Daenerys
Dany glanced over at Doom as the armored man strode beside her through the streets of Qarth, his cloaked personal guards mixed with Dany's Dothraki bloodriders as they made their way to the stronghold of The Thirteen. They didn't need the guard in Dany's opinion, as she trusted Logan and Ser Jorah to protect her (and even if they somehow fell she would burn any attackers to ashes) but she also understood that they DID need them… to make a statement. Qarth, she had come to realize, was a city more than any other she'd entered where a man's power lived and died by the impression he made on others. They couldn't openly brag, as that would go against the ingrained politeness that seemed to flow through their veins; according to Doom even their assassins apologized to their targets. Poor men who barely had enough coin to feed their family would spend good copper to dye their garments loud and bright colors to make them stand out. Rich men would bring themselves to near ruin hiring more guards and servants that they had no need for just so that they could claim that they could claim they had wealth to spend like that. Warriors would seek out strange and wild animals to make their mounts, nevermind how unwieldy or impractical they were; she'd seen men riding striped zorses, dwarf elephants, and even one who rode upon a great hairy man-like ape with thick forearms and a silver back. Priests and mystics spent more time crafting strange masks and ornate headdresses than they did actually practicing their crafts. The Pureborn competed with each other over who could have the most exotic outfit, never mind how impractical it was. Ser Jorah had told her of one story he'd been told of a Pureborn who had worn a vest made of manticore shells and how four servants had died when their hands had brushed against the still poisonous tails of the insects; the man that had told Ser Jorah this had been green with envy. Logan had been to an ale house where the owner fretted that he'd be out of business because all his rivals used colored glass while he only had clear.
And the sad thing was, in Dany's opinion once more, that all of this foolishness actually worked, for all in Qarth bought into it. From wine sellers to fruit vendors to high lords to low peasants all of them believed that the more extravagant their lives were the better off they, and all of Qarth, were.
One time, when Daenerys had been waiting to see yet another wealthy member of one of the Guilds, the shipping guilds if she remembered correctly for it was hard to keep track at times of all the wealthy men in the city, several merchants who had also been scheduled to make their petitions before him had gotten into a passive aggressive competition concerning the small flags that they hung outside their shops. It seemed that within the last few years many sellers in Qarth had adopted the practice of creating sigils on pieces of fabric, no bigger than one's hand, that could be flown outside their buildings or given to customers. What had once started as a simple practice had evolved (or devolved in Dany's opinion) into yet another status symbol competition between the men of Qarth.
The merchants had begun to compete, pulling out their flags and comparing them against the others.
"Just had this one brought in last week," one merchant had said, pulling out what to Dany was a rather plain looking piece of cloth with the image of a crate stitched onto it. "Like the coloring? Bone. And the stitching? Lorath Rare. Cost me a mint."
"Very well done, Baetmin, but I must apologize for what I must present to you," another merchant, dressed in similar garb and with facial features that made him look like a doppelganger of the first, had declared before pulling out his flag. "Egg shell with Norvos style." The first merchant, Baetmin, had done his best to look friendly and composed but to Daenerys' eyes seemed to be melting before her eyes. Which she truly didn't get because the second flag looked exactly the same as his.
"A thousand pardons but you haven't seen anything compared to this," another merchant (with similar features to the first two) had said before producing… yet another white flag with a black crate stitched on it. "Raised Tyrosh on Pale Nimbus."
"Impressive," the first man had said with a smile normally seen on a man forced to thank a lord for only raping his daughter once. "Let us see Pulelen's flag."
The other merchants had shifted before a fourth (who resembled the other three and to Dany's surprise she suddenly realized that all the merchants could have been brothers for they resembled each other) had produced the same white flag with the same black crate on it. She heard the men murmur about the off-white color, the tasteful stitch… and she'd fought the urge to roll her eyes.
Thus was Qarth… a land where everyone was so focused on topping his neighbor that he became meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Because when everyone was odd and strange… no one was.
Even Doom was not immune to such things. Yes, he had horrific burns on his face and hands but that did not necessitate the need for full body armor. He did so to set himself apart from the rest of the city. He marched with more guards than was needed and his estate was far larger than it had any need to be. Because Viktor could not simply be Viktor… he had to be Doom.
"I hope you aren't too disappointed with what is about to happen," Daenerys said as they neared the stronghold of the Thirteen.
