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signs-of-the-moon · 24 days

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Moon High: Chapter 21

Warriors came rushing to aid as they heard the cry of the ginger she-cat ring clear across the forest. Leafheart hunched over the mutilated body of her son, Flamepaw, and Moonpaw watched on helplessly. There was so much happening all at once that it was hard to concentrate.

Moonpaw blinked, seeing Thornberry and some of the other mentors gather to console the grieving she-cat. Then, in the next moment, when Moonpaw blinked again, Smokepaw was beside her. He appeared to be speaking, judging by the movement of his mouth, but no words could be heard. The only thing Moonpaw could hear was the rapid thumping of her heart and a ringing in her ears. She tried to force herself to pay attention. But it was difficult. She didn't feel like she was present at the moment. Her body didn't feel like her own.

Moonpaw stared with wide unfocused eyes at the smokey gray tom. He continued to try and communicate. Then Smokepaw's brows furrowed as he realized Moonpaw couldn't understand him. He turned, and Moonpaw blinked again.

The next thing she knew, she was being led through the woods. Beepaw walked on one side of her, just behind Smokepaw. She was saying something, but again, nothing seemed legible to Moonpaw.

Time flew away from her like a bird on a strong gale, because the next thing she knew, the group was entering Treeclan's camp. Mothsong and Berrypaw ran over to them, checking every cat over. They seemed so distant to Moonpaw, like they were walking just at the edge of her vision. Smokepaw gestured towards his littermate, and for the first time in a while, Moonpaw could partially make out what was being said.

"She's... ...shock," Mothsong noted, her words cutting in and out of Moonpaw's consciousness. Moonpaw could barely feel the brush of the medicine cat's tail against her shoulder as she was prompted to follow towards the healer's den. An orange blob lay near her feet as she passed. Yet her mind wouldn't allow her to focus well enough to see exactly what the shape was.

Moonpaw then found herself settling into a nest as the calico she-cat brought over some herbs. I'm not sick, Moonpaw protested internally, confusion clouding her mind. She wasn't the one who should be tended to right now. But Mothsong didn't seem to think so, judging by the look of concern on her face.

"...eat...." Moonpaw barely heard her say. And though she felt like taking the medicine was pointless, Moonpaw followed directions anyways. She swallowed bitter plants first--thyme and goatweed, Moonpaw remembered their names being. Next, a tiny seed rolled onto her tongue and slithered down her throat, just as a soothing scent entered into her nostrils. Chamomile? Moonpaw guessed as her head grew heavy. She saw Mothsong in front of her. The beautiful medicine cat signed the word "sleep" in the Silent Language. Then, as if on command, Moonpaw found herself being pulled into a deep, restless slumber.

An uncountable amount of time passed before Moonpaw stirred awake. Her head felt heavy and body felt numb as all of her consciousness returned to her at last. She could finally think and see clearly. The medicine Mothsong had given her worked wonders on her foggy mind. But now Moonpaw felt stiff as a log. Stretching, the silver and white she-cat moved to stand from her nest. But before she could, a rustling sounded from the entrance of the medicine den. Moonpaw curled back up into her sleeping spot, not wanting to be reprimanded for leaving it before she was given permission. Two cat-scents made their way to her nose, before she could see who was coming.

"I'm glad I could catch you," Moonpaw recognized the smell and mew of Mothsong.

The second scent belonged to Wolfheart. "I was already on my way here. I wanted to check on Moonpaw."

"You must be Starclan sent, then."

"What do you mean?"

The medicine cat ushered the gray and white tom deep into the den, past Moonpaw and closer to the medicine stores. She didn't speak a word, but motioned for the tom to make himself comfortable.

Wolfheart wrapped his tail around himself as he sat, his back facing Moonpaw.

"Has something happened?" Wolfheart spoke aloud the question his daughter had in mind. His voice was pleading, begging to know what knowledge Mothsong withheld. Moonpaw peered through half-squinted eyes, trying to gauge what was going on without being caught.

Mothsong sat next to the wall of her den, too distant to notice her patient had woken up. Her focus was rested on Wolfheart. A turbulent expression took over her features as she paused a moment or two to find the right things to say.

"Starclan sent me a dream early this morning. A prophecy they wish to be shared."

"A...prophecy?" Wolfheart sounded to be in disbelief. Moonpaw shared his sentiment. Prophecies were rare. It was even rarer for them to be shared with an ordinary cat. But if Mothsong was so insistent with telling Wolfheart about it, then he must be involved somehow.

Excitement began to bloom in Moonpaw's chest. Was Wolfheart a prophecy cat? That would mean he would be a hero, just like in the stories of the ancients Badgerface spoke of!

Mothsong lifted her chin, her eyes growing dim. When she parted her jaws to recite Starclan's words, she spoke in a voice that did not sound like her own. "A great threat lurks, brought forth by darkness and forged by wolf's strength. Only when the moon can face its fate will the night rise. Do whatever possible to keep its light alive."

The air grew thick with tension as silence settled in. A few heavy moments passed. Mothsong appeared to return to normal. Still, there was unease between both the adult cats.

Wolfheart swayed his tail thoughfully. "...What does it mean?"

Mothsong shook her head. "I do not know. But this is the message Starclan has asked me to share."

"And they wanted you to share it with me...? Why? Do you think...it has something to do with my daughter?" Her father's fur was bristling, as if he were afraid. The faint scent of fear creeped its way to Moonpaw's nose, confirming her suspicion. Was he scared that Starclan had wanted to share a message with him? Or was he more fretful of what the prophecy meant? Moonpaw, too, found herself wondering what their words foretold. It wasn't the prediction of grandeur and heroism she had hoped for her father. Instead it sounded to be a more illfated warning.

