Chapter 28 (Revamped)

(??? POV, ???)

Everything felt off, something had disturbed the river of time and now the future was no longer certain.

Confusion and uneasiness filled his veins as he sat atop his frozen throne.

Change… Change that he could not predict was in play. Whispers of frustration and rage filled him, as he tried to make sense of it all.

Attempting to quiet those troubled whispers, memories came unbidden.

Of his beloved queen with her pale white skin and star-like eyes. A love he never expected to find when he joined that wretched order.

Their union should have ushered in a new age for the House of the Wolf. Yet the brother he held so dear, chose to side with their ancient enemies, fearing what could have been rather than embracing it. 

Claiming that his beloved had taken his soul… 

What right did he have to utter such words? He who had sought to reconnect with their ancient legacy, their right as the ones who held the blood of winter.

THEY WERE ABOVE ALL!!!

The air around him stilled, and his walkers tensed as they felt his cold anger and fury, deep in remembrance of the past.

For millennia he had slumbered, imprisoned within his beloved's fortress, his own brother refusing to slay him in their final confrontation and allow him to embrace his other half.

A sentimental fool, only recognizing their connection as brothers when all no longer mattered.

Oh… those petty Kings, flayed flesh, cannibals, giants, stone, thistles, and bears all claimed him as one of their own, be it for glory or simply to raise themselves in status. It mattered not what they said, what they sang. 

His blood was that of a Stark and would always be.

Even now a malicious grin appeared on his face, he had felt the dying embers of his family's ancient enemies. Death by betrayal, a fitting end for the House of Treachery. 

Brandon 'The Breaker' they called his brother, aye he broke many things. The most sacrilegious being their House's connection with Winter itself. 

Those little tree demons had planted the seeds of doubt in his heart. Blindly heeding their commands, as if it came from the gods themselves.

Did he not see their intentions? Was he blind to the malice those wretched demon spawn had for their kind?

Now they made their move again, no doubt having sensed his strength rise once again.

All they had to oppose him was a little pawn in their hands, one who was already out of their control.

The bastard dragon in raven's cloak was ever so confident in his grand plan, but oh silly dragonspawn, Crippled King you may fancy yourself but the gaze of winter is upon you and nothing you do can hide your actions from it.

Children of the forest they called themselves, their folly still lingering in this world.

Still, their folly was his gain, as their monster sought vengeance against its creators, willingly sacrificing everything it had for a sliver of a chance to wreak havoc upon them.

Oh, the rush of power that engulfed him was almost enough to match the passion he felt for his lost beloved.

Imprisoned he may have been, but the chains were weakening, his walkers growing, and the specter of that monstrous entity whispering in his ears.

Hatred drove him, love cursed him and now specters of the past haunted his every move, he had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

What will the little raven do, what would the spider plot and the mad crow's eye dream? Demons in the east and infernals to the west.

Fire and Blood covered this land, it was only fair that Ice and Death had their chance.

'What will you do little pup, time is running out for Winter is Coming'

(A/N: To make it clear, this NK still thinks his foe is going to be a Stark, Erlend having already prepared counter-measures against voyeurs, for a crowned ridge isn't one to be ignored lightly.)

…

(??? POV, ???)

Flaming red and silken red robes glided through the streets. A mystifying woman in her own right, her slim yet curvaceous figure was outlined by her crimson robes, but her face remained shadowed by her hood.

Despite her sinful disposition, not a single individual dared come close to her. For one does not casually approach a devout follower of the blood-stained god.

A frown marred her face, her expression hidden from all eyes as she moved calmly toward her destination. The evening chill sent a shiver down her spine. The frigid air reminded her of a time she loathed so much, of chains and subservience.

She took heart in the fact that she was no longer the helpless slave, her benefactors saw to that.

There was an almost oppressive feel to her surroundings, the oily black stones of this damned city doing its best to suck up whatever light that could make its way down here.

A civilization built on the backs of slaves and reinforced with the blood of their kin, The sheer hypocrisy disgusted and amused her. Blind hatred towards their Ghiscari adversaries, yet so quick to take up their traditions as their own.

Ah, hypocrisy… humanity had no lack of it for sure.

Shepherds and simpletons turned to 'Gods Among men' as they so firmly believed in themselves.

Their creations were both an affront to life itself and an abomination that would stain this continent till its end. If it were up to her and her benefactors, it would all be destroyed and rendered to ash.

