Chapter Text
THE RED PRIEST
“Lord of Light, give me the courage and the wisdom to do as you bid. Help me, I beg of you, so that I may bring life back to this man’s bones. I have seen your visions. I have seen the things to come: death and destruction, fire and ice, and once they all die away only then will he appear.”
The bald-headed priest bowed his head, as he continued to knell on the floor. The fire blazed before him; white embers kindled in the blaze, while bright sparks of light flickered in the air. The priest sat still for a little while longer before he rose from the floor. The body was still there, Lord Baelish’s pale figure was laid out upon the table. His neck was severed; his eyes were shut. He smelt of death and decay. The priest laid a hand on the dead man’s chest, trailing his fingers down the silver scar that once cut the man in two. The priest shook his head and said, “I cannot do what you ask of me. This man has been gone for far too long.”
The fire erupted, igniting into a terrifying flame. “Very well, I shall do what you ask,” sulked the priest. He threw off the last of the tar black shroud and tossed it at his feet. Then he took a bowl of clean water and scrubbed away at the wounds. He hummed an old hymn, the one he used to sing when he was a small boy. It gave him hope, he felt he needed it now, more than ever before.
He stooped low over the figure, and placed both hands on his chest. Only then did he whisper a silent prayer. He felt a surge of power leave him, giving life to this man’s lifeless bones. Just when the priest felt the last of his strength leave him, did he hear a sudden gasp beneath him, and felt a violent shudder within the dead man’s chest.
Lord Baelish had awoken.