"It's a possibility. But there's a chance the message could be more metaphorical as well. All I know for certain, is that things will reveal themselves in their due time."

"That's true." Wolfheart sighed. "I just...hope this doesn't mean Moonpaw's in danger." Moonpaw saw Wolfheart's head shift. He must have been glancing at her over his shoulder. But she couldn't exactly see his eyes from the direction his body faced. There was a sag of guilt in the gray and white tom's posture, as if whatever was prophesied was his fault. Love and sympathy squeezed Moonpaw's heart. She wanted so badly to sit up and comfort her father, but she would be caught easedropping if she were to do so.

Mothsong rested her tail upon Wolfheart's shoulder reassuringly. "Whatever happens is in the paws of Starclan. But they have never steered us wrong before. So please, have faith in them, and whatever their plans may be."

I will keep faith in them, Moonpaw swore, peering over at her dad as she hoped he'd do the same.

The gray and white tom fell silent for a moment. "...I trust your wisdom, Mothsong. But please, if you learn anything new, let me know first."

"Of course." Mothsong blinked slowly.

As if summoned by the thought of him, Wolfheart turned around to face his kit. Moonpaw quickly shut her eyes, hoping her father didn't see her awake. Heartbeats later she felt his fur pressing to hers, and the rumble of a purr in his chest.

"Are you waking up already, chipmunk?" He checked. Moonpaw resisted the urge to flinch. Instead, she slowly fluttered open her eyes, looking up at the loving face of her kin.

"Papa...?" She feigned fatigue in her voice as she spoke. Wolfheart smiled down at her, running his tongue over her ears and cheeks.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

Tired, miserable, confused, were some of the words that came to mind. Instead of speaking Moonpaw shrugged, resting her head against her paws.

"I understand," Wolfheart hummed, nuzzling her. "You should rest more. Hopefully you'll feel like yourself after."

That sounds like a good idea, Moonpaw agreed and gave a yawn. Wolfheart rose from her side and walked out of the medicine den. Mothsong followed him out not long afterwards with flowers in her jaws.

Moonpaw rested for a while more, ruminating in thoughts of the present and the future. Most of all she thought about the prophecy and what it could mean. Eventually, her body grew tired of laying in its resting position. Her paws itched to move and go into the camp where the rest of the clan would be gathered. With a swish of her tail, Moonpaw stood and padded out of the medicine den.

In the center of camp, Flamepaw's body laid. Berrypaw had just finished rubbing herbs into his pelt. But he wasn't able to cover up the death scent in time. Due to the long journey home, and the state of Flamepaw's body, birds of prey managed to catch on to the passing of the young apprentice. When Moonpaw looked up she could see a hawk soaring by the dusk kissed clearing every now and then. But the threatening hoot of an owl kept the other predator away. Tonight's vigil would be extra guarded, Moonpaw bet. A shiver ran down her spine as she made her approach towards her deceased clanmate. Several cats were ahead of her, each taking a few moments to sit close to Flamepaw and share tongues with him one last time. Then they'd move aside, allowing other cats to come forward and do the same. Most cats remained in the open to sit vigil for the remainder of the night. While those too young, old, or not close enough to Flamepaw took their leave and headed to their dens to sleep.

As Moonpaw took her turn to sit vigil, she noticed Den Keepers scaling the trees in camp. With precision and care, they wrapped greenbrier vines around branches, high above where any cat would normally climb. They used moss and broad leaves to grip the thorny appendages tying them tightly before descending to the ground. The vines were a cautionary measure, to deter feathered fiends from landing within striking range of the camp. Good, Moonpaw sighed with a bit of relief, tucking her legs beneath her as she bowed her head near Flamepaw's and prayed.

After her prayer, Moonpaw lifted her muzzle and began to groom his cheek. His fur smelled strongly of lavender and death, but beneath--if one pressed their nose close--Flamepaw's natural scent could be caught. Moonpaw did her best to commit it to memory. Then she rose to her paws, and after one last press of their foreheads together, the silver molly moved away. As she did, Leafheart looked to her apprentice and nodded at her thankfully. Moonpaw returned the warrior's gesture with a respectful head dip. Then she moved to flank her mother and father, who watched on from the edge of camp. Moonpaw saw yerning crackling in Wolfheart's pale green eyes as she settled with him. His focus was fixed on Blazestar who sat solemnly beside his mate.

Brightsky nudged Wolfheart encouragly with her muzzle, prompting the gray and white warrior to go sit beside his old friend. Wolfheart seemed cautious as he moved to take the chance and padded over to Blazestar. He dipped his head deeply to the clan's leader before taking a seat beside him. Wolfheart looked between his clanmates as if waiting to be judged. But no one spoke out. Instead, Blazestar rested his tail on the younger tom's shoulders and blinked at him with gratitude. He seemed to be reassuring Wolfheart of something. Whatever that may be breathed a small puff of confidence into the gray and white tom. Moonpaw was happy that her father could be there to support Blazestar.

Beside her, Brightsky sniffled a little, her cheek fur dampened with tears. At the other side of her, Magpiepaw laid. Her muzzle was buried in their mother's fur for comfort. Moonpaw wanted to say some soothing words to them both, but for once she had nothing to mew about. Grief tightened in her chest. All Moonpaw wanted to do right now was enjoy the comfort of her living loved ones. Speaking of loved ones, Moonpaw's thoughts suddenly landed on Hazepaw. Would he be waiting for her tonight? Something had held him up from joining the Gathering yesterday. Surely he'd be wanting to see Moonpaw tonight instead. Should I really sneak away to go see Hazepaw, though? Moonpaw wondered as her gaze flitted between her clanmates. Seeing their miserable faces made Moonpaw feel even worse. No one would be of great comfort here. So, Moonpaw set her mind on going off into the woods alone. Backing away, Moonpaw turned tail and headed for the Entrance Tree. Smokepaw called out to her as she climbed, asking where she was going.

