Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.
Betad by
The Unbound
Chapter 35: The Red Priestesses
– King Orys Baratheon –
Letting out a sigh, I look over the men gathered at the Bloody Gate. This battle could have gone far worse, but these… creatures have proven more dangerous than expected. We planned for monsters in the North, but the Hungers coming from the Eyrie are just as much of a threat.
Their strikes seemed to drain the very life from their victims, leaving them exhausted and in no position to move onward to the Gate of the Moon. It's a long march from the Bloody Gate to the Gate of the Moon and if we are going to be harassed on all sides, we can't begin it in a state of exhaustion. As such, we're remaining in the Bloody Gate for tonight with constant watches before we begin the march. We've driven off the monsters, with relatively minor losses considering the foe we faced.
Between Father, Sandor and Oberyn, the front line was well and truly a slaughterhouse for the monsters. They likely killed fifty between them. I killed as many myself, my bow ending dozens upon dozens.
They had no tactics, no survival instincts. They just charged in with the intention of causing as much damage as possible. Given their capabilities, I'm glad they had no tactics because this could have been far more devastating. The fact that they just easily climbed the walls to the archers proved that. If they had more sense, they'd have used their climbing talents to flank and descend upon us from above rather than charge straight into a prepared battle line.
"Prepare Ser Greenfield's body and have it transported back to Derry," I order, looking down at the grim sight of the dour Kingsguard. He might not have been the ideal Kingsguard, breaking his oaths and taking offence at being forced to uphold them again, but he died protecting me and the other archers. The monsters realised they couldn't break his armour and instead simply dragged him from the ramparts. Gravity did the rest. "Ser Blount, you'll be transporting your sworn brother's body back to King's Landing."
Boros stutters out something, well aware that Barristan is outright glaring at him before moving to fulfil his orders.
"He cannot remain a Kingsguard," Barristan says, his tone as cold as steel.
"I agree, and we can't take him to the Eyrie. There's a madness in the air, and his weak will means he'll be an easy target. An unreliable ally falling to madness is more dangerous than a competent foe," I agree. "The Kingsguard is yours to command. His fate is in your hands, once we return home."
"As you say, Your Grace," Barristan agrees with a scowl as he watches the coward leave. "The others performed with honours."
"Sers Oakheart and Swann did well in protecting the flank from the attempted ambush, and Loras has almost as many kills as the men on the ground, despite being on the ramparts," I agree. Loras proved he's not just a Summer Knight today. That was a frequent complaint about him gaining the position, he made a name for himself in tourneys, not on the battlefield. A dozen dead Hungers, sliced apart by his Valyrian steel blade, prove that he can hold his own in a real fight. "I'm almost glad this happened. We assumed they wouldn't be able to scale solid walls. We should learn from this, especially with the more human enemies waiting for us in the North."
"Indeed. Hellish to defend against, gouging stone with their claws. The Boltons aren't likely to be so eager as to rush into our blades," Barristan replies, frowning to himself.
Talking with him about potential counters, I make the rounds. My powers are only growing and my healing touch saves many that might have been doomed without it. Lady Mara guides me, ensuring that those who survived are fighting fit.
Tomorrow, we start the march to the Gate of the Moon.
– That Night –
As I go over the map of the Vale once again, a knock at the door distracts me. I've been given the best room, of course, but the Bloody Gate is far from luxurious. In truth, I like this room because there's only one door and my guards can ensure no terrors assail me in the night. We simply cannot rule out any potential threat when dealing with such chaos.
I've been calling upon my bond to Lady Nocturnal to have her ravens scout for me. People are already whispering of the Crone's blessing, but it's proven less useful than I hoped. The Vale is… empty. Villages abandoned, roads littered with corpses, but no life, human or otherwise, has been seen. There's rumour that the people fled to Gulltown to the east, and both my scouts and ravens have seen evidence of such a movement but there's also signs that people have either gone, or been taken, to the Eyrie.