"You assume that they will rule against you?" Doom asked.
"I know they will," she said with a shrug. "I have not lived up to their expectations. No… not expectations. Their desires. They wanted me to be malleable and I have proven to be anything but. I have refused to become like them, to accept their gifts and naively believe that they give them to me out of kindness and not because they seek something from me. Worst, it isn't even because they plan to use my dragons as weapons of war… no, they would have them be gelded pets that children throw food too. Als for me they hoped to keep me here and make me a prize to give out to the most ambitious among them. The Westerosi Princess that they can use as yet another piece in their cultural games. But I am not some pleasure whore that is to be bent so easily or bought so cheaply. I am a khaleesi." She paused, forcing Doom to stop. "I do not desire some tall chair at a high table in a city on the water. I will have back the Iron Throne and the kingdom of Westeros."
"Some would say you desire far too much," Doom pointed out.
"Some would say you think me far smaller than I am," Dany stated simply.
"Some but not me, Daenerys Firestar." Doom glanced at her and Dany saw the normal flicker of respect that Viktor would sometimes have when she said something that pleased him, but now there was something else there. A feeling of… equality. Of her reaching his level.
She wasn't sure how to feel about that.
As they entered the courtyard of the manse that served as the meeting place of the Thirteen Doom stepped forward to inform the guards of their arrival ('as if they couldn't tell who they were… how many armored men and silver-haired khaleesis are there? More of their games.') Logan stepped forward, his fingers flexing in agitation. He was wearing a vest the color of spiced mustard and dark brown riding pants, the only item of great worth being the riding boots that he'd won in a dice game a few weeks back. He sniffed the air and scowled, Ser Jorah moving to join them.
"Something's not right…"
"What do you see?" Dany asked.
"Nothing. But there is something in the air." He sniffed again.
Ser Jorah glanced at him, resting a hand on the pommel of his sword. Despite the heat of the day he had chosen to don his armor, his short hair wet with sweat. "You expect us to believe you can smell danger?"
"The nose knows," Logan said, tapping his face. "Be on your guard." Ser Jorah didn't look convinced but nodded, shoulders tensed. Her gruff bear might have had doubts about all the things her Wolverine said he could do but that didn't mean he didn't take it under advisement. Especially when it came to her protection.
Viktor finally motioned for them to join him and they headed towards the Thirteen's main chamber, a dusty sand-colored room with a long curved table and thin windows that let in shafts of light that pierced the muted shadows. Dany had been there three times now, first to meet with the Thirteen and the second for them to attempt once more to place a crown of black jade and fire opals upon her head (she'd said she'd prefer the gems loose so that she could use them to buy ships and arms and they had apologized but refused to give her what she wished), and each time she'd left feeling as if she'd swallowed a fistful of the desert sands that lay beyond the walls of Qarth. Logan and Ser Jorah stood just outside the door, not allowed to come in, while both she and Viktor refused to sit in the short-legged chairs that had been provided for them, seeing that they were designed to force them to look up at the Thirteen. The Spice Lord, the Copper King, the Silk King… each had grand titles and even grander attitudes for traders and Daenerys could tell that would they have rather enjoyed having her at their mercy.
'Too bad I have refused to play their games.'
"We thank you for arriving, my lady, and hope we have not taken you away from important matters. We have called you here today to discuss your… continued presence in Qarth," the Spice King said, waving a fat and flabby hand in Dany's direction. "We mean no offense but visitors who come to our wonderous city do so with… certain expectations. We welcomed you into Qarth and yet you have done little to adapt to our ways."
Daenerys had already prepared for this, for them to finally realize that she wouldn't favor one of the warring groups over the others, and for that to lead to her banishment from the city. Still, she would not stomp her feet like a child nor would she go meekly either. They would need to force her out but she would force them to admit to their petty reasons. "Have I not shown kindness to all? I have not been told of any crime I have committed or slight I have made."
"You have… been kind, Daenerys Firestar," the Copper King admitted.
"Then I do not see what problem might have arisen," she said with false sweetness.
"Since it is clear you see the truth of it I won't dance about any longer," the Silk King finally said, the first of the Thirteen to show his manhood and push aside the famed respect of Qarth and its people. "You were brought here for one reason, Daenerys Targaryen, and it has become clear that you have no desire to do that. You are a cat brought to hunt down rats but instead you sleep on a silken pillow and watch as they scamper by. Do you expect us to aide you when you won't aide us?"
