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Game of Thrones is owned by George R.R. Martin/HBO
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"Papa, what's that big one doing?" asked a little voice.
The shepherd turned his view from the Bighorner herd to his son "That's a bull, son. He watches out for danger to his family."
"Like you?" the boy looked up to his father with a smile.
The shepherd chuckled, "Like me."
A comfortable silence fell over the two.
"…Papa?"
"Hmm?"
"Why does he stay by himself? He has to run all the way back to the flock if he sees something…"
The shepherd just smiled and pointed to something at the edge of the pasture: a few coyotes had gotten in.
The boy made to go back inside, like he was supposed to when there was danger, but the shepherd put a hand on his shoulder and nodded towards the pasture.
It took a moment, but the boy realized something: unlike the other Bighorners, who would usually try to run to the other end of the pasture and form a circle around the calves, the bull had stood its ground.
The boy couldn't understand why it would do this. The lone Bighorners usually got attacked first, and they were barely strong enough to fight a lone coyote, let alone three. But the bull still stood before the coyotes, head low and ready to swing.
It wasn't until two of the coyotes had made the mistake of attacking together that he understood. When two darted for the bull, it had swung its head almost faster than the boy could track and knocked the two away. One had been spared immediate death by virtue of its partner's bent corpse, but could only whine as it tried to move its now useless legs. Another tried to flank the bull, but was tossed near the other Bighorners and quickly met its end. The last tried to run, but was still sent flying by the bull into a boulder with a sickening crack. It gave one last whine before going silent.
The boy snapped out of his daze when a hand ruffled his hair and looked up to see his father smiling at him.
"Come on, let's gather 'em up. No point in wasting fresh food."
Khal Drogo had intended to raid a nearby Lhazareen village for slaves and plunder. The 'Lamb Men', as the Dothraki called them, were shepherds and farmers by nature, resulting in rather docile slaves. Some would be kept, but most would be sold in preparation for the coming war with Westeros.
The night before the raid, however, one of Drogo's men had come stumbling into his and his khaleesi's tent, looking (and smelling) as though he had seen Death itself, with some sort of collar around his neck and an envelope in hand, "A-a-a m-message for you, K-Khal and Khaleesi."
Drogo snatched the envelope out of his hand, wanting to know what could possibly turn one of his men into such a wreck, and why he was wearing a collar. Ripping it open, he read the note… and turned it around to see where the rest of it was.
He gave it to Daenerys "There are only four words! What do they say?"
Daenerys read it once to herself, and then once more to make sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her, and said "Meet me at dawn?"
As soon as Daenerys had finished her sentence, one of the bumps on the man's collar lit up.
BEEP!
They almost jumped when the collar had made a noise.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Both of them took a step back from the courier, who was now looking down at the collar with a new found panic. Each 'beep' was accompanied by the light flashing.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-
The collar was now rapidly flashing as the man tried to tear it off. Drogo drew his blades as Daenerys took another step back. Another two men had opened the tent's flaps to see what was happening.
BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-
The rider looked at them…
POP!
…And his head burst.
After making sure Daenerys was alright, he had the two men who had come haul the body out of his tent and ordered the nearby slaves to help clean Daenerys (an eye and several teeth had landed in her hair). He was quick to end his khalasar's whispers of 'maegi', and told them to be ready at dawn. That night, Drogo's mind was filled images of him and his people decimating the Lamb Men and the fool who dared to challenge him. Daenerys' mind, however, was gnawed at by fear. Her brother's execution by Drogo was brutal by most standards, but that collar was on a completely different level. More importantly, someone was able to sneak past thousands of Dothraki warriors, place it on one of them, terrorize them, and sneak back out. She knew Drogo and his horde was strong, but could they defend against magic?
Dark images began to invade her mind: a field of headless slaves and warriors, Drogo's head on a pike, herself ruined and naked in a dark dungeon, and as her hand moved to her stomach, a silver-haired, purple-eyed boy wearing the same collar…
As he awoke, Drogo's thoughts filled with what he would see at the village. A Westerosi knight in their cowardly armor, the leader of a band of mercenaries, maybe even the Unsullied. Each got his blood boiling in excitement. He was beyond ready for what would be a legendary battle.
He did not a expect man playing with pieces of paper, or the floating ball beside him.
There was a small, white, ragged table with three cups and several bottles on it. Two chairs that bordered on thrones sat on one side, while the stranger sat in a chair that looked like grass woven between a metal frame. A smaller table held several other brightly-colored boxes.