"Enter," I call, rolling up the map. The reality won't change just because I look it over for the eighth time. Arys Oakheart enters, a frown on his face. "What is it?"
"My apologies for the interruption, Your Grace. A pair of red priestesses are requesting an audience," Arys says, explaining his uncomfortable look. Ah, there you are Melisandre. I did notice she joined the march North, but a pair? That's new.
"I see," I say, pausing in thought. "Send them in."
He hesitates, clearly unhappy with the idea of letting a pair of red priestesses anywhere near me, but he doesn't disobey or argue. Leaving for a moment, he reenters with Melisandre, who is looking powerful through my aura senses and a second woman in a red dress, undeniably beautiful with raven black hair.
"Leave us, but stand guard," I order, getting a bow from him. "Melisandre. I heard you joined us, but I have to say your… friend is new to me."
If Melisandre is surprised I know her name, she doesn't show it. Melisandre goes to speak, but the second woman holds out her hand first and I feel a small pulse of magic from her. It hasn't done much, merely shrouded sounds from leaving so nobody can eavesdrop. Mephala points out it wouldn't stop a shout, meaning she hasn't separated me from my guards and I still have my sword by my side.
"Your Grace. I apologise for interrupting your communion with Lady Nocturnal," Melisandre says with a respectful bow. "As you know, I am Melisandre, Red Priestess of the Lady of Light, Meridia. This is Kinvara, High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis, First Servant of our Lady."
"The Lady of Light?" I ask, amused despite myself. My patrons did inform me of the civil war going on in the Lord of Light's religion. "What would R'hllor think?"
"Nothing at all, given that he is dead," Kinvara replies with utter confidence. "Our Lady of Light flew the false idol, revealing him for what he was. As you are no doubt aware, our religion has undergone quite the transformation of late."
"I've heard reports of a civil war in the Red Temples, but as you can see, I've had my attention focused elsewhere," I say calmly. I can tell both of these women hold some of Meridia's power. She can't act openly in the material world without a pact, but she faced R'hllor in the divine plane and it sounds like she came out on top.
"R'hllor lacked the power to truly oppose the coming darkness, now that the likes of Molag Bal have joined forces with the Others. His guidance would have led us to defeat," Kinvara replies simply. "But not all agreed and saw Meridia's light. With the guidance of our lady, the fools remaining loyal to R'hllor have met their end, in Volantis and Dorne, at least. The fight continues elsewhere, but our lady bid me join your campaign against the darkness."
I won't deny the fact that they know of Molag Bal sends my balls up into my throat for a moment. The only way they'd know that name is if they're directly communicating with Meridia. Ithelia warned me to not get distracted and look to the North. I'd like to say White Walkers are just a myth but we're in the age of mythology now. If Molag Bal, through Euron, is working with the White Walkers, things are going to get messy.
"And what does the Lady of Light want with me?" I ask, leaning back. Meridia never approached me. Not even during the early days before I picked Hircine as my first.
"The same thing that R'hllor wanted, but lacked the power and foresight to achieve. To prevent the return of Long Night, the extinction of the living. The Great Other was already growing more active, but Molag Bal has only worsened matters," Kinvara explains. "The Wall will not hold against their might, and the world of man is unprepared for their arrival."
"You are the Prince That Was Promised, Your Grace. The Sword of Light that will strike down the darkness," Melisandre cuts in, sounding far more zealous than her counterpart, despite Kinvara being the High Priestess.
"And how does my blessings from Gods not your own fit into that?" I ask plainly, too tired to bandy words.
"Are you not, even now, laying the groundwork for an age of peace between the Seven and the Old Gods? Uniting religions against the common enemy?" Kinvara points out. Damn it all, I'm not used to other people having information from occult sources. "Meridia has no quarrel with the Nine, and little quarrel with the other Princes. We would align our power with yours, serving you to ensure the safety of all."
