Game of Thrones: King of Magic

Eddard Stark. Winterfell.

Robert and I were in the crypt and standing in front of a statue of Lyanna. He does this every time he visits Winterfell, which further proves that he was obsessed with her.

- 'I loved her, Ned,' Robert said simply, looking at the statue, 'Until the bitch dragon stole her from me.

Not quite. Now that I can look at the situation from several angles, I can say it wasn't exactly love. Lyanna was defying the odds. She believed that only herself would dictate her life, which is what caught Robert's attention.

All ladies are the same and similar. Embroidery, pretty talk, long dresses, modesty, helpfulness and the like were considered the norm. The only exceptions were a few, like those born on Bear Island, well, or Lyanna and Arya. They weren't afraid to speak their minds in front of anyone. Their voice was loud and clear.

That was what drew Robert to them. She was the white crow in a sea of her black sisters. Lianna was just another land for him to conquer. A jewel he wanted to keep to himself alone.

A trophy.

And I can see that clearly now. And he's fixated on her because he's never seen another woman like her. Beautiful, strong, exuberant and fun. Leanna saw that and that's why she made a different choice.

I sighed tiredly and rubbed my temples.

Such a headache.

- Hmm? What's with all the sighing? Tired of your king? - Robert raised an eyebrow at my actions.

- Just remembering what's happened over the past few years. - I shook my head.

- Oh, by the way, who was that sorcerer living in your castle?

"Lived"? So someone informed him of Solomon's departure. And it worries me that my men have no idea who's taking the information beyond Winterfell's walls.

- He saved Jon three years ago, and I took him in return.

- And when did you find out he was a sorcerer?

- The first time we spoke, he admitted it himself. Besides, he calls himself a "Magician," not a "sorcerer."

- One's shit or the other," Robert dismissed, then looked at me, "John's dead, and I need someone I can trust. King's Landing is a cesspool of snakes, rats, and similar pests, but I'm the fucking king and I need to be there.

I chose to remain silent.

- Now I need your help. As a friend, and as Hand. Do you accept that position, Eddard Stark?

Sighing tiredly to myself, I got down on one knee in front of him.

"Southwind, eh? Well, at least now I'm looking wider and also have eyes and ears there. I wonder how quickly I'll become the next assassination target?

- Yes, Your Majesty.

- Good! - Robert said contentedly - Now that that's done with, let's go upstairs. I'm thirsty!

-0-

Sansa Stark. Winterfell.

- What a shithole," Prince Joffrey grinned, looking around. "And you live here, my lady?

- Yes, my prince. - I nodded, and that was the end of it.

- The King's Landing is much more elegant. It smells disgusting, though. - He added, to which I only nodded silently.

After the royal entourage had settled into Winterfell, the prince called me out for a walk to show me around. He didn't call me, but ordered me to.

I used to think it was every lady's dream to find a prince, marry him, and live in a castle, but now? Only the last point makes sense, and not always.

Lady Kinvara and Lord Solomon have enlightened me, opened my eyes to the truth, and most importantly, taught me to observe and study. "A prince is not someone to take the throne, but someone to be happy with.

Understanding.

The meaning of this very word is the thread between the lady and the "prince." He understands her and she understands him.

Acceptance.

And the meaning of this is the knot that binds the lady and the "prince" together. Only by accepting each other's essence will they achieve happiness.

And now, looking at the prince walking beside me, I can clearly see what he is. What his essence is.

Smug, vain and stupid.

Just being around him makes me feel disgusted. After talking to him for a bit, it's clear to me that he's "empty," as Lady Kinvara liked to put it. But she also added that "pacifiers" can become "useful tools." And the more meaningful, the more useful.

I threw a brief glance at the prince as he looked disdainfully at the people around him, then nodded to myself.

He will be useful.

A few days ago, father shared his speculation about the reason for the royal family's arrival. The king wants to make him Hand, replacing the recently deceased Jon Arryn and putting someone he trusts in that position. Which means his father will have to leave Winterfell and come to King's Landing. A place that, according to Lady Kinvara, is entirely filled with "snakes" and "rats." Most likely, the king will want us to go with father as well. Arya and I, to be exact. To ingratiate us into high society and find us a mate.

If that's the case, we'll need protection. Father will be busy working as Hand, and the men of Winterfell will be very few compared to the gold cloaks. And the prince will be perfect for the role. His inattention and foolishness will only serve him well.

Father has subtly hinted that the previous Hand has been killed, which means we could be the next targets. But if I can influence the prince to protect us, the chance of an assassination attempt will be much lower.

And I'm concerned about the lack of information. I don't know the environment or the inhabitants of Red Castle. I can't flag potentially dangerous individuals, which means I can't prepare countermeasures. I'll have to navigate on the spot and probe the ground on my own.

I sighed tiredly and fiddled with the tiny pendant around my neck. A small sapphire on a thin silver chain.

- A gift, my lady? - The prince asked, noticing my actions - It looks simple and ungainly. Not as bright and beautiful as the ones I have.

- Yes," I nodded, "It was given to me by a Magician who lived in Winterfell for a time. He said it could save me if I got into trouble.

- Hmph," the prince snorted, "What nonsense is that? How can a pendant save your life? It sounds like the ravings of a madman.

- Perhaps it is, my prince. But I do believe it," I said, smiling softly and charmingly, then glanced at the sword on his belt. "You are a swordsman? I suppose you are skilled at it.

- Yes," he said smugly, cocking his chin and lifting the scabbard, at which I mentally rolled my eyes, "Even Ser Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, said I was a genius.

- I will keep that in mind, my prince.

