Melisandre
Seven figures sang, and the shadows danced as the light grew brighter and brighter deep in the bowels of the temple. It made her eyes water and her legs wobbled as if they were made of leaves, but she sang. She sang to see, and the darkness peeled away like pulling away a shadowy curtain. The picture was clear as a summers day. She noted details never revealed to her before now. It was the point of going to the temple and beseeching the support of her counterparts. Seven flames joined as one to illuminate the darkness. Seven voices singing together. A storm prince in the sands under a golden pyramid as it rumbled. Dragons fell to the earth silent and unmoving. Soliders of flame were birthed into the world. She saw knights of white dueling with golden lions. The Crowned Stag raised over the battlements. Melisandre collapsed on the cushions with the taste of snow on her tongue. a taste she couldn't quite explain? Her lord worked in mysterious ways. Snow? What meaning does snow have?
It was a ceremony that weakened nearly all of them as they rested on the cushions and gathered their breath. On the altar, the bones turned to ash. Melisandre dimly recalled the screams echoing in the halls, but it was for the greater good. Only innocence may pay for favor. And knowledge needed to be gained to stop the Long Night that would consume them all. Men. Women. Children. All life snuffed out to the pale fingers of death. It demanded much from them to avert the death of millions. We must sacrifice a few to save the many.
The Andals were right about one thing. Seven is a strong number.
On the double stacked cushion, Calen sat with his malformed bronze legs. He was a man grown, but a child was taller than him. A small pointy wintery beard on his chin that he stroked ponderously. He was not tired. He had gazed into the flames longer than any of them. To the left of him, Ranz stood up too soon and collapsed to the ground. His mustache was colored blue in Tyroshi fashion. A servant was fanning Naya, a slender woman with chestnut hair. Thoros sported a serious look and didn't even go for the pitcher of wine. Melisandre was thirsty, but she didn't drink. To the right of him, Aslen boasted a sword at his hip and a golden ring out of his nose. Leah's gaze was as hard as iron. She was not known for her humor. Both sprawled over the other on the cushions, tired and exhausted.
All of them servants of the Lord of Light. Some more than others. Melisandre mused, knowing the truth. Some enjoyed their office more for the prestige and influence it garnered them. They were murmurs when they gave their sermons and tended to the Lord's children, but the night was long and filled with terrors, and the Lord of Light would punish them for their negligence.
"We all know what this means. Our lord has spoken." Melisandre said. "He requires our support in the War for the Dawn."
Calen chuckled. "He has." He smiled. "But once more, you have overestimated your abilities. This King Robert of the Andals is not Azor Hai."
"What?" Melisandre stood up from her cushion. "You must see the truth. He is the Prince that was Promise." She spoke with conviction. "He shall defeat the Great Other our Lord has spoken. You must see this." The flames did not lie. King Robert dreamed of a comet on the Trident amid salt and smoke. He was reborn a king. As she stared in the assembly, she saw only mute looks and doubting faces. It was outrageous.
Naya's voice was soft as honey. "Tis a song of ice and fire, but where is the ice? Without ice, there is no balance. You would know this well, Thoros."
Thoros winced. "I do not regret thinking Aerys was the Prince. I saw what I saw."
"You saw what you wished to see." Leah said bluntly. "As you do, priestess."
"And why would the Lord of Light choose an Andal? Does he not still follow his false gods?" Ranz said.
Melisandre shook her head. "We should not judge our lord's plans. His will works in mysterious ways."
"It could be true." Aslen said. "I too have seen the Golden Pyramid in the flames, and should not this be explored if there is even a chance? We should form a committee to ascertain the proper course of action." He spoke as if this was a debate between the ruling men of Tyrosh. The petty squabbles of the city influenced him, clouding his vision. There is no compromise, only the truth.
