(King's Landing: 10/8/298 AC) Lady Stork V
'An evening meeting? It must be important if she roused me from the servant's quarters of the castle,' she yawned, sauntering unescorted, and unguarded, down the brightly lit cobblestone pathway leading to the Fire Lord's manse. Her hood and cloak swayed in the light breeze, the scented woolen scarf wrapped around her nose and mouth kept the foul smell of the city at bay. A squad of eight city watchmen, headed by one of Azula's men, patrolled along the path, passing a group of well-guarded noblewomen chattering about whatever meaningless drivel had been relevant in today's court.
"One last pass through the area, before we move onto the next block," the squad commander ordered, grasping at his blade and marching forward, Fire Nation armor resplendent and unmarred. A dark sky, deep purple bordering on black, hung above them all, the last rays of the day's light reduced to a quickly fading orange glow over the horizon.
"Sir, yes sir!" the men following replied. Four of them were in full Flameguard plate and armed with longswords bearing the standard Fire Nation hilts of black leather with golden teardrop flame. The final three, unimpressive as they were and lacking the red sashes of the others, were clad in simple mail armor, black gloves, and boots. Iron cudgels hung loosely at their sides.
'Ugh, and those stupid tin hats.'
She stole a glance towards the noblewomen several paces ahead, tugging at her hood, and drawing it closer to her face, while nuzzling her nose further into her soft black scarf. The times she had impersonated the Fire Lord had her subjected to such nonsense far too many times, but she also knew to keep her ears open, just in case. Even amongst the clamor of the city, she was aware. Being a mummer for so long had taught her how to read a crowd's faces, isolate their voices, no matter how soft, no matter how loud, but being trained by the Fire Lord had made her so much more.
'Suspect them all, no exceptions,' a familiar voice of steel and silk echoed in her mind.
Even now, amongst the people she could see, eight had caught her eye as Lady Azula's spies. Some were paid in coin, though not many. Others, the more insidious ones, had been composed of elderly nobles on the verge of death. Their failing bodies and increasingly muddled minds had provided the Fire Lord an opportunity that she could not resist. With no friends or family to question them, those few had been replaced, their wealth and influence had become hers, and no one had been the wiser.
'A dark secret that even Lord Stannis knew not, and one that I was to never to reveal,' she shivered, knowing that any attempt to do so would have ended before it started. 'The Fire Lord is a dangerous woman to cross.'
"Where do you suppose Prince Oberyn went off to?" a well-fed woman tittered, clad in silks and fine jewelry that made her look like colored dough who had taken a shine to rubies and emeralds.
"Last I heard, he was at the tea house with the Lady Azula," another giggled suggestively, fanning herself. The youngest and most comely of the group held big green eyes, her dress hinting at a suppleness Stork had only known in her youth.
"I doubt that very much, Karla," a sour-faced woman scoffed, trotting along with the rest of them in gaudy yellow slippers. "The Lady of Dragonstone only spoke with him during the feast to keep up appearances. She has shown no interest in the Prince, not in that way. She's too loyal to Lord Stannis."
'Hmmmm, a new one of Azula's?' she supposed, glancing at the woman, looking for red gems, or hints of disguise and finding nothing. 'Perhaps not, though she certainly plays the role of empty-headed idiot well enough,' a light snort escaped her lips, the thought reminding her of the Queen.
"A questionable choice," a third woman muttered under her breath. She was slimmer than the first, but not by much, her hair was lined with thin gray streaks. The woman quietly regarded the Fire Lord's extravagant home covetously. The gaggle of women scuttled off into a nearby residence and disappeared, their voices muffled by a sturdy oaken door. She continued forward, passing the ugly wooden entryway the women had just entered, towards the Fire Lord's manse, which stood at the end of the long path. Nearly forty people stood in between her and her destination, along with a thick, darkly colored, stone barrier surrounding the perimeter of the estate. Reaching just below the tip of the main door's archway, a towering, spiked, black-iron gate locked the barricade together.
Her heels clicked along the stones, merging with the noises of others, nearly masking the pair of heavy footfalls coming up behind her. "We have to wait until she's alone…" a man whispered in a husky tone.
'Qohorik,' she recognized the guttural accent.
"This would be easy work if they didn't want her alive, and if she wasn't heading for the fucking manse. I don't know why she's worth so much, but I don't think following her into the butcher's den will see us collecting any bounty worthwhile," a smoother voice, almost highborn, replied.
'A bounty? Interesting…'
"We can wait until she comes out," the deeper voice suggested.
