Name: Dominic Augustus
Race: Human
Age: 18
Character Assimilation:
Toph Beifong (Earthbending, Seismic Sense – 100%)
Gellert Grindelwald (Dark Magic, Wand Mastery – 100%)
Gol D. Roger (Haki, Charisma – 100%)
Ted Mosby (Architecture, Storytelling – 100%)
Erwin Smith (Leadership – 40%)
Equipment:
Captain America's Shield, Invisibility Cloak, Elder Wand, Two-Way Mirror
Inu Inu no Mi, Mane Mane no Mi, Tori Tori no Mi,
Weakness Removal (x7,), Pokémon Eggs (x5), Soul Contracts (x100)
Lasso of Truth, Super Soldier Serum (x19),
Gilgamesh's Golden Armor,
25,354,400 Gold Dragons
Gacha Points: 207
Allies:
Aeron Sand: Soul Contract, Super Soldier Serum, Deadpool's Swords, Afro Samurai (100%)
Missandei: Soul Contract, Super Soldier Serum, Black Widow (100%), Emma Frost (100%)
Daenyres Targaryen : Soul COntract, Super soldier serum, Mera Mera No mi, Boa Hancock template 20%(without devil fruit powers)
Daemon: Soul Contract, Super Soldier Serum, Taskmaster (100%)
Pokémon: Charizard, Dragonite, Rapidash, Gyarados, Altaria, Eevee, Celebi
A Secret Venture to Winterfell
Third Person POV
298 AC, Uruk – Morning
The garden of Dominic Augustus's castle in Uruk burst with vibrant blooms, a vivid contrast to the plain commonfolk clothes he, Daenerys, and Missandei wore to avoid attention on their journey. Dominic donned a simple brown tunic and cloak. Daenerys and Missandei, in modest woolen dresses, stood close, their excitement tinged with nervous anticipation. Aeron Sand, nearby in leather armor, adjusted his swords, preparing for his own journey.
"When are you leaving for Dorne, Aeron?" Dominic asked, his voice low as he scanned the garden.
"Midday," Aeron replied, securing his gear. "Our trade ship's heading there. I'll catch a ride."
Dominic nodded, then turned to Daenerys, holding out a silver ring etched with faint runes. "Dany, wear this."
She slipped it onto her finger, gasping as her silver hair darkened to jet black and her violet eyes shifted to warm brown. She rushed to a nearby fountain, marveling at her reflection. "It's incredible!" she exclaimed, touching her altered hair.
Dominic grinned, his Elder Wand tucked discreetly in his sleeve. "Ready, both of you?"
Missandei and Daenerys nodded, but Daenerys tilted her head. "How are we getting there?"
He smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Magic."
They chuckled, shaking their heads at his flair for drama. "Of course," Missandei said, rolling her eyes playfully.
"Give me your hands," Dominic instructed, taking one from each wife. His magic surged, and with a deep breath, he Apparated, the trio vanishing from Uruk with a soft pop.
Wintertown
They reappeared on the outskirts of Wintertown, the biting northern cold hitting them like a wall. Daenerys and Missandei staggered, faces paling as they doubled over, vomiting from the squeezing sensation of their first Apparition. Dominic, unfazed by the spell, rubbed their backs gently. "You'll get used to it," he said, chuckling. "First time's always rough."
"Never again," Daenerys groaned, wiping her mouth with her sleeve, her brown eyes glaring at him.
"Absolutely not," Missandei muttered, shivering as a gust of wind whipped through.
Dominic pulled two cloaks from his dimensional inventory, each enchanted with body-warming charms. "Here," he said, draping them over his wives. The cloaks radiated warmth, easing their shivers as they straightened, grateful.
They trekked toward Wintertown, its bustling streets alive with merchants hawking wares and locals hurrying about. King Robert Baratheon's retinue had swelled the town, making the trio's arrival unremarkable. The market brimmed with Uruk's goods—spider-silk fabrics shimmering in the light, polished tools crafted from gacha blueprints, and vibrant produce grown from high-quality seeds Dominic had acquired through his system. For a year, Uruk's trade with the Seven Kingdoms had flourished, its innovations spreading far.
Daenerys and Missandei paused at a flower stall, captivated by winter roses, their pale blue petals delicate yet resilient. "They're beautiful," Daenerys said, tucking one into her black hair, the contrast striking.
"Want to see Winterfell?" Dominic asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yes," Missandei said eagerly, but Daenerys frowned. "How? There are guards everywhere."
Dominic's lips curled into a sly grin as he waved his Elder Wand subtly. A Disillusionment Charm cloaked them, rendering them invisible to all but each other. "Follow me," he whispered, leading them toward Winterfell's gates.
As they neared, they overheard guards muttering gravely, "Bran Stark fell from a tower. Hasn't woken up."
Dominic's eyes narrowed. So it's happened. The timeline of Westeros was unfolding as he'd anticipated, the tragedy of Bran's fall a pivotal moment.
They slipped through the gates, their charmed invisibility keeping them undetected. In the courtyard, they watched Robb Stark spar with Theon Greyjoy, wooden swords clacking rhythmically. Robb, tall and broad-shouldered, disarmed Theon with a swift move, earning a grin from his friend. "Not bad, Stark," Theon said, clapping his shoulder.
Prince Joffrey Baratheon sauntered into the courtyard, his golden hair gleaming, a sneer on his face. "Boys playing war with wooden swords?" he mocked, his voice dripping with disdain.