Calen held firm. "Above us, the comet flies. Our prince has just been birthed in the world, Aslen." He said. "A squabbling child that requires guidance. A generation remains to guide him to manhood. What need of a committee when the truth is clear as day?" And she heard the majority of the room sided with him and his false beliefs. Aslen sat down in defeat. Calen wished to send priests far and wide, following the comet until they found the child. They would grant no support to their Lords chosen. "I shall not waste the reputation and resources of this temple on this foolishness, and your talents will be better served by joining the search."
"A wise choice." Ranz parroted.
"You are afraid the battle is upon on us." Melisandre and advanced only for Thoros to grip her arm as she shrugged him off. I shall not be silent. "You anger our lord with such blindness."
"Hold your tongue, child." Calen tilted his head up. "My word is the law on this matter, and it is settled." His voice turned hard as stone. "You shall join the search and you'll accept my authority. All priests not assigned a temple shall search for our prince." She flinched at the rebuke.
Melisandre saw defeat staring her in the face by blind fools. I can't fail. I can't fail my prince. My lord grant me strength. Thoros knew what she thought and mouthed against it, but his own failures burned him. The past weighed him down into the dirt. He still didn't see either. She recalled his words from the hallway. "I know them, Lady Melisandre. They are stubborn in their orthodoxy. I don't think it'll go as you think."
"Even the blind can see what I've shown you." Melisandre replied. "They shall provide the support our prince needs." And they needed the support of the Fire Priests to pry gold and men from the Tryoshi.
"Unlikely, but I shall pray for such."
"Such is unneeded. This is not the same as your failure."
Faith required jumping off the cliff into the abyss, and Melisandre jumped without fear in her breast.
"Nyke iderēbagon iderenne ondoso perzys." She said. Eyes widened, and the room grew silent, with only the dancing flames crackling.
"Child." Naya said gently. "Don't be rash."
"She has invoked the old way." Aslen said, dipping his head. "It must be honored."
"It is tradition." Leah said in agreement.
A trial by fire. The Lord of Light ended discorded over differing interpretations with the flames. The rightful party survived, and the false burned, and if both were wrong, both burned. Their lord was not forgiving towards weakness or frailty. It was why no rival sects had ever formed from the Lord of Lights' true vision. The flames decided everything. Our path must remain true.
Calen looked unworried. "You challenge me, child. The night is long and dark. Withdraw and I shall forget this trespass."
"I cannot withdraw. My lord shall protect me." She undid her cloak. It fell to the red floor, and Calen undid his small cloak. It joined hers on the floor.
"You think this is the first trial of fire I have faced?" Calen laughed. "I'm older and wiser. I see our lord's vision. I have never been wrong."
"You are fearful and narrow sighted." Melisandre replied.
"Ivestragī konīr sagon perzys!"
"Ivestragī konīr sagon perzys!"
Heat surged from her fingertips until a flame emerged, flowing from her hand like a raging river. Shadows danced around the room as flames dueled around her. They sang ancient songs. Songs she couldn't speak, nor comprehend, but they were sweet and true. It was the song that created all life. Life was fiery and beautiful like a lovers passionate kiss. It pulsed beneath the skin, hot and simmering. Thoros turned away, raising his sleeves from the heat of the flames. Do you see the shadows? Do you see such beauty, Thoros? Everything burned underneath her skin as if she were boiling alive, but she knew her lord protected her. He showed me my path long ago. Calen saw too late. "I see. Oh, I see." He shouted as he screamed and burned. The Lord of Light was not a merciful god. Calen flesh melted and his bones turned to ash as if he had never lived at all. A moment of pity pierced her breast at his fate, but he had chosen his path.
"Our lord has spoken." Aslen announced.
"Our lord has spoken." Ranz joined.
All of them chanted. "Our lord has spoken! Our lord has spoken!"
They quickly vowed in pressuring the rich men of Tyrosh to support King Robert.
Melisandre smiled.