"Whatever we do, we best be quick about it," a third man grunted, his accent hinting at a Pentoshi origin. "I didn't follow the woman around the entire day just to fail now. And those damned Goldcloaks will come back. She has people everywhere, you can't walk too far in this stinking shit-pile of a city without seeing someone prancing around in the Butcher's colors."
"Then circle around, and keep an eye on the patrols. The deal we had with Slynt is worth shit now, so don't expect any special protection," the highborn voice proposed.
"You think the woman had something to do with it?"
"Not unless should could control fire and was actually in the city when the pig died," the second man scoffed.
'Slynt? Who do these fools work for? They seem far too eloquent for mere cutthroats. Only the Spider suspected, did he reveal the truth?' even deep in thought, confidence was in her every step as she trudged along in the darkening gloom. The lingering nobles were blissfully unaware of the 'dangerous' men stalking the poor defenseless mummer from Braavos. 'Or so it would seem,' she frowned, not turning to face whomever the trio were, instead choosing to survey the path before her, all lined with the manses of lesser lords and ladies who benefited from her lady's presence within this corner of the city. The way was gradually clearing of people, all having begun to retire into the comfort of their homes for the night, or retreating down the scattered paths into different areas of the city. As far as she was concerned, it was only her and the three individuals behind her, with extras littered amongst the stage floor for dramatic effect.
"Well she does have all those fucking red priests," rough Qohorik drifted into her ears. "Those guards up ahead. We will return later…" their footsteps withdrew, disappearing behind her.
'This street is lousy with the Lady's spies. They won't get far,' she reassured herself.
"That man is very difficult," she recalled the Fire Lord's words, as she exited her personal chambers in a huff, nostrils flaring, arms crossed. Their first night in King's Landing had been eventful, she remembered. Rage had been strewn across her Lady's face, "Come, Stork. What pittance my husband has offered must be put to use. The miscreants nesting in King's Landing demand a firm, guiding hand, which innocently offers gold and silver to help them along."
As she approached the iron gate, the two Flameguard stationed in front raised their arms, preventing her from stepping forward. She lowered her scarf, and looked them in the pale white eyes she knew were hidden behind the nightmarish skull faceplates forged on Dragonstone. "I have business with the Fire Lord," she stated, allowing the Repurposed a good look at her face, before reciting the words of passage low enough for only them to hear. "Trust is for fools. Fear is the only reliable way."
The unnatural men lowered their arms and reached out to open the spiked gate, which released an almost exhausted-like groan. She passed through, looking up, and marveled at the thing. No matter how many times she had seen it, the manse had never lost its striking appearance. Taking up the spaces of five former plots, and boasting a thick 'concrete' foundation, a secret from the Lady Azula's homeland, the monstrous thing was riddled with immense red stone walls and hidden steel skeletons, towering above the rest. A series of fourteen stone steps led up to a massive reinforced door, atop of which stood a rearing iron stag with hollowed out head, eyes, and a gaping mouth. A flame, furious and bright, burned within the hollows of the stag's head, making it seem more like a demon than a simple animal. At either side stood iron statues, representing her lord and lady.
'Similar to the ones at the Academy,' she noted, watching as the banner of the burning stag wafted just below the imposing lifeless figures. The manse had seemed more like a facility, than a home, after having been completed four years earlier, with the architect's guidance. Stork remembered the levels of security the Fire Lord had implemented for the outside of the building, 'steel plate this, reinforced that.' Lord Stannis had balked at the cost, although the Lady Azula did finally manage to persuade him otherwise.
'Hmph, say what you will of her, but she certainly has a way with words. Like mother, like son,' the former Braavosi mummer grinned, climbing up the steps as she did, passing yet another duo of Repurposed, and a single red priestess seated within an alcove just off to the side.
Concealed within the deep shadows of the pillars lining the main entrance, the priestess spoke, head popping out from the shadows, smiling her polite smile. "Good evening, my lady, the Fire Lord expects you." Deep brown eyes searched her own, as the woman rose from her golden seat, bringing her hands together and bowing respectfully.
"Yes, I know. Thank you, and have a good evening," she replied politely, waiting as the Flameguard opened the colossal door.
"You as well," the red worshipper smiled, as the door creaked open just enough to let her pass.
She looked up, passing under the shadow of the burning stag. A quick glance to her side found an empty golden chair where the red priestess had sat only moments before.