"I need some space..." Moonpaw confessed before taking off into the trees. Wind flowed through her long fur as she ran across the forest towards the familiar rocks of Rubble Path. The trees thinned the closer she drew to the territory's edge, until finally only grass and sand remained. Moonpaw parted her jaws to taste the air. She needed to know Hazepaw was waiting for her. But any scent of hin was stale. Maybe he's disguising it, Moonpaw hoped.

"Hazepaw?" She called out, stalking to the top of Rubble Path. She peered down, looking between the jagged stones for a familiar white pelt. Then her eyes began to comb the sand and brush nearby. "Hazepaaaaw!" She called again, her voice echoing with the rise in volume. But no reply ever came. Nor did anyone emerge from the dark surrounding her. Great disappointment weighed heavily upon Moonpaw, even worse than what she'd felt the night before.

"Hazepaw..." tears began to well in the silver and white molly's eyes. She sniffed, then hung her head. I need you... the words remained inside her mind as she sobbed softly to herself. Moonpaw let herself cry alone for a while, until the worse of her grief was finally released. Then after calming down, she turned, retreating back home to curl up in the paws of her family.

As the first rays of sunlight began to crawl across the forest, Treeclan gathered together as one within the clearing of camp. They huddled in a large circle around the deceased apprentice they mourned. Some cats parted to allow Badgerface, Daisypetal, and Elmfoot through. Mothsong and Berrypaw had just finished wrapping Flamepaw's torso with vines--to keep him in one piece during the move. The medicine cats dipped their heads in respect to the elders as they got out of their way. Guards came to surround the old warriors as they took their place around Flamepaw.

Then, Daisypetal lifted her muzzle and began to release a keening cry into the morning air. Blazestar joined her, with Leafheart and their kits joining two heartbeats after. Moonpaw heart ached as she listened to their cries. Then she brought up her nose and joined the rest of her clanmates in a mourning song. Flamepaw's spirit was being commended to Starclan; his soul likely accepted by this time after facing judgment in the Twilight Passage. Flamepaw was a good cat. Silverpelt will welcome him with open paws, Moonpaw assured herself as the clan finally finished singing. Then, the elders lifted Flamepaw's body. Flanked by the Guards, the old warriors marched the deceased tom towards the thorn barrier and out of Treeclan's camp one last time. The clan watched after them for a few extra moments before finally breaking apart. Some cats went about their duties for the day. Others headed to their dens for a nap. Moonpaw contemplated doing the same, the weight of all that happened still heavy upon her. But Moonpaw knew she'd have no luck sleeping. So, instead, she took herself to the nursery.

Brightsky trilled in surprise as she noticed her daughter following her tail. "Moonpaw? Do you need something?"

"I want to have a talk with the queens," Moonpaw explained earning a nod of understanding from her mother. Brightsky ushered the silver and white molly into the nursery with a whisk of her tail. Moonpaw ducked beneath the large tree roots as she padded down the slope into the den. Since light had barely managed to greet the world, there was no need to adjust to the darkness within.

Mapleshine and Silverhawk sat up in their nests, their attention focused on Moonpaw. Surely they knew she was here for a session with them. And the pair seemed ready to listen to all that needed to be said. Moonpaw sat in a spot between all the queen's nests. But she sat closest of all to her mom.

"Speak, child," Silverhawk prompted with a nod. Her gesture was welcoming and wise. "Get whatever you need off your chest."

Moonpaw took a deep breath, then spilled her guts about everything. About watching Flamepaw's hunt, and how he pushed himself to chase the squirrel to the Thunder Path. She described how she felt witnessing his death, and confessed just how close she'd been to being struck as well. And she spoke about her experience with shock. The only things Moonpaw omitted were the prophecy she'd overhead in Mothsong's den, and any talk of Hazepaw. Though Moonpaw desperately wanted to speak of how Hazepaw had failed her last night. But that would take admitting to sneaking off to see him. Moonpaw wasn't willing to divulge that secret.

After listening to the last of her vent, the queens finally took their turn to speak.

"Oh, love," Brightsky crooned, nuzzling her daughter's cheek. She moved forward, wrapping herself around her kit."You know what happened to Flamepaw wasn't your fault."

"I know...." Moonpaw sighed, leaning into her mother. "But I was there! I feel like I could have saved him...."

"From what it sounds like, you were barely off from becoming crowfood yourself," Silverhawk chimed in, rather crassly. She lifted a back paw to lick between her toes. "Another heartbeat more and you'd be right alongside him in the burial grounds. There was no saving Flamepaw."

"But maybe if he'd heard me calling out for him, he would have stopped?" Moonpaw rationalized.

"There's no use dwelling on the 'what if's,' and 'maybe's,' hon," the Den Mother countered softly. "What's done is done. No cat blames you for not being able to do more."

Mapleshine twitched her whiskers agreeingly. "Besides, you did do something. You went to get help! No cat would have found Flamepaw for quite some time if you hadn't been there to alert the clan of his accident."

But there was another cat around, Moonpaw remembered suddenly. Darkfire had been nearby the Thunder Path. Yet she'd done nothing to stop or save the young apprentice. But why? Moonpaw wondered. Had Darkfire not seen Flamepaw get hit? Moonpaw was unsure. But she didn't want to incriminate Darkfire by mentioning her presence. Even if sessions were meant to be kept confidential. It doesn't matter anyways, Moonpaw told herself. Maybe I'm just looking for someone else to blame.