Tya
When she was a girl, Tya recalled caring for an alley cat with wounds long and deep. It hissed and clawed, but she cared for it with her brother Jason despite the blood it drew from them. She loved that tabby cat with all her heart. I wonder what happened to him. Mother said he ran away, but she figured it was a lie and it died. Life in Meereen was unpleasant, unlike her early life sailing on the Little Mermaid. Those were nice days with the smell of the sea every morning and mother singing them to sleep. Mother's voice was beautiful. Captain Renard was a nice man, and it was a sad day when he died to the pox. Ser Green Eyes was much like her cat when she cleaned his wounds. Wild and dangerous with a smirk that sent a shiver down her spine. Unlike Fluffy, he can actually kill me. And Tya gulped at the fact.
"Your not doing a good job."
Her hands shook.
"Shaking hands. Not good."
Tya withdrew. "Maybe you should have a healer do this."
Ser Green Eyes lifted his head up and gave a catlike smile. "Oh, I don't think so, Tya." He laughed. "I want you to do it, and besides, I already killed the last healer they gave me. Snapped his neck." He paused, deep in thought. "Or did I bash his head in? I can't recall." He smirked. "Not exactly lining up to tend to me at any rate." Did he? Or was it a lie? It took her some time before she noted he took great pleasure in messing with her. She wasn't as quick as Jason. But the man was certainly wicked enough to have done so. Tya nodded meekly and kept her head down as mother taught her. Jason told her she could be as quiet as a mouse, and it was true. Tya could go days without talking, but it was all the vicious animal wanted to do. He must love the sound of his own voice. And somehow this man knew her father. Tya wondered if the man could be him? They looked similar. He has our eyes and our skin as fair as the moon. Yet she hoped not. In her mind, father was tall and handsome with a heart of gold. Ser Green Eyes may be beautiful, but his heart was black as sin.
He's not a good man.
Oh yes, he didn't lay with her, but she was required to tend to him once a day by will of her Master. A different sort of torment. He treats me like a cat playing with a mouse. He always asked her strange things about her brother and mother. What her daily life was like, and if she caught the eye of any boy. "I'm plain." She replied as she covered her chest instinctively as he scanned over her chest with his eyes. It was some jape to him, and she was helpless to do anything but play along.
But what happens if he grows bored?
Tya shivered at the thought.
"Why did you try to escape again?" She found her voice.
"AH!" He exclaimed. "the mute speaks, but what an absurd question to ask. Terribly dull inquiry to make."
She paled. "You have not answered it. Are you frightened?" She said with some bite, instantly regretting. Tya expected a blow that never came. If she used that tone with anyone, a blow always came.
Instead, he chuckled softly and rose from the bed, an amused smile on his face as bloodied water streamed down his sides. "You remind me of her, you know." He caressed her cheek. It was deeply uncomfortable. "You have her eyes, and just now in your voice I heard the fire I love."
"You must love her deeply."
"With all my heart." He answered. "I'm not going to hit you know. You don't have to be afraid." There was a tenderness to his voice that caught her aback. She did not expect it for a creature as vile as him. And she heard the stories of his fights in the pits. The brutality he displayed, how he mocked the dead and the gods themselves.
"I haven't asked for your name, have I?"
Ser Green Eyes twisted from her and she worried she had erred with her words.
"Jaime. My name is Jaime."
And it was a queer name. There was nothing like it in all of Meereen. Tya told him so, and he laughed. "Of course, there is no one with my name. There is only one of me."
She finished her duties and went on her way.
The bed was small, with the room more than a closet than anything, but the room was theirs, at the least. Tya always slept easily on the bed. It was soft like floating on a cloud. Mother was still busy working, and Tya didn't enjoy thinking of what she had to do. It wasn't pleasant. And Jason was still busy teaching the Master's children as a private tutor. Though at this hour he was likely going over the morrow's lesson plan by candlelight. "An educated slave is worth its price in gold." It afforded him a tiny income to purchase a few sparse comforts like this comb she used to brush her hair. Things could be worse. She worked in the kitchens and her brother held a prominent position of respect. Many had far worse. They were lucky. And above all they had one another. They had split none of their family up. Gods be good, it'll never happen.
