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God-Emperor of Essos and beyond (DISCONTINUED) by Paperpuscher 101
 Harry Potter & A song of Ice and Fire Xover Rated: M, English, Adventure & Fantasy, Harry P., Words: 337k+, Favs: 4k+, Follows: 4k+, Published: Jan 7, 2017 Updated: Jun 25, 2018 1,146Chapter 6: Reactions
Steffon Baratheon hated Volantis with a fury he never thought himself capable of, even though the Motto of House Baratheon is Ours is the Fury.
It weren't the many slaves that outnumbered the freeman nearly five to one or the foreign food his stomach didn't agree with or even several attempts to buy his wife from him. The first one to try got his face rearranged by him, but when it didn't stop Steffon just ignored it mostly.
Speaking of his wife he couldn't say she was happy either, having left behind their sons. She naturally worried about them like all mothers do.
In the Lord of Storms End's opinion Robert could look after himself, even that his son was much too promiscuous and drank too much from what Jon Arryn wrote in his letters. Not behaviour befitting a future Lord of Storms End.
Stannis, well Steffon never spent much time with his second son, preferring more to try and shape Robert into a passable heir. Only ever giving the explanation of duty to him.
Renly was only a babe and so Cassana worried about him the most obviously.
Nothing could have prevented Steffon from going on this doomed journey, though. When the King of the Seven Kingdoms wants you to do something you do it or face his wrath.
'I wouldn't put it past Aerys to try and burn me alive had I not accepted this foolish quest. Friends or not.' he demurred.
In recent years the already erratic behaviour of his cousin grew by the day, making it more and more difficult to see the friend he once was. He saw traitors everywhere. It mattered not if it was impossible for the stable boy to poison the food of Aerys or that afterwards no trace of poison was found in it. The boy was burned regardless and no one present at court of the city smelling of shit did anything to stop it in fear of being next as the mad laughter of King Scab echoed through the halls of the Red Keep.
'The smell of King's Landing is more honest than the view it offers.' Steffon thought with a grimace.
The only location where the blood of old Valyria was strongest apart from the Targaryens was Volantis. The problem was that none of the nobles behind the Black Walls would allow them entrance and without that this quest would be a fruitless endeavour. So they had to wait, which was just as fruitless, only as they pleaded in stead of the Targaryens were they allowed entrance.
'Stupid proud inbred Valyrians. All of them can go to hell for all I care.' were the angry musings of Steffon, knowing that they only wanted to have the Targaryens bow and scrap before them after they didn't helped the Volantene in their own hunger for more power and land in the past.
When it was no Targaryen then a representative from them would have to do instead. The so called Old Blood of Valyria, thinking they were Royalty, but they were only descendants of footsoldiers, who grasped the power after the Freehold fell.
Even then entrance was only granted more for their amusement than a honest desire to form a sort of bond with the Seven Kingdoms. All of these nobles were too proud, sitting on accomplishments long past. While one half of them offered kind words, it came nothing of it in every case. The only thing exchanged were veiled insults.
The other half of them was more open in their attempts to humiliate them. One way or the other, after a month of travelling to Volantis and nearly a whole year of grovelling and begging for audiences Steffon Baratheon had enough. His pride could only take so much, even with the threat of Death hanging over him.
All this was reminisced as Steffon Baratheon lay in his bed, while letting his wife treat his bruised rips and face. He groaned as she put too much pressure on his face while applying a smelly cream. "Gods woman be a little more gentle."
"Don't complain so much or you can treat yourself." she retorted and muttered under her breath that he should try to birth a child and compare it to his woes he experienced at the moment.
The threat worked and he shut up while she send him a smug smile. He was the tough Lord of Storms End, hardened battle commander and Lord Paramour of the Stormlands, but in private he was just a big softy.
"Besides it is your own fault. What were you thinking to simply march up to these four woman and practically demand that the blonde of them is to marry Prince Rhaegar." she went on and ignored his attempts to explain. "Or were you thinking at all. I doubt it, with how much ale you had in the tavern."
"I thought that the blonde woman looked close enough to a Targaryen and would be delighted to marry a prince." he admitted while muttering under his breath that they could've brought the message across a bit less hard.
Now Cassana laughed out loud. Amused she responded once her laughter was under control somewhat. "Really? And you also thought she would believe you. A man she never met or spoke with, in a tavern for common folk and sailors. The poor woman probably thought you were in your cups. Besides you also have seen the look she and her companions sent the raven-haired man that came to their table after we left."
Once he nodded she went on. "That was a look of women madly in love. She would do pretty much anything for him. Your proposal stood no chance. As evident on your face and ribs." with that she was finished speaking and also spread the ointment on his bruised face, while poking him in the side for good measure. Cassana had to admit that the way the women dealt with her husband was quiet funny and impressive at the same time.
"Ok, maybe I was in my cups." Steffon admitted sheepishly while letting his head fall back into the pillow and give a defeated sigh. "I suppose we have no choice, but to admit this was a quest doomed for failure and make our way back." it was bitter to admit that. The options were limited though. Aerys was specific that the bride to be had to be of Valyrian decent.
'Maybe we could get one in Lys.' clearing his thoughts with a mental shake of the head he thought better of it.
Something like that would be discovered almost immediately. At the posture and behaviour alone. A bed-slave stays a bed-slave no matter how many silk-dresses you put her in.
'Aerys wrath would probably be greater, if I try and sell him a bed-slave as a highborn Valyrian noble than coming empty handed.' At that he thought about how he could get the message of the refusal across as gently as possible. Most were not very tactful, his last try least of all.
"Cheer up. It wasn't a total loss. You found this delightful jester." Cassana said trying to cheer her husband up a bit despite the pit in her stomach telling her that they needed a good amount of luck to escape Aerys madness.
The way his wife tried to lift his spirits caused a small smile on his lips to break out. Through years of marriage he knew she was just as worried as he himself. So, he pushed himself up despite wincing in pain and captured his brown-haired and blue-eyed wife's lips in a kiss. He knew that he probably looked after one skirt too many, but at least he never chased them and always returned to his wonderful wife.