"Thank you all for listening," Moonpaw mewed with a head dip. "I'm feeling a bit better now. I think...I think I'll go find something to do to keep my mind off of things."

"That sounds like a good idea," Mapleshine agreed. "When you leave, would you mind sending my kits into nursery? It's time they got some rest."

"Sure," Moonpaw agreed with a stretch as she got up. Once more she dipped her head in respect to the queens before making her way out of their den.

By the elder's tree, Moonpaw spotted Mapleshine's kits playing. They were with Sunpaw, who batted at Honeykit and Sleekkit, while Peonykit tried to nab his tail. He laughed, looking so care free. It was as if he hadn't just lost one of his brothers. Maybe Sunpaw was distracting himself with the joy of the kits. Maybe it was his way of coping. Moonpaw hated to ruin his fun. But Mapleshine had requested her kits to come home to her. So, Moonpaw made her way over to the group slowly, only speaking when she became noticed.

"It's Moonpaw!" Honeykit squealed with joy. They rushed over to the apprentice, stretching up to touch noses with her. "Hi!!"

"Hello." Moonpaw purred in greetings. Her gaze moved from the golden kit in front of her to the others. "Its time for you all to go to the nursery. Your mother is waiting."

"But I don't wanna sleep yet!" Sleekkit griped. "Nightpaw said when we're apprentices, we have to be ready early in the morning for the dawn patrol!"

"That's when you're apprentices though," Sunpaw chimed. "You have a few more moons until then. For now, you have to do what your mom tells you. Besides, you've been awake all night. You've gotta be tired by now, right?"

"No!" Sleekkit squeaked, just as a yawn bubbled from his chest. The black and white kit's pelt fluffed with embarrassment. Moonpaw and Sunpaw both chuckled with small mrrows.

"C'mon, let's walk them home," Moonpaw suggested, sweeping her tail around the kits. Sunpaw followed them, matching pace with Moonpaw.

"How are you feeling?" He checked. "I saw you go into the medicine den yesterday."

"I'm alright now. I was in shock, after being so close to the monster and seeing Flamepaw..." she trailed off.

Sunpaw nodded, sadness glowing in his eyes. "I'm relieved that you're ok, at least."

Moonpaw made a small noise, pressing her body against his. Sunpaw purred in response, leaning into her embrace.

"Why don't we go out hunting once the kits are in their den?" She suggested suddenly. "I think we could both benefit from time away from the clan. And it would take our minds off of things for a while."

Sunpaw thought for a few moments as they walked. "That sounds nice. I'd like to spend some time with you," he admitted. The ginger tom seemed to cheer up a little at the prospect of going out together. Moonpaw had to admit she felt excited, too. After saying farewell to Mapleshine's kits, the pair of apprentices took off for the Entrance Tree and out into the forest, where they spent the rest of the morning forgetting their sadness together.

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annes-andromeda · 4 years

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GOT Virtues AU: Not Enough to Understand

N/: So, I’ve finally written a chapter for Tyrion. I’m mostly gonna go by his arc in ADWD, but take out things like Young Griff and Jon Connington. As much as I believe those characters to be very vital to the books, this AU goes mostly by showverse with hints of the books and my own additions. However, some characters from ASOIAF will be incorporated here, just maybe not the same as the books. Tyrion has never really been my favorite character, but he’s definitely an interesting one. It sucks that the show turned him into a Dany cultist that licked her boots and kissed her ass. So, hopefully I’m writing Tyrion and Varys correctly. Also, please don’t think that I’m trying to villainize Tyrion (even if that may be the route GRRM is taking. But I’m not him sooo...), I’m just trying to show that he’s currently in a dark state of mind.

Somehow for Tyrion, the soils of Essos were more frustrating than the pile of shit that was the Seven Kingdoms. Ever since he strangled his lover with his bare hands and shot his father with a crossbow, somehow he’s never been the same. And yet somehow, the minute his brother opened his mouth and spoke of his first wife, of Tysha... somehow that hurt more than any slurs Tywin Lannister could ever reprise.

I trusted him, Tyrion thought hatefully. My big brother who was my protector, was no more than a liar.

The walls of Pentos where Varys had sneaked him away were beautiful no less. A perfect grave for a drunken lion. To drink himself to death seemed far sweeter than returning to Westeros where Cersei would surely want his head. But the Spider gave him another alternative.

“You have a choice, my friend” Varys had said, “You can stay here at Ilyrio’s palace and drink yourself to death, or you can ride with me to Meereen, meet Daenerys Targaryen, and decide if the world is worth fighting for”

The Dragon Queen. Tyrion had heard stories of her. How she liberated the city of Meereen and its slaves, ending the practice for good. But he had heard other stories as well. How she crucified the masters and burned men alive with her dragons. Common folk told of the Queen Across the Sea, a woman who walked with fire and left nothing but ruin wherever she trailed.

Tyrion didn’t know what to believe. So many tales, so many rumors. The people of Kings Landing spread whatever words they spoke to entertain themselves from the early graves that awaited some of them. Such as naming Tyrion the Demon Monkey. Or Sansa the Traitors Daughter. He hoped she was safe. Wherever his lady wife had gone to escape her fate. And to escape him.

But the one he thought of most was his oldest companion: Cira. His dear lioness that mewled sadly as she was taken away from his cell the day of his trial. She had been left in the Red Keep, wandering alone. Tyrion no longer seemed to care of hope, but he prayed to all the Gods that she was safe. That neither Cersei or anyone else had gotten hold of her. If he were to ever find out of her death or much worse... may the Gods help them.