The yard slaves hate us, but it was bearable with this nice bed to sleep in.
"Are you up, Tya?"
Her eyes flung open, and she hugged him. "Jason!" The momentum sent them tumbling to the floor. He had a handsome smile and a tall frame, but her brother was beyond clumsy and couldn't keep his balance to save his life. Jason always smelled of ink and perfume. He wore the nicest tunic a slave could wear. He groaned as she strangled the life from him. When they were younger, you couldn't tell them apart. Same eyes and same hair. My other half. It drove their mother half mad. She used to tell him everything, but she balked about this. Her brother was brave, but beyond incapable in fighting and it would tear him up he could do little for her. She held her tongue about Ser Jaime. It was difficult to speak about her hopes and fears about the man. A glimmer of hope had pierced her breast when she thought of the man. Maybe he could help them? Maybe he actually cared? Don't be stupid, he's playing with you. He's an alley cat.
"Well, I suppose that answers that." He took her back to the bed of straw. Jason stumbled and nearly tripped. But they made it back without injury. "Things will be different." He swore and painted a sweet picture while she laid in his arms. "Try to be patient. I'm saving some funds slowly to purchase your and mother's freedom." His eyes burned a bright green, as it always did when he wanted something badly. "I just need more time. I hate what they are making you do I-"
Tya reached out for his hand. "Tis not so bad. He is rather tame."
Jason swallowed something heavy. "I'm your brother. I should, I should do something."
"That would not be smart."
"And we are smart." They both said together. Only be being smart could they endure.
She begged him to sing her to sleep as mother did. "Ty-"
"Please." she whispered, and he caved and his voice was just as beautiful as mothers. She dreamed of the sea and the wind in her hair. It was the closest she knew to a home, and it was happy. Tya hoped they would be happy again.
Ser Barristan
A beautiful melody from a harp sang its mournful tune. "I'm ready ser." He said. The blade facing him was as pale as milk. It was Dawn, the weapon of Ser Arthur Dayne, but he knew the man as Arthur his friend. Every slash, overhand, and parry carefully timed with perfect precision. The fight was like art. Sweat rang down his brow as they continued the dance across the courtyard. In a whirlwind of blows, time ceased, and he smiled as Dawn shattered his sword and Arthur kicked him to the ground.
"I think I've won once more old friend." Ser Arthur said before offering his hand.
He chuckled. "Dawn gives you an edge."
"That's quite true. Otherwise, I dare say you and I would be here all night."
The music stopped and the tall boy prince walked to them, his violet eyes sad. "My prince." He dipped his head. "You stopped playing the harp?"
"The song was at an end."
"You seem troubled." Ser Arthur frowned. "Do you require the services of two knights of the Kingsguard? We are at your service as always, my prince."
Prince Rhaegar sighed. "No, I was just admiring from a distance. It was a beautiful fight." His tone filled with melancholy. "I'm afraid we shall never know the likes of you again." His eyes looked at them like they were dead men walking.
They were both silent, uncertain how to respond.
"It's okay, sers, we all have our roles we must play." Prince Rhaegar said. "Lets go play ours."
Barristan awoke underneath the white sheets and sighed as he experienced the familiar aches and pain of old age. He splashed some water on his face to drive away the memories. It boded ill that he dreamed of that conversation again. Had his memory become addled? Did he imagine that knowing look in Prince Rhaegars eyes? It's true. The Kingsguard was a far cry from what it had been. Men like Arthur, Hightower, Whent, Lewyn no longer wore the white cloak, but for the first time in many years he had hope. Hope of building a kingsguard worthy of their white cloaks. The image of his squire and Royce came to mind. New blood. Green boys some may name them, but they were skilled in sword and lance. Good men and good swords. Maybe it wasn't too late to turn the Kingsguard is what it once was? Jon could be great if trained properly. He had the natural skill to be one of the best.
He soiled the cloak he wore.
Barristan rubbed his temples at the memory. I have failed him. I have failed him. Too young. Just like the Kingslayer.