Breaking the kiss he gave her a grin, saying. "You're right. Mayhaps he can teach even Stannis how to laugh."
She too smiled at him and agreed. "Mayhaps." King Aerys, Prince Rhaegar and their quest was forgotten for the moment as she lay besides her husband with his right arm around her waist. While sleep claimed them as the moonlight shone through the windows, illuminating the coloured glass in a mesmerizing show of lights Lord and Lady Baratheon had at least hope for a better future.
Magic is back!
After all the decades, centuries even that this force of nature was absent in the world it finally returned. On top of it all Marwyn, Archmaester of the Citadel all matters regarding the higher mysteries and otherwise mockingly called derogatory names by his so called colleagues, because of his preferred area of study, was witnessing this monumental event.
How did he know that it was the case? Simple, a glass-candle of old Valyria was burning merrily in front of him on his desk in the middle of the night. Illuminating his personal chambers and face in an eerie light of black and green colours.
His mask and rod made from Valyrian steel lay on the ground where he dropped them in his shock at succeeding in his task of lighting the candle. Only his ring remained on his hand, obviously.
It was just earlier in the day that he was given the position of Archmaester and the customary objects coming with it. Despite feeling accomplished some of the other Maesters suggested tauntingly that he should stand vigil at his glass-candle again to see if it now responded. He wanted to do that anyway, though the forty year old man could do without the comments.
While all others would only stand in the dark room during their initiation and do nothing to try and light the candle he himself had studied enough of the lore behind them and knew it took spells to do so. That brought him back to the sudden situation he found himself in. After getting himself somewhat under control he wracked his sleep deprived brain for what came next.
'Ah right. The burning of the flowers and grass.' he thought as he rummaged around in the pack sitting on a stool in a corner of the room. Shortly after his hand took out the Dragon's Breath, Blood Bloom and the Ghost grass. The last one was a hassle to obtain as well as to preserve for this specific task when one didn't know when it would come to pass. It was necessary to grant him visions. It could be done without it, though he wasn't arrogant enough to presume he was proficient enough to do so.
The plants now burned in a bowl near the candle incinerated by said object's green and black fire. After calming and centering himself he took deep breaths from the smoke that billowed into the stale air of the room. The shapes twisted, turned and twisted again so that he had to force himself to look at the candle and not be enthralled by the figures conjured by either his mind or magic he wasn't sure which was responsible at the moment.
After some time it seemed as if the flames sucked him into them, caressing him with their tongues of fire, embracing him almost in the fashion of a lover. It showed him pictures of things he couldn't quiet understand.
Pictures of five people. Four women and a single man. All the same kind of beautiful as the Dragonlords of old Valyria, even if in a different fashion. Displays of magical powers the likes not seen in millennia as well as a struggle. The pictures flew by too fast to make any kind of sense of them.
The next moment he was in his room again with the very important distinction that he was outside of his body.
First it showed him again the five people in the Citadel, raiding it of its contents, but not.
Then a tug pulled him first gently in the eastern direction. The tug grew stronger and fiercer, until it was a violent pull. Tearing him out of his office and the citadel. Across Dorne and the Narrow Sea.
'Volantis too' Marwyn mused as he let himself pulled along over the old city. Next he was yanked northwards up the river Rhyone into the lands of the Sorrows.
'Where is the fabled mist?' he looked around perplexed, but the most curious was a gigantic crater in the ground near the river. Before he could contemplate it further he was pulled eastwards again.
This time it took much longer, but finally he arrived at the Red Waste near the Bone Mountains and Poison Sea. He knew his geography, having a few links in the subject. Just as he grew a little frustrated the breath to do so was taken away from him. Not from an outside force, but from shock.
There hanging in the air was a city, that seemed to be made out of white marble with gold inlaid and other colours present in pictures on its walls, seemingly carved out of a single mountain with no indication of fissures in every wall. Slowly the city descended into the water of the Poison Sea. Now only connected through a single bridge of a width were four wagons could be pulled abreast to the mainland.
The next moment the city stood still in its place, but the environment around it had changed. Green now dominated the landscape instead of the previous red. Plants of all kinds and many he had never seen before were grown here. Rivers containing water of an unearthly purity made their way from the big lake and into the land.
Dragons and other mystical beast roamed the sky, water and earth. There were even winged horses. Though as suddenly as it came it was gone again, leaving him alone in his office one more.
The only indication it wasn't a fever dream was the candle burning still on his desk. After awhile it too flickered out. Left without a light source he went to light a ordinary candle. Just as he wanted to do so the sun shone through the window in her matutinal glory of dawn.
"How long have I been awake staring in this candle?" Marwyn asked himself, not expecting an answer.
'One thing is assured. No Maester is to be informed about this. All they would do is try to deny it ever happened and lock the candles away forever.' he demurred while tapping with his left forefinger on his wooden desk.
He knew that all Maesters, expect himself, even the ones with Valyrian Steel links thought nothing of magic, believing it dead. Well, it only would work to his advantage.
After a good rest plans had to be made of what to do with this new information. 'A journey towards Essos sounds like a promising idea. The Red Waste is said to be beautiful this time of the year.'
Marwyn laughed out loud, causing the birds on his windowsill to scatter and the Acolytes outside of his room to shake their heads and mutter under their breaths about crazy men obsessed with matters long since passed.
It wasn't as if Marwyn cared the only thing this night changed was that his plans to travel were accelerated. No one at the Citadel would miss him if he was honest with himself. The feeling was mutual. All most Maesters ever did was memorize things and facts from books. Seldom someone invented something new with the obtained knowledge.
Casting aside his negative thoughts quickly he made preparations to travel. Nothing at that day could keep the smile of his face, the spring from his step or the song out of his heart.
In the Red Keep in the dead of the night it was silent. None were out and about at this hour expect a few sleepy and useless guards.