Watching her carefully for a moment, I reach out to my pacts. Hircine, predictably, doesn't care. He's indifferent to Meridia. The Nine warn me of Meridia's… disagreement to the little thing called 'Free Will' which explains why she went for the Lord of Light's religion, now that I think of it. She can grant immortality, but at the cost of the free will of those she 'purifies', and there's some bad blood between her and the Nine.
That said, they also tell me that she despises the undead and Molag Bal. The enemy of my enemy isn't necessarily a friend, but Meridia is possibly an ally against them. Mephala warns that Meridia sees her mortal assets as nothing but a means to an end. Expendable tools to enact her will. I doubt I could convince these two of that, and more importantly, I doubt they'd care even if I could. R'hllor's followers are often recruited from slaves and trained from a young age to make true zealots. They are the type to end their own life if they think their god demands it.
"What, exactly, do you want? I doubt you came to me just for the fun of it. Melisandre has been weaving her own web in King's Landing since before I even became King," I point out. "I didn't put a stop to it as there is no law against the worship of the Lord, or Lady, of Light, but you've had plenty of chances to approach me and kept your distance. What do you, or Lady Meridia, want with me?"
I can already guess. Without a direct pact with me, affecting the world is far harder. She found a work-around by abusing the already existing Faith, not unlike what I'm doing with the Seven in truth, but she's still limited in direct actions. Molag is using Euron, and likely the 'Great Other' for the same, but Meridia doesn't want to remain so limited.
"Lady Meridia remains… limited in her actions upon the mortal plane. A fact you know all too well," Kinvara replies, confirming my suspicions. This is a new tactic. Turn mortals to her side and use them to convince me rather than coming to me in person as merely one of many Gods wanting access to my world. "She can act through us, giving us more power than the False Lord ever did, but she remains limited. You have given many of her kin free reign, but her Light will be needed against the coming darkness. She has named you the true Azor Ahai, the Warrior of Light, and would aid you against the impure and the undead."
"I cannot, and will not, be converting to the Lady of Light," I point out plainly. I wouldn't forsake the rest of my pacts for Meridia. Melisandre frowns at that, but Kinvara doesn't even bat an eye. "And I'm taking action against slavery. I expected the Red Temples to become my enemy in this quest."
"If you wish to wage war against the slavers of Essos, we can aid you," Kinvara says simply. Mephala believes her. Ah, Meridia is good enough at brainwashing her followers without the need of chains. It isn't a matter of benevolence, but the belief that being 'freed' wouldn't actually do anything for 99% of her slave followers.
"Any war has to wait until my own affairs are in order, but it is inevitable. I am not opposed to granting the Red Temples the same rights as the Old Gods in my Kingdom. And you're right, I'm already working to ensure that peace remains between the Seven and the Old Gods. If, after the upheaval in your religion, you aid in the defence of the North, I am not against the Lady of Light joining this alliance against foreign invasions."
The Red Temple doesn't have many followers in the Seven Kingdoms, outside of Dorne, but it still has enough for there to even have been a Red Priest in my father's court. It's less damaging than if the Seven and the Old Gods go to war, but with this change in leadership I can easily pass off the worst of the crimes of the Lord of Light's followers as the old guard, slain by the Lady of Light's followers. The High Septon won't be happy but he'll be no less unhappy than he would be about the worship of the Old Gods getting similar rights to the Faith. Either way, I remain a figurehead of the Faith and the Seven. Even if all three religions are seen as 'equal', the Faith remains first amongst equals.
I won't deny that the idea of taking two Meridia blessed sorceresses to the North would improve our chances. Meridia is directly opposed to Molag Bal, their powers will be more effective against the undead than even my own.
"With the light of Lady Meridia, our power of flames has only grown stronger," Kinvara assures me, holding out her hand as her jewel glows and a small flame appears in her grasp. "Though Melisandre has yet to fully grasp this."
Melisandre flinches at that, looking ashamed and insulted at the same time.