Two faced one at the dock, all of them wore the white plate of the Kingsguard. "I did not believe Robar when he said you had fled." A low growl emitted from the boy's wolf. "We swore a vow."
Tears were in his eyes. "My family needs me."
"You are of the Kingsguard."
"Jon, this is madness." Ser Robar said solemnly and drew his sword in the open.
"Snow I may be, but I'm a Stark of Winterfell." Jon replied and did likewise.
Barristan walked towards him, unafraid. "Not when you agreed to the white cloak."
Jon's hand twitched to the side.
"And do you think you shall help your father by forsaking your post?" He asked him. "What do you think he shall have to do?"
Jon stayed Ghosts with a wave of his hand and lowered his head in shame. "What have I done, Ser Barristan?" You soiled yourself. He should have said. You acted a stupid boy and not a man of the kingsguard.
"Nothing as of yet." Barristan admitted. "Nothing that can't be swept away."
For years he had gone through the motions like a corpse. I felt like a corpse after the Trident. He should have died that day, but the Gods were not kind and when Robert Baratheon offered him the white cloak, he accepted like a fool, but he felt alive once more. Though he wished he still felt the corpse. Jon's actions cut deep. The boy was skilled, but still young, mayhaps too young for the cloak, but he saw true nobility and not arrogance in his grey eyes. The boy was Asharas child the most beautiful maiden in the Seven Kingdoms And Arthur's nephew. He had never seen a better knight. And Barristan failed his nephew. He failed Aerys. He failed Rhaegar. He failed his brothers. Old I've become, old with failure.
"Ser Barristan."
He turned around and noted the king's squire peering his head through the door. "His Grace wishes to see you." Barristan didn't see fit to question him as he removed his helm and stepped inside the king's quarters. "THE WHORE IS PREGNANT!" King Robert raged. "WATER TYREK! GIVE ME MORE WATER! AND WHERE IS ANOTHER VASE TO SMASH!?" The Lannister boy hurried along and placed the vase before scurrying away. King Robert brought down his warhammer and didn't damage the table. A perfect swing. "ANOTHER VASE TYREK!" It shattered like the others. "THE WHORE IS PREGNANT BARRISTAN!"
"Your grace?" He said puzzled.
"Don't worry, Jon Arryn told me, don't worry Ned said. Fools the both of them! The dragon bitch spread her legs and now a dragonspawn shall come out! VASE TYREK!" It shattered into a thousand shards to his growing fury. Ours is the Fury are the words of House Baratheon and Robert embodied them well. "I have a mind to write to Varys to see the Targaryen girl dead, but I want to go hunting! Tell it to me true. Do you think our men are ready to hunt a Dothraki warlord?"
Barristan shook his head. "I do not think the company is equipped to such a task." And the thought of killing Rhaegar's sister tore at him with shame.
"At least you are honest ser." King Robert admitted. "You are true steel, a valiant knight. Isn't he boy?"
The boy, Tyrek Lannister, nodded his head. "Everyone speaks of the deeds of Ser Barristan the Bold."
"Good lad!" And struck him on the back and sent the boy flying to his booming laughter. "Oh well, I suppose a few weeks of training and exercises for our growing company it is too much to ask to fight one hundred thousand Dothraki screamers!" And the Company of the Stag, as King Robert named them, was coming along. His Grace had invested more energy in one evening to the project than he did during his entire reign as king. From the logistics that came with running a company to the drilling with the men in the courtyard. King Robert lived and breathed it all. He was born for battle. A force of one thousand men had pledged themselves to the company. The Archon of Tyrosh had granted them a lucrative contract to wage war in the Disputed Lands. Gold. Silk. And like moths to a flame, men came willing to join Robert's company. Among them to his disquiet were several Red Priests and their disciples, who prayed to the flames. Thoros was a fine man, but the others left a sour taste in his mouth. Lady Melisandre was disquieting with her conviction in the Red God and her influence over His Grace was troubling, but he held his tongue. Did His Grace intend to convert? He could recall no king who sat the Iron Throne whom worshiped gods other than the Seven.