'Though to be fair at day it isn't much livelier.' A figure in the shadows thought with a silent, tittering chuckle. No sound escaped his feet nor his long robes as he glided across the hallway to a previous set up meeting place. The figure knew all tunnels, passageways and secret places the Red Keep had to offer. It made moving from place to place much easier and not to mention faster.
'I wonder what my little birds will tell me that is of such importance as to rouse me out of my sleep at this dreadful hour.' the plump figure wondered. As he stepped out of the shadows they revealed a bald man who looked effeminate. His flamboyant robes were very comfortable and easy to move in, as were his soundless slippers.
His name was Varys or The Spider as some might call him. Spinning his web and catching interesting things with it. Once arrived this little bird sung a song that chilled him to the bone while at the same time setting the rage inside him aflame.
Nothing showed on his face that gave any indication to his anger. His control wasn't allowed to slip, not even in the presence of his little birds. The song sung to him told him of the strengthening of magic. He knew that others said it was gone from the world much like the dragons, but Varys knew that to be untrue.
After all magic took an important part from him. Even after it was said to be gone from this world, he believed in it. But also hated it for what it had done to him. He still heard that voice in his nightmares from time to time. Still, fresh in his mind even after all these years. All the things he had to do to survive. Selling his body, steal and in dire situations even beg. Only the will to spite the Mage who took his manhood gave him the reason to live at that time.
The little bird told him about how Maester, now Archmeaster, Marwyn was able to light a glass-candle and apparently invoked a ritual of some kind. After this he stared for hours on end in the light the candle threw into the room, sitting perfectly still until morning. Followed by an triumphant laughter or insane cackle.
Varys wasn't sure which description to choose. It painted a disturbing picture, together with all the weird news her heard from Lys, his birthplace. Outrageous tales of woman and a few men of all shapes and sizes, but mostly beautiful ones, it was Lys after all, were becoming suddenly breathtakingly beautiful.
Other news like that Steffon Baratheon and his wife survived a sudden Storm that appeared in Shipbreaker bay, nearly smashing their ship against the rocks, were tame by comparison. Varys heard that on his way to King's Landing shortly before he was made master of whispers.
The spider previously had not thought much of the rumours. Simply a late blooming or some such. It seemed though that other forces were at work.
One thing was assured in all of this. King Aerys was to never be informed of this. The Mad King would cast the realm in danger with only the slightest indication that Dragons could roam the skies once more.
'He would dedicate all resources to the single purpose of letting the dragons re-emerge.' The spider fretted as he wrung his hands in worry and thought. If Aerys had dragons at his disposal the whole realm, if not more would burn down to ashes. The King was dangerous enough as it is with his pyromancers and wildfire.
'No one is to know of this!' he again resolved to himself. 'Not that anyone at court would believe it anyway, except Aerys in his madness that is.' the former mummer mused as he dismissed his little bird of its service.
The notion of informing prince Rhaegar or Queen Rhaella was entertained briefly, but discarded just as quickly. No, a secret was best kept when as little people knew about it as possible. After all secrets were worth more than gold or gems. With giving it away freely it was like someone would hand out gold dragons to a beggar.
Not to mention that the queen or prince could talk about it with others or the conversation could be overheard. 'The walls have eyes and ears in the Red Keep after all. I should know it.' His little birds were in position to talk about secrets. Not without their tongues.
The Spider would only reveal a secret at the right time, price or if the situation called for it. At the moment he had Aerys' ear, which was ever so helpful at disposing of enemy spies. Feeding the Kings paranoia and subtly directing him in a direction where there were enemies. Not always the kings enemies, but enemies nonetheless, was easy enough for someone of his skill.
It also let him stay in the Kings good graces. All for the good of the realm, of course. For the moment he could only wait and spin his web further with the crowns gold, hoping for more information to come to him.
It was night time in Volantis and like always fires were lit in the temple of R'hllor to pray that dawn would come again. Worshippers from all around the city visited the temple and paid their tributes.
What few people noticed was the absence of a woman with copper hair, fair unblemished skin and red eyes. One of the few to do so was Benerro, the High priest of this particular temple of the Lord of Light.
He, like all of the permanent residents of the temple, wondered about their visitor. He knew something was different about her. Maybe, it was because she was favoured by the Lord of Light or something else entirely. None the less it spoke to him to treat this woman with respect. Respect for her power and faith in R'hllor.
Said person was in her private quarters staring into the flames in the hopes of a sign. Her name was Melisandre of Asshai, Lot Seven or Melony in her past live before she was sold to the Temple of the Lord of Light and made into one of his subjects. She was also called the Red Woman.
At the moment she was both elated and determined. The reason for her elation was that it seemed as that magic was on the rise again. Strengthening her powers like she never felt before. The determination was born out of the desire to find the reason behind it. The fires aided their faithful servant like always. Showing her visions and glimpses of things important to what she searched.
The fires showed her pictures of a jungle covered in shadows. Not the inviting and embracing shadows of her flames, but malevolent ones. Ones that seemed to suck the light even out of the stars in the sky. Next came images of five figures in the same sky made out of the light of stars, shining brighter and brighter until the shadows were pushed back. What came after was more mundane. It was a simple grey rat with a candle searching to be something more and arriving in... Volantis? Here of all places?
Then the view shifted and showed the world from above, showing her flames coming out of the east near the Poison Sea, washing over Essos like an Inferno. The Fire storm cleansing and consuming all that stood in its path, reshaping the world like a potter would do with his creations, for the better.
The next moment she opened her eyes and was back in her room with the dimmed and finally extinguished fire. She tried to concentrate on the five people, but all her efforts to divine it out were blocked out, something which happened never before.
Shortly after she opened her eyes and wanted to begin contemplating the visions and things she was shown, something entered the temple. Something of great power. Hurriedly she made her way through the corridors that illuminated her face with the countless fires burning on the way.
In her tunnel vision Melisandre didn't saw the people going out of her way. Either out of respect or to evade a collision. It didn't enter her mind, because it was unimportant. What was of importance was to find the source of this power and feeling. The ruby in her choker seemed to glow and burn brighter the nearer she got.