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Once leaving Pentos, Tyrion and Varys began their journey to the so called free city of Meereen. Before doing so, they had to go through the streets of Volantis, as Varys stated that the road to Meereen was in Volantis. Bored of the confinement their carriage brought, Tyrion decided to take a walk. If anyone were to ask his name, he’d be no more than Hugor Hill, a bastard of the Westerlands who wished to see the known world alongside his companion Rugen, a former servant of the Red Keep. Nothing more, nothing less.

The Long Bridge was filled with many people. Builders, merchants, and many, many whores. All were marked by their masters, their cheek defining who they were.

“Strange that the Mother of Dragons hasn’t stepped foot in this city, as many have claimed she is a liberator” Tyrion acknowledged

“Meereen has had its run of slavery since the beginning of its construction” Varys began “If Daenerys were to leave the city as it is, the masters would simply take it back, sending the slaves into their chains once again”

“Hasn’t Astapor already done the same?” The dwarf noted “From what my ears have heard, the city is in ruin while children are sold like cattle and slavery runs rampant. I would’ve been certain the dragon queen would ensure the freedom of the people she liberates. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The Spider simply remained silent, and Tyrion gave a look as if he’d won a great victory. As they walked the pavement, they heard the booming voice of a woman who spoke to the slaves almost as if she had cast a spell upon them. A red priestess of R’hllor, whose cheek was branded with the mark of a former whore, preached her teachings to the lowly slaves of Volantis.

“Lord, cast your light upon us” she spoke in Valyrian, as the crowd followed “For the night is dark and full of terrors”

Tyrion didn’t hear what Varys had said to him, as he’d moved closer to see and hear the Priestess’s words “I was once as you are now” she said “Bought and sold. Scourged and branded” She pointed to the mark on her cheek, the mark of a slave. A former slave now.

“The only red priest we had in King’s Landing was Thoros of Myr. This one’s much better looking...” Tyrion boasted. He had heard that Stannis’s red priestess was beautiful, with blood red hair and eyes that glowed like the ruby around her neck. Granted, he’d seen and heard of many beautiful women in his days: the Mother of Dragons was said to have flowing silver hair and eyes of amethyst, whilst he remembered Shae’s curves and her full lips that kissed him once. But yet, they were not the most beautiful of women. For Tyrion gave that achievement to a maid with sunset in her hair and whose gaze held the waters.

“The Lord of Light hears your voice. He hears the king as he hears the slave; he hears the Stone Men in their misery...” The red priestess continued

Tyrion could only scoff “Stone Men. Good luck stopping this spread of grayscale with prayer. You’d have better luck dancing away the plague” Varys shushed him before he could say anything else.

“He has sent you a savior!” The red priestess proclaimed “From the fire she was reborn to remake the world! The Dragon Queen!”

Tyrion looked over to Varys, putting on a false smile “We’re going to meet the savior! You should have told me. Who doesn’t want to meet the savior?” His voice reeked of sarcasm, and the Spider was not impressed by it. As he spoke, he could feel eyes looking directly at him, shooting daggers from their post. The red priestess had turned to gaze at Tyrion, and the dwarf hid his face from her.

“Let’s go” He warned, as he and Varys left the gathering. The atmosphere had turned casual once again, with only the chatter of the slaves being heard. Tyrion turned to look up at Varys “Tell me, Varys” he began “Do you believe in the prophecy of The Prince That Was Promised?”

Varys cocked an eyebrow at him “It’s a legend derived from the red priests of R’hllor, of how a great hero shall be born of salt and smoke to save the world from a terrible threat. Mere superstition created by fanatics who haven’t a mind of their own”

“And I suppose these ‘fanatics’, as you call them, believe that Daenerys Targaryen is this prophesied savior, yes?” He saw Varys nod his head, but then cock it back once he spoke again “Seems rather curious, does it not? I thought Stannis was this great hero the Lord of Light had gifted upon us. In the words of the priests, I mean”

“If every fanatic claimed that every person in the world were this great prince, then the whole world would be engulfed in flames of proclaimed freedom” Varys stated “Who is to trust the words of druid priests that worship a god who only ever wishes upon the sacrifices of his kin?”

“Apparently the kneelers gladly hold their faith in the hands of merciless gods and these ‘druid priests’” Tyrion insisted, his mind wandering to the different tales that lied across the Narrow Sea “It just seems rather interesting. I myself have read of the legends of Westeros so many times that they’ve grown rather boring and repetitive. Aegon the Conqueror, Bran the Builder, even my own house’s ancestor, Lann the Clever; their stories have be so overheard that even their graves must hear them”

Varys let out a chuckle of mockery and agreement. His own experience with sorcery and religious views have left him skeptical of such practices, along with the hatred of all that used magic. Tyrion wondered if the former Master of Whisperers ever despised the great houses due to their holding of the mysterious Virtues, whose power traced back to even the ages of the Children.

As the two walked through the streets of Volantis, Tyrion’s mind wandered to a brothel where Varys and him could not be noticed by any wandering eyes. But he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. He could only think of his wife. Of Tysha. Somehow, Tyrion’s first thought wasn’t Shae, as she was a true whore compared to his first wife. A brothel wouldn’t ease his pain, no matter how many women he brought upon his bed.

Perhaps a mere book with a glass of wine will calm my suffering, Tyrion thought. Question was, where was he going to find a library in the mists of such a large city? The Temple of the Lord of Light could hold some scrolls for him to read through, but they’d mostly be filled with the teachings of the priests. And as if Varys would ever agree to going to such a place.