"Oh?" I ask.
"I was a Shadowbinder, My King. It is an art that our Lady finds most distasteful and has forbidden. She has gifted me back my youth and granted me the power to replace my sinful art, but it has been difficult to remaster a new form of power," Melisandre admits with embarrassment. She's not happy with Kinvara, her aura darkening for a moment. Why would Kinvara go out of her way to shame her associate?
Ugh, of course. They want to bring the Lady of Light to Westeros, which means they'd need a High Priestess here, similar to the High Septon. While they both serve their Lady, they both want the position. Kinvara is already a High Priestess and has experience in the position, while Melisandre has more experience with Westeros. Politics, it's the same no matter where you go. Now that they have their foot in the door, they're ready to push each other down to get the position. Meridia is likely to leave the choice up to me, because I doubt she cares if she sees her mortal servants as mere assets to move around. One is the same as any other. Mephala giggles that Meridia likely doesn't even know which one is which, the two simply being powerful priestesses she can use.
"As such, she lacks my power and control," Kinvara boasts with utter confidence, unshaken by Melisandre's annoyance. There's a hint of distaste in her tone as well. I doubt she cared about Shadowbinders before Meridia arrived, but now that Meridia has outlawed the practice amongst her followers, Kinvara is all too ready to look down upon those who have practised such a taboo art.
"It is merely a test from our Lady, and I have proven my devotion and dedication," Melisandre replies. "Lady Meridia knew that you would not wish to rush into a pact with her, especially given the… reputation of the Lord of Light. She knew you would want us to prove our worth against the forces of Sheogorath and Molag Bal before agreeing to any such thing."
She's not wrong. Making a pact is easy. Breaking one and banishing a God that I have pacted? Well, I can only pray such a thing never becomes necessary because once they are in, getting rid of their influence is a far more difficult matter.
"She's wise. The Seven agree that her hatred for the undead means she will put aside her grievances with the others to ally against Bal, but her intentions beyond that remain in question," I admit.
"You commune with the Gods so easily?" Kinvara breathes in realisation. "It takes me intense rituals to commune with my Lady, but you can do so while just… sitting there."
"It is my power," I answer simply, seeing no reason to deny it. The hard part is getting Dibella and Mephala to stop amusing themselves by being the living embodiment of my intrusive horny thoughts.
"And it this power that will allow us to truly aid you, my King," Melisandre cuts in. "With her current state, the gifts our Lady can share with us are… limited. We will be of use to you, but only a fraction of what we could be."
Hmm, and why would that- ah, I get it. Molag Bal has essentially gone all in with Euron Greyjoy. He threw his full support behind one champion, and it seems to have paid off. The Boltons were turned by Euron, and the ritual at Pyke empowered him further. But Meridia? She's spreading herself out across an entire religion, granting a tiny amount of power to each priestess.
It's less dangerous. If we slay Euron, Bal loses his main tether to this realm. Meridia, however, could lose these two and barely notice. But it also means they are limited to parlour tricks in comparison to the acts of unholy power Euron managed. Summoning and controlling great beasts, turning the skies red and raining blood upon Pyke. What is conjuring a flame compared to that.
That's why they approached me. Not just for this. They need me to let Meridia in, just a little more, so they can wield her powers better.
"Explain," I say simply, straightening up. As far as I know, I can't share my power. Sure, I can spread my powers but that's powers I have myself. I basically act as a middle-man, the Gods powers flow through me and into those I bond with. That won't work here, since I don't have a connection to Meridia to begin with.
"Your very being is infused with divine power, permitting the Gods to act through you. While your pacts permit them free reign, it is not the only way," Kinvara explains softly, sharing a look with Melisandre. "If you would share your essence with us, it would temporarily infuse your power into our bodies, permitting us to withstand more of Lady Meridia's gifts without necessitating you forming a pact"
"You want my blood?" I say, sounding exactly as enthused as I am about the idea of giving a pair of Red Priestesses my blood.
