CHP 53: Lord of the Seven Kingdoms (Patreon)

The Kingsroad stretched from the so-called Wall in the far North, all the way to Storm's End. 

So, with a route already mapped out, and a steed that rode faster than most creatures could perceive, it didn't take long to ride deep into the Kingswood and enter the Stormlands.

The first part of the journey saw me ride through a verdant forest, teeming with game, small and large, that ran away the moment its ears caught the thundering hooves of Roach. Or maybe it was just the crimson lightning that rolled off its form as it galloped past ancient trees and flowing streams, leaving burnt earth in its wake.

We crossed a river, the Wendwater, but it understandably paled in comparison to those I saw in the Riverlands, not to mention the ones that flowed in the Shadowlands back home. I could see Roach's tongue lolling out at the fish jumping about but I slapped him over the head and forced him to gallop.

He could have his fill after dropping me off.

Just when it seemed the forest wouldn't end, we crossed out into an open field, with green hills in the distance and a larger mountain ahead. The Kingsroad curved around it, and either way I looked, I could spot a few castles and holdfasts, along with the occasional village.

The Stormlands so far had been rather empty. But I supposed that made sense, the people were probably holed up in castles and whatnot to save their lives. Then, once I rode around the bend, I saw something that made me scratch my head a bit.

"Why the hell did they cut down all the trees?" 

I could see a field of stumps in place of what may have once been a great forest under a dull grey sky. The air reeked of death, of burnt flesh and wood. It managed to remind me of Mt. Gelmir, and the great blasphemy Praetor Rykard had unleashed there, spreading death and madness that seeped into the very soil.

Whoever this Stannis was, he hadn't created the best of images in my mind. And I had destroyed for less.

Sighing, I patted Roach's neck. "Hurry along now, boy. Let's see this so-called fair King."

He snorted in response, as if ridiculing my words, but set off galloping all the same, where I was met with a second surprise.

"It kinda looks like a fist."

Storm's End was impressive as far as castles went. It was built into the side of a sheer cliff. It was like a colossal drum tower, with battlements jutting out like spikes. Thick, grey, curtain walls enclosed the castle, hiding everything within save for the smoke billowing to the skies above.

Much like the ancestral seats of the Great Houses I'd seen so far, the grim-looking seat of House Baratheon was also aged, ancient, but at the same time different.

As I approached, I failed to spot any chinks in the walls, or the tower. Unlike Riverrun, where the walls gave way to streams for the godswood, the bricks and stones of Storm's End seemed to fit together perfectly.

For a place known for its harsh storms, the castle had little to show in the way of wear and tear.

I saw ragged, chafed faces staring down at me when I neared the gates. The doors weren't shut, but they'd hurriedly lowered the portcullis when they noticed my approach.

"Well... That's not ominous at all." I chuckled, stepping down from Roach. I slapped my steed on his hind. "Go on, feed. But no people and no livestock."

The increasingly moody destrier... whatever he was at this point, breathed out flames and ran off like the wind. I didn't know what he was doing whenever I sent it off but so long as he wasn't terrorising innocent people, I wouldn't ask.

Shaking my head, I put on a neutral smile and held up a hand in greeting. "Hail, friend."

The soldiers atop the walls looked at one another confusedly, grunting and mumbling, until one finally spoke out with a small tremble to his words. "What do you want?!"

"A hot wife and tons of money. But that's not what I'm here for." I reached into my coat and retrieved the letter. "I'm here to deliver a letter."

They exchanged confused glances again, but then someone shouted something I didn't care to catch and the men broke into a strange frenzy. The portcullis shifted with a strange hum and was pulled up. As I watched, a woman in red made her way out.

"So that's a red priest." I nodded to myself.

She wore fiery red robes that reached past her ankles and dragged along behind her as she approached me, uncaring of the mud marring her clothes. Her dress was tied at the waist, and generously highlighted her full body. Unsurprisingly, her hair too was red, although a darker coppery shade than her robes, and so were her eyes. But, her skin was pale, too pale even.

...And Marika, she was tall.

Just a few inches shorter than me.

"Doesn't it feel annoying?" I pointed at the choker around her neck, moreso, the giant, gleaming ruby enamelled into the centre. "You could just keep it in your pocket?"

She didn't answer me. Instead, she stopped just a few steps short and knelt on the muddy ground, holding out her hands to either side, not even bothering to preserve her expensive looking dress. Then, she lowered her head. "Humblest greetings. Lord. I am called Melisandre."

Well now... this was intriguing.

There was reverence in those strange eyes of hers, I could see it clear as day. But I didn't know enough to understand why.

"How come?" So I asked.

"Have you come to aid Azor Azhai?" She questioned, her words barely a whisper. But she wasn't terrified, she was overwhelmed.

"Who the fuck is that?"

"The Champion of R'hllor."

R'hllor was a god from another continent, Essos. The 'Lord of Light' whose priests and priestesses partook in ritualistic sacrifice, among a number of strange things to appease their god. It appeared less a religion and more a cult to me.

