Misreadings Lead to One More Rise

A/N: This chapter was going to have an additional scene to make it slightly longer but since it was mostly filler and I really wanted to update today, so, I decided to just focus on the important parts I have been building up to, and hopefully, delight you with some interesting developments.

And speaking off, we are getting a new POV character for this anniversary chapter to celebrate. Who, you ask? Why, the fandom's favorite dwarf of course! :D

Have fun reading this update with Tyrion Lannister...and the events therein that will shock even him.

Tyrion Lannister continued climbing his way upwards, silently cursing Garzdan the Great and his contemporaries for building the gigantic Great Pyramid of Old Ghis the entire time. Lomas Longstrider may have considered it one of the nine wonders made by man in one of his favorite books but it occurred to him that, without the original building to inspire their descendants on Meereen, they wouldn't have made a steeped pyramid just as big on the city he was now entrusted with ruling in his queen's stead.

And those steps just weren't made for dwarves, especially for the entire journey to the throne room near the top.

"Seven hells, no building that can match the Wall's height near its top has any right to forgo a winch elevator!" He complained as he lost count of the steps he was climbing for the third time. "The Night Watch on Castle Black figured that out thousands of years ago. Where is the sense of innovation of the people of Meereen?"

The couple of guards that were accompanying him glanced at each other but said nothing, probably because they were aware that despite his complaints, Tyrion already knew the answer. And so the Lannister fugitive sighed, wishing for wine to drink but not trusting himself to start, lest he gets himself drunk enough on the way to fall from the top of the pyramid. He snorted at the thought, refusing to give Cersei the satisfaction of hearing such news. Still, a part of him longed to ask for a litter to carry him the rest of the way but he discarded those thoughts every time before they could become too tempting, knowing how controversial it would look for the Hand of the Queen to be carried the steps of the Great Pyramid the way the **** master used to be carried all the time. And unlike his last turn running Meereen while Daenerys Targaryen was away, he sought to avoid decisions that could create much discontent if possible.

"It would not do to have another siege or rebellion on my watch," He thought to himself as he breathed a bit harder, pulling his weight upwards along the accursed stairs.

Then he sighed. "When did you start becoming respectable, Tyrion?" The dwarf muttered, his tone half sarcastic as he panted slightly.

The two unsullied warriors that had been escorting him on his business outside the Great Pyramid that night, turned to look at him for a moment before focusing on the way ahead again, used to hearing him whispering to himself by then. The Hand of the Queen shook his head, trying to focus on the success of his first two plans as the city's administrator.

He had been examining the reports for the region's finances and the inescapable reality was that the city was facing a supply shortage. Slavers' Bay seemed to have little fertile land, and the nearest area to it that tended to produce a much larger quantity of crops and sheep, Lhazar, had the unfortunate history of having its people being constantly raided by the Dothraki. As such, Meereen, Yunkai, and Astapor had to be reliant on foreign imports, but their only major trade goods were slaves.

Personally, he despised slavery, even more so after his brief enslavement in Essos. But unfortunately, the fact of the matter was that, without them, and by alienating all of the nearby cities who could send food in her rush to smash the **** trade in the region, Daenerys Targaryen's new kingdom was going to start going hungry soon.

Still, before taking the city, Meereen's so-called Great Masters had refilled all of their stores with vasts amounts of food in preparation for the coming siege by the Dragon Queen they had grown to fear. And not just for the masters either, since they had enough presence of mind to understand that under such circumstances, they were going to need a great very many tons of food and other supplies for their slaves if they were expecting a prolonged struggle instead of the quick conquest that followed.

As such, Tyrion still had some time left to organize a few plans that may help secure the city's food supply before the rest of their reserves were gone. But he had to take advantage of the fact that an enormous host of more than 100,000 Dothraki and their horses were heading to Yunkai and Astapor along with their new queen, their khaleesi, or whatever they wanted to call her. So, while they handled the remaining rebels and secured the fealty of the cities, the Hand of the Queen needed to work fast to refill Meereen's stores as much as possible before all of those mouths returned.