I swore an oath.
"I guess I'll have Varys give the orders."
Barristan chose his words carefully. "There is no honor in daggers in the night."
King Robert quieted, a dangerous thing. "The girl dies, Barristan. End of story." He sipped on his goblet of water before twisting away from him. "I've listened to honorable fools enough."
He swallowed and dipped his head dutifully. "Your grace." He hid the disappointment from his tone. A trick he learned from his days in Kings Landing. "May I resume my post?" His Grace gave a disinterested wave as he sent for Lady Melisandre. He thought of the past. It is what he often did as he stood at his post. He thought of Rhaegar singing in Flea Bottom and his true brothers long since dead. I've failed them all. They would curse me if they could draw breath. He thought of Jon Snow and his shameful act. The boy was his squire. He knighted him before the sights of gods and men. I knighted Asharas son. And he soiled the cloak he wore, but he was the future of the Kingsguard. One day he hoped he would replace him as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and Barristan needed to keep him pure. He was old and needed to leave a capable man behind to protect his grace and his heirs. Prince Tommen was a sweet lad and needed good swords around him.
He could be one of the greats or he'll turn into the Kingslayer.
Late at night, Barristan could hear the grunts and moans coming from behind the door. "LYANNA!" His grace screamed out as a woman moaned. It was the fire priestess, but he didn't judge His Grace. I'm sworn to protect him. Not judge him for his misdeeds. He tried to go away and ignore the words spoken. Even if the walls were paper thin, but even trying to ignore the conversations, he heard their voices. Lady Melisandre argued Daenerys must live, and His Grace raged at the fact, but he calmed and Barristan's jaw dropped when he reversed his choice. "fine the girl lives. If your prick of a god says it must be done, then it will be so." And he breathed a sigh of relief. Thank the Seven she lives. Though a sense of trepidation filled him.
She made King Robert change his mind. Only Lord Stark or Lord Arryn had been capable of such a feat. One was his foster brother, and the other his foster father. The queen could convince him aswell, but only through sheer effort. Rarely in a single encounter. Did she truly have such influence over him? The door opened, and she offered him a smile. "Fair evening ser knight." Her eyes bore into him, and he felt a hint of fear. Barristan had fought Maelys without question. He didn't hesitate to rescue Aerys from captivity. He swore a vow. But her gaze unnerved him.
"My lady." He replied in a polite tone. "Should I send a guard for you?"
"Tis unneeded, Ser Barristan, but thank you for the kind offer."
Today she was an angel of mercy, but tomorrow would she be a demon? If she holds the king in the palm of her hands, does she not wear the crown in truth? It made him afraid of the days ahead. He was sworn to obey King Robert and to protect him from all threats, but could he protect him from himself? Once more he wished it was Rhaegar who won on the trident. The realm could have been a more noble place. He was born for the crown. A fantasy nothing more. Robert was his king, and he would do his duty to him. And he would need his sword in the days ahead. The Disputed Lands were a dangerous land filled with many killers, vile sellswords and cutthroats with cruel reputations. He trusted not the men who followed them for the pursuit of gold and riches.
I shall bloody my sword before all of this is done.
This time, he wouldn't fail his charge. I won't let him die like Rhaegar. "I won't fail." He whispered aloud. "I won't fail. Not again." He vowed and held his post.
Authors note: Well, got this chapter squared away. Mel was a lot of fun to write. Next up we are going to see Robert ventures to the Disputed Lands. Jaime is dealt a setback in the Pits. And we head back to the Eyrie to check on Jasper and company.
Makine: thanks for the review, I won't say about some of your predictions, but I think Tywin as LC is just a lot of fun, I wish more fic writers gave him that role. And yeah the Faith will remain a problem thats for certain! But given how the Faith is pretty spinless in ASOIAF it isn't like in medevial Europe so it won't be the end of the world I'm guessing, but conflict might certainly happen because of it!