"Are you not a facet of our great Lord?"

"No."

I shut her down as soon as she finished. I didn't want anything to do with that kind of God and I had no need for the perks that came with the misunderstanding when I could kill this so-called God.

Her brow twitched in confusion and she cocked her head ever so slightly. "I do not understand."

"Same. I'm just here to deliver this letter." I waved my letter. "And talk to Stannis."

"Ah... I understand." She rose to her feet and dusted her knees before turning around. Not once did she actually look me straight in the eye when speaking, as if she didn't have the right to do so.

"I will take you to Stannis."

I shrugged and followed after her past a number of stables and a yard filled with grim men. They greeted us with lowered heads and frustrated faces as we passed by into the drum tower. Melisandre held a great deal of influence it seemed, but they were more unsettled by her than they were respectful.

The fact they hadn't acted on their feelings however confirmed that this was the so-called sorceress from beyond the Narrow Sea I'd heard of, close confidant to the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms.

"Is it true you killed Renly with a shadow?" I prodded curiously, following her up a stairway.

She halted for a moment, then answered politely. "Does it upset you?"

"No. I'm just curious about what Stannis had to say about it."

I noted the rather queer design choice Stannis had made with his coat-of-arms, a black stag in a burning heart over yellow. It was hilarious rather than menacing, but to each his own, I supposed. I just preferred the golden Erdtree sewn into the back of my trench coat more was all.

"He is troubled by the nature of it. Plagued by nightmares, he has said." She said, unbothered by what that meant for her. "But it was necessary. Ours is a war grander than the squabbles of men."

I cocked my head. "You mean the Others?"

"Indeed. They herald the end of the world."

Stifling my laughter at the nature of their 'apocalypse', I followed her into a corridor. As soon as I stepped inside, I spotted a small girl peeking from behind a square wooden table in the corner.

It confirmed something for me.

I didn't know how, maybe Melisandre had scryed my movement from the fire like Thoros did my nature, but my coming here was anticipated. It was quite amusing if nothing else. 

"Hello there." I spoke softly, waving my hand with an amicable smile.

Melisandre stopped and eyed the girl. "A sad little thing. Her body is wracked by Greyscale."

She was barely ten years old.

Who the hell said something like that in front of a ten year old?

"She can hear you." I stepped up to the girl and held out a hand, making sure to lean down so she could reach it. "What's your name, little one?"

She stared at my hand, then into my eyes, before shaking her little head. "M-Mother says you'll get sick too."

Her left cheek, and most of her neck, was covered by cracked, flaky, grey and stony skin that held no life. Greyscale. It was possibly some kind of necrosis-inducing disease. A sad fate for one so little.

"I'm pretty confident in my immune system. Don't worry." I bumped my chest with my other hand. "I'm Karl. Just Karl."

Hesitantly, she reached out and grabbed one of my fingers with her small hand. "S...Shireen Baratheon."

"Oh?" I lowered my head just a bit. "A princess? I'm sorry. I didn't know. Will you forgive me?"

"Mm. It's alright." She smiled brightly.

"Thank you, Princess Shireen. Now, I have to go meet your father. Let's have a tea party after, okay?"

She nodded her head up and down, practically gleaming with joy and happiness as she let go of my hand and quickly ran out the door.

Once she was gone, I turned back to Melisandre.

"Now for the King."

The Red Priestess nodded quietly and started walking again, leading me through the long and dark but not decrepit corridors of Storm's End, with stone-faced soldiers watching our every step.

"Why?"

"Because."

If he couldn't treat his own child right, what sort of King was this Stannis going to be?

No. 

I shook my head.

I was being too hasty in my assumptions.

Thankfully, the answer to my question was within reach as soon as we walked into a great round hall.

A number of lords stood around a dais, conversing amongst themselves. They were dressed for luxury, wearing expensive silks and warm coats and jewelled rings. But, the man they were gathered wore only a rough woollen tunic that stopped just short of his knees, and leather trousers with worn boots.

His clothes did little to hide the truth of things however. He was nearly as tall as I was, and his greying beard was cropped closely to his strong jaw. Heavy brows weighed down on dark blue eyes, and his weathered skin spoke much to his nature combined with his gaunt cheeks and thin, cracked lips.

But he was King.

And so he wore a crown.

I saw no affection in the eyes of the lords and knights surrounding him but what I did see was a respect so fierce I lost myself to nostalgia for a moment.

"King Stannis of House Baratheon." Melisandre announced from behind me. "First of his Name. King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men."

The wind howled, and his lords knelt to their liege.

"Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

I couldn't help my grin as his eyes fell on me.

-

Hope you enjoyed.

Comment your thoughts on the chap, plz.

Since a lot of you have been questioning me about his partner, this is all I'm willing to say. There's really only one person that could ever fit with Karl. For those who've only watched the show, you won't be able to tell.

P.S: Sorry bout missing yesterday. I'll try to do double post tmr.