Dany opened her mouth to speak but Doom held up his hand. "I think you are mistaken, my friend."
"Do you mean that the princess has made a marriage pact amongst one of us? That she has agreed to accept our gods? Our customs?" the Spice King asked. "Have you made a deal that we were not made aware of?"
"Of course not," Doom said coldly. "I mean that aiding the Thirteen in gaining status over the Pureborn or the Tourmaline Brotherhood or the Ancient Guilde of Spicers was never the reason she was brought here."
"What are you talking about, Viktor?" Ru Ron Row, the Lord of Glass and Bottles, said in annoyance. It amused Daenerys to see them drop the mask of kindness and reveal their annoyance and anger. "It was agreed to seek out Daenerys the Firestar to gain control of her and her dragons. That is what was discussed and why you were sent forth to find her."
What wasn't amusing her was how they were talking about her as if she weren't even there but before she could make her distaste known Viktor spoke up. "That is what YOU agreed on… but not Doom. Doom chose a different reason to bring the Firestar to Qarth."
"And what is that?"
"To awaken it from its slumber," he said, stepping forward, arms held out wide. "The Greatest City that Ever Was Or Will Be. A fine epitaph until one considers what it means: our city was once great and it might be great again but now it is a joke. Filled with foolish men who close their gates and their minds to everything outside their walls. If Qarth ever wishes to become the Greatest City There Is the stagnation must be broken… the moss shaken and the rot cut away. Daenerys Firestar has already begun to do that; her mere presence has made the people begin to think of what other wonders lie beyond our time-locked walls. And I will see the path Daenerys began continue. I will make us the envy of the world. And just as I have forced Qarth to open to Doom… Doom will force the world to open to us."
The Spice King stared at Doom with heavy lidded eyes, ever lazy waving of his hand showing how little he thought of Viktor's declaration. "Your ambition is an inspiration but like all upstarts you overreach."
"I do not know about that," the warlock, Pyat Pree, finally said. It was the first time in all her meetings with the Thirteen that she'd heard him speak. "I know that Daenerys Targaryen has inspired me and my brothers." The tall man stood, his gaunt frame moving with utter smoothness as he glided around the table to stand next to Viktor and Dany. "We have become, as he said, stagnant. Happy with the magic of our ancestors rather than seeking out new power. That… has changed. Thanks to her… and her dragons." He turned and smiled at Dany, his teeth all the whiter against his blue-stained lips. "I do believe your babies enjoy their new home."
"What do you mean? Qarth?" Dany asked.
"Oh no… I mean the House of the Undying… where I have taken them."
Dany's eyes went wide. "You took my dragons?"
"We gathered them and moved them to their new home. So much better than where you were keeping them."
Viktor took a step forward towards the warlock. "You dared to enter Doom's estate… you dared to take from those under Doom's protection!?"
"We dare, Son of House Vondam. Who is better to care for dragons… those who study the secret arts or a tin man with delusions of conquest?"
Daenerys stormed forward, raising her hand and jabbing her finger under the warlock's nose. "You will not take my children from me!"
"Of course not!" the warlock said, gasping as if scandalized. "A mother should never be kept from her babies." Viktor grabbed her and yanked her back, the warlock staring him down with mild annoyance. "There is always a place for you in the House of the Undying."
"Enough of this foolishness," The Spice King declared. "Your petty squabbles-"
Pyat folded his hands and suddenly 11 robed figures stepped out of the shadows where there had been nothing before. "The time of petty men is at an end." The figures grabbed the eleven seated members of the Thirteen by the tops of their heads, the Kings of Commerce seemingly frozen in place so that only their eyes could move, dancing about madly in a panic. "The Age of Metal and Marvels has begun."
With that the figures drew daggers and slit the throats of the eleven members of the Thirteen, the invisible bonds that had held them in place breaking the instant their life's blood sprayed onto the ornate table before them, their gagged screams filling the air. Dany let out a gasp and as one the figures lifted their heads… revealing Pyat Pree's face repeated over and over on each of their forms.