“You wouldn’t happen to know if there’s an inn in these parts, would you?” Tyrion asked, looking up to Varys

The man raised his eyebrows “I figured you’d rather be more interested in the confinements of a brothel?”

“No” Tyrion said abruptly “After everything that has happened, I’ve made the conscious decision to stay out of the whore house for a time”

“Well then, we can continue down this trail to a nearby atheneum where we’ll be able to blend in with the small folk”

“Perhaps I can indulge myself in some wine there”

“I thought you said you no longer wanted to take part in fornication. ‘For a time’, as you said”

“I never said I’d give up drinking”

Once reaching the atheneum Varys had mentioned, Tyrion could hardly believe his eyes. He had heard that the library of the Citadel were home to many knowledge and tales, so he didn’t expect much from the atheneum in Volantis, which only held two stories yet books upon thousands of shelves.

Entering the establishment, Tyrion and Varys took their seats all the way in the back where no one would disturb them. The only people that walked trough there were the workers sorting the books into shelves or customers looking for a more interesting read. Either way, no one would ask them of their reasons to coming into the place, as they did not speak the common tongue.

Tyrion flipped through the pages of a dusty old book that read ‘The Blood Betrayal: Fall of the Great Empire’ in High Valyrian. He didn’t know much of the language, but enough to understand what some of the sentences said.

He turned to Varys, who scoured through the rippling parchments and scrolls that smelled like old leather “It says here that according to the people of Yi Ti, the Blood Emperor slewed his older sister, the Amethyst Empress, and his rule ushered in the Long Night. Apparently he slept with a tiger woman, feasted upon human flesh, and enslaved his people. And I thought the myths of Westeros were too theatrical”

“The YiTish also speak of the Maiden-Made-Of-Light, who turned her back upon the world whilst her husband, the Lion of Night, punished the wickedness of men” Varys added. Tyrion wasn’t really surprised of his response, as the man had grown up in Essos himself “The Essosi paint their gods in the forms of animals and great beasts, as they’ve never seen the deities with their own eyes. Perhaps their gods forms gives them some sort of pride in their religion”

Tyrion simply shrugged, and before he could come up with a witty remark, he noticed a librarian sorting some used books that were left by previous visitors. He raised his hand to get the attention of the man. Thankfully he noticed him or else he’d have to resort to introducing himself In Valyrian, which was not his strong suit.

Getting the attention of Varys so as to translate for him, Tyrion began “Hello” he said, as his companion repeated the greeting in the local tongue “I was wondering, if you could tell me what this creature is?” He pointed down to the page he’d stopped on, which held an illustration of a winged creature. Its wings looked as if they were burning, and it was emerging from a pit of flames.

“I can speak some of common tongue, if you’d wish” the librarian said

Tyrion raised his eyebrows and sighed “Well... that’s a relief. I don’t think my companion here would’ve been able to handle doing all of the work for me” Though he didn’t clearly see it, he could tell that Varys was rolling his eyes and quietly scoffing.

The librarian carefully took the book from Tyrion’s hands, almost as if he grabbed it forcefully, the whole thing would fall apart. He examined the drawing, and his face crinkled “Their presence lost to history, I’m afraid. But people of Essos spoke of them as ‘The Devils Daughters’”

“How come?” Tyrion asked

“Essosi believe that daughters were born in home of evil spirits” The man said, his voice frail and his common language quite broken, but still understandable “They thrived in times of dragons, some even believe that two were foes who battled for fires hearth”

Varys leaned towards Tyrion “Many strayed far from the Fourteen Flames because it is believed that The Devils Daughters made their homes within the pits of the volcanoes. It was also thought that the creatures cursed the pits if their common enemy were to ever return”

As much as Tyrion wished to speak on more vital matters, such as whether this Dragon Queen truly was worth his troubles, he couldn’t help but be intrigued “Where did the daughters come from?” He asked the librarian

The old man sat down and fidgeted in his place to get comfortable “The oldest legend is that seamstress from Yi Ti sewed gold string for Opal Emperor in days of the Great Empire. According to scrolls and writing, the monarch adorned silks with golden string, and payed seamstress for more. So seamstress worked days on needle, so much so that the string shined in sunlight and her talent spoken of across all Yi Ti ”

“Sounds a bit exaggerated” Tyrion muttered to himself

“However, Opal Emperor wanted more than gold. He was so impressed of seamstress’s work that he gave her the challenge of creating embroidery and turning it into jewels”

Varys looked as if he didn’t want to listen to the mans story. Tyrion could only guess that it was either he had heard it a thousand times or of the great distances himself kept from religious practices and fables.

“Now, seamstress argued that what the Emperor proposed was impossible, but Opal Emperor granted her a seat in his court if she were to complete his task. So, she stayed in her shop for days, and the days turned into weeks. Finally, the seamstress stepped into Emperors palace, where she presented embroidery to him and his council. Seamstress had created a bird, whose wings shined with not golden, but silver string and encrusted with what many believed to be sundrops and starlight. The Opal Emperor, impressed he was. Yet, he asked more of seamstress. He ordered her to take embroidery on the fourteenth day of her time within the palace and burn it in a pyre of all the spices her expenses could buy. On the day of burning, seamstress took embroidery upon fire and...”

He paused for a moment, his face showing an expression of wonderment and perhaps, even pure bliss. The old man looked to the ceiling as if he’d been envisioning the story while he spoke.

“And?” Varys cut the silence, stopping Tyrion from shaking the man out of his delusion.

