Game of Thrones: Power of Magic

*click click click*

Measured and quieted. The sounds of his metal tipped leather boots clinking at stone were easily drowned amidst the countless other sounds above this red brick path. Casual tones of the masters' chattering, their steps free and unhurried, the drumming of slave hearts and their short strides behind their masters, the cry of seagulls and crows, the whoshing of the seaside winds and the crashing of gentle waves upon the earthen shores.

*Click click click*

His steps faltered for but a second as his eyes drifted from his target and upon the bloodied flesh of men and women, hung up on crucifixes. The lucky ones were absent of a bird tearing at their flesh while they groaned, too weak for even a scream to escape their lips, and the luckier ones hung their heads, their faces blank and their eyes lifeless.

His target paused, so did he. Scuttling to the side to browse a stall selling bronze pots and plates. He picked up a platter for inspection, holding it at an angle to spy at his target while the salesman praised his good eye and made a generous offer to sell it at 10 times the actual price.

"30 Honors! You have a great eye sir! Great eye!" the salesman buttered but the white haired man paid him no heed, his eyes were elsewhere.

He was watching a pale headed girl accompanied by a knight. The girl stepped up to one of the many crucified slaves lined upon this Walk of Punishment, wetting the dying man's cracked lips. A small smile bloomed on the man's face at this uncommon gesture of kindness, especially in this city of bricks and blood.

The merchant grew restless and started to bounce around him, "2 Honors! I am making a loss! 2 Honors!" he relented and the old man paid him a silver coin before hurrying away after his query, leaving the platter behind.

The man had been following them since Qarth, having been sent there by a certain Magister Illyrio of Pentos. He had wanted to contact her in Qarth but the sight of Jorah Mormont made him hesitate and the sight of a Red Headed man made him cease his plans entirely. He knew of the exiled knight's true nature and the dark stories of the Red Magus that had burned down the Palace of the Undying, slaughtering all the warlocks within.

They moved to the harbour where his target would board her ship and he would find a place to camp and make plans of how to contact her. He watched Dany as she followed a little girl, no older than 6 or 7. The girl rolled a ball towards her and she bent down to pick it up. In an instant, his instincts flared as she rushed towards her, abandoning all plans and thoughts.

He saw her follow the girl's instructions and twisted open the ball, his hunch solidified and quickly knocked the ball from her hands.

The knight beside her quickly took him into a choke hold as the ball fell and a manticore emerged from the ball, quickly crawling up to Dany. Both of them sprang towards her, forgetting their scuffle as Jorah pulled Dany towards him and the old man crushed the man-faced creature with his metal boots.

*Thud*

 He looked up at the little girl that had given Dany the ball but saw that she had disappeared. He turned back towards Jorah and Day but something on the roof of the building behind them caught his eye, it was the same girl as before. Jorah and Dany followedhis line of sight and saw her hissing at them from a distance, "Warlocks!" Dany exclaimed.

As they watched the girl turn away from them to leave, too far away to catch her or hurt her,

*Whoosh*

Serval green lights descended upon her, puncturing her full of holes.

The man's eyes went wide, 'Were they arrows?' he wondered, he had never seen such arrows before and no arrows fell so close to one another unless there was a whole squad of trained archers hidden somewhere. He looked at the two next to him, following their gaze towards one of the ships moored on the harbour and he had his answer.

On the side facing towards them, there was a young man with fiery red hair, dressed in regal robes of green and gold. The old man had spent a lifetime serving royalty and had seen many princes and kings, but the mere presence that young man on the ship exuded was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

Men and women all paused as they gazed up at the young man on the ship and their eyes lingered even after he had turned and gone.

"The Magus…" his unconscious mutterings brought him to the focus of his target.

"Thank you sir, I owe you my life." the girl spoke with gratitude and he immediately knelt, "The honor is mine, my queen!" The man took off his hood, revealing his white hair and wrinkled face.

Dany turned to her knight, seeing the look of recognition on his face she asked, "Do you know this man?"

The knight nodded, "I know him… as one of the greatest fighters theSeven Kingdoms have ever seen." he paused, "And as the Lord Commander of Robert Baratheon's Kingsguard."

The old man immediately knelt and swore his fealty, apologising and asking for a chance to serve the rightful ruler once more, "Allow me to join your Queensguard and I will not fail you again!" He lowered his head, praying he could wash the disgrace of having failed his liege, the man he loved and admired with all his heart.

"I accept your service Ser Barristan, but if you fail me as you failed my father and my brother… I will make sure you'll never serve anyone again." she warned in a dangerous tone at the kneeling man.

" I will not!" He raised his head, relieved and full of conviction to right his wrongs and serve the true monarch of the Seven Kingdoms.

Moments later they returned to their ship where they saw Jafaar laughing as he watched three small dragons jump about, trying to catch what seemed like a black, scaly ball. The ball rolled about the deck of the ship as the dragons all chased it, knocking down the poor sailors and dothraki that tried and failed to avoid them. A group of small half naked children in leather rags sat on the deck or stood next to Jafaar, watching people stumble and fall, their jubilant laughs ringing through the ship.

The girl and her knights walked towards the redhead and Dany smiled, "It seems I owe you my life… again."

"One more dead warlock is better for everyone, think nothing of it." he waved his hand as his eyes settled on the newest addition to the group, "Ser Barriston, It's a pleasure. I've heard many tales of your sword, I am excited to see it myself."

"Thank you for your praise, I have also heard stories of your… magic." He tried a failed hand at praise but there was nothing the old man could recall that weren't wicked rumors involving murder, blood and death.

"All bad things I hope." Jafaar smiled, "Or else I might have wasted my money."

"You spread these rumours?" Dany asked in confusion, "Why?"

"The battle does not begin when you clash swords with your enemy, it begins when they know of your existence. And if my existence is terrible, my enemies will tremble and I will win before we even meet." Jafaar explained to the awestruck trio. They marveled at his ruthlessness; he had spread dark rumours about himself just so he would have an advantage over his enemies.

"How goes your day, dragon mother? The famed Unsullied everything you hoped for?" he asked her with a malicious smile.

"I have half a mind to leave. Such a vile place, we should not have come here." she gave Jorah an accusatory look, blaming her for having to witness such cruelty.

"We should sail for Pentos, your grace." Suggested the Ser Bariston, "Magister Illyrio is a friend, I assure you. If you sail to Westeros at the head of a slave army, the people will stand against you for just that! We can hire sellswords at Pentos and Myr. Once you reach Westeros, the lords will rise to the call of their true queen!" he implored, slavery was a great sin in westeros and a crime against both the old gods and the new.

"Khaleesi." Jorah started once more, "The Unsullied are the greatest soldiers in the world." He had said so before, he didn't want her to return to Pentos as a beggar, and neither did she. It was the only reason that held her in this place.

Jafaar listened to the exchange until grew bored of the word fight between Bariston and Jorah so he whistled and the black scaly ball; which seemed to roll and turn, stop and reverse upon will, rolled towards him, unfurling at his feet into an armadillo. The creature waddled next to him as Jafaar went into his cabin, "Let me know when the trade happens." Leaving behind three humans with complex feelings and three dragons with frustrations at the loss of their toy.