Carliene Stark

II Chapter 75

Carliene

I left the keep stepping out onto the balustrade running around the outer wall. It was snowing outside and an eerie silence hung in the cold air. It was heavy wet snow, the kind the servants at Winterfell would always dread because it would mean they had to get up every few hours during the night to clear the paths and the roofs before the loads got too heavy. It was gathering on the embrasures of the wall and on the walkway. On the helmet and shoulders of the stoic unsullied guardsmen as they stood unmoving at their posts. Leaving a trail in the freshly fallen snow behind me I gazed down at the lands surrounding the small castle. I was looking for a red tent and even though there were many, and in may different shades, I had the feeling that I would know exactly which belonged to the red priests once I saw it. 

And so it was. Nearly hidden behind the huts of the small village, a large tent stood a little apart from the rest of the camps. Encircled by a ring of bright fires that seemed to glow a little brighter than the other campfires in the field. I stared at it from afar, telling myself that I should have no way of knowing that it was the right one. Not in this weather, not when visibility was slightly obscured by the heavy snowfall. But I knew that I was right and no amount of stalling would change that. I left the castle with some hesitation, still weary of the heavy silence that came with the weather. It was like the snow was swallowing all sound. Usually I thought of it as quite calming and almost beautiful. Not not today, not out here, not under these circumstances.

"You served Stannis Baratheon once" I asked her the night before, in the dimly light entrance hall. 

"I did" she agreed simply, the ruby at her throat shimmering again. "I believed him to be the chosen one. I was wrong" there was no hint of shame in her tone, but her features grew hard when she admitted that. 

The chosen one? "They say you burned people at the stake. That you performed blood magic" I knew my tone sounded rather accusing, but I did not much care to change it.

She folded her hands in front of her belly, her demeanour full of pride "I did what I thought my Lord demanded of me. Like I said I believed Stannis to be the chosen one, I promised myself to his cause, I vowed to do anything to help him succeed" 

And yet he is dead and here you are. "And then you just changed your mind?" I challenged. "You heard of a dragon queen and you just decided she was a better candidate?" 

"No" she disagreed calmly, giving me an almost pitiful smile. "She is not the chosen one" she told me. "But she does have a part to play. As do you"

As I left the thatch-roofed huts behind me and stepped onto the open meadow I slowed even further. An alley of braziers lead up to the entrance, circling all the way around the tent. Even though the snowfall hadn't changed, there was a circle of exposed grass on which the tent stood and it seemed that the snowflakes would melt before they could even touch the red fabric or the ground around it. 

The silence was now filled by a deep clangorous voice, singing a hymn in a language I did not understand. Moments later Moquorro appeared from within, a bunch of burning incense in his hand as he stepped towards the nearest brazier. Even though it was bitterly cold, he wore his robe in a way that exposed his black shoulder and the bright ink flames that covered it. When he took note of my presence he gave me a satisfied smile. "Ah, we were told you would be joining us Lady Stark"

A cold shiver ran down my back. "By whom?"

He gave a chuckled at my expression. "The Archmaester sent word" he told me, making me feel rather silly for thinking anything else.

"What were you singing about?" I asked as I stepped closer, the heat of the braziers already making me want to shrug out of my heavy coat.

He smiled and turned back to the fires in front of him, letting the flames lick at the dry herbs in his hand. "A song I learned on the street of Volantis" he told me. "About flames and ashes" The smoke of his incense burned my eyes and I turned my head away, studying the tent with some reluctance. "You seem tense" he observed.