“When the seamstress placed her creation upon pyre, the embroidery burst into flames, leaving nothing but ashes and cinders. But then, without tamper, a great miracle happened. Embroidery of creature, had become real. Embroidery, became Devils Daughter. No larger than her teat, the baby was frail, yet soon would be powerful. Upon third setting of sun and second rising of moon, Daughter had disappeared from seamstress’s shop. Never seen again, until Old Valyria found dragon”

The man got up from his seat, continuing with his previous action of sorting books upon shelves. Varys had little to no reaction, clearly thinking of the fable as nothing more than that.

Tyrion furrowed his eyebrows, not understanding why the man had decided to end the story so abruptly, with hardly any payoff “You wouldn’t happen to know the creatures diets, by any chance?” He joked “Whether they ate, just out of curiosity: lions? Preferably lionesses, on my end”

The image of his sister being devoured by this creature, every inch of her destroyed by its jaws as she joins their father in a place where their every sin haunts them, was something Tyrion gladly wished to see.

“I’m afraid not, good sir” The librarian answered, his voice hinting at slight annoyance. Almost as if he knew what Tyrion was truly asking “Lions we’re not perceived as good by Yi Ti because of Lion of Night. They saw beasts as omens of misfortune, and even death”

“Well” Tyrion exasperated “That’s rather disappointing” His eyed widened in delight when he saw that Varys had called for a serving girl to bring them two glasses along with some red wine. Pouring the drink into his glass, Tyrion took a sip, savoring the rich, sweet taste it produced inside his mouth.

Varys joined him in the pleasurable drink, taking a long sip from his cup “With the Daughters gone, the dragons are the rulers of fire. However, it seems that not even the flames wished to stay in their grasp. The Doom definitely is an example of that”

Tyrion looked at him in somber silence “You truly believe that the Mother of Dragons is the one to bring upon a new age of Westeros?” He asked

“Are the freed slaves not enough proof for you?”

“Neither of us were there when she liberated those cities, so how can you expect me to just join her cause and serve her blindly instead of believing that she chose to break chains for another reason?” Tyrion took another drink of his wine “From what’s been heard about Meereen, she nailed men to wooden posts where they roasted about the heated sun. I distinctly remember someone else doing something similar with the corpses of their enemies. And that someone just happened to be my father. Tell me, does House Reyne not ring any bells to you?”

“All leaders must inspire a level of fear upon their enemies. If not, it’ll make them appear weak. Too much kindness does not bode well in a world as cruel as this one” Varys circled his glass, making his wine move about the cup.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow at him “Come now, my friend, we both know you’re not that naive. What monarch who has inflicted pain to everything they touch has had their following last?”

“Would you rather have stayed in Pentos to drink yourself away?” Varys raised his voice “Would you have liked it if I’d denied your brothers request to set you free?”

“Don’t talk about Jaime” Tyrion sneered, his eyes darkening. Despite his outburst, Varys was not fazed.

“You may not like it, my friend,” Varys began “But the truth is that your brother is the reason you’re still living. Even after he had lied to you, think of why he did it. We both know you cannot truly spite him. Not after everything you’ve been through. And certainly not after all the people who are much more deserving of your hatred”

Tyrion didn’t speak. I want to hate Jaime, he thought. I have to hate him

“What’s the point of love and trust if the people closest to you just end up hurting you?” He got up from his seat to pour more wine, until the cup was filled to the brim “Love is pointless. It’s a disease that spreads more pain that any sword or poison in the known world. And to trust is to be willfully blind to the truth, all while everyone breaks a chunk off of you until your left with only the remaining pieces of your heart. I’ve loved and trusted for too long, and I’ve lost too much of my heart already. I’ll not loose my mind to foolishness such as love nor trust any longer”

Varys could only stare emotionless at him, then averted his gaze to his cup “So what will you do know? Replace love and trust with hate and deceit?”

“I’d settle for knowledge and revenge” Tyrion said simply “After all, it has a better ring to it”

“The Dragon Queen will not accept those who will hatch plots and schemes under her nose” Varys warned “Do you truly think that what you’re doing is wise?”

Tyrion turned to him, his stance wobbly due to the increase of alcohol consumption “Tell me Varys: you said that Daenerys Targaryen has three dragons under her control, yes?”

“Those are what my little birds and I report” His companion replied

“Dragons have scorn for their enemies. Raw and untamed scorn. The largest of them had teeth the size of swords. While a lion may not control the skies, it is the king of all beasts, who commands respect and fear upon its subjects. After all, ‘In a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has claws’. Imagine Cersei’s terror when there comes a dragon and lion knocking at her door”

“Are you implying that your allegiance to the Dragon Queen is purely to spite your sister?” Varys asked

I never meant to imply it, is what Tyrion wished to say, but instead, his mind changed to another response “If that’s what you wish to think, go right ahead”

He put down his wine glass, which nearly tipped over and spilled “Now then” Tyrion began “I believe we should find an inn to stay. All this drinking has left my head reeling and my body tipsy” Varys seemed to want to argue, but he pursed his lips tightly that they seemed to disappear.

He didn’t even speak a word when Tyrion grabbed the book he was reading (among others) and sneak them into his tunic for future use.

On the road to the inn, Tyrion spoke more about the Devils Daughters, and if they were real, he wondered what horrors he’d inflict on his Cersei and even his father if he were still alive. He could see that Varys was growing mildly concerned, but Tyrion assumed that he had heard worse.

What neither could have predicted, was that the halfman would be stolen away as a gift for the Dragon Queen herself.

#game of thrones #virtues au #my writing #tyrion lannister #varys the spider #anti daenerys #i mean #some might take it that way #but im just pointing out things shes legit done #so really its just criticism...

