Melisandre

The night is dark and full of terrors…

Lord Eddard Stark's face is stern and cold. The statue of his likeness stands with his hands folded over the stone sculpture of his greatsword, Ice. Beneath him resides the chest bearing the dead Lord's bones. Melisandre stands perfectly still staring at the statue, her hands folded over her lap. She's used to the quiet empty chambers now, having spent the last two nights down here in the crypts. When she arrived with Howland Reed at Winterfell's gates, she was immediately whisked away by Knights of the Vale and led down into the darkness to remain in hiding. Howland had warned her this would happen, and Melisandre accepted it without arguing. Soon they would leave Winterfell and head south again. I'll only have to suffer a couple more nights down here. At least there's fire to keep me company.

The only threat to her being discovered happened when a couple of men came down into the crypts to keep the sconces along the walls burning. Melisandre heard their voices and hid quickly. They came but once a night, and spending so much time down here makes Melisandre adept at knowing which dungeons to hide in while they work. She found the hall where the late Stark family's stone tombs reside not long ago, and found the room to be the warmest in all the crypts, despite there being only two torches on either side of Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn's statues. A strange, smooth, black rock caught her attention. Melisandre strokes the stone's surface, recognizing it to be the same stone found on Dragonstone—Obsidian. Why is this here? Obsidian doesn't form in Winterfell… and what is this? She thumbs over the small, parchment-thin hole in the center…

Echoing footsteps distract her and Melisandre stands upright, spinning around in alarm. It can't be the same men from before, it's too early… She hesitates, wondering if perhaps Howland is coming to visit her again. She moves behind the statue of Catelyn Stark and crouches down in the shadows, watching the archway to the chamber, waiting…

"Are you in here, My Lady?"

The unfamiliar voice belongs to a small, thin man with black hair running white and a little beard strapped to his chin. The symbol of a Mockingjay is pinned to his chest, keeping his velvety cloak draped over his shoulders. His beady eyes land on Melisandre as she emerges from the shadows slowly. He smiles and says, "Forgive the sudden intrusion. Howland told me I would find you down here. My name is Petyr Baelish, Step-Father to Robert Arryn, the Lord of the Vale. I can tell just by looking at you who you are."

Melisandre says nothing. Petyr enters the chamber, eyeing Lady Catelyn's statue with a conniving smirk on his face. He says, without looking at her this time, "I've been meaning to speak with you face to face for quite some time now, Lady Melisandre of Asshai. I've heard a great deal about you over the years. Some are only rumors, but others… well, I had to know for myself whether or not they were true… Howland agreed." Petyr turns and faces Melisandre fully before saying, "And it turns out some rumors, as insane as they might sound, are true. Jon Snow is dead, killed by a shadow with the face of a man…"

He knows. He knows everything. Did Howland tell him, or was he in on it from the beginning? Melisandre frowns, suddenly questioning everything Howland has ever told her.

"You must be wondering how I know." Petyr grins, leaning in closer to whisper, "Didn't you ever wonder how the Crannogmen knew where you were traveling? Did you find it to simply be a coincidence that Howland would have need of a woman with your talents? Or perhaps you thought it was the Red God's will that you and Howland crossed paths… Whatever you believed, it was false. I was the one who told him to take you into his fold. Brienne was also, by my design, there to be captured. I implanted the idea in Sansa Stark's head to send Brienne south to negotiate with her uncle in Riverrun. You and Brienne were both necessary pieces needed in order to obtain both Euron Greyjoy and Oathkeeper, Brienne's Valyrian Steel Sword…. It just so happened you were both in the same place when they found you."

"Why?" Melisandre asks, speaking for the first time to the man, "I understand needing me to use Euron for his King's blood, but why Brienne's sword? What importance does it have?"

"More than you know." Petyr sighs, "I trust you still have it?"

Melisandre nods, and reveals that she's been keeping it hidden behind the statue of Eddard Stark. Petyr smiles as she pulls it out from the shadows, the ruby in its hilt glinting off the firelight, and hands it to him. Petyr can hardly lift the sword, so he lets the blade drop back into the dirt, leaning on it. "This thing is heavier than I realized…"

"Who do you intend to wield that sword and for what purpose?" Melisandre asks him, crossing her arms over her bosom. Petyr glances at her, their eyes searching each other's wordlessly for answers.

"Right now, that's not important, nor does it concern you, my dear." Petyr answers, and he returns Oathkeeper to its hiding place behind the statue.

"Then why are you here? What do you want from me?" Melisandre asks, growing more and more uneasy the longer she stands in this man's presence. Something about him gives her a stone-filled dread in the pit of her stomach, a feat no man can claim. I trusted Howland this far, but has his belief in The Lord of Light been false this entire time just to use me for this man's benefit? Is that why we had Jon Snow murdered? How far do the lies go, Reed? If only the flames would show me the way…

Ever since Jon's death, Melisandre has been unable to use the fire to see the future. She spent hours trying down here, with nothing but time on her hands… Have I made a grave mistake? Have I betrayed my own God unknowingly and now I must suffer the consequences? No. It was his will that gave birth to the shadow that slew Jon Snow. It had to have been the Lord of Light's will… Or have I repeated the same errs I made with Stannis?

Petyr Baelish strides past her to the center of the room, his back to her. "When I was a boy, I visited Winterfell once. It was the first and last time I would ever see the castle until recent years. I was a nosy child, always liked to go places I shouldn't. I came down here to investigate the famous crypts and see if I could find spirits lurking its depths. Instead I found this room... Back then, these statues weren't built yet. None of these tombs were here. It was just an empty, dark cavern… There wasn't any fire, so I was blind. I tripped on something sticking up out of the ground…" Petyr slips his hand beneath his robe and produces a dagger. The blade is just as black as the obsidian stone in the floor. "This dagger is made of Valyrian Steel just like that sword. When I discovered it, I kept it for myself… so that I might have my own little secret deep beneath Winterfell."

"And what secret is that?" Melisandre asks, and he smiles, kneeling down beside the obsidian stone and gently sliding his dagger inside the thin crack.

"Let me show you," Petyr grins, and his eyes are alive like he's a child again, twisting the dagger in the stone as if it were a key turning a lock. Suddenly the ground behind Melisandre shakes. She spins around and the wall behind both statues rumbles before sliding downward, opening a narrow, cavernous passage. Petyr chuckles, standing up, leaving the dagger in the ground. "I have a feeling you of all people will want to see this. Follow me."