I had not gone on, waving it around like a fool from the first moment.

Subtlety was the name of the game.

Until it wasn't.

"I am so sorry," someone whispered in my ear as I felt the punch of something towards my ribs.

I heard it when I was walking next to Ser Willem on the way back from the Sea Lord's Palace, trying to get in contact with someone who might in turn get us in contact with the Iron Bank without owing too many favors to the Sea Lord.

A grunt escaped my lips, as I lurched forward with the force, falling to my knees. I clutched my ribs where I felt the dagger hit, turning around to my back as my free hand reached for my belt.

The next moment, Ser Willem Darry had apparently punched the man who had a knife in his hand. Said assassin was knocked out cold and the knife was on the ground. Given that the knife looked to have an odd sheen on, I could only guess that it was some sort of poison.

"Are you alright, your grace?" asked Ser Willem looking me over, failing to see any blood. Even if the old knight was... well, old, he was still once the Master of Arms who taught Rhaegar and the man could punch.

"Missed me... broke a rib though." I muttered through my teeth, as I reached and took the knife, just to make sure it did not disappear or someone picked it up to finish the job.

The truth was much more complex and I did not want to reveal it, even to my only protector... mostly because he was a Knight, raised in the way of the Seven.

As if reading my mind, Ser Willem snapped, grasping the hand that was trying to hide away the wand.

"Do not take me for a fool, your grace... I swore to keep you safe, no matter what." said the old man, giving me a knowing look. I opened my mouth only to be interrupted.

"Later we shall talk... we should get to safety first" he whispered, his eyes darting around, waiting for the next attack that I knew would not come. He started moving to carry the assassin, when an idea came to me. Given that the cat was out of the bag, it was no use hiding my magic. I sighed, grimacing only half in pain.

"Can you carry me?" I asked as my wand found my hand. It was not really as strong as what I would have wanted, but it was still for most magics. "I can make him walk so long as he is knocked out. Get somewhere we can ask questions."

"As you command, your grace." said the old man, picking me up. Given that I was only ten, it was not much of an effort.

I focused on casting a spell that I knew would work.

"Imperio" I muttered, as a shimmer of air flowed from the tip of the wand, as my mind and soul moved out of my body.

Had I tried one of the Unforgivable Curses after I created my wand?

Yes... yes I had.

There were a lot of uses for such a spell, and I was preparing for life in exile.

While I could handle a few nights without food, I was not going to have my little sister live through that. If it meant compromising my morals and doing something that I would normally consider immoral... for that innocent child, I would do it in a heartbeat.

Incantations were not really set rules with magic. I did not even really need an incantation to cast a spell, though it helped with how I could imagine and focus my will, which in turn helped me not accidentally set something on fire.

Harry Potter spells that I could replicate the effects of, some pig-Latin and even some High Valyrian when my knowledge of Latin had hit a block were pretty useful ways to speed it along.

The truth of the matter was much more... spiritual.

I had taken inspiration from the tale of Azor Ahai when I figured it out. In the story, Azor Ahai sacrificed his wife, Nysa Nysa and her strength, her warmth and her soul were poured into the blade. To most, it was a story of how Magic required Sacrifice.

To the educated, it was a story of how Magic required Willing Sacrifice. To the wisest, it was a story of how Magic required Self Sacrifice.

The truth of the story was based on who had cast the spell to create Lightbringer. Was it Azor Ahai, or was it Nysa Nysa? It was Nysa Nysa's soul that made up the Enchantment, so was it not her who cast the spell?

To me, the answer was clearer.

The Weirwood Wand gave me a strange perception when it came to magic.

I could feel the bond that had formed.

I could feel how my soul moved through the wand when I cast a spell.

It was subtle, but I understood it at that moment.

Magic required souls to interact with the world, with the medium.

Skinchangers poured their souls to other living beings, Red Priests poured their souls to fire... Others poured their souls to ice.

Even my wand, through which I poured my soul, only acted as an interface with the magical core. It allowed me to interact with the Dragon Bone core, and tap into the magic of the dragon that echoed through the bone itself, giving my spells the flavor of a dragon's in more ways than one.

