GOT: House Redwyne

The air was thick with tension as the Shadowbinder's ship approached the Arbor. A fog had rolled in from the sea, its damp fingers curling around the docks and creeping up the stone walls of the keep. The mist shrouded the island, adding to the unease that had settled over the inhabitants of the Arbor ever since the decision to seek the Shadowbinder's aid had been made.

Lord Paxter Redwyne stood at the end of the dock, flanked by Ser Martyn Harte and Maester Ferris. The men around them were silent, their faces set in grim lines as they watched the dark shape of the ship emerge from the fog. It was smaller than the vessels of the Redwyne fleet, with black sails that billowed eerily in the still air, as if propelled by some unseen force.

The ship glided silently into the dock, its hull cutting through the water with an unnatural smoothness. There was no sound of creaking wood, no shouted commands from the crew—only the whisper of the fog as it parted to allow the vessel to pass. Paxter felt a chill run down his spine as the gangplank was lowered, and a lone figure stepped onto the dock.

The Shadowbinder was taller than Paxter had expected, with a lithe, almost serpentine grace. He was clad in robes of deep midnight blue, the fabric shimmering with an otherworldly sheen that seemed to drink in the light. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but as he approached, Paxter caught a glimpse of eyes that gleamed like polished obsidian—cold, dark, and unreadable.

"Lord Paxter Redwyne," the Shadowbinder intoned, his voice low and smooth, carrying an accent that Paxter could not place. It was a voice that seemed to slip into the ears like a whisper, unsettling in its quiet power. "You have summoned me."

Paxter inclined his head, forcing himself to meet the Shadowbinder's gaze without flinching. "I did. We face a threat that requires… unconventional assistance. You were recommended to us by Lady Olenna Tyrell."

The Shadowbinder's lips curved into a faint smile, though it did little to warm the coldness in his eyes. "The Queen of Thorns is wise. She knows the value of alliances, even those forged in darkness."

Paxter felt the unease in his men as they listened to the exchange, but he pressed on. "We seek your aid in countering the magic of the Red Priestess, Melisandre. Her shadows have already cost us dearly, and we fear that she will unleash even greater horrors if she is not stopped."

The Shadowbinder's smile widened, though it remained devoid of warmth. "Ah, the Red Priestess of Dragonstone. Her flames burn brightly, but even the brightest fire casts shadows. And it is in the shadows that true power lies."

Paxter suppressed a shiver. "Will you help us?"

The Shadowbinder tilted his head, considering the question. "Help is a word that can mean many things, Lord Redwyne. What you seek is not help, but power. Power to match and surpass that of the Red Priestess. And power always comes with a price."

Paxter had expected this. "Name your price."

The Shadowbinder's eyes glittered like black jewels beneath his hood. "Gold, of course. Enough to fill the hold of my ship. But gold is not all I desire. There is something else, something more… precious."

Paxter's heart skipped a beat. He had feared that the Shadowbinder would demand something other than gold, something that could place the Arbor in even greater danger. "What is it that you seek?"

The Shadowbinder's smile faded, his expression turning serious. "I require a place of power. A sanctum from which I can weave my magic, unimpeded by the eyes of men. I have heard tales of the Isle of Ravens, a place where the veil between this world and the next is thin. I wish to establish my sanctum there, and in return, I will give you the means to combat the Red Priestess's magic."

Paxter exchanged a glance with Maester Ferris, who had gone pale at the mention of the Isle of Ravens. The maester leaned in and whispered urgently, "My lord, the Isle of Ravens is a place of ill omen. It is said to be haunted, a place where the dead do not rest easy. Allowing this man to establish a foothold there could have dire consequences."

Paxter knew the legends of the Isle of Ravens—an isolated island shrouded in mystery, where ravens circled endlessly above the dark, craggy cliffs. The tales spoke of ancient rituals and restless spirits, of a place that even the bravest sailors avoided. But they were in desperate times, and desperate measures were necessary.

He turned back to the Shadowbinder, his decision made. "You may have the Isle of Ravens, but only if you can deliver what you promise. We cannot afford to waste time on half-measures."

The Shadowbinder nodded, as if expecting no less. "Very well, Lord Redwyne. The Isle of Ravens will serve my purposes well. In return, I will provide you with the knowledge and tools you need to counter the Red Priestess's magic. But be warned: the path you tread is fraught with danger. Once you embrace the shadows, they will not easily let you go."

Paxter felt the weight of those words settle over him like a shroud, but he refused to be cowed. "We are already in the shadows, Shadowbinder. Now, we will use them to our advantage."

The Shadowbinder's smile returned, though it was more of a predatory grin than an expression of approval. "So be it. I will make my preparations, and when the time comes, I will call upon you to fulfill your part of the bargain."

With that, the Shadowbinder turned and walked back up the gangplank, disappearing into the mist as silently as he had arrived. The crew of his ship remained unseen, hidden in the fog, and as the vessel pulled away from the dock, it was as though it had never been there at all.

Paxter stood motionless for a long moment, his thoughts swirling like the fog around him. The Shadowbinder had agreed to help, but at what cost? The Isle of Ravens was now his, and Paxter could only hope that the price they had paid would not lead to their ruin.

"Is this truly wise, my lord?" Ser Martyn asked, his voice heavy with doubt. "We are dealing with forces we do not understand, with a man who may have his own dark designs. How can we trust him?"

Paxter turned to face his captain, his expression resolute. "We cannot trust him, Martyn. But we must use him. The Red Priestess will not stop until she has burned Westeros to ash, and we have already seen the price of underestimating her. If we are to survive, we must be willing to embrace every tool, every ally, no matter how dangerous."

Maester Ferris spoke up, his voice low and cautious. "We should keep a close watch on the Isle of Ravens, my lord. The Shadowbinder may be our ally now, but he could easily become our enemy if he is allowed too much freedom."

Paxter nodded. "Agreed. We will establish a garrison on the nearby islands, and I will have men posted to monitor the Shadowbinder's activities. We must remain vigilant, even as we prepare for the battle ahead."

With the Shadowbinder's bargain made, Paxter and his men returned to the keep. The atmosphere inside was no less tense, the news of the alliance with the Shadowbinder spreading quickly through the halls. The servants and soldiers whispered of the dark man who had come from the fog, of the Isle of Ravens and the dread that clung to it like a pall.

Lady Mina met Paxter in the courtyard, her eyes searching his face for answers. "Is it done?" she asked quietly.

"It is," Paxter replied. "The Shadowbinder will help us, but we have given him the Isle of Ravens in return."

Mina's expression darkened, but she did not argue. She understood the stakes as well as anyone. "And do you believe he will keep his word?"

"I believe he will," Paxter said, though he could not shake the lingering doubt. "But we must be ready for whatever comes next. The battle against the Red Priestess will be unlike any we have fought before, and we cannot afford to falter."

Mina reached out and touched his arm, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and determination. "We will stand by you, Paxter. Whatever happens, we will face it together."

Paxter placed his hand over hers, drawing strength from her resolve. "Together," he echoed.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the Arbor, Paxter knew that the days ahead would be filled with challenges and dangers beyond anything they had ever faced. The Shadowbinder's bargain had been made, and now they would have to live with the consequences.

The shadows were deepening, and the darkness was closing in. But Paxter Redwyne was not a man to shy away from a fight, no matter how dire. He would protect his home, his family, and his people, even if it meant walking the path of shadows to do so.

For House Redwyne, for the Arbor, and for the future of Westeros, Paxter would see this through to the end. The battle against the darkness had only just begun, and he would not rest until the light of the Arbor shone brightly once more.