The manse held the distinct aroma of cherry blossom. Stone flooring, plush carpets, and low torchlight ran down the length of the hall, symmetrical and balanced. Beautifully made artwork lined the walls of the clean and uniform building, disguising their innate lethality. 'A most unwelcome, welcome, to surprise visitors.' By the foot of the entrance, she spied several pairs of boots and moved to remove her own footwear, placing them next to the Fire Lord's own.
'Who else is here, I wonder?'
Candles burned between the legs of every archway she passed. While most had been sealed shut with iron doors, only one remained open. The hall where her Lady would entertain guests never remained closed. The large room was unlit, a wooden table rested upon a red, gold-trimmed, carpet laid at its center, grander than even the table of the small council. A line of Fire Nation and Flameguard armors rested along the perimeter of the room, most of which were displayed on dummies of cloth and wood, though she suspected at least a few had been real. The windows were locked tight, and in the shadows of the rafters, she could feel them staring at her.
'The Kemurikage,' she shuddered, pressing on down the hall.
The Lord and Lady Baratheon's private quarters lay only a turn away, so she continued forward. 'The manse of the Burning Stag is a death trap,' she reminded herself, knowing that anything made with the Fire Lord's input was bound to be. The interior of the manse was brimming with arrows, bolts, wires, darts, and spikes, all triggered by something or another, and all unseen. The mummer's bare feet padded along, cushioned by the soft carpet underneath, which itself held a sharp secret for those who were not light of foot. She knew how to get around them, of course, but she was always cautious. 'It's a wonder no one has questioned why they never have more than a handful of guests at any one time,' the idle thought flashed in her mind, causing a slight chuckle. At least none that Stork had known, though she recalled all the boxes of tea that had been transported out of the manse the night following Jon Arryn's death. 'A great many someones failed that day,' she shuddered at the memory, briefly wondering if those 'someones' had failed in their attempt to kill the Fire Lord or in their efforts to protect the Lord of the Vale.
Even now, as she walked down the hall, she could almost feel the pointed steel of crossbow bolts pricking at her skin, and the shadowed eyes following her, concealed behind the tapestries and paintings of the various battles Lord Stannis and the Lady Azula had fought. Some extravagantly depicted the actual battles while others were more subdued and metaphorical. The Fire Lord enjoyed the former in paintings.
"The fear. The utter despair in those men's eyes. Exquisite," the Lady would state time and again.
"I prefer to differ, mother. These are more artistic, imaginative," Ser Steffon would say, preferring the latter in their tapestry forms
She paused and turned to fully gaze upon the painting depicting a large black stag, standing atop a single white rock surround by a sea of red. Its head was held high, a tangle of golden roses burning upon its fiery antlers. 'This was the only one they both agreed was beautiful,' she recalled, feeling the eyes of the Kemurikage or the Repurposed that surely hid behind it. 'Though Steffon did take some issue with the roses.'
'Fair Isle, and the Stepstones,' her eyes wandered down to the neighboring painting and tapestry, before continuing on. She turned the corner and spotted the gold-framed entryway into the Fire Lord's chambers. Five armored giants of men silently guarded the door. Two other men, smaller and helmetless, sat upon gilded chairs. A circular Pai-Sho board and a bottle of half-finished ale rested on a small wooden table between them.
"Give it up, Greyjoy," the disheveled Red Priest taunted.
"What's the matter, priest? Is Thoros of Myr worried the Pirate's Bane will trounce him?" Theon countered.
"Make it easy on yourself and just give up," Thoros replied, taking a deep swig of the drink between them.
'Ahem,' she cleared her throat.
"Stork!" the Thoros stated, eyes blinking in surprise, a slight slur in his voice. The red priest of Myr rose, revealing bare feet, and embraced her in a tight hug.
The Greyjoy boy followed soon after, sharing the state of their naked feet, and presenting a lordly bow. "My lady."
"Thoros?" she pushed the man away, casting a nod of acknowledgment towards the Fire Lord's Ironborn ward.
"Unprofessional, and unkempt. What an embarrassment," the Lady Azula's words, her annoyance, rang in her mind. Never sharing her husband's opinion on the man, the Fire Lord often stated such things on more than one occasion.
"Am I late? I was told…" she could feel beads of sweat beginning to form upon her brow.
"Oh! No, no," the man reassured her. "One of the high priest's emissaries from Volantis paid the Fire Lord a visit. She, Lord Stannis, and Ser Steffon are in there now conversing with the man."
"Is it serious?"
"Hells if I know," Thoros shrugged, returning to his seat.
"Steffon and I had come on other business," Theon added, "when we saw the Lady Azula escorting the man inside. She did not seem surprised or displeased at his appearance, but then again…"
"She's the Fire Lord," she finished his words.
