The Phoenix – A GOT Fan-Fiction

[300 AC]

Hundreds of rowing boats filled to the brim with fierce warriors and priests slowly neared the port of Oldtown under the guise of the night. Barely any sound could be heard despite the number of boats, as the rows were put to use with great care.

Kinvara, who was standing at the bow of the very first boat, had a calm look on her face, as her crystal eyes shined with a blazing luster.

Phenex had sent a massive fleet up the western coast of Westeros, whose main target was the Iron Islands and the Reach. Kinvara had split off from the fleet with the warriors and priests assigned to her, which amounted to roughly 25 thousand men, with three thousand of them being members of the Fiery Hand and more than 400 priests and priestesses from the Fire Sword branch.

Not to mention the two Feathers that had accompanied her on Phenex orders, namely Sybil, a rapier-wielding warrioress, and Atas the male leader of her Lord's personal guard. There was also another High Priestess amongst those following her, who had formerly been stationed in Pentos.

It was Kinvara's task to conquer the Reach and she had decided to start with Oldtown, as it was easily reached through the sea and was also the most important city in this kingdom. Additionally, it was the seat of power of the Faith of the Seven and the Citadel was located in the city as well.

To be able to launch a surprise attack on the city during the night, they had been forced to rely on the magic of hundreds of priests including her own to hide the fleet of roughly two hundred ships she had taken with her for the assault on the city.

Though this was only half of the fleet as the other half led by Tibera, High Priestess of Pentos and temporary leader of part of the Red Temple's forces was going to simultaneously attack Blackcrown and the Three Towers, the two castles that sat at the mouth of the Whispering Sound, which was the rather wide inlet that led from the Sunset Sea to Oldtown.

Turning to the thin old man by her side, Kinvara inquired quietly: “How is the progress? Have your men taken down the patrols near the port, Qorik?”

Being one of the leaders of the Hidden Flame, Qorik had been tasked to ensure that Kinvara and the members of the Fiery Hand, along with her priests and priestesses could safely reach the port of the city without being spotted.

“The patrols have been taken care of, Flame of Truth.”, the elderly spy and shadowbinder answered with a bow.

Qorik had mobilized over a hundred assassins and sleeper agents from the Hidden Flame to take down all the patrols around the port. Poison, blackmail, assassination, seduction, and other methods had been used to ensure the success of this mission.

“Mhm.”, Kinvara nodded in understanding, before voicing out her orders, “The moment we land, I want you to take a hundred Fiery Hand warriors, along with your Hidden Flame members, and take over the Citadel. Your first and foremost priority is to prevent them from destroying any knowledge they may be in possession of.”

Eyes sparkling astutely, Qorik replied: “I will do as you command, Flame of Truth.”

Being not only a spy and shadowbinder in the service of the Red Temple and his god but also a scholar in his own right, Qorik naturally understood the value of knowledge very well.

The Citadel was known all over the world as maybe the greatest repository of knowledge, and while the temple's library in Volantis and some of the private collections of books by the sorcerers in Asshai may rival the central home of the order of Maesters, the Citadel was bound to have knowledge and secrets that could not be found anywhere else but here.

Qorik was determined to fulfill the Red Queen's orders, not only because of his loyalty and sense of duty but also because of his innate love of secrets.

He knew that every secret he could save from being destroyed was one he would be allowed to get to know as a leader of the Hidden Flame.

…

Silently and invisibly, a dark shadow crawled through the walls of the ancient castle of House Stark. Closer and closer the shadow crept toward the master's bedroom that was currently occupied by the cowardly son of Balon Greyjoy.

Having personally been sent by the 'Blood Flame' of the Hidden Flame to assassinate the unfortunate boy, the shadow made sure to retain absolute focus while concealing his presence with the little bit of shadow magic he had been taught.

The Hidden Flame had two leaders, 'Blood Flame' Levo and 'Secret Flame' Qorik, one a silent killer and the other a master of secrets. They led the Hidden Flame with such impassive ruthlessness, that the shadow would much rather die on a mission than return in failure.

Finally reaching the closed door of the master's bedroom, the shadow took a deep breath before forcing its body to become one with the shadow beneath it. Agony spread through the shadow's body and mind at the use of this unnatural form of magic, though not a sound escaped its lips.

Slipping through the crack at the bottom in his intangible form, the shadow reappeared at the other side of the closed door in a crouch, before hurriedly undoing the magic it had used.

Weakness and exhaustion spread through the shadow's limbs, while a piercing pain made itself known at the back of its head. Forcing itself to ignore the side effect of the spell, the shadow took in the whole room from its crouched position.

The small embers still flickering in the fireplace gave off enough light so that the shadow could see clearly even without the Dark Sight it had gained from a magical ritual in the temple.

The shadow's gaze settled on the bed as that was where its target was, entangled with the limbs of two prostitutes from the castle city.

Silently withdrawing a thin and long glass vial, while silently creeping towards the foot of the bed in its crouched position, the shadow took off the cap, which had a long and incredibly sharp, hair-thick needle attached to it that had been in contact with the clear liquid inside the vial.

Without hesitation, the shadow took the venom-coated needle and pricked the shin of the sleeping heir of the Iron Islands, while staying low and hidden at the end of the bed, knowing that this part of the skin was less sensitive, so there was less risk of the boy awakening.

As expected the boy did not react besides a minute jerk of his leg.

Doing the same to the two prostitutes, the shadow closed the vial again and stored it back in the pouch at its waist. Closing its eyes the shadow slowed its breathing and dulled its presence as it waited patiently, knowing it would take at least half an hour for the venom to completely paralyze its target.

Finally, when the shadow's limbs had already gone partially numb to the uncomfortable position and the side effects of the magic it had used to get soundlessly into the room, it rose from its position and silently drew the razor-sharp Valyrian steel dagger from its lower back.

Moving to the side of the bed, all it took was one swift motion and the lifeblood of Theon Greyjoy was rapidly leaking from the cut on the side of his neck. The boyish man however made no move that would indicate that he had woken up as a consequence of the shadow's attack, even though the shadow knew that he had.

It was the venom that had completely immobilized the boy, so even in death he could not open his eyes and look at the dark figure that had come to claim his life.

The shadow's work was not yet done however, as it withdrew another vial from the waist pouch and uncorked it silently, which had already become an ingrained habit, before letting a single inky-black drop fall onto the unmoving face of the Prince from the Iron Islands.

With practiced ease, the vial was stored back safely in the pouch, while the shadow watched a black flame-like pattern form on the boy's face.

Turning around the shadow walked towards the door of the bedchamber and despite its weakness and exhaustion it once again transformed into a shadow and endured the agony and side effects of this magic, vanishing into the dark corridors of the Northern Castle, unseen and unheard.