There was a clang and Dany turned to see a twelfth version of Pyat had appeared behind Doom and attempted to slit his throat only for his blade to hit the steel of Viktor's armor. The green-cloaked man growled and reached behind him, easily tossing his version of Pyat over his shoulder to the ground, breaking his neck. The other Pyats merely smiled, tilting their heads in consideration.
"Khaleesi!" Ser Jorah shouted and the trance was broken and Dany ran to the door, Jorah and the Dothraki swirling around her while Doom charged after them, yelling at his guards to cover their escape. They hurried down some stairs only to find Pyat now standing in their way, smiling his conceited little smile.
Snik
Logan rushed forward and drove his claws into the man's belly, letting out a roar as he lifted him into the air. But Pyat merely stared at them, his expression never changing as he looked over Logan's shoulder.
"A mother should be with her children."
There was a whoosh of fabric and the body of Pyat Pree disappeared, leaving only his robes. Logan looked down at the bloodless garments, utterly confused.
"Where will you run to Daenerys Firestar?" another Pyat said, walking towards them. Jorah drew a dagger and threw it, driving it right through the warlock's eye. "The dragons wait for you in the House of the Undying."
This one also disappeared, leaving only his cloak behind, only for another to appear on the floor above them, looking down at them.
"Come see them!" he taunted.
"Come, now!" Viktor shouted, urging Dany to escape. She hurried after him, Jorah and Logan along with her Dothraki chasing on her heels.
None of the group stopped running until they reached Doom's manse home but it wasn't because they felt safe but because of what they found that gave them pause. The building had been torn apart, several of Daenerys' outriders and handmaidens, along with Doom's household staff, laid dead on the ground, no wound marring their forms but their flesh cold to the touch. The large ornate cage she'd gotten Doom to make for her dragons, so that they might not fly about when she was gone but not feel completely entrapped, was empty, the cushions within slashed and torn.
"Bar the gates!" Ser Jorah called out.
"Too late for that!" Viktor raged, clenching his fist before lashing out and striking a column. "The warlocks played us all!" He narrowed his eyes in fury. "I will tear their House of Undying down brick by brick!"
"Get in line, bub," Logan said, kneeling down to close the eyes of one of Dany's attendants. "I'll test that Undying shit first."
"Not alone you will not," Daenerys said, body vibrating with barely controlled anger and hate. "Ser Jorah, arm yourself with whatever weapons you need." Her knight nodded and rushed down towards Viktor's armory. "Logan, prepare a guard to protect the rest of the khalasar before returning here." The Wolverine snarled in agreement and hurried off. "Viktor, determine our best course through the city." She held up her hand and struck the specially made rings on her fingers together, twin balls of flames flaring to light and dancing in her hands. "We march on the House of the Undying. And they will know fire and blood."
Jane
Sometimes it was good to focus on things that, in the short run, appeared to be rather trivia, so that one did not become consumed by the large trials of life. Warriors would carve little statues and toys out of blocks of wood, making birds and beasts and slithering things that lived under the waves; this was better than thinking of the lives they had taken and those that awaited their swords. Highborn ladies would sit beside sickbeds and stitch and sew small fragments of cloth or make prayer wheels so they didn't have to dwell on the lives wasting away before them. High lords and kings would play meaningless games with pieces that merely represented great armies, for that was far better than the actual wars that might soon await them. Smugglers and pirates had their dice, merchants and smiths their songs, and schemers and plotters their riddles. Anything to distract from the encroaching darkness.
For Jane it was her small charge that allowed her to focus on something, anything, other than the fact that much of her family was preparing for war. Her father and two of her brothers were preparing to set sail, King Stannis declaring that they would claim King's Landing within a few days. The waiting that had plagued them had given way to a mighty rush thanks to the news that Lord Tywin Lannister was on the move with the bulk of the Lannister forces, racing to the capital to secure it. All that supported Stannis' claim knew that the only way to avoid death and defeat was to take the city and, more importantly, Cersei's children. It wasn't enough to have just Joffrey, for while Cersei might be swayed to slink away with the promise of her eldest's safety Lord Tywin was pragmatic enough to, in that situation, declare Joffrey a loss and put Tommen on the throne. Perhaps even Myrcella, as that would bring the Dornish to the Lannister side if Prince Doran's son was made a paramour of the queen.