Greyjoy nodded, before returning to his seat, across from the priest of Myr. She moved to sit upon a 'plain' wooden chair resting along the right side wall. Passing her hand over the left armrest, she found was she was looking for, the engraved stag head. A gentle press, followed by a measured twist, had the wooden tip release a sharp 'click.' As she sat, she felt the soft cushion flatten comfortably beneath her, allowing her body a slight reprieve from the day's woes.
'The Fire Lord will summon me when she's done with her guest,' the Braavosi mummer knew, seeing no need to intrude upon whatever grievances or requests the Red Temple had for the woman of Dragonstone. 'Their chosen one,' she snorted, unbelieving of the faith, though not doubting her Lady's power. Instead, she elected to rest her weary head against the chair's cushioned backing, closing her eyes to further enjoy her respite. The sounds of the Pai-Sho pieces knocking against the wooden play board proved a soothing distraction, and she dozed off.
Even half asleep, her eyes shot open, and she rose to her feet, as the door handle began creaking from the other side. Thoros and the Greyjoy boy were reclined in their seats, their game having apparently long since ended as both seemed to be sharing her exhaustion, judging by their loud snores. Several voices emanated from within, muffled behind the thick wooden door, one unmistakably belonging to the Fire Lord, the other to Lord Stannis, and a third to an unknown speaker.
"Write to the high priest. Give him my best," a velvety voice uttered, revealed by the opening of the expensive entryway. A large man, with a mane of pure white hair, skin black as coal, and clad in scarlet robes, stepped out into the hall. Red-and-orange tattoos were inked across his cheek and forehead, and within his large hands was a staff of iron, rising tall enough to nearly surpass the Flameguard at his side. Greyjoy and Thoros had awakened sometime in the sudden commotion, causing both to rise to their feet.
'This man feels familiar,' she thought, wondering on if she had ever had dealings with him during her time in Braavos, yet coming up short.
"And tell him, once my affairs here are in order I will hold counsel with him in Volantis, as agreed," the Lady Azula concluded, her hand resting on the door's edge. "Let no one say, the Fire Lord is not true to her word."
The man bowed after turning to face the Fire Lord with an enigmatic expression on his face. "You are the chosen child of R'hllor, and your shadow is vast. The reach of your light, however, will be greater still. I was not sent to force you to accept me, this I know, and anticipated. I was sent only to offer you guidance in the wars to come. Guidance which will prove invaluable to the Lord's chosen."
"I am sure it will be," the woman answered. "However, like the others, you will start as they all do. I am not predisposed to accepting complete strangers into my counsel until I test the mettle of their loyalty. You understand? If you wish to serve me, I will allow you to accompany me to Dragonstone, where I will have Cyvia gauge you."
"Cyvia? A true child of R'hllor, that one," he said in an even tone, masking the meaning of his words. "She rose from scrubbing the floors of the temple to serving at the foot of Azor Ahai herself. Her faith was well rewarded it seems."
"Indeed it was," the Fire Lord narrowed her eyes. "Now if there is anything else?"
"Nothing," the large priest replied, a quaint smile rested upon his lips as he bowed his head once more.
"Good. If you are still within the city when I depart, I will send for you," Lady Azula's lips were tight, her hand seemed almost ready to tear the thick door from its hinges. "Thoros!" she barked, catching herself, and clearing her throat. "Escort him out of the manse," the Fire Lord ordered, likely knowing full well that it would not have been prudent for the 'Lord's chosen' to have a red priest die in her home. The priest of Myr offered a stiff nod as reply.
"Come, brother," Stannis' man ushered away the strange priest from Volantis.
Golden eyes focused in on the retreating forms of the red followers before turning to her. "Stork," the Lady sighed, rubbing at her temples. "You may enter," she retreated back into the room, leaving the way clear for her to pass.
Passing through the threshold of the room felt like a welcome relief after the long day she had had, dodging the Queen's spies. Lord Stannis sat at his desk, as his son reclined against the wall of the room, near the bookcase, arms crossed, and seemingly lost in thought. The door shut behind her, 'Closed by one of the Flameguard, no doubt,' she reasoned.
"Sit," the Lord of Dragonstone commanded from his desk.
A chair near the Fire Lord presented itself, and she found soft cushions surrounding her in her velvet seat, as she sat.
'Softer than the chair outside,' she noted.