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cfijerusalem · 5 years

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A NATIONAL REMEMBRANCE OF GOD

“When you come to the Land, you shall plant fruit trees” (Leviticus 19:23). “When, in making war against a town in order to capture it, you lay siege to it for a long time, you are not to destroy its trees, cutting them down with an axe. You can eat their fruit, so don’t cut them down... After all, are the trees in the field human beings, so that you have to besiege them too? However, if you know that certain trees provide no food, you may destroy them and cut them down.…” (Deuteronomy 20:19-20, CJB; Psalm 1:3, CJB).

January was the month for Tu B’Shvat, which is a Jewish holiday occurring on the 15th day of the Hebrew month of Shevat. It is also called “Rosh HaShanah La’Ilanot”, literally “New Year of the Trees.” In contemporary Israel, the day is celebrated as an ecological awareness day, and trees are planted in celebration. (Wikipedia). People plant trees for their children and grandchildren. Tu B’Shvat has developed into an ecological holiday that reminds Jewish people of their connection to the earth and to their role as caretakers of the environment. On Tu B’Shvat Jewish people often eat fruits associated with the Holy Land, especially the ones mentioned in the Bible (Torah).

It is now February and the Land of Israel is beginning to bloom with the beautiful almond trees/fruit, which blossom early in the year. The Hebrew word for tree is “etz” and the almond tree reminds all who love Torah (the Jewish Scriptures) of the rods of Moses and Aaron that were given power during the time of the Ten Plagues of Egypt. Their rods were like those of the shepherds watching the flocks of Israel - a symbol of authority. I suppose it could be likened to the admonition in Proverbs 13:24 that if one spares the rod, they will spoil their child. The rod was also employed during the Exodus and the Korach rebellion against Moses. During this lovely day of Tu B’Shvat in Israel, one is encouraged to eat the fruits of the new season. About 30 kinds of fruit are growing at this time. We were pleasantly surprised on this holiday, when a friend stopped by to bring us some home-made chicken soup and Tu B’Shvat bread, made from the fruit of Israel’s trees. What a treat. And so gratitude is ensured here in the Land for the Creator, and His Creation, which gave us all of the fruit-bearing trees. What other nation on earth takes the time to thank God through a one-day remembrance of something great He has done? Only Israel. This is a taste of the Kingdom to come on earth, right here in Jerusalem. A time when not only the Prince of Peace will have ushered in true peace, when He speaks the Torah (the Law) and it goes forth, but a time to be grateful for the many things God has done for us. We will have an eternity to thank God for everything. It is such a joy to live in this Land.

TOGETHER IN THE SPIRIT OF PRAYER: LET US PRAY!

Since Tu B’Shvat is a time of thanking God – even though Israel is facing great danger from Iran – we must turn to the Holy Scriptures and rejoice with God, our Savior and Lord, that He has told us the end of the story. While we are in the middle of end time events all around us, we can laugh as the Proverbs 31 woman because she knew God would destroy Israel’s enemies in the end. Hannah rejoiced also because she knew what the Scrolls told her, that God was in control and would destroy the enemies of Israel. Therefore, in the midst of serious times, let us rejoice in God because it is HE that is carrying out His Word and His Promises for all the world to see He is GOD!!

Pray and thank God for the Prime Minister of Israel who has many burdens on his shoulders. The nation of Iran has said “The hour of Israel’s destruction draws Nigh” (Israel Today, January 22, 2019). “I have heard the insults of Moab and the taunts of the Ammonites, who insulted my people and made threats against their land” (Zephaniah 2:8, NIV).

Pray Fervently for the leadership of Israel to make every decision based upon how God is leading. Prime Minister Bibi Netanyahu boldly proclaims, “Bring It On” (Israel Today, January 22, 2019). He knows the Holy Scriptures and that the Protector of Israel has promised to keep Israel night and day: “He that keepeth Israel shall never slumber nor sleep. Indeed, the Protector of Israel does not slumber or sleep” (Psalm 121:3,4, CSB).

Intercede for a latter day outpouring of the Holy Spirit (Ruach HaKodesh) in Israel. The prophet Joel has spelled out exactly what will take place in Israel in the end times. “And afterward, I will pour out my Spirit on all people. Your sons and daughters will prophesy, your old men will dream dreams, your young men will see visions” (Joel 2:28, NIV). Let us always remember that along with God wanting to revive His People from the nations, He also wants to revive His Chosen People. What a glorious day that will be!

Thank God that He speaks through His Word to the world. “Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved, a worker who does not need to be ashamed and who correctly handles the word of truth” (2 Timothy 2:15, NIV).

Rejoice in God’s Word which never changes. Never diminish or take lightly what is called the “Old” Testament by Christianity. It is the Eternal Word of God that never changes.

Thank Him for His Plan for His Coming Kingdom on earth. “Who can speak and have it happen if the Lord has not decreed it?” (Lamentations 3:37, NIV).

Be Joyous and Thankful that His Promises are all coming to pass, every jot and tittle. The rejoicing should be in our hearts that we need not fear sudden changes, destruction, nor end time plagues. Faith will take us through the severest of circumstances and will make our faith even more rock solid in Him. The days ahead should only develop our faith and make it stronger. Hallelujah! “And again it is said, “Rejoice, O Gentiles, with his people” (Romans 15:10, ESV). Also Jeremiah 31:7.

As we all stand at our posts and “watch,” looking for His Coming, let us rejoice in the truth that faith believes God’s Promises for Israel, and for the Nations. Please pray for all the nations who are making decisions whether to stand with Israel and bring their embassies to Jerusalem, and for those who are stubborn and rebelling against God and His Chosen People. Pray for eyes to be opened, hearts to be changed, and for Israel’s coming redemption. We all play a part.

Watching for His Coming, Sharon Sanders Christian Friends of Israel - Jerusalem, email: [email protected]

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