Most spells of physical effects were based on hot air that the wand could produce, while the mental spells that were more subtle only had a light shimmer.

So I have started creating my own spells, based on my new understanding of magic. There were not many, but the year since I completed my wand allowed me to come up with some of the essentials for survival.

One such spell was the Imperius Curse that I used.

Or call it Dominate Person if you are more into Dungeons and Dragons.

It was not really a unique Magic to this world, funny enough. It was a method of controlling someone and based on my experience, it was essentially Skinchanging with the Wand acting as a medium that amplified and focused my mind.

I had practiced it with dogs, birds and a few of the more... unique animals from the Menagerie of the Sea Lord of Braavos, when he would invite the Prince in Exile of House Targaryen.

Best I could tell, the wand acted as a filter to prevent any bleeding between human and animal that I had recalled from the experience of Varamyr Sixskins.

That being said, humans were significantly harder to Dominate and I lacked the experience, as controlling a human was... only reserved for when necessary.

If the man was awake, I was sure that it would have failed. As he was knocked out, I was able to suppress his sleeping mind, using his body like a puppet.

More making them sleepwalk than full control.

Of course, I could not go around puppeteering an entire Kingdom for myself. That was rather hard to do when controlling a single mind, however small of an animal it belonged to essentially stripped me of my actual body. I was practicing, but the results left the spell not really useful in a fight. Carrying around knocked-out bodies like nothing happened... if someone could carry my own body, that... that I could do.

"Dany?" I asked as I came to.

"Upstairs, sleeping." responded the old man, as he watched the body of my would-be-killer sprawled over the chair.

"He is clearly an Assassin." the old man muttered, as I had the body of the man drop into the chair.

"Specifically Sorrowful Men." I corrected, rethinking my knowledge. "They apologize before killing, or so Pycelle had said." I clarified.

The books had pretty much implied that they were a step below Faceless Men when you wanted someone dead... still pretty expensive still. "Someone who could not afford the Faceless Men then."

"Faceless Men would have asked for a fortune." nodded Ser Willem.

"Faceless Men would ask for the man's life." I clarified, causing the knight to gulp. "They would not take a contract for us though." I added with a grin "We have an arrangement."

"May I ask how you got in contact with the most notorious of assassins in the known world your grace?" asked Ser Willem in a tired drawl, simply done with the Targaryen brand of madness.

"The House of Black and White," I said with a grin.

"Oh." was the only response the knight gave.

The truth was that I had visited all the temples, including the Temple of R'hollor and the House of Black and White.

I simply told them that I would take on any contract in Essos in exchange for any attempt on me or my family through the Faceless Men.

It was essentially the same method that they used for their own men and they were rather understanding when I told them I was both Viserys Targaryen and not at the time. Granted, they booted me out of their Temple after that but, it worked so... my win I suppose.

Ser Willem ripped the clothes off the man, leaving him naked while I made sure to bind the man tightly, including his thumbs in a way that would make it impossible to get himself untied.

"Right, the man is nicely bound and secure." I said, "Would you like a cup of tea... or something stronger before we talk?"

"We should not leave him alone." countered Ser Willem, getting a nod from me. "His knife, did it really miss?" asked the knight.

"No," I said, lifting my shirt with my right hand, as my left ribs had taken the impact, where the blade would have reached my heart. "I knew that an attack would come... as I had seen it in the Flames."

"Do you worship the Red God?" asked Ser Willem.

"The Magic is called Pyromancy." I clarified "It is older than R'hollor... originally of Valyria. It is called Fire Divination and it can show threats if one knows how to ask."

"So you knew it was coming... why let it happen?" asked the man, confused.

"What happens, happens." I tried to explain "The trick is to make it happen on your own terms." I added, not really in the mood to give an explanation on High-Level Divination based on the story of Oedipus.

"And the knife, how did it not cut?" asked the Knight, curiously.

"A spell to make fabric stronger," I said, not lying.

There was nothing between my clothes and my flesh to stop the blade. Said spell was tricky and required some blood magic to prepare, lasting only a few hours but such limitations were ones I had to work around with. Combined with the fact that I knew it was coming and was able to compress the air around me to be near solid for a moment, the knife simply bounced.