Even as the 'Old Blood' spills the blood of thousands to reinforce these walls. Taking pride in their descent from Valyria, so casually forgetting that the blood that runs through their veins was that of soldiers and peasants, hardly a drop of dragon blood could be found in them.

Oh how easy it was for the blood-stained god to fool them into deluding themselves greater than they actually were.

Keeping her eyes straight, she strolled towards her destination, not making eye contact with any of the wretched beings that lived here. In this city, one could travel for miles and still be on the periphery of a dark practitioner.

She finally arrived at her intended area.

Her destination, the Temple of the Lord of Light… As if chiseled from one colossal rock, its enormity was visible long before she made it to the first steps. 

Pillars, steps, buttresses, bridges, domes, and towers all seemed to flow into one another. Looming high upon this blight of a city, hues of red, yellow, gold, and orange melded into the temple walls, dissolving one into the other like clouds at sunset.

Once she made it to the entrance, the slave soldiers bowed in respect as they made way for her. The fiery hand they were called, a private army that deterred those so-called 'Old Blood' from doing anything stupid when the powers provided by the fire god weren't enough to dissuade them.

Mayhaps they might try to overwhelm the Order with numbers, damning thousands of slave soldiers into the flame pits and feeding her so-called 'God'.

Once inside the main hall, she caught sight of a large crowd beginning to form, gathered around the main fire pit in the center of their Red Temple. 

Their voices ranged from loud, excited chattering to hushed whispers among themselves as bright flames of orange swayed on the pit. Its height reached farther than she had ever seen it do since joining this temple.

'The mummery continues' Melisandre thought, disdain filled her inwardly at their expression.

Gasping loudly and gaining her fellow worshiper's attention, she made haste towards the fire. Looking into the flames and receiving visions from the Blazing God.

A familiar figure appeared to her, tousled brown curls and hazel eyes met her own red orbs. His face is objectively handsome, and a warm smile appears on his visage. A rare sight she knew all too well.

Outwardly she kept her expression like that of a devout follower, receiving instructions from the flaming god, of religious fervor and desire to please him. Inwardly her thoughts strayed to her liege, studying every inch of him, wanting to capture this moment for as long as she could, permanently etching it into her mind.

What R'hllor wanted, she knew not, but her liege had caught his attention and he would need to be informed. It seemed she would finally be able to leave this dismal den without catching the suspicion of these pathetic mice.

Feeling a presence nearing her that pulled her aside, the vision ended. Taking her time to get her bearings straight, she turned towards the perpetrator.

"Kinvara!" she voiced respectfully.

"I know," Kinvara responded, her hand still on her shoulder. "Whoever he is. You must find him and observe him. The Lord of Light demands it." the Red Priestess instructed her.

"A threat?" She questioned.

"Perhaps," Kinvara said, a frown marred her face. "That remains to be seen. It is up to the Great R'hllor to decide on whether he is a foe or friend."

"You recognized his position," She noted.

"The Sunset Kingdoms," the beautiful Priestess replied.

Staring at the swaying flames, Melisandre pondered her next task.

She now had a valid reason to be near him, though she did not doubt that the Red Temple would send someone to watch her. Still, she had what she always wanted.

Turning away from the flames, she moved to prepare for her journey.

"Melisandre," Kinvara called out. 

Stopping and turning her attention back to the High Priestess.

"The night is dark and full of terrors," She chanted.

Melisandre nodded, "Heart of fire, cast your light upon us." Kinvara smiled at her response, whilst she swiftly exited the main hall.

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[Note:]

- So… Erlend has his own people in the Red Temple and one of them happens to be Melisandre, well things are certainly getting interesting. As for how she was able to so easily hide her true allegiance from the Red Temple, we'll come to that later.

- The NK can sense that something has gone wrong but he's not sure, since the 'Prince of Ice and Fire' was still born as predicted. He'll eventually realize what's up, but it will be a while and he's still heavily constricted by his imprisonment. Still, he has his ways to 'even' the playing field so to speak.

- Bloodraven isn't a good guy, anyone can see that. This is someone who carries heavy resentment toward the children of the forest for effectively 'imprisoning' him, forcing his role on him, and the Targaryens for spitting on everything he's done for them. Here we'll infer a bit from the show's ending since it seems more logical to assume he's completely taken over Bran.