'No, he has to take the city now,' Jane thought. 'And then decide if he wishes to take their heads.' That bothered her quite a bit... Joffrey was a little shit and it was only because of cultural pressure that she didn't openly wish for his death. But Myrcella and Tommen were sweet and kind and Jane didn't know if she could serve in Stannis' household if his reign have been bought by the their blood much as his brother's have been bought with Elia Martel's children.
So as to avoiding thinking about such things Jane plunged herself into helping Shireen. For while the realm was at war and chaos seeped from all corners of the kingdom the daughter of one of the claimants still needed her education and Jane was happy to provide it.
"Sound it out," Jane said politely.
Shireen narrowed her eyes, focusing on the page. "Hidden from prying eyes, on a path through the Red Waste only the swift of mind and... nēdenka of heart." She paused, looking at Jane.
"Don't look at me," Jane said with a laugh. "I know a bit of High Valyrian... mostly curses. Think it through."
"Strong? No... charging... that makes no sense. Brave!" Shireen beamed at her. "Hidden from prying eyes, on a path through the Red Waste only the swift of mind and brave of heart can travel lies Kamar-Taj!"
"Is that what it really says or are you just trying to convince me?" Jane teased.
"It is what it says." The girl looked down at the book, the page they were on depicting the image of a bald woman sitting crosslegged in a beautiful palace garden. "I wish I could go there."
"Maybe you will," Jane said. "You never know."
"No, Kamar-Taj is merely a myth."
'But myth seems to become truth these days,' she thought to herself. Thor. The Iron Man and the Centurion of the Westerlands. Talk of an Iron Born Captain who wielded whips stolen from the Storm God (not Thor though as he claimed he'd never used whips). According to some of the sailors that had stopped at Dragonstone's fishing village to take on fresh water Joffrey had gotten wind of his uncle, the Imp, searching for the lost armor of Maegor the Cruel and demanded that it and others like it were brought to him at once, that the man who did so would earn lands and titles. Nevermind that Maegor's armor or the enchanted harness of the Vulture King of the Dornish mountains or the Crimson Gem of the lost city of Cyttorak would be worth more than any title Joffrey could give out.
"Perhaps," Jane said, realizing that even with the supposed Warrior of the Seven living under her roof Shireen was just too practically to believe in things like Kamar-Taj. "But that doesn't mean it wouldn't be fun to try and find it. Many people who have searched out legends have failed yet still managed to discover amazing things."
"But not me," Shireen said, turning the page of her book. "I'm a princess now... princess don't get to go on adventures. There will be no Seven Voyagers like the Sea Snake or Sun Chaser in my future."
"Maybe they should let princesses go on such adventures," Jane said with a smile, patting her small charge on the shoulder.
"No. Father will want me to stay close since I am his heir." Shireen titled her head and didn't even look at Jane when she asked, "He won't bring Joffrey here, will he?"
"I don't believe so, no. It would be too risky to try and move him."
The young girl sighed. "But I suppose I will have to go to the Red Keep. And you too."
"I suppose so," Jane said, not quite sure where Shireen was going with this.
"I wish we didn't. I wish things could just remain the same. I liked it better when Uncle Robert was alive." Shireen pursed her lips. "Except I see father more. I like that change. I wish everything went back to how it was except for that."
"We don't get to pick and choose how life changes," Jane said sadly. "It just happens."
"I know," Shireen said simply. "I was just thinking." Shutting her book Shireen moved to put it away, Jane raising an eyebrow at that; while she wasn't Maester Cressen and thus it wasn't her duty to teach Shireen Jane did help her as much as she could. While Jane's father didn't know how to read and neither did her mother he had sought to ensure his children were educated. There had been a septon near the small plot of land that the Seaworths had called their own and he had been all too willing to teach her and feed into her curiosity. Still, it wasn't Jane's job to teach Shireen but the girl never ended their sessions until Jane said they were done. For her to be so abrupt was... surprising.
As if sensing Jane's confusion Shireen merely shook her head. "I can't focus. Father is going to fight with Cousin Joffrey and I fear for him. I know I shouldn't, because he is a skilled fighter, but I still worry."
"He's your father," Jane reasoned. "I'm worried about my father as well."
Shireen licked her lips at that. "Ser Davos will watch over father and father will watch over Ser Davos."
Jane smiled and grabbed Shireen's favorite brush, motioning for the girl to sit down in the chair near her bed. "That's a good way to think of it."