Which was why he had never felt so pleased to stink of fish.

Smiling slightly to himself, the Lannister dwarf remembered how, a couple of days ago, he had given the order to make use of most of the large fleet of warships they had captured from the coalition of slavers that had tried and failed to defeat his queen recently to fish across the bay in large quantities. With such large vessels focused on the task of filling their holds with fish, preserving them with salt or whatever spices they had available, and with so many more than they had before the failed uprising at that, he had started to see the results, with the port stinking as several tons of fish were carefully carried from hundreds of large warships. And for the second day in a row too.

The fishermen and former slaves that volunteered to work hard on the enterprise were pleased with the great, coordinated catch of the night. As agreed, Tyrion allowed them to take enough to feed their families for some time or to sell in the city markets if they preferred. The rest he oversaw along with a large group of unsullied soldiers being carried to the chambers and buildings that were designated to store the salted fish for the time being inside and around the Great Pyramid.

After all, keeping their army fed was a crucial priority. And the rest could be used to distribute to the residents of the city in a more organized fashion as needed.

But it wasn't enough, and he knew it. This was why he hoped his appointment tomorrow with the representative from the city of Qarth to, in their words, "discuss reparations to the Mother of Dragons for their role in aiding the failed rebellion against her rule", went well. Most of the nearby cities were heavily reliant on the **** trade, particularly the Volantis, which was why the rulers of the city behind the Black Walls had forbidden their merchants to trade with Meereen, as they considered Daenerys Targaryen a threat that needed to be dealt with. But if he could reopen trade with Qarth and ensure that most of the war reparations that city came in the form of food and spices and to get that done quickly, he might be able to secure the food supply of the city until they managed to expand their fleet enough to set sail to Westeros, like his queen desires. Especially if the agreement she had made with the united Khalasars to ensure the Dothraki in the region stopped raiding Lhazar held. As he had argued, that would help provide their farmers and shepherd the reprieve they needed to increase the number of their food exports to Meereen.

Eventually, the Hand of the Queen finally reached his new chambers that were given for his new position, on the 33rd and final floor of the 800 feet tall pyramid; with a balcony overlooking the throne room on the floor directly below it to the side and another one that looked directly into the city below.

Tyrion sighed. His new room was quite luxurious but if he was going to need to walk up and down the entire length of those stairs on most days his queen was away in order to fulfill her goal, he was going to need to ignore the tradition where rulers and the highest of the high among the city elites sleep at the top of the pyramids and risk insulting them more. That, or at least find a better way to travel that didn't remind the main supporters of the Breaker of Chains of the back-breaking work they used to do as slaves to carry fat and lazy Masters to the top on a litter, since he did not want them to associate that tradition with his new role as Hand of the Queen.

"But that's a solution to look for after my mind is more rested," He thought to himself, tired by the climb, and the days' events.

So, he informed the Unsullied warriors that they could guard the entrance to his room until the next shift-change but that for the time being, he was going to get ready to sleep. Giving them some extra thanks each with a few coins, he told them to spend it how they wanted, to which they only nodded before he closed the door.

The Westerosi man frowned. "You would think they are mute if you didn't ask them a direct question. Oh well, time for some wine and then to get to bed."

And so it was that Tyrion found his silver goblet exactly where he left it and soon refilled it with wine. He sat down on a chair next to the hearth of the room and gave himself permission to relax by the warmth of the fire.

There was no one around to toast to, so he shrugged and raised the glass to himself. "For a better start ruling this decadent city this time around," The Hand of the Queen voiced to no one in particular. "Cheers!" He added in an amused tone before starting to drink his fill.

Only for him to spit it out, startled, when he heard a very loud crashing sound.

Jumping to his feet he looked around, alarmed at the possibility that another slaver fleet was attacking and a trebuchet had slammed rock into the Pyramid close by. But after looking out cautiously through the bacony, he found nothing out of the ordinary. By the time he turned around, he noticed that his guard and entered his room and were looking around, alert and with their weapons at the ready.

They moved about the place, their muscles tense. But this time, Tyrion could look at their new uniforms more clearly through the light that illuminated his quarters.