After a while, we came across Arya and her friend practicing on the riverbank. A rather ordinary sight, you might say. Thanks to Lord Solomon, the younger sister was finally allowed to train in the sword arts. She had trained alongside Robb and Jon until the latter left Winterfell.

She now held a rather short stick, compared to Mika. It was about the length of the dagger Lord Solomon had given her, and which she had been practicing with. A simple looking blade with a hilt as long as my palm and a half, but without a guard. And Arya treasured it. I even remember catching her sleeping with it in her arms.

After parrying Mika's blow and knocking the stick out of his hands, she smiled triumphantly and began to bawl. At this I sighed tiredly, already used to her antics.

-0-

Arya Stark. Winterfell.

That was my fifth win in a row! But I must say, Mycah is a weak opponent. Much weaker than Robb or Jon when we were practicing with wooden swords.

Robb preferred a two-handed sword so he could inherit the Ice later. His blows were slow but powerful. I took advantage of my short stature and the length of my dagger, in our sparring sessions. And I even managed to win! Once...

John I beat more, as he always gave in to me, even when I asked him not to. And I don't think I would have won, as both he and I preferred speed over strength.

I'm still sad that he's gone, but I'll see him again, so I'm not discouraged. At least not in a strong way. Not like Sansa does when thinking of Lord Solomon. Has she gotten too... serious over the years? Yes, I think so. At least she's thankful she's not grumpy like mom. I couldn't have survived two moms.

While I was distracted by the memories, I heard footsteps approaching. Turning my head, I saw the prince accompanied by Sansa.

Her face was calm with a soft smile on it, but I knew she wasn't. Whenever she was annoyed or displeased, her right pinky finger would bend slightly inward in her palm, almost half the maximum possible bend.

I wonder if it was because of the prince? Most likely, yes. I don't know why, but he strikes me as silly and... pompous? Almost like the rooster that Miki's father sometimes butchers.

I looked at Sansa with interest, which of course she noticed and pointed at the prince next to her with her eyes.

Aha, so she's annoyed by the prince.

- My prince. - Mika and I greeted him as he and Sansa approached us.

- Hmph," he snorted and looked at Mika with disdain, "How typical of a commoner to lose to a girl.

Sansa shook her head silently at his words, Mika got upset, and I froze and squinted.

A rooster after all... A rooster prince.

- Hey!" I exclaimed, deciding to do justice as Lord Solomon's stories taught me, "Even a noble can lose to a wench if there's a difference in skill!

I felt Sansa's stare, but chose to ignore it.

- Оh? Shall we test it then? - The prince grinned wickedly and drew his sword - Raise your sword, my lady.

I silently raised my stick in response, to which he looked surprised.

- A stick? You mean to insult me?

- It will suffice.

The next moment he ran at me with his sword drawn, and just looking at it made me feel sick.

I've always preferred pants and a sword to dresses and embroidery. I really like all that stuff. And I could clearly see at a glance that he wielded the sword at the level of an infant. The grip of the sword in his hands was insecure and weak, which I took advantage of.

When he reached me and swung to strike, I ducked to the side and struck the sword-holding hand with the sharp end of a stick.

- Agh!" he cried out in pain and dropped his sword, then grasped his sore arm with his healthy one and looked at me angrily, "This is an attack on royalty! You will all be executed for treason!

- My prince! Are you all right?! - Sansa asked worriedly, running up to the prince and then standing behind his back, looking at me with anger.

But I knew it was a game. It was as obvious as saying Sansa was in love with Lord Solomon.

We really hadn't gotten along much before, but now? That's still partly true, but both Sansa and I value family more than anything else. And the game? Lady Kinvara had a hand in that. She held long conversations with tedious discussions with me, Mother, and Sansa that, at times, lasted for hours. And I fell asleep after the first minute.

- What's going on in here?! - came a loud and hard shout from outside.

Turning towards the source, I saw the king and father along with the guards walking towards us. Meeting eyes with Sansa, we both sighed.

I'm going to be punished, huh?

-0-

Solomon. Braavos.

The city smelled of sea and salt, a cool breeze blew through the narrow streets, and the cries of seagulls occasionally interrupted the noise of the crowds. The giant statue of a warrior with sword and shield at the entrance to the port was truly awe-inspiring.

The architecture of the city was very different from Pentos. Instead of sandy and oriental style, here I was met with stone and European style. The city was divided into several islands connected by bridges. The outer part, where the statue stood, consisted of mountains and small woods, while the inner part was already the city itself. They were separated by a water surface, which made it easy to survive a siege.

There were only two ways to get to Braavos: by sea and a single bridge. Because of this, the Dothraki didn't try to capture the city simply because it was impossible. At least for them.

Upon entering the city, I immediately headed in a certain direction. A direction that reeked of mana. And when I got to the source of that mana, I found myself in front of a huge rectangular building that was located on a rocky hill. It was separated from the other islands of Braavos and connected by a single bridge to the Island of the Gods.

The black and white doors that adorned the entrance exuded a mana reminiscent of Weirwood. Which I verified by touching the white door and applying Structural Analysis. The doors were made entirely of Weirwood, which I found very entertaining.

The next moment, the black door slowly opened, and out stepped a man with medium length curly hair, dressed in a long gray robe with a hood pulled over his head. He looked at me and smiled weakly.

- The man greeted the Magician.

"A man?" Interesting.

- Were you expecting me?

- The Magician is right. The Many-Faced God has alerted the man of his coming," he nodded, "The Magician can come in. The man will answer his questions inside.

- Thank you. - Making a slight bow, I said and walked through the doors opened by the man.

"The Many-Faced God? His actions are very similar to R'Glor's. Is it a different god or the same one?

How interesting.

-0-

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