"They say the Unsullied in Essos fight like that." Shireen said, a tiny smile forming on her lips she leaned towards Jane as she ran the brush through her long locks. It was moments like this that made Jane truly happy, as Shireen forgot all about her mother's disapproving glares or the grayscale scars on her face and just was... happy. "Once a small battalion of Unsullied faced a Dothraki Horde whose numbers went into the tens of thousands. But when the Screamers charged the Unsullied locked their shields and stuck out their spears and broke the charge. When the horsemen fired their arrows high into the sky the Unsullied as one lifted their shields to protect them from the rain. In the end all the Dothraki who survived trotted past them and cut their braids off, to prove they had been beaten."
"I don't think Joffrey will be doing that but I imagine we'll get a victory nonetheless."
Shireen nodded slightly, careful not to yank her hair too hard. "Do you think father will use that creepy armor?"
Jane forced herself not to seize up at that. She didn't want to let on that she had recently heard Melisandre tempting King Stannis to wear some kind of armor that she claimed would win him the day. She hadn't spoken of it to anyone, realizing quickly that the armor might have been merely very good armor that wasn't sinister at all and revealing it would lose them the edge. Even here at Dragonstone Jane knew that Varys the Spider had his 'little birds' and she wouldn't give the Eunuch anything that might aid Joffrey and Cersei. Yet she couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry, a tremor of fear that the mad Red Priestess had something up her overly large dress sleeves and was plotting something sinister.
"What armor is that?" Jane asked, trying to keep her tone light.
Thankfully Shireen didn't notice her handmaid's unease. "I saw it being packed away by some of soldiers, the ones that still wear the burning stag upon their armor."
'Melisandre's followers,' Jane thought to herself. After Renly had lost the Stormlanders and the Tyrells Stannis had returned to the Baratheon stag and only those still devoted to the Lord of Light used the burning heart sigil. Her father had warned her to avoid those men, as he feared that while they were loyal to Stannis the king was now in second, coming after Melisandre, when it came to their support.
"It was funny armor too," Shireen said, not noticing Jane's unease. "It wasn't made of plate, like most metal armor I've ever seen. Just... bands. Bands of metal. I don't know how someone would put it on. There were spikes on it too, little ones running along the arms and legs. Oh! And the helmet was very odd. It was flat on the top with a crest shaped like an ornate U." She paused, falling silent for several moments. "The metal didn't look like steel either... it looked like the same metal as the armor Thor wears. Do you think Thor gave it to Melisandre?"
"I'll ask him," Jane said, fighting every urge to flee the room and seek out the thunder god. But she knew doing that would only make Shireen worry and the young girl had another fears with her father sailing to war; Jane refused to add to them. So instead Jane forced herself to finish brushing Shireen's hair, make sure her dress was straight, and escort her to Maester Cressan's chambers so that she could attend her afternoon lessons before she hiked up her skirt and moved quickly through the halls towards the room that had been set aside for Thor.
'I should have sought him out the moment I heard about that armor. Nothing good will come of this... nothing that red witch does-'
"Rushing off somewhere?"
Jane turned just in time to see Melisandre thrust her hand out, what looked like a small sun tinted the color of blood rocketing from her palm and striking her right in the stomach. Jane couldn't even cry out as the air was forced from her lungs and she was sent hurtling back, her flight only stopped when she smashed into the hard black stone that made up the castle's walls. She crumpled, her vision blurry and her body aching, unable to stand as Melisandre stepped towards her. Jane tried to bat her hand away as it came down but the Red Priestess was far too quick, her fingers wrapping around her throat and lifting her up in the air.
"You should be far more careful," the priestess taunted. "You could have quite an accident rushing about. Now tell me… was the scarred little brat singing songs that should never be sung? Don't deny it… I heard her make mention of my gift to her father." Melisandre tilted her head, a cruel smile forming on her lips. "To bad for her that she gave you the news far too late." Her other hand glowed again and she spun around, Jane's world reduced to the agony as Melisandre placed it against her chest and fired off another blast of magic. Jane's body bucked, for a moment held in place by the witch's hand before finally she was sent flying again, striking the opposite wall and her vision swimming. "You know… I debated about killing your for quite some time. Even considered it when I first came to Dragonstone. Stannis' wife is an ugly worn thing, and so easily manipulated, so she was no threat to me and there was no way he would disgrace himself by being with a whore or a servant's daughter. But you were different. Beautiful, though not nearly as beautiful as I, and your father is Stannis' most trusted advisor. If the old fool had a heart I'd say Davos was his friend.