She arrived at the great Hall of the temple where the prayers of the High Priest were heard all across the room. His voice which could be described as soft carried high and well across the room to every ear. Expect her own. Totally focussed on finding the source of this intoxicating feeling and letting the ruby guide her towards it.
After a short time the feeling got stronger and stronger, but as she arrived at a point in the middle of the masses it began to leave her. 'No, I can't lose it now!' she thought with fiery resolve and looked around frantically for a trace.
Again the ruby on her snugly fitting choker pulled her in a direction, outside of the temple. Through the doors of the massive temple that looked in the night like a gigantic bonfire, though only illuminated from the flames within and outside.
Down the road on a direct route to the western part of the city and to the harbour. The longer she walked the further away she got from the hot and humid air from the eastern part of Volantis. It was night and so it was colder as in the day. Not by much, though. The shimmers in the air that gave Volantis a dreamlike quality in the daylight too were absent in the darkness of night.
'R'hllor will guide me!' she thought with absolute certainty, letting his light show her the way. Once arrived at the harbour she followed the pull towards the water, where one could walk inside and take a swim. Which was quite popular given the climate. Shaking her head to banish these stray thoughts Melisandre hastened her steps.
Upon turning around the last corner where suddenly shadows appeared out of nowhere. Just as she herself wanted to round the corner something gripped her at her left arm from behind her. In her single minded pursuit she hadn't noticed that she now was in the shadier parts of the city, where woman like her were seen as prey for thieves and rapists.
Whipping around with the momentum from the pull at her arm she conjured flames at her right hand. Intent to burn the one responsible for holding her back from the source of this marvellous and exhilarating feeling to cinders. Before she could do that the hand holding her arm at the elbow let loose.
She turned around with a rare look of fury on her face. Her control slipping at being denied something important she desired at the moment.
A man's voice behind her squealed and just as she had her body fully turned towards the offender, he was already with the back towards her, running away.
Reigning in her temper she let him escape and again hastened and ran around the corner, the ruby letting her know it wasn't completely gone. Though, when she looked out of the water it was calm and five people were just diving into the water and out of sight.
Touching her ruby she prayed again to the Lord of Light. 'Please, show it to me.' she didn't knew what she prayed for. Only that it somehow seemed to have something to do with the five people whose bodies just were swallowed by the waves.
Before she could take steps herself into the cold water herself, something bubbled up. Small shadows grew to enormous proportions. Changing from a human silhouette to a more beastly one. Wings unfurling, claws instead of hands and feet, together with horns sprouting from the head. She scarcely could believe her own eyes.
In front of her, with their now scaled backs towards her, burst out from the surface of the ocean five dragons of a blue colour she couldn't quite make out in the weak light of the moon. With mighty flaps of their wings the magnificent beasts swung themselves out of the water and into the sky.
'Dragons!' she marvelled petrified at the still swinging sea and the now far away forms of the dragons. Melisandre heard them roar in the distance as what only could be described as joy of being free and flying in the skies. The Red priestess had no idea how long she stood there looking for the long gone forms and contemplating what exactly happened.
Where this the five forms she saw in the flames? How could humans transform into dragons? She saw the shadows underwater change shape, assuming the one of said dragons. The most important though was if she should follow.
'I have little to no chance at pursuing them. By boat or by land dragons are by far faster than any other transportation known. They would've to stay long at one place!' She was now again back on the road towards the temple. Like Melisandre did as she walked out all other people around her were ignored in favour of her thoughts.
In the end there wasn't much to do expect look further into the flames and search for answers that her Lord would surely provide. Back in the temple the daily ceremony was finished and the masses were dispersing back where they came from. Out of the holy place and back into the city to sleep. She made haste herself.
Once back in her personal chambers a quick fireball had the fire in the brazier going.
"Oh, Lord of Light show your loyal servant what is required from her." she intoned in Valyrian. In the privacy of her room was no theatrically performance needed like with the public displays. Not that she wanted to waste time just now.
Like always the flames showed her ever faithful what she needed to see. It was what she needed not what she personally wanted right now. Rather than waiting the priestess of R'hllor wanted to follow after the five persons/dragons. Shaking her head she banished those things out of her mind. She rather concentrated on her faith thinking. 'The Lord never steered me wrong so I will have to wait.'
Despite her resolve she yearned to be near these five figures. From which she was sure they had an important role to play. Her visions having shown her that it would come true.
However, she would have to be patient, something she was and could certainly afford. The flames having shown her that they would return. Even then she wouldn't join them. Only after the grey rat arrived would she travel with him or her north to the Sorrows. What exactly awaited her there she wasn't sure, but apparently it was nothing dangerous.
So, Melisandre waited and prepared for her departure. Packing her meagre possessions into a small bag for travel. After a few days she felt the presence again, but was prepared to let it go again as well, which it did only an hour later in the northern direction.
She herself had to wait two weeks for the grey rat to arrive. At the day when she was certain would be the day of the rats arrival she made her way to bid farewell to the high priest.
Melisandre found him at the altar just getting ready for the day. Like all priest worshipping R'hllor he was awake early, rising together with the glorious sun. The daily proof that R'hllor was real and blessing them with his light each day anew.
"Good morrow to you high priest." she greeted the middle-aged years old man. His face had wrinkles in it and looked more like leather from all the time in this climate and heat.
"A good morrow to you too Melisandre." he greeted right back respectfully but with a smile on his kind face. "What can I do for you at this new dawn gifted to us by our Lord?"
She answered with her typical mysterious smile with just enough friendliness. "Nothing." shaking her head. "I just wanted to inform you of my departure. The Lord has need of me elsewhere." she explained as she saw him look at her bag that was swung over her shoulder.
Understanding bloomed in his eyes and he responded just as warm as a fire cackling merrily in a fireplace, heating people in winter. "Then I can only wish you good luck and may the Lord protect you on your travels." with a murmured prayer to the Lord of Light Benerro sent her on the way.
Inclining her head in thanks the copper-haired woman answered in kind. "And may the Lord shine his light over you as well." with that she turned around and left to exit the temple which was her home for a few short months.
