Kindled Grace
Twenty First Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC
Your blood turns cold at the word 'wither'. You could not say for certain what such a desecration of a Heart Tree would mean to the Old Gods, but the implication of being seen to bring such harm to a Godswood are terrible enough. And then there is the fate of the unborn child and his mother.
No, you would not allow the hand of Winter to reach this far. Your cloak flares behind you, the gold rippling and twisting as it disgorges a full score giant blades onto the roots of the tree. "Stand back!" you call, trusting to Waymar and Tyene to hold the Lord to the warning even with what you are about to do next.
Allowing your flesh to change to something between man and wyrm, you breathe in the cold night air and breathe out fire, not as hot as you can make it, but hot enough. Brighter than the forges in which the steel was wrought with slave's blood and sacrifice's toil, hotter than the waves of the Sea of Fire upon which they had been taken. The metal melts and bubbles, the Heart Tree stands tall and unblemished.
The leaves grow brightern their rustling one with the crackling firen and in that sound the echoes of a thousand thousand voices, whispers woven one upon the other until a great shout arises to echo upon the peaks of the Red Mountains, into the passes where so few armies crossed.
"Begone!"
Lost 20x Giant Swords +1
Jeyne staggers, catching herself at the last moment, one hand hovering protectively over her midsection, but her expression is not one of shock or fear like her father's. Instead it is one of wonderment. "I can hear his heartbeat, it's like singing, like something you would hear in a dream."
"That is the True Tongue of the Singers, whom the First Men called the Children of the Forest," Waymar explains softly. Soft Strider had not wished to travel to Skyreach, too busy with the doings of her own kin growing and changing after so many years of slow decline, but it was clear the first of of those who stepped into the Green Dream had laid their own blessing upon the moment and the child, not just to spite their ancient enemy, but as a kindly gift to one yet unborn.
"Strength, wit and charm as you have asked, Your Grace, but also good fortune for the boy, may he use the gifts wisely," Bloodraven's voice holds no small measure of amusement in the knowledge that no child would ever be wise from the start, much less one so young.
"Did anything of the enemy's poisoned gifts remain?" you ask, thinking of Rina and of what you might have to explain to the child's parents.
"Nothing, with the Heart Tree in peril it was wisest to drown out their power rather than trying to shape it anew," the last Greenseer replies.
"The child will indeed be blessed, whatever path he should walk in life," you reply to Lady Fowler. Before you can say more on the matter, her father interjects demanding to know what you had done to the Heart Tree.
"Not just this Heart Tree, all of them across Westeros and Essos both, common fire cannot burn them now, by old lore and the insights of one among my companions who is closest to the Old Gods," you explain, keeping Vee's name silent to spare yourself having to explain that she neither has any title nor desires one.
"The Old Gods recall the burning of Godswoods, you see," Tyene explains with a sharp smile. "It will not be that easy again."
For a long moment the Lord of Skyreach is silent. Then, looking to the north across the Prince's Pass, he says "Alas that the greater perils of the world are born of ice not fire." He reaches out to take his daughter's hand as though to assure himself that she is still here.
Who do you speak to next?
[] Lord Dayne to capitalize upon recent events to sway him
-[] Write in
[] The particularizes, to judge for yourself just what Dornish traditions they value above prosperity and peace and sway them if you can
-[] Write in
[] Write in
OOC: No power was stolen from the Others this time but they did get metaphysically slapped away. Not yet edited.