GOT: House Redwyne

The Arbor was a distant memory as Lord Paxter Redwyne stood on the deck of The Pride of Arbor, his eyes scanning the horizon. The sea stretched out before him, endless and vast, but his thoughts were anchored to the events at Dragonstone. The fleet was on its way back to the Arbor, but the journey felt longer than ever before, the weight of the failed mission heavy on his shoulders.

Paxter replayed the events of that fateful night in his mind, searching for something he might have missed, some detail that could explain how they had been so thoroughly outmaneuvered by the Red Priestess. The shadows that had overtaken his men were unlike anything he had ever encountered, a force of pure malevolence that seemed to defy the very laws of nature. And then there was Melisandre herself—how had she simply vanished into thin air?

"Lord Redwyne," came a voice from behind him, pulling him from his thoughts. Paxter turned to see Maester Ferris approaching, the old man's face drawn and weary from the ordeal they had endured.

"Yes, Ferris?" Paxter asked, though he already had a sense of what the maester was about to say.

"We've received word from Highgarden," Ferris said, handing Paxter a sealed letter. "It arrived by raven early this morning. It seems they are aware of the situation at Dragonstone and are preparing to send reinforcements. However, there are concerns…"

Paxter broke the seal and unfolded the letter, his eyes quickly scanning the elegant script. The letter was from Lady Olenna Tyrell herself, the Queen of Thorns. Her words were sharp and to the point, as always, but there was an underlying current of worry that Paxter had rarely seen in the formidable matriarch.

Lord Redwyne, the situation at Dragonstone is more dire than we anticipated. Reports of the Red Priestess's dark magic have reached us, and it is clear that conventional means will not suffice. The forces of the Reach are formidable, but they are ill-equipped to face such unnatural threats. We must consider other options, and quickly. Stannis cannot be allowed to wield such power uncontested.

Paxter's heart sank as he continued reading. Olenna Tyrell was not a woman easily frightened, but even she was suggesting caution in the face of what they were dealing with. The letter went on to mention the possibility of seeking help from outside Westeros—specifically, from the Iron Bank of Braavos, which had its own interests in maintaining balance in the realm. However, Paxter knew that even the Iron Bank's resources might not be enough to counter the dark forces at play.

He handed the letter back to Ferris, who waited patiently for his lord's response. Paxter rubbed his temples, feeling the beginnings of a headache. "We are in deeper than we ever imagined, Ferris," he muttered. "If even Lady Olenna is suggesting we seek aid from Braavos, then we must truly be desperate."

Ferris nodded solemnly. "The shadows that attacked us at Dragonstone are not something our soldiers can fight. We need to consider all possible avenues, no matter how unorthodox."

Paxter was silent for a moment, the weight of leadership pressing down on him. The Redwyne fleet had always been a symbol of strength and stability in the Reach, but now he felt as though he were grasping at straws. The thought of appealing to foreign powers for help was distasteful, but what choice did they have? The Red Priestess had shown them that she could strike from the shadows, and no fortress or fleet would be safe until she was stopped.

"We'll reach out to the Iron Bank," Paxter said finally. "But we must also prepare for the worst. If Stannis intends to use this dark magic to strengthen his claim, then he will not stop at Dragonstone. We need to fortify the Arbor and ensure that our own defenses are ready for whatever may come."

Ferris bowed slightly. "I will see to it, my lord. And… there is one other matter."

Paxter raised an eyebrow, sensing the hesitation in the maester's voice. "What is it, Ferris?"

"It's the men, my lord," Ferris said quietly. "Many of them are shaken by what they witnessed at Dragonstone. There are whispers… rumors that the shadows are following us, that we are cursed for having challenged the Red Priestess."

Paxter clenched his fists, anger flaring within him. "Nonsense! The shadows were a manifestation of her magic, nothing more. We left Dragonstone behind, and those cursed shadows along with it."

Ferris looked unconvinced, but he didn't argue. "Even so, morale is low. We need to address this before it becomes a bigger issue."

Paxter nodded, his anger subsiding as he considered the maester's words. The men had been through a harrowing experience, and it was natural for fear to take root in the aftermath. But he couldn't afford to let that fear fester. They needed to remain united, strong, and focused on the task ahead.

"Gather the captains," Paxter said, making a decision. "We'll hold a council when we return to the Arbor. We need to reassure the men and plan our next steps. And spread the word—any man caught spreading rumors of curses or shadows will answer to me personally."

Ferris bowed and took his leave, leaving Paxter alone once more on the deck. The wind had picked up, the sails billowing as the fleet cut through the waves, but the sense of unease remained. Paxter looked out at the horizon, where the dark shape of the Arbor was just beginning to come into view, and he couldn't shake the feeling that the shadows of Dragonstone were still with them, lurking just out of sight.

As the fleet approached the Arbor, the familiar sight of the island's vineyards and bustling ports should have been a comfort. But Paxter felt no relief. The shadows on the horizon were growing darker, and he knew that the battle for Westeros was far from over.

When the fleet finally docked, the mood among the men was somber. The usual cheers and shouts of greeting were absent, replaced by murmurs and uneasy glances. Paxter disembarked, his face set in a grim mask as he made his way through the port and toward the keep. The Arbor was his home, his sanctuary, but today it felt like a place under siege.

As he entered the great hall, Paxter was met by the anxious faces of his family. Lady Mina was the first to approach him, her eyes filled with worry. "Paxter," she said softly, taking his hand. "What happened at Dragonstone? We've heard rumors, but nothing concrete."

Paxter sighed, the weight of the past few days settling heavily on his shoulders. "The rumors are true, Mina," he said quietly. "We faced something at Dragonstone that I fear is beyond our ability to defeat with swords and cannons. The Red Priestess… her power is unlike anything we've ever seen."

Mina's grip on his hand tightened. "What are we going to do?"

"We'll regroup," Paxter said firmly. "We'll reach out to Braavos for assistance, and we'll fortify the Arbor. But we cannot fight this battle alone. I've called a council of the captains. We need to plan our next move, and we need to do it quickly."

Mina nodded, though the worry in her eyes did not fade. "I'll do whatever I can to help, Paxter. We'll get through this, together."

Paxter gave her a small, reassuring smile, but deep down, he knew that the road ahead would be fraught with danger. The shadows were closing in, and they would need every ounce of strength and resolve to keep the darkness at bay.

As the captains gathered in the great hall, Paxter took his place at the head of the table. The men were weary, their faces lined with exhaustion and fear, but there was a determination in their eyes that gave Paxter hope.

"We are facing a threat unlike any other," Paxter began, his voice steady and commanding. "The Red Priestess has shown us that she can strike from the shadows, but we will not be cowed. We will fortify the Arbor, seek aid from Braavos, and prepare for whatever comes next. We are House Redwyne, and we do not bend to fear."

The captains nodded, their resolve hardening at their lord's words. The council began in earnest, plans and strategies discussed in detail. But even as they spoke of defenses and alliances, Paxter couldn't shake the feeling that the shadows were still watching, waiting for the right moment to strike.

The night was long, and the council continued well into the early hours of the morning. When it finally ended, Paxter was left alone in the great hall, the fire burning low in the hearth. He stared into the flames, his mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead.

The shadows were on the horizon, and they were coming for them all. But Paxter Redwyne would not falter. He would fight to protect his family, his home, and his people, no matter the cost.

And when the time came to face the Red Priestess again, he would be ready.