Her destination was the harbour, looking for ships from Westeros. It was fortunate that she spoke the Common Tongue proficiently. She again walked past the spot where she saw the dragons coming out of the ocean. It had become a kind of a ritual for her to go there and contemplate.
Once arrived at the harbour she walked to the part where foreign ships had to dock and pay their toll to be allowed inside the city. Melisandre waited at a high point where she could observe most if not every ship coming from the western continent.
After half an hour she saw a figure clad in grey robes that looked like forty years old. A child compared to herself. He had a chain around his neck, curiously enough a few were made out of Valyrian Steel. The man possessed a thick neck and strong jaw. He was short in height and had enormous hands which held a travel bag much like her own. His hair seemed to be in the beginning of greying and coming also out of his nose and ears. She noticed that he wasn't used to the heat as easily seen by the large amount of sweat on his brow and face. The dark spots on his robe were indicating the same.
Head held high with confidence drawn from countless years of life she made her way through the masses of the harbour and approached the wildly around looking man. Eyes wide and taking everything in what caught his interest for however brief It was.
"Good day. You look lost, how can I help you?" she asked and seemed startle him out of his search for whatever he looked.
His eyes landed on her and he began assessing her, not in a perverted way like most men were prone to do once they saw her. His held wariness in them and curiosity. "Maybe, you can." after a bit more thought just what he should tell this woman who appeared entirely too conveniently. "I am in need for shelter and in search for information." as an afterthought he added. "Though I doubt you can give me the answers I seek."
Unruffled about dismissing her ability to be of use, if it was because he doubted her knowledge or because she was a woman Melisandre didn't know and didn't care.
She answered. "There are many taverns near the harbour for all the sailors and merchants that arrive everyday." turning away and throwing a short glance his way she walked away, forcing him to follow as the ruby-eyed woman continued. "Concerning your questions, ask and I will answer to the best of my ability."
A bit annoyed that he had to follow the red woman Marwyn did so nonetheless. "My fist question would be if you know a sailor or sellsail who would be willing to make the journey into the sorrows." Marwyn knew that literally nobody would be willing to sail there. He already had resolved to make the trip along the river with a bought horse. He asked more out of the reason to order his thoughts.
With a quick flick of her hand she threw a few strands of hair back over her shoulder and responded in her exotic and enchanting voice. "No, as you surely already know there is no one willing to sail there. Regardless of how much gold you promise them." she shot him a bemused look but let him think on his questions, for now. They couldn't waste too much time though. "Well no one expect the people afflicted with Greyscale that is, but these just wander into the Sorrows of their own after they get thrown out of their homes."
His eyes narrowed a bit in suspicion, but relaxed as he thought about it. 'It is common knowledge after all that no one is going there willingly.' after a few minutes of walking in silence he asked another question. "Are you a traveller as well?" pointing at her own bag slung over her shoulder.
Again with her mysterious and, if his eyes didn't betray him, condescending smile she answered. "Yes, I am." Nothing more was to be said on the subject. In hindsight Marwyn cursed himself for his idiocy. Any acolyte could've pointed that fact out.
Shaking his head he asked a question that made more sense. "Where is it your journey will end, if you mind me asking and are you travelling alone? The roads aren't save for a woman such as yourself to travel without aid." with her figure she was a magnet for rapists and the like.
Still amused she again answered in the same manner. "No, I am not alone in my travels and my destination is the same as yours!"
Now equally amused he said with a raised brow. "Really. You don't know me and want to travel together. Why?" he could be after all one of said rapists, slaver or the seven know what else. So it wasn't the best of moves to do such a thing. Detrimental to ones health more likely.
Now more serious than before she guided them to a stable with two horses saddled and ready to go. "I know what you're looking for." she said with such certainty that it was difficult to disagree and dare he say even seemed wrong and foolish to do.
Despite that no one ever said Marwyn wasn't foolish. His colleagues at the citadel certainly seemed to think so. The one advantage was that not one would miss him while he was away. "And what is it I am searching for?" he asked. However, it looked like she was prepared for a companion if the second horse was any indication.
Like the last time she answered with utter conviction. "Magic." as she attached her bag to the saddle of the horse with the rest of necessities like blankets, water skins and provision. Seeing that he stared at her with an open mouth and eyes wide in shock. She didn't know If it was because she was correct or something else. Like before it was of no consequence.
"You search for five figures, whom you believe to be located in the Sorrows and capable of great magic." seeing it changed nothing in his expression she waited.
He only nodded and said with a touch of awe and suspicion in his voice. "How do you know that?" he had only learned that through the glass-candle. Did that mean she had one, too? Showed it her the same things, but then why had it shown her himself? Question upon question piled up in his mind like Elephant dung in this city did.
Now saddling up on the paint of black and white colour she made herself as comfortable as possible in the typical fashion a woman rode a horse. "The Lord of Light showed me your arrival and that we have the same destination with differing goals to achieve." hers was to find the five figures and find out what their part to play was.
Marwyn himself gave a somewhat resigned sigh and saddle up on his own mount. A dun-coloured one. Like hers it seemed to be gentle enough. He hadn't ridden much in his life and was therefore grateful for it not to have a fighting-match with his mount. "Then lets go. My name is Marwyn by the way. And yours is?" he guessed it was better this way. It didn't cost him as much time and his companion seemed at least interesting. Not a dull giggling lady or idiotic brute of a man like so often encountered in Westeros.
"Melisandre!" the name send shivers down his spine with how she said it. Her exotic and mysterious accent working in her favour. If it was good or bad Marwyn couldn't say for sure. In the moment he went with intriguing. With that the pair made their way out of the old city of slavers and upwards along the river Rhyone on a boat towards Selhorys.
It took five days for the ship they booked to reach Selhorys, the last destination all boats would travel in the northern direction on this river. From there on their mounts had to be used. It took two weeks for them to reach their destination.
"I wonder where all the mist has gone to?" mused Melisandre as she looked around. Maybe it had something to do with the five people?
