The Phoenix – A GOT Fan-Fiction

[289 AC]

Handing his spear to a servant and taking a slightly wet towel from another one, to wipe away his sweat and refresh himself a bit, Oberyn saw his daughters and pregnant lover approach them.

“Morning, my love.”, he said, as he pressed his lips against Ellaria's, before turning to his daughters and introducing them: “Lord, these are my daughters Obara and Nymeria, my pride and joy. Girls, this is Phenex Firestar of House Dayne, Lord of Light, Ruler of the Blessed Cities and Sword of the Morning.”

He knew of course that they were still young and probably wouldn't understand the full meaning behind these words, but that didn't mean that he couldn't attempt to teach them the importance behind titles and reputation.

Even though he taught them that power was something that they had to build up by themselves through skill and hard work, that didn't mean that there was no power behind titles and reputation, or that they weren't an indicator for such.

And the man before him certainly possessed power that lived up to his titles.

Obara, fierce even at her current age, unhestitatingly questioned the flesh-made god, while Nymeria observed Phenex closely after they had just seen him best their father at combat using pure technique.

“I heard the servants say that you are a god, is that true?”, Obara inquired demandingly, gazing intently at him.

Smiling at the brisk attitude displayed by the twelve-year old girl, Phenex replied to her inquiry.

“Do you want me to answer you, or do you want me to prove it?”, he crouched down to her eye-level, before asking curiously, knowing that simple words wasn't what she was looking for.

“Proof.”, Obara stated firmly, and Phenex could see Nymeria's eyes lighting up at her sister's answer, her anticipation obvious.

“As you wish.”, Phenex answered, before standing back up and walking to the edge of the deck.

Turning to them, he voiced out intently: “Look closely.”

The next moment, his flesh turned into fire. Blazing columns danced over the ocean, growing and expanding, twisting and merging, until finally a flaming long-necked bird the size of a mountain hovered before the small vessel.

Stretching his neck, Phenex let loose an ear-shattering phoenix cry, the world around him trembling from the shockwaves and buckling under the weight of his mere presence.

Titanic waves rising up, as his flaming aura gave his form a glaring brightness.

It was pandemonium – chaos. An apocalyptic display of such power that mortals could only be uncomprehending towards it. The small ship and those on it only surviving because Phenex had protected them with a transparent veil of fire.

Reining in his might a few long moments later, he willed the ocean to calm down and forced the waves to subside, not wanting to cause a tsunami on the surrounding coasts. The world following his command without resistance.

Suppressing the glaring light of his form, he moved his long neck and placed his head right above the small vessel, a large purple iris staring down at it. The colour a memento of his mother.

None of the men and women onboard could keep their calm at this display, the crewmembers once again kneeling down and praying. Though true to his House's words Oberyn did not bow or bend his knee, even though shock and fear coursed through his veins.

Phenex could clearly sensed the reverence in the Prince's heart, along with Ellaria's whose hands were clutched around Oberyn's arm. And while Nymeria looked on in wonder, unable to grasp the display of mystical power before her, Obara was practically frozen in shock, a fearful look in her eyes.

A moment later, his flaming form condensed rapidly. Shrinking in on itself, until his human form had once again taken shape. Two fiery wings still extended from his back, as he slowly glided down from the sky and landed back on the deck. His wings vanishing a moment later.

Approaching the fearful girl, Phenex crouched down once again, as he placed his hand softly on her cheek and asked softly: “Do you believe them now, little flower? The words of your servant.”

Obara's fear being replaced by shyness and nervousness, as she looked at the enchanting face of Phenex and felt his warm hand on her cheek. She nodded meekly in reply, as a blush creeped on her cheeks.

Suddenly Phenex sensed something interesting happening to Thoros.

Turning his head in the direction of the Iron Islands, where the priest currently was, his eyes turned into a blazing colour, and not just his irises. It looked as if his eyes where made ouf of fire, as he spread his sense to Thoros' position.

Witnessing this, Obara was in wonder, not understanding how a man of flesh could also be made out of fire.

…

[Iron Islands]

Siighing to himself, Eddard or 'Ned' Stark, 'the quiet wolf', couldn't help but wish to be anywhere else but here. Surrounded by Southern Lords, schemers and bootlickers, they sat in a meeting hall on Pyke, dealing with the aftermath of this rebellion and confering rewards to those who proved themselves worthy in the battle.

Not to mention that they had to wait for Robert finishing his drinking and whoring after the successful battle, which took several days. Until he finally was ready to proceed with the more formal matters concerning the victory.

Amongst those present, the most noteable were Tywin Lannister, Stannis Baratheon, Robert's younger brother, and Jorah Mormont.

Stannis had arrived a few days ago, mostly to inquire about the battle results and await Robert's decision, while Tywin had been the commander of Robert's army. The King himself prefering a much more direct apporach to war and battle. Fighting on the front with his men and using his warhamer to cave in the skulls or ribcages of his enemies.

Still, even the presence of his friend and King, couldn't not make him wish to be back in Winterfell already with his wife and children.

Ned, however, took his duties as Warden of the North and as Lord of House Stark very seriously, so he endured patiently, even though they had discussed dozens of different and tedious topics over the last few days – about how to deal with the traitorous Greyjoys, discussing the logistics and possible sanctions against the Iron Islands, punishing desserters and finally rewarding noteable figures.

And this last part was the one he expected to be the most tedious, as it would most likely be ladden with the Lords trying to paint their own men in the best light and gaining the recognition of the Crown, rewards and the accompanying fame of such things.

There was one exception though, and as he watched the easily recognizable long-haired thick-bearded warrior step into the hall, donning a blood-red robe with his Valyrian blade strapped to his waist, even Ned Stark couldn't help but observe the man carefully.

'The Undying Priest' had a calm look on his face. A minisculine bow all he offered, to greet the many Lords and even the King, and yet nobody voiced out any complaints. Not the high-born Lords, neither King himself.

It was respect and a smidgen of fear that made the noble men of Westeros accept such from the man before them, as they had seen the carnage he could unleash on the battlefield with his fire and blade.

Adding to the fact that not even the most deadly wounds had been able to stop him from advancing on the enemy, recovering from lethal injuries in mere moments, the man was being heralded as one of the greatest warriors that Westeros had ever seen.

“Thoros of Myr, you step before the King and the Lords of Westeros today to receive your well-deserved rewards for your performance in battle.”, Tywin intoned, having taking over much of Robert's duties with logistics and planning since his arrival.

They sat a large table and faced the hall, with Robert in the middle seat and Ned to his right, while Tywin sat to his left. Stannis Baratheon, on the other hand, sat to Ned's right, as the two got along fairly well, while another two long tables stood to the sides, creating aisle with some free space before the King's table.

Thoros standing before the seated King and Lords, calmly acknowledged these words, with a curt: “Thank you, Mylords.”

“It has been decided that you will receive the title of knight personally confered to you by His Majesty Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, King of the Andals and First Men, Protector of the Realm. You will also be granted land in the Westerlands under my rule, along with a fifty thousand gold dragons from the crown's treasury.”, Tywin voiced out.