"But in the end I realized you weren't worth killing. You kept the mewling brat out of the way and while you were envious of me you were no true threat. You had no hope of seducing Stannis, I came to realize that. And you certainly weren't a threat to my plans, not like Cressan. I was ready to kill him that night, you know? I'd whispered in his ear without him even realizing it, placed my lips on his cheek, and he knew that he needed to threaten me, to try and kill me. It was the only thought in his head, or at least the only one I allowed. I could have just kept reenslaving him but where would be the fun in that… having to touch his wrinkled skin once was enough for me. I gave him the command to poison me at the next council Stannis held, but only after he drank from the goblet himself, knowing that no poison of this world could harm one such as me… but then my beloved Thor appeared and without knowing it saved the old fool's life."
"Beloved?" Jane croaked, rubbing her throat. "Thor barely notices you are here."
"He notices!" Melisandre snapped before gaining control of herself and smiling sweetly. "He notices. He is merely confused. He doesn't realize that I am the one for him because he's been ensnared by you Midgard whore!"
"So it's true... you are one of Thor's kind."
Melisandre lifted an eyebrow at that. "Figure that all on your own? Or did someone clue you in?"
"Thor sensed another Asgardian... he just didn't know who you were."
The Red Priestess licked her lips sensually, gliding towards Jane's fallen form. "My beloved knows I am here even when he doesn't recognize me. I can forgive him for being confused... when he last saw me I had hair like gold. Still, you know what they say about red-heads."
"They are soulless?" Jane snarked weakly, Melisandre glowering and lashing out with a kick that had her doubled over in pain.
"You pathetic mongrel. You dare talk like that to me, Amora of Asgard? The greatest Enchantress in all the Nine Realms?" Jane could only groan. "Hmm... seems your time playing at queen has given you delusions of a higher standing than you deserve. I think I know the way to show you the error of your beliefs." She raised a hand and snapped her fingers and two of the guards who still wore the burning heart and stag as their sigil hurried around from the corner where they'd clearly been hiding. The Asgardian woman trailed her fingers along each man's chin and cooed, "Would you be so kind as to take Jane away from here? Not to the cells... I don't wish for anyone who might get the wrong idea to try and mount a rescue. Take her to one of the old dragon tender huts on the far side of the island. Perhaps near where the Cannibal once lived?"
"Yes Lady Melisandre," the two guards said, lovestruck smiles on their lips.
"Oh, and when you have her there... feel free to use her however you wish. I would be so pleased to hear that each of her common born holes had been utterly abused before you slit her throat." Melisandre smirked as Jane struggled, the two guards grabbing her arms so hard it made her bones ache. "I wonder what Thor will think of you when he finds out what a whore you truly are."
"Rot in hell," Jane snapped, her head spinning from how quickly the guards pulled her up.
"Such a filthy mouth you have. Have you been teaching the princess such words?" Melisandre's smile turned dark. "I suppose I'll need to... ask her."
Jane let out a snarl, forgetting her pain. All that mattered was Shireen… she had to protect her. Breaking free from the guards Jane wrapped her hands around the red priestess' throat. "DON'T YOU-"
Melisandre easily shoved her away before rubbing her throat, glaring at Jane before back handing her. Jane toppled and she barely registered the guards grabbing her once more as her vision began to falter. "Goodbye, Jane Seaworth... and do not fear... I will care for dear Thor while your precious Shireen joins you in the Seven Hells soon enough."
That was the last thing Jane heard before darkness claimed her.
~MC~MC~MC~
Author's Notes: Not much to say here, as this is a chapter I'd rather you guys digest without my comments. I will say I've been listening to the audio book 'Fire And Blood' the last month and that is where a TON of the history stuff here (like the Vulture King) came from.
Arya's story has ended and now we shift Dany and Jane towards the endgames of their tales. But there are still some secrets left to reveal even as we learn the truth about Melisandre.
Next time we jump to Jon and find out how he is coping with his fight with Tony… and we see that it isn't just on the eastern shore of Westeros that secrets are kept.