bastard once,” His father contemplated and Harry winced. He didn’t want to know that piece of information. He loved his parents dearly, but there were some things he didn’t want to be aware of. 

The news of Draco never left his mind. Did the boy forget everything or did his ex-classmate remember everything like him? Was he doing well in that House full of treachery? Harry never understood the pureblood privilege and their culture, but it wasn’t that difficult to do it after living in their skin. 

All the suffering, all the weight on his shoulders. The loving words of his mother, but the disappointment on her face when he couldn’t complete a feat. His father didn’t want anything from him. Only to be a good Knight, a good sword fighter. 

Draco wasn’t the next in line for the throne, but he was. 

Joffrey was born with a screech that even his mother worried about the baby. Harry heard it from his chamber. He ran to meet his brother while his heart was stammering against his ribcage. Little Joffrey was a wisp of blonde hair and had a darker shade of blue on his eyes. He didn’t look like him, but Cersei was watching him with awe. She seemed proud of the toddler. 

His mother placed the baby boy in his arms and taught him how he had to handle his brother. Joffrey was very little, very brilliant with his golden hair. Harry was happy and stared intently at his face. The boy was sleeping. 

After seeing his little brother so defenceless, he started his sword classes again, with more vigour. Robert kept talking about Draco’s name day, but for some reason, he wasn’t excited to see the boy of his nightmares. They weren’t nightmares because Draco was in it. They were nightmares because Draco tried to kill Dumbledore once, because he saw him in the latest years of school with sombre eyes, and the pale blue of them were lost in a darkness Harry could never find the way out. 

His father muttered something about a war during an argument with his mother. Cersei never said anything. She was tight-lipped about everything. It could be because of Joffrey. He cried during the night, and not even the nurses could do something about it. Harry saw Jaime visiting the baby during the afternoons when he smelt like blood and oil after his duties. 

He recognised his placid smile as he was pleased with Joffrey. There was an uncanny recognition in those eyes, and Harry felt his heart squeezed in his chest. His Uncle never looked at him the same way. 

Cersei noticed it and that's why she pressed more kisses than ever on his forehead and began telling him tales about The Lannister, about the house motto. The Targaryen were in the mix too. Harry absorbed every myth. 

“I will travel to Invernalia,” Robert said when he called him to his chambers. The man was polishing his armour, he didn’t know why he was doing it himself, but probably the reason was because he slapped the servant who was in charge of that. The boy had a red cheek when Harry saw him scurrying away to the dining room. “And then, I will tell you the news. If I am victorious, Hadrian, you shall have an arranged marriage.” 

Harry’s head started spinning after he heard that. He felt dizzy for a few seconds, and he didn’t have the right to be shocked. The Maester had told him that in the various classes, they had over the years. He wasn't seven years old anymore. He was entering his youthhood lasCersei referred to it.

The day of the feast approached and Harry thought after seeing his father excited by it that it was going to be awful. The man was delighted by the feast because he was going to meet with some of his friends and also because they probably had a lot of alcohol included. His mood became sour after noticing it. 

Cersei couldn’t come. She was still tender from pregnancy labour and something in his mother’s rigid lines of her body told him that she didn’t want to, either. Maybe Rhaegar Targaryen had an active role in her decaying depression. Joffrey was a sleeping bundle in her mother’s arms. He kissed his brother’s cheek with fondness and waved at the Queen after they left. 

Robert wasn’t a bad companion. However, his father didn’t know how to shut up. His eyes were hazy, and glossy for some reason. Maybe the man had been drinking since the morning and he didn’t realise it. The Maester had made him write some notes. He should learn proper modals, his professor said. He was similar to Severus. All sharp words and strict behaviour. 

The Targaryen palace was haunted. That was his first thought. 

Rhaegar Targaryen was incredibly beautiful and wise. That was his second thought. 

However—... Aerys Targaryen, the King, had a similar expression Bellatrix always wore. Pure madness and vacant eyes. The Crown shone like his parent’s one. But there was something different in them. 

Even between purebloods, Kings, and Princes, there was always a difference. Targaryen was regal, and elegant, just as his father said, the arrogance and the slow steps struck him as Voldemort once or Tom Riddle. The subtle manipulation, the gentle gestures. They encompassed all of that. 

Harry turned around to find his father laughing with a woman he didn’t know the name of, and some other nobles. He didn’t look like royalty. Maybe that was why House Baratheon never cared about the man or muttered words behind his back. Robert wasn’t a proficient King. 