"You are a Skinchanger," he stated as a matter of fact.

"Among other things." I nodded "humans are nearly impossible though and that only happened because he was not conscious."

"Such things are..." started Ser Willem

"Dangerous? Against the Seven?" I asked, not really in the mood for a lesson on religion.

"Useful." countered the knight making me stumble.

"Useful?" I gaped, not really understanding the man's reaction.

"A knight masters any weapon they can... no matter the form. Stories of Bloodraven are known to many, and he had used his skills to protect the Crown against the Blackfyre Rebellions. I fear your talents are given by the Gods in your hour of need to see you safe, as I am old and I do not know how long I might live. I have nothing else to say, but be careful and remember the lessons of the dead." explained Ser Willem, showing his age for a moment. "When you were young, you were..."

"A spoiled brat." I nodded "You can say that, Ser."

"As you say." said the old man with a smirk. "After that night... after the Queen..."

`Promise me, Viserys.` the voices echoed at the reminded, memories that were long since buried raising to the surface.

"There are times when you remind me of your brother, your grace," said Ser Willem, clearly nostalgic

"He too had this look as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders and there are times, I see your Great Grandfather in your eyes... I was a young man when I laid eyes upon him and... King Aegon had kind eyes."

"And he died in Summerhall," I responded, understanding.

"And he died in Summerhall." repeated the Knight. He sounded far more tired than he let on.

"I am not Aegon the Unlikely." I said, looking the man in the eye "Neither am I, Aerys the Mad."

"Good." said the man "Magic is dangerous... but so is a blade. You have shown wisdom and discipline beyond your age in these last two years, so I shall trust in you. I am your sword, as I have sworn."

"I thank you for your wisdom, ser." I said, before turning to the third member of room "Now, shall we?"

"Do you have something to make this easier?" asked my sworn sword, mostly out of curiosity.

"There is something," I said with a smirk.

"By all means," he said, motioning me to go on.

"Legilimens," I muttered, pointing my wand, as my eyes were clouded.

Again, the incantation was mostly to aid in the focus of the magic. The true spell was a variant of Skinchanging for all that I cared about.

It was a more passive form of Skinchanging however, making you the passenger instead of forcing control over the other. It linked the minds, as the caster could slowly push certain thoughts and make the victim focus on ideas.

The Stark Children had Wolf Dreams, which the process was similar to, as they would share the thoughts of their wolves, lacking the control that came from practice that only Bran had mastered by the end of the Dance.

I drifted through the thoughts, creating a need to think about who hired the Sorrowful Men...

"Nothing." I ground out, clutching my head to spare myself the headache. "Religious Zealots are hardest minds to crack but the man was given a name and a face to kill, my own... he does not know who contacted him."

"Could it be the Usurper?" asked Ser Willem.

"So long as he has Jon Arryn to temper him, Robert would not send an Assassin without some significant cause." I explained, "My thoughts are on Tywin."

"He could certainly afford such expenses," muttered Ser Willem. "What of the man?" he asked.

"I ought to do it," I stated, "The Northerners had the right of it, I owe it to him to look him in the eye before killing him."

"Are you certain?" asked Ser Willem, only getting a nod.

I nodded, reaching out and making th assassin stir, his eyes opened just enough.

I looked at the man who made to kill me. "Sectumsempra" I muttered, as a compressed hot air formed along the line I traced with my wand, becoming thinner than any knife could become and passing along the man's neck, cutting the head off in a moment.

I sighed, muttering a quick prayer to Stranger, the prayers that I was made to memorize for the sake of appearances coming easier than any other. I was not sure about whom Sorrowful Men worshiped, but it was likely Death in some roundabout way.

"No different than a sword." muttered the old man, mostly to himself, clearly shocked.

I felt sick.

"Does it get easier?" I asked, my emotions were a mess as I had killed my first man. I was mentally older than a ten-year-old, but that did not change the fact that the emptiness made me worry.

"You get used to it." said the Master At Arms. "Most do anyways."

"I hope I do not," I said, being genuine. If I ever did, there was a part of me that knew that no dragon would be half as terrifying in this world.

AN: There, first spells and how to cast them.