Mephala's laughing tells me I've made a minor misunderstanding as the pair pause.
"Not quite, your Grace," Kinvara admits with a wry smile. "Your seed will more than suffice."
…Mephala, are they right? Would that work?
Mephala's answer is soft, and far too amused. Do you know who has the strongest 'gift' beside me? Margaery. Her healing is almost equal to my own and Mara's power flows through her with far more ease than it does any of the Septas. You know what else Margaery has taken much of?
Mara's quiet admittance that she thought I already knew, given how many times I insisted on cumming inside Margaery only leaves me feeling more tired.
Still, pausing for a moment as I listen to the divine guidance, I can't deny that the two are very attractive women in revealing red dresses. Somehow, I'm unsurprised that Dibella's guidance is to cum in their mouths or on their bodies until they've proven worthy of a more powerful 'injection' of my essence.
— Bonus Scene — Asha Greyjoy
It was one thing to know, intellectually, that Ironborn were not exactly popular with the rest of Westeros. It was something that many of her brethren were even proud of, to be the figure of bedtime stories the Greenlanders told to their children.
Now, she knew the truth. They weren't scared of the Ironborn. They were disgusted by them. To the Highborn of Westeros, the Ironborn were less than trash. A land of petty thugs and thieves, a culture of rapists and barbarians. They feared the Ironborn in the same way they feared the Wildlings or Dothraki, as an untamed savage people unworthy of civilisation.
The Highborn of Kings Landing would sooner call the illiterate smallfolk living in squalor their kind than they would accept an Ironborn as one of them. King Orys' decimation of her culture was seen as a truly divine act, long overdue. The common statement is that this is what King Robert should have done after her father's failed rebellion. She might be Lady Greyjoy of House Greyjoy, but she was very much not 'one of them' as far as the other Highborn were concerned. She wouldn't be surprised if most were placing bets on how long it would take for her to waste the King's mercy and return to her barbaric roots.
She knew her people. She'd be seen as weak by the time the Lordsmoot came around. Her people would see her as softened by life in King's Landing, as they saw Theon for his time in Winterfell. Her only hope was to have the support of Westeros, not her own people, as humiliating as it was. She needed the King and the other Great Houses backing her, because her people would never elect a man who spent a decade as a hostage as their new leader, let alone a woman.
But finding allies had proven… difficult. Nobody insulted her to her face, but she was wise enough to see their smiling words for what they were. She was tolerated because Orys placed her here. Nothing more.
She needed a way to show that she was changing, that she was the figurehead that Orys needed for a more progressive Ironborn. That she was following his decrees, moving away from the barbaric roots of her people.
So here she was, in a Sept of all places, listening to the fat Septon ramble about Gods she didn't follow. How better to show that she was changed than to change to the religion of the one who bested her people and the Drowned God. It wasn't as hard as she thought, because… Stannis had slain the very living avatar of her God. In a time of miracles, the Drowned God had sent a single weak Kraken that was sent back to the depths by some scowling asshole.
Euron and his new God had such clear power. The Seven lavished Orys with gifts. The Old Gods blessed their followers with bestial forms. What did the Drowned God do while all his priests were being gathered up for Euron's ritual? Not a damned thing. It was humiliating to think that in this Age of miracles and gods, the Drowned God had been proven so damn pathetic.
So, she had 'seen the light'.
Because it was the only way she was ever going to see Pyke in Greyjoy hands again. She had to show King Orys that she understood the game he was playing, and that she was willing to be his pawn. Her pride cried out, but it had been quieter since her people had been crushed at sea no less by the Krakenbane. For now, she knelt in prayer with the others.
She doubted it would be the last time she got on her knees for the King.
Author's Note: Shorter chapter because I have very little time and will be travelling soon. Chapters will probably continue while I am away because it's me. I know what I am.
Written: 12/04/2026