"Of all the times Benerro could have summoned me, he chooses now? Bah! As if I already didn't have enough to deal with, now on top of whatever creature we have on Dragonstone, Oberyn's sudden interest in accompanying me there, and Lord Stark's planned visit, now this man wants to join in on the 'fun,'" the Fire Lord huffed, her bare feet skimming across the lion pelts carpeting the floor near the small extravagantly carved wooden table. Azula threw herself upon the cushioned bench, near Lord Stannis' desk, and massaged her head. A small brass bell sat atop the small golden table, with a flame motif, resting at her side.
'Bigger than the one in the apartment.'
"Is everything alright, mother?" the handsome Baratheon knight questioned, his voice sure and calming.
"That man's staff. It contained traces of Wildfire," she hissed, lowering her hands from her head, the headache having apparently subsided. "I could feel it. Taste it. Disgusting."
"Why did you remain silent on your discomfort?" Stannis asked, a hint of something in his voice. Whether it was a tone of annoyance, or concern, or both, she was unsure, only that it was there.
"I don't show weakness to outsiders, husband, you know that. I am not some helpless maiden that needs rescuing at every turn," she smirked knowingly. Whatever tone Stannis had held, the Fire Lord had recognized and seemed amused.
"Hmph," the man snorted.
"Do you think the man's sudden appearance has anything to do with the creature?" Steffon continued on the previous topic, striding from his perch against the wall to an empty chair opposite the Lady Azula.
"It seems far too coincidental to not be true," Stannis offered. "The red priests are a strange lot. Some may be charlatans, but others…"
"But how? We only captured the damn thing a few days ago," her Yi-Tish features were scrunched in thought, fingers at her chin. "That's nowhere near enough time for someone to have found out, and written to the Red Temple. Let alone enough time to have sent a priest."
"Unless the creature really is what they say it is…" the young knight pondered aloud.
"Then it should be killed," a steely voice thundered.
'What are they talking about?'
"If it isn't just some fairy tale then it will be," the woman countered. "After we deal with those other matters, we can reveal the truth to the King, and see what he desires, but not before. Though conventional wisdom would state otherwise."
"My brother is not a conventional man," Lord Stannis retorted.
"No, he is not," the golden-eyed Lady of Dragonstone agreed.
"And what of Lord Stark?" cool blue eyes focused upon brilliant gold.
"I suppose the best thing to do is reveal the King's bastards, then show him. Lying to him would not serve us well, especially if he finds out after the fact. Though telling him the truth also presents its own risks. He may choose to return north to reinforce his lands, and while that would be the best course of action, especially if the creatures are massing somewhere past the Wall, it leaves us with little allies," the Fire Lord shot a glance towards her son. "That is, of course, assuming you haven't gotten through to the boy?"
'Creatures past the wall? It can't be…'
"He is a guarded man," Steffon replied. "Though our conversations have revealed cracks."
"Hmmm, well whatever the case, the creature is secure in the caverns. Apparently, it is deathly afraid of Dragonglass. Another coincidence, considering where I chose to have the caverns built. Though, in this regard, it does serve us well."
'Ahem.'
"Oh yes, I forgot," her paymaster remembered, clicking her tongue. "Perhaps you are wondering why we are meeting here and not in the apartment? Yes?"
She nodded, though really she had not been wondering about that. "Yes, Fire Lord."
"I will be leaving soon, and I want you away from Cersei in my absence, starting tonight. Any meetings will be held here, at my husband's request, from now on, in order to ensure you continue living a long fruitful life, until my return," the woman's eyes were flat, and commanding, brokering no conversation on the matter.
'Why did you not do the same when you had left for the North?'
"I had not taken such an interest in your well-being when I had departed for Winterfell because the Queen had been accompanying me there. Unfortunately, she will be remaining here," Azula paused, smirking to some hidden jest, "for the time being."
"Ah, and how am to tell the Queen that I will be gone?" she questioned. "And what of my belongings in the Servant's Quarter of the castle?"
"You won't have to. I will speak to her, and gather your belongings, for you. She will be informed that I will be taking you with me. You will have the guest room on the second floor and a Flameguard protector. So do not step foot outside of the manse, and stay away from the windows. I assure you, Stork, this will only be a temporary accommodation, and once I return we will back to business as usual. Now," Azula grasped at the bell to her side and rang. "You may leave."
The door latch scraped against the door as it groaned open. "Yes, my Lady," she bowed, turning on her heels, and marching away, out of the room. Behind her, she heard the Fire Lord utter one last thing, not to her, but to Lord Stannis and Ser Steffon.
"Oh, by the way, husband. I seem to have missed my moon's blood…"
'Clang!' the door shut behind her, muffling the unmistakable voice of Lord Stannis.