After commissioning them with the three-headed dragon that symbolized House Targaryen, her queen had given orders to start distributing them, beginning with the Unsullied that were focusing on patrolling at night, since even in Slaver's Bay, the air had turned considerably colder with the arrival of winter, despite the lack of snow.

When his escort was satisfied that no danger lurked in the chamber, they approached to ask him how he was.

"I am fine," He insisted. "But what was that sound?"

In answer, they turned around and started looking. The dwarf paced around the room, concerned, until he heard one of his guards call out from the balcony that overlooked the throne room. He sounded surprised.

"It's High Priestess Kinvara!" He announced, his tone grave. "It seems the witch just shattered one of the walls to the side by using her strange sorcery on the Meereenese seal and now, Grey Worm is helping her grab something from the wreckage!"

"Wait what?" Tyrion fumed. "At this hour? And by playing with fire right there without my permission? That's our queen's throne room!"

And with that, he marched to the balcony so that he could demand some answers from the Red Priestess.

Tyrion looked down and blinked rapidly. To the far side of the throne room, part of the wall had indeed shattered abruptly, but the embers in the floor were flickering out of existence.

"Still...to **** upon your way with fire through stone?" He thought, unable to stop himself from feeling impressed and concerned in equal measures as he examined the scattered rocks around the corner of the royal chambers.

It occurred to him as the remaining kindling turned to ash before his eyes that it seemed whatever flaming power she had used to break that Meereenese seal, that he was just hearing about for the first time for some reason, clearly only worked with such concentrated might for a brief moment.

"Good," He muttered with a grimace. "The Mad King's pyromancers were bad enough as it was."

Shaking his head, he watched from the balcony as Grey Worm placed something on the table that was moved to the steps of the stairway to the throne, and then his eyes widened, startled when he realized it was a corpse by the putrid stench.

"What in the seven hells are you doing?" Tyrion shouted, demanding answers.

High Priestess Kinvara turned up to look at him, and curiously, he noticed that this was the very first time he had seen her wearing any piece of clothing that wasn't red. But more importantly, even from that distance, he could notice a zealous smile on her lips.

"There are no seven hells, Lord Tyrion," She replied, her tone smug and confident. "Because the gods of the Andals never existed and I am about to prove it. Prove that my Lord of Light, R'hllor, is the one true God."

"And how, pray tell, do you intend to prove that?" He asked, gritting his teeth.

At that, she waved at the corpse on the table. "Why, by fulfilling the vision that was granted to me by our Lord and bring back the watchful protector of the Princess that was Promised to her side."

Then she paused briefly, smirking. "Don't you recognize him?"

Tyrion started at the response and focused his eyes on the figure. Before long he realized that while the stench was repugnant, for some reason, the corpse seemed far less decomposed than usual for putrefaction that horrid. But then he centered his gaze more ably on the face and his jaw dropped when he got a sinking feeling of who it was. Then he rubbed his eyes just to be sure he wasn't imagining things and looked again.

And it was definitely a familiar face.

He had heard stories about his demise taking place not long before he first arrived at Meereen but even after all the years since they had last seen each other, Tyrion Lannister was certain he wasn't confusing that corpse with anyone else.

Barristan Selmy. The bold, former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and later trusted protector of Queen Daenerys Targaryen. Celebrated hero of the smallfolk of Westeros.

And gutted in an alley like an animal by slavery-loving scum after bringing down most of the ambush...

The High Priestess of the Red Temple of Volantis caressed the wrinkled face of the dead champion and took in a deep breath. Then she held her head high.

"Lord of Light, I have seen your plea and headed the call!" She proclaimed. "It is now clear to me that you desire the return of this great knight to aid your prophesied champion in her divinely ordained quest! That has to be why I have felt so much more of your essence in the air tonight: feats like this require sacrifice, even from you, oh Mighty One. And that's what I have sensed at the core of my being...a piece of your own light, tempered by your love and devotion to our kind. As such, I humbly offer myself as your hands for this task and to help ease Barristan Selmy's burdens once he returns to this mortal world. Please, one true God, deliver him from the darkness, for the night is dark and full of terror!"