He burned with shame and embarrassment. Why did he feel like that? He was always coherent and didn’t expect anything from his friends. Back in the past, he lived as a poor half-blood with clothes too big on him and a certain degree of malnutrition. Why did he feel a weight on his shoulders?

Later, some Princesses and Princes were introduced by Robert to him. They were young like him, with beautiful smiles, and masks constructed lash by lash. 

Feeling a particular aura, Harry stared at someone who was looking from the other side of the hall. It was Draco draped in a formal suit with the Targaryen symbol on t The Three Dragons. He was so overjoyed at seeing someone of his past that he felt all the resentment gone. Draco’s face was pale and he had an icy expression like he usually bore in Slytherin too.

He was taller too, and his hair slicked back. Slightly longer than he was used to seeing it, but Draco was still him. Harry wished to get closer to the other, but his father was having lingering stares with the same woman and he didn’t like that. He glanced between the two of them for a moment, but when he tried to find Draco again. The boy had disappeared from his sight.

Some minutes later, he felt someone touching his shoulder and Harry's head whipped to one side. His heart took the time to relax after seeing it was Draco. He couldn’t feel danger anymore when he looked at the Slytherin who was so battered like him. 

“I don’t know who combed your hair, but it looks awful. I am just saying it.” Draco mentioned and Harry snorted. Such a long time had passed, but those were the first words of their heartwarming reunion. 

“I didn’t know you were alive. I thought I was alone in this awful dream,” Harry said, whispering because eyes and ears were everywhere. Draco seized his wrist and they sneaked past the dining room. The Palace was huge and had a striking portrait of the Targaryen ancestors. Harry had his mouth agape while he let the other boy guide him somewhere. Probably somewhere where they could have a conversation.

“A dream?” Draco scoffed, “More than a bloody nightmare. I hate it here. Aerys, my father, is killing people,” His tone was grave. “He is the same as Lucius. I don’t know if this is my karma, but it’s horrid.” 

Harry was trying to assimilate what Draco was saying, but he nodded. He loved his parents dearly. They took care of him, but something was looming on the horizon. It seemed his ex-classmate was having it worse than him and that was stretching it. He was Te Heir, the next in the line for the throne. 

“I never thought that I was going to say these words. But I missed you. I am happy to find someone else here,” Harry expressed and took one of Draco’s hands. The other boy rolled his eyes, but there was fondness in his gesture too. 

“We are not going to talk about our feelings now. It’s my birthday, but you have to come here and steal all my spotlight again,” Draco groaned. He tried to comb Harry’s hair again, threading the messy black strands. “You are a Baratheon. Your mother is a Lannister. My father hates her for some reason.” 

Harry narrowed his eyes and when was going to answer, he heard another stranger's voice uttering something behind him. Draco glanced at the other person quickly and pressed his lips. “Hello, brother. This is Hadrian Baratheon.”

Rhaegar barely looked at him. His face was impassive, but his long hair was flowing beautifully behind him like a fucking magical being. He understood his Mother’s desire for the man if that was the case. He was a sight to behold.

“I know who he is, Draco. You have to go back to the dining room if you don’t want our father getting mad at your foolish behaviour,” Rhaegar said coldly. “We don’t want him repeating yesterday's actions, don’t we?” 

Harry didn’t like the tone Rhaegar was using with his brother, but when he tried to speak, his friend gripped his hand tightly and he let go of those words. 

It was the last time he could converse with Draco during the night. Everything went blurry after that. Aerys The Second found his gaze over the dinner and a leer expression made him gasp. Draco and Rhaegar were at his side, but they weren’t speaking. They were eating, but their perfect profiles and their manicured nails had his attention for some reason.

Robert was snickering behind the wine glass, and Harry found it distasteful. The man behaved as if he were a foolish teenager with altered hormones. There wasn’t an escape. At least, if his mother was there. For the other part, he remembered the arranged marriage conversation and ended up sipping all the water in his goblet. 

Father sent him to the Palace with two guards after kissing his cheek. The putrid smell from his mouth made Harry cringe. “You are not a bashful maiden, little lion. Start behaving like a man.” 

After entering his house, or the vacant corridors to his chambers, he thought that his mother wasn’t probably awake, which was sad. He couldn’t enter the nursery because people were guarding his brother, so he just passed through his mother’s chambers. He paused his steps when he heard a noise inside of it. 

Granting his curiosity, he opened the door, fortunately, it didn't creak. Queen Cersei was naked with his uncle hovering over her. The scene before him made Harry widen his eyes and cover his lips. When a breathy moan echoed in the room, he left swiftly.