'Could they have lifted the curse?' she asked herself as she looked upon the much too neat looking city from afar.
Marwyn looked at his latest travel companion. After the little more than twenty days he had with the gorgeous lady the Archmaester still had no clue what her motive was. In the end he put it in the large category named as unsolvable female behaviour.
Looking around, he said a little wary. "And I wonder when we will see some of the fabled Stonemen." Just because the mist isn't there anymore doesn't mean that the afflicted are no longer there. Having seen some of the people with the disease making their way north along the river, walking.
Shrugging her shoulders unconcerned Melisandre replied with a small seemingly mocking smile. "They are gone. Gone just like the mist." it was more of a statement than anything else. Confident that all these plagued souls were now in the arms of R'hllor.
A laugh brought her out of her reverie. Now a mocking smile was thrown her way. Her companion pointed towards the city that now again was cloaked in fog, but not further than a few meters from the gates. "Sure that the mist is gone?" his mocking drawl was too much in hindsight. The Archmaester knew that woman was dangerous, but he always was someone who took more delight of seeing others wrong than he should.
Before she could answer a loud rumble erupted from the very earth, letting it shake and quake as if a horde of giants was walking over it. The horses neighed. Yet a firm handling and both mounts were calm again. A short time later they got nearer to the city. The mist obscured the view and let nothing escape. However just as they entered the fog themselves shortly, only maybe five meters, a big wall of stone blocked their path.
"Lets ride along the wall, there has to be an entrance along it." proposed the middle-aged man. Through the mist he barely saw Melisandre nod her head and spur her horse left to walk along the wall in search for a gate or opening. The time ticked by and Marwyn grew restless. He locked at the Red Woman and like always nothing seemed to trouble her. He wasn't sure if It was a mask or the simply truth.
A look at the wall revealed that it was now slightly curved. With getting thinner the at the bottom and wider at the top. 'That doesn't look like a very good wall.' Marwyn pondered, though just then he looked at the bottom of the wall and saw a long fissure like hole in the ground. "I don't think this is a wall!" he exclaimed.
Melisandre stopped and turned her head around to him. He pointed towards the line that seemed to be carved into the rock and inspected it curiously. A gasp escaped her lips and she looked up. "Impossible." she muttered under her breath in awe.
"What? What is impossible?" Marwyn asked once again annoyed. He hated to waste time and not knowing things. With Melisandre and her personality it seemed he did just that constantly. Not to mention the prophecy she said to him that she believed in. His own view on the topic wasn't favourable so he kept his mouth shut.
"It seems as if the city is lifted up into the sky!" stated Melisandre still looking up from the back of her horse. While Marwyn now doing the same.
"Then we have nothing much to do here." commented Marwyn as he looked upwards in amazement once again after they trotted out of the mist. His companion didn't answer, but seemed to be in some kind of trance or blissful state so he dismounted and sat himself on the ground, staring once again upwards, mesmerized.
Melisandre was soon doing the same. When he left the citadel Marwyn wasn't sure what he would find. Though it seemed to come true what the glass-candle had shown him. There before them after few hours of waiting and a meal later was now a gigantic crater much like the one he saw in the fire of the candle.
"What do we do now?" inquired Marwyn once the city seemed to moved eastwards and more importantly across the river to a location they couldn't follow without crossing it themselves. Something not possible without a boat. The Rhyone was much too wide for swimming across. Not to mention that the horses would have to be left behind.
"We follow it. What else?" she answered with her typical superior attitude.
At that Marwyn looked at her incredulously and said with a disbelieving stare. "You do know we have no boat to cross the river. Swimming too is no option, with the currents and distance we would have to overcome."
Melisandre only sniffed at Marwyn disdainfully and responded with a hard cold stare of her own. "You do underestimate my power. When a whole city can be lifted into the air then two horses with riders atop shouldn't be too difficult." That it was only possible for her in recent times was left unsaid. Since the five dragons and re-emergence of magic the red woman experimented with spells previously impossible for her to do. Spells she learned from the Aeromancers of Asshai, who manipulated the wind element instead of fire.
"Saddle up and follow me." the woman commanded in a voice that left no room for argument. Shortly after she trotted on her horse towards the waters of the Rhyone. Marwyn behind her. Two quick spells were uttered as the cold and wet element came nearer and nearer.
"What did you do?" Marwyn asked curiously, as always when it had something to do with magic. 'Though the woman never answers any of my questions in a direct manner.' looking after the city that was behind the clouds he mused. 'At least now I have irrefutable proof that magic exists.'
"I made us, our horses and load light as a feather." she answered and shortly after both horse and rider were standing atop the water as if it was ordinary ground.
"Make haste!" she commanded. It was taxing to use magic in new ways she was unaccustomed to. 'I will have to train more.' she thought somewhat peeved. Both at the fact that she had to do so at her age and at her apparent weakness. Though, when she thought about what things she could learn with the five figures it soon was gone and replaced with the same giddy feeling in her body.
'It is fortunate that R'hllor guides me or we would inevitably lose the castle in the clouds.' like always she touched her ruby to reassure her. There was nothing to worry about, the jewel still pulled her after the city, dutifully.
'Magic will never lose its wonder to me.' Marwyn marvelled at the fact that he and his companion were literally walking on water.
It took them something around twenty minutes to cross the gigantic river, that when one stood in the middle stretched from horizon to horizon. Once across Melisandre nearly gave in the urge to slump in the saddle, but refused to show weakness in front of someone.
"Lets make camp and resume our chase in the morrow." she half proposed and half commanded while controlling her breathing to come out as normal. Only indication being her slightly larger breaths.
Marwyn only nodded his consent, dismounted to help put up the tent for two people and looked around for a little firewood Melisandre would later ignite. It was like most times a quiet affair with the two of them eating their meal in silence and then going to sleep in their sleeping bags.
The rest of the nearly year long travel was done in much the same manner.
They followed the city as good as Melisandre could guide them, stopped to restock food at every other little village they encountered and were mindful of Dothraki hordes in the area. Though, due to avoiding the larger paths and roads none were encountered.