Tyrion was about to scream at her to stop with her madness and to cease desecrating that honorable knight's corpse with her delusions but as her hands were placed upon his covered chest, golden light started glowing from them making him stare in shock. And, before long, it was even brighter in the throne room at night than it was in the day, the intensity of the golden glare making him squeeze his eyes shut.

Eventually, he could feel the glow fading, and finally, he could open his eyes. And just in time to drop his jaw to the floor too, because, for just a couple of seconds, he saw a huge and bizarre luminous being right behind Kinvara and that was when he realized the strange light erupted from the center of his form.

The dwarf froze, feeling smaller than ever as he looked at the magnificent sight, and then it disappeared completely from the throne room just as quickly.

"Was that...was that the really a god?!" The Hand of the Queen asked, stunned.

Down below, the High Priestess panted, sounding as exhausted as if she had run up and down the pyramid steps twice in the same hour. But her smile of satisfaction was absolutely wide as she looked up.

"Not a god, Lord Tyrion...THE God," She declared, conviction apparent on her face.

Then, like an answer to prayers, the paleness of the corpse started to fade, the stab wounds across his torso and arms healed before his very eyes, the disheveled hair abruptly grew in places it had fallen off, and suddenly, he realized that the room no longer reeked of ****.

And so, heartbeat later, Barristan the Bold opened his eyes and screamed in alarm.

"What is happening?!" He yelled, his eyes wide and frantic as he gasped. "What is happening?!"

It took a lot to make Tyrion Lannister absolutely speechless but such a sight definitely qualified. He blinked rapidly, scarcely able to believe his eyes as he opened and closed his jaw repeatedly.

"I am either too drunk or not drunk enough," He thought, his mind reeling.

Below the balcony, Grey Worm gripped him tightly and tried to keep Barristan from falling while High Priestess Kinvara tried to reassure the no longer dead man.

"Fear not, bold knight," She said, her tone thick with emotion. "For you have been saved by R'hllor's grace. You have been deemed worthy to serve your queen once more. And to renew our world as a result."

Then she looked up to the throne itself and smiled.

"The Princess who was Promised has called your banner, Barristan Selmy. And so it's time to answer the call."

A/N: Well...that happened XD

To clarify, this didn't come out of nowhere. I have actually been laying some indirect hints and seeds for this plot development since the last chapter of the Battle of the Bastards. Starting with the line from the prophecy that gave this chapter its title.

Now, what does that imply? Well, the short answer is, that obviously, Kinvara is still misinterpreting things. regarding the so-called Lord of Light. I will explain more in time but for now, be aware that the biggest Light energies to emerge as part of Melisandre's sacrifice a few chapters ago that I specified by Red Priest characters and such, have been spent after this rise. The "door" regarding her god that Melisandre opened, as she put it when she lay dying is actually NOT completely open yet and will remain that way for a long, long time still. R'hllor is still quite imprisoned after all.

What happened here is that, basically, the sudden burst of R'hllor's essence was able to linger in the air long enough to be harnessed for the deal that secured Shireen Baratheon's return but just enough remained for one more rise. And Kinvara, in her misinterpretation of the visions, thought to give it a shot and harness the last of that "ambient magic" so to speak to try and confirm her bias. But that move is not getting replicated anytime soon by Red Priests with people that are already fully dead. Jon will have a much easier time with that eventually, sure, but his godly powers work in different ways and that category is still currently blocked anyway.

Regardless, Dany's got a Lord Commander for her Queen's Guard now. As for how will Barristan's devotion to Queen Daenerys conflict with the eventual public announcement that Jon is actually Rhaegar's son...well, all I will say for now is feel free to check out the prophecy from chapter 107 once more after the Misreadings line. You might find some hints there.

Anyway, thanks again for reading everyone. This has been a really fun year and a half of writing this story and engaging with you. I hope the feeling is mutual and if so, please celebrate the return of this fan-favorite character with a comment down below :D

Until next time!