Daenerys decide that 'strange' was an apt word for the man. He wore a style of clothing she swears she's never seen before, made up of black and white squares. His left arm held a bulky, glowing gauntlet. He also wore a mask of some sort, with glowing green eyes, round parts where the mouth would be, and an odd protrusion that sat on the side. She took note of the words 'FORGIVE ME MAMA' on the front, and the many marks on the helmet. Everyone so often he would move the pieces of paper laid out across the table, or pull some from the pile he had.
The orb next to him had several pin like protrusions, a claw with electricity coursing between the three pongs, a cage like face, and what looked like several odd banners stuck to it (what does 'nuka-cola' mean?). She could not determine how it possibly stayed afloat.
Khal Drogo was split between being amused or insulted. "What is he doing?"
The stranger looked up, as if just noticing them, and then began returning the papers to the stack, knocking it on the table twice before placing it in a pocket. He then motioned for the two to join him.
She looked to Drogo before dismounting with him and joining the stranger at the table.
"Welcome, Khal and Khaleesi. Food, drink?" the stranger's cheery voice held an odd reverb to it as he spoke in perfect Dothraki and motioned to the bottles and boxes around them.
"Have you called us here to beg for your people, lamb?" mocked Drogo, laughing harshly "do you think some pretty words and food will stop-
PEW!
Everyone could only stare as blue light flew from the orb and struck Drogo's horse, turning it to ash in seconds. Drogo turned back to the stranger, fear and rage warring across his face.
"It is not wise to threaten those who so graciously invited you, Khal Drogo." The stranger's cheery tone never wavered, but the threat was obvious. Seeing Drogo chose to remain silent, the stranger continued, "Now, to answer your questions: no."
"…"
"…"
An awkward silence fell as everyone waited for the stranger to continue or elaborate, but he merely asked, "Well, anymore questions?"
"Were you the one who made that collar?" It was not the question Daenerys intended to ask, but it came out unbidden.
"Yes."
"So you use magic then?"
"'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic'. An old saying from my homeland," seeing their confusion, he added "Put it this way: You're a club, I'm a ballista." Daenerys reined in her anger at the stranger suggesting she was simple, and took note of how he said 'my homeland'.
Drogo spoke before she could ask another question, "You would insult us this way and not even have the courage to show your face, or give your name?" Drogo knew the man was dangerous, but wouldn't lose face in front of his men.
The stranger looked at Drogo for a minute, then slowly reached one hand up and took off the helmet. When he did, Drogo and Daenerys understood that this was not one of the Lamb Men. The face underneath would have been considered almost girlish, were it not for the sheer number of scars on it. Black hair sat atop his head, a braid with three beads on it hanging just before his ear. Grey eyes that actually seemed to glow with killer intent and a smile to make a shark jealous further cemented he was not one of the Lhazareen.
"His name his ED-E," the stranger jerked his head toward the orb, which made a squawking noise, "And, well," the stranger lifted the hair on his forehead, revealing two small, circular scars, "I lost mine the first time I died, but everyone calls me 'The Courier'". The Courier sat back with a smug smile. Daenerys and Drogo recalled the 'message' they received last night, and thought the name fit.
"Any more requests, pony boy?" That was the last straw for Drogo, and as he stood, he tossed the table to the side.
"I won't suffer this idiot anymore! I am Khal Drogo, the Great Rider! Maegi or not, you are one lamb-"
WHOOSH!
Drogo and Daenerys were on edge. The Courier seemed to disappear before their eyes, the orb beginning to play some sort of music.
Tinkle…
They whirled around to see the Courier holding Drogo's braid in one hand, and a grey and red box in the other. The Courier had donned an armored coat with what looked like dragon skulls on the shoulders, his smile even more unsettling.
When Drogo shouted for his men to charge, with a shout they drew their arakh… and remained where they were, their horses refusing to move and even attacking some of the riders.
"Let me tell you a story, Khal and Khaleesi…
The Courier lifted the box in his hand.
"…of a boy…"
He pulled the trigger
"…and a BULL."
Legends spread of the day one of the greatest khalasars known to man, a horde of over 40,000 belonging to Khal Drogo, was reduced to ash in an instant. One legend speaks of the Desert Ghost that stole the heads of slavers in the night. Another speaks of a mysterious knight who gave magic and steel to the Lhazareen. The Lhazareen themselves say the Great Shepherd has sent one of his rams in human form to protect his flock. The four survivors, however, would all tell you the same thing:
"Let me tell you a story…"
AN: Sorry if this is terrible, plot bunny wouldn't go away. I have only seen parts of GoT, so sorry if anyone is ooc. At least I used the GoT wiki, so it won't be too bad, right? (nervously sweats.)