Nearly a full year had passed and Marwyn was sure they were near, not that he ever mentioned that, his vision or glass-candle to Melisandre. Not trusting the woman completely. It took only so long because the city flew only so fast and both didn't know where it would land exactly, only that it would be in or at the Poison Sea, which was quite large.
The travel took them across a swampland that was created due to the Selhoru overflowing. Then the typical plain grassland of the Dothraki Sea north of the Painted Mountains. There the two of them had to make haste, because the city flew over the mountains taking a more direct route than Marwyn and Melisandre were capable of. Last came past Meereen and were arriving in Lhazar at last.
During all of this Melisandre taught Marwyn as good as she could, but knew that she wasn't material for a teacher. Not to mention quite unwilling to do so. In the end she relented and taught him some basics he didn't knew already. Better to have someone useful with her than dead weight. Of course it was nothing she couldn't defend herself against. A Maegi who taught others all his or her secrets was a dead one.
The next exiting moment was as Marwyn spotted a graveyard in form of a battlefield, at least he assumed it was such, because of the blackened spots every few meters apart. From the looks of things it happened some weeks ago.
"It seems one of the smaller Dothraki Khalasar met its end here. But how is a mystery to me." Marwyn commented as he observed the village with seemingly new horses of their own.
Trotting through the streets littered with houses made of wood and straw the Archmaester looked around and noticed that there were more people than houses, nothing unusual per se. It got so when he saw people tearing down the remaining ones. Livestock was prepared for travel. Massive amount of sheep with a few goats, chicken and cattle thrown in.
"It also seems we aren't the only ones searching for the flying city." commented Melisandre as she observed and listened to the people around here bustle about.
Marwyn remained silent as he tried himself to catch some facts or knowledge of what exactly happened here. Although, one could never be sure if it was twisted by being told over and over and with that losing some of the truth to it. Tales and whispers from five people flinging spells and commanding a small force of warriors, whom all seemed to explode?
'What is true and what is not?' he asked himself. His pondering got cut short as his and Melisandre's horse stopped before a plump woman with a rag as clothing. A glaring difference with Melisandre's pretty red robes and his own quality robes for Maesters.
The eyes of the woman held suspicion in them together with something else. "What brings you to our village?" asked the plump country wench, in Valyrian, complete without greeting or formality. Not that Marwyn expected anything more of the people here.
"Nothing in particular. We are just perambulating through here to our destination." answered Melisandre at the somewhat blank look of the woman Melisandre fought the urge to roll her eyes successfully and elaborated. "We are just travelling through."
Rolling his own eyes at the behaviour of the red woman Marwyn inquired. "Why is your whole village preparing for travel?" it wasn't everyday that something like that happened.
'Maybe these people are sick and tired of the Dothraki raids and decided to relocate to a safer place.' he mused. It would be understandable. No one wanted to live in constant danger.
Ignoring the rude woman Mirri answered the man instead. "We are preparing to travel towards the Poison Sea." she stated with her arms crossed before her.
Melisandre didn't react to that statement and Marwyn only raised an eye-brow, asking. "Why would you want to travel to an infertile and deadly land?"
Mirri grinned, showing her crocked and blackened teeth. "You both don't seem overly surprised at an action others would call suicidal." with a brow of her own raised she mockingly asked. "I wonder why?" though the smirk on her meaty lips and glint in her dark eyes suggested she had her own suspicions regarding them.
"That is nothing you have to concern yourself with." Melisandre said like always with her head held high in full confidence. "If you would be so kind and say us where we could restock our supplies?" she asked politely, but that it came across like a demand.
The woman, whose name they later learned is Mirri Maz Duur, did just that.
A few villagers who had too much to transport and too little to do it with, were selling some of their dispensable food. Despite Melisandre's complaints of wanting to travel further Marwyn insisted that they were safer in numbers.
She argued they had up until now made good progress and that a large group drew more attention. He countered that Dothraki would never dare to set foot into the Red Waste not to mention the Poison Sea, because of their fear of salt-water.
In the end the priestess of R'hllor relented, annoyed. So they made camp for the night and waited for all of the village to be ready for departure the next day. It seemed that Mirri send outriders to other nearby villages and these also had an interest of joining them for whatever reason Marwyn wasn't sure.
All in all around eight thousand people were fit for travel, with triple that amount of sheep alone. Though his gut-feeling told him it would be much, much more in the future. There were after all three large cities in Lhazar. Kosrak, Hesh and Lhazosh. When a few small villages left then how long would it take for the bigger settlements to follow. After all the Lharzeen are no martial people and to put themselves under someone else's protection or wander elsewhere would make sense to be safer.
The next day the Pilgrimage travelled through the ruins of Ghazdaq at the tributary of the river Skahazadhan or as it is now known after the Dothraki conquered it. Krazaaj Has. Translated to "sharp mountains" after the Ghiscari pyramids that now lay in ruins.
A few days later the caravan crossed another tributary river where the ground wasn't too deep. It would protect them somewhat due to the Dothraki fearing to cross water. From there they went through another ruin. Vaes Mejhah, from there following the main river until it stopped and from there south-east to the Poison Sea.
The landscape slowly changed from the soft grassy plains to the unforgiving red from where the Red Waste got its name. Dried up streams were crossed, telling from a fertile land long since gone. Dried up like an old crones flower.
After another one to two weeks and there at the western shore of the Poison Sea stood the magnificent city of Chroyane. Seemingly carved out of a single mountain with its white marble houses, towers and palace. Nerved with golden veins in them, which reflected the sunlight in such a way that it looked as if it came out of a fairytale. Marwyn and, when he looked at her, Melisandre, couldn't contain their excitement at the prospect of future knowledge in magic.
Qarth. The greatest city that ever was or will be stood like in ancient times. Queen of cities. Strong, wealthy, gateway between the east and the west. Others would describe it as frozen in time, without purpose and above all stagnant.