Robb bristled, stepping forward. "Care to try, prince?"
Joffrey's eyes gleamed with malice. "Spar with real steel, Stark. Or are you too craven?"
"I'll do it," Robb said, his jaw set.
Ser Rodrik Cassel, Winterfell's master-at-arms, intervened, his voice firm. "No, Your Grace. Blunted swords only."
"I'm the prince!" Joffrey snapped, his face reddening. "We'll use real steel!"
"You're a prince, which is why I won't allow it," Rodrik said, unyielding.
Sandor Clegane, the Hound, loomed at Joffrey's side, his scarred face twisting. "He trains them like women," he growled.
Rodrik glared, stepping closer. "Mind your tongue, dog, or I'll have you muzzled."
The argument escalated, voices rising, but Joffrey grew bored. "Come see me when you're older, Stark," he said, turning to leave with a dismissive wave.
Dominic, invisible among the crowd, flicked his Elder Wand with a mischievous grin. A loud, unmistakable farting noise erupted from Joffrey, silencing the courtyard. The prince froze, his face turning scarlet as he glanced around, mortified. "Hound, follow me!" he barked, storming toward the exit—only for another fart to sound, louder than the first.
Robb and Theon burst into laughter, clutching their sides. Stark soldiers, struggling to maintain composure, gave in, their guffaws echoing off the stone walls. Joffrey fled the courtyard, his face a mask of humiliated rage, the Hound trailing silently.
Dominic, Daenerys, and Missandei, cloaked by a silencing charm, laughed uproariously, their voices inaudible to others. "Dom!" Daenerys gasped, tears streaming down her face as she clutched her sides. "You're terrible!"
"Had to humble the little brat," Dominic said, winking. "No one sneers like that and gets away with it."
Missandei wiped her eyes, still giggling. "You're going to get us in trouble one day."
"Only if they catch us," Dominic replied, his grin widening. "Come on, let's see more of Winterfell."
They moved deeper into the castle, their Disillusionment Charm keeping them hidden. The air grew heavier as they passed servants whispering about Bran's fall, their faces etched with worry. Daenerys's expression softened, her brown eyes—altered by the ring—glistening with empathy. "That poor boy," she murmured. "Can you do something?"
Dominic's jaw tightened. "I can, but not now." He trailed off, his seismic sense subtly scanning the castle, detecting the faint vibrations of a boy's heartbeat in a distant room. He's alive, at least.
Missandei squeezed Daenerys's hand. "Let's not dwell on it. We're here to see the North, not its sorrows."
They slipped into the godswood, its ancient heart tree looming, its red leaves stark against the snow. Daenerys paused, awed by the carved face, its sap like blood. "This is where the Starks pray," she said softly. "It's… sacred."
Dominic nodded, his earthbending instincts resonating with the deep roots beneath. "Old magic lives here. Not like mine, but strong."
They lingered, the silence soothing, before moving to the great hall. Servants bustled, preparing for a feast, their chatter filled with tales of the king's arrival and Bran's accident. Dominic's eyes flicked to a corner where Arya Stark, a small girl with a fierce scowl, practiced with a wooden stick, mimicking her brothers' sparring. She's got spirit, he thought, amused.
As they explored, Daenerys tugged Dominic's sleeve. "Dom, why are we really here? Just to see Winterfell?"
He glanced at her, his expression softening. "To show you the world you might've ruled. And to gauge the Seven Kingdoms. Things are shifting—Bran's fall, Jon Arryn's death. Trouble's brewing."
Missandei frowned. "You think war's coming?"
"Not yet," Dominic said, "but the pieces are moving. Robert's court is fractured, and Viserys…" He shook his head. "Your brother's a wildcard, Dany. If he thinks he can hatch your dragon eggs, he'll come for them—or you."
Daenerys paled, clutching the winter rose. "He wouldn't… would he?"
"He demanded Dragonite and Charizard," Dominic said gently. "He'd see your dragons the same way."
Missandei wrapped an arm around Daenerys. "what is there to worry about you can take him and his khalsar all by yourself."
Daenerys smiled weakly. "Thank you, Missy. And you, Dom. I just… I wish he could be different."
Dominic squeezed her shoulder. "We'll deal with him if he comes. For now, let's enjoy this. Want to see the crypts?"
Daenerys hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."
They descended into Winterfell's crypts, the air cool and heavy with history. Statues of Stark kings lined the walls, their stone eyes solemn. Dominic's seismic sense traced the tunnels, detecting no threats. "Lyanna Stark's here," he murmured, pausing at her statue. "Her death started Robert's rebellion."
Daenerys touched the statue, her fingers lingering. "Why did my brother kidnapp her?"
"It's a long story, I will tell you after we settle in Wintertown," Dominic said.
They stood in silence, the weight of the past settling over them. Missandei broke the quiet. "We should head back soon."
Dominic nodded, guiding them out. As they exited the crypts, he cast a glance at Winterfell's towers, his mind racing. The game's begun. Uruk must be ready.
Back in the courtyard, they watched Sansa Stark embroider with other ladies, her auburn hair catching the light. "She's so proper," Daenerys whispered. "Nothing like Arya."
"Different strengths," Dominic said. "Sansa's a dreamer. Arya's a fighter. Both will matter in what's coming."
As they prepared to leave, Dominic flicked his wand, refreshing the Disillusionment Charm.