Since the funding of the city in times long since past the government was and still is done by the Pureborn or the Enthroned like they also are called. An elitist group, descendants of the no longer existing Kings and Queens of Qarth. Ruling from the Hall of a Thousand Thrones and commanding the Civic Guard.
The Pureborn aren't the only ones in this ancient city to wrestle for power or control. The Thirteen, the Ancient Guild of Spicers and the Tourmaline Brotherhood all are in constant battle to gain more power, gold, influence and anything else they consider of value.
One organisation, just as old as the rest, but not as prestigious anymore were the Undying ones, consisting of the elite warlocks of Qarth. Once these Maegi were powerful and respected for it.
Though, the decline of magic in recent centuries caused their reputation to deteriorate much in the same way. Until they were only the subject of mocking talks at court. It got reflected in their seat of power the House of the Undying better known as the Palace of Dust. Where it once was a place of splendour and wonder it now is a place of decay and death.
The House of the Undying is a grey and ancient ruin. It is long and low, without towers or windows and is coiled like a stone serpent through a grove of black-barked trees with inky blue leaves which are used to make the drink that the Qartheen call "shade of the evening". No other buildings stand near. Black tiles cover the palace roof, many of them fallen or broken. The mortar between the stones dry and crumbling.
Through said building strolled Pyat Pree one of the Warlocks, though no Undying one himself. Garbed in the typical long, beaded robes warlocks are known for. He had a bald head and his skin was like his fellow warlocks, white and pale. His lips blue from steady consumption of shade of the evening. Unlike the rest of his fellows he had ambition and big plans and did not wallow in this tower reading dusty tomes and reminiscing over times and prestige long gone.
No, Pyat Pree still was active and searching for a way to regain the respect and power the Undying once had. A few months ago it seemed his hopes and prayers were heard as he got message from his old friend Urrathon Night-Walker
The old man had told him that the glass-candle that not burned for over two centuries did so after he performed his yearly ritual, to see if it changed this time. The old man received quiet the shock as it worked despite his negative expectations. Sadly, the shock did not kill Urrathion in his advanced age and so Pyat had to arrange a tragic fall down a staircase that did so.
'After all the knowledge that magic returns is more powerful the longer I have it for myself.' the warlock mused to himself as he made his way to the library in the House of the Undying.
As soon as Urrathion was out of the way his glass-candle of course vanished under mysterious circumstances. In the months after Pyat got the message of magic's re-emergence he poured over the old tomes, books and scrolls in search for all the spells, rituals anything of power he could learn.
'It was also quite fruitful if I do say so myself' Pyat thought as he chuckled quietly. The only other thing that would indicate that magic was back would be if ghost-grass would grow again in the gardens.
Of course he couldn't train in the House of the Undying without being discovered. His own home had to do and even then a ward casting an illusion over the area to protect wasn't seen as too much. More like too little. At the moment it was sufficient.
So, he trained himself to the best of his ability. Casting masses of shadow at targets to destroy, other illusions than the one on his house to conceal or confuse. Transportation from one place to another in an instant, with the restriction of having the place visited once before. Above all though was a spell that let him create duplicates of himself. These weren't durable, getting destroyed by one critical hit and couldn't weave much magic.
However, they made an excellent alibi or distraction and could even physically interact with the world, as well as carry weapons. Curiously enough all bodily functions were working the same for his duplicates as for himself.
Today was his last day in Qarth for the time being. The reason for this was things he saw in another man's dreams. It happened in the last week, when he finally could tear himself from the more interesting reading material and use the glass-candle for himself. It was his first try to invade another's dream and very intriguing.
After the process was finished he was in his Astral body, floating over his now still physical one. In the distance he could see one light clearer than the others he saw. Three dim ones were to the far west and the one more bright was north of Qarth and nearer. Pyat knew that now he could invade every sleeping man's dreams, but the light was more intriguing.
Decision made he flew with the speed of thought, arriving only seconds later at his wished destination. He saw a pilgrimage of more than a few thousand Lharzeen. The lamb people. Peculiar was that they travelled away from the fertile land and into the infertile Red Waste.
'Are they so desperate to escape the Dothraki?' the warlock thought to himself.
There in-between the horde was shining the light. It came from a man's bag affixed on his horse. Upon closer inspection it was revealed as another glass-candle, however with different colours. This one was black and green, while his own had the colours red and purple.
'So the glass-candles serve as signals?' Pyat figured as he saw the glassy structure shine. In hindsight it made sense. How else would one communicate with them, like the legend said, if there was no way to know where the recipient was.
Having apparently found another practitioner of magic Pyat set right to work, infiltrating his dream. Like smoke he moved into it. Twisting and turning and spinning his astral self sought entry to the others mind. The next moment he stood before a magnificent city. Seemingly made of magic judging from the aura and atmosphere it presented. Pyat Pree had not a single notion as to where this wonder would be.
The rest of the dream didn't reveal too much information either. To send a vision would be out of his depth as well as not really safe. He had to show himself in it. Something he was reluctant to do.
Slipping out of the man's dream the warlock found himself in the gaze of a woman clad completely in red. Her eyes were as red as rubies with a smouldering fire in them. They were burning with an intensity so strong that he nearly could feel it, despite not being in his body at the moment. What he hadn't anticipated was being seen and not only seen through. As evident with her words to him.
"Be gone warlock. Remove your taint from my presence!" she hissed at him with her right palm outstretched towards him. The next thing he felt was as if a wild bull hit him in the stomach, as he flew back into his body. The re-connection with his vessel was painful. If it was due to the red woman's interference or normal wasn't clear. However, Pyat Pree would bet on the former, if he was a gambling man.
"Damned follower of this R'hllor. Daring to interfere!" he swore under his breath, gulping large amounts of air in his starved feeling lungs. His throat burned from the experience.
When he got himself under control after a few minutes Pyat called for a slave and let him fetch a glass of water to sooth his throat and ponder the events that just transpired. Maybe leaving the city wasn't such a good idea after all and other methods had to be used. It wasn't up until morning he finally slept.
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