Jon
"I believe you are mistaken, Priestess. I am a Prince not an Emperor. My father is King." A light breeze rolled across the beach, billowing his cloak and the Priestess's raven tresses. She stood and met his eyes while her entourage remained kneeling with their gazes turned downward. Most of them were warriors with tiger stripes or writhing flames on their cheeks.
Kinvara took a step closer, the distance between them became more intimate than Jon was comfortable with. The High Priestess's robes were form fitting and only enhanced her allure. A choker of black metal sat above her deep cleavage, at its center was a figure of a man dancing in the flames. Jon forced his eyes back to the Priestess's face. On her lips was a knowing smirk. "As of now you are simply a Prince, but I have seen you rising higher than any King, including your father. This is barely the beginning."
"Then your visions are wrong. I am the second son and my brother will be king after my father. A second son is his brother's champion not a ruler."
Kinvara's expression could at best be described as amused, as if Jon's words were a childlike interpretation of how the world worked. "Do you know why I have earned the title of The Flame of Truth? My visions, when they come, always speak the truth. And my visions of you have never been clearer. I've seen you in the flames fighting and leading your people to the dawn."
"Fighting what exactly? And leading an army where?" Jon questioned. Perhaps, it was her confidence or the spectacle that she was presenting, but Jon was interested. Perhaps, there is a grain of truth to what she speaks.
Kinvara's answer was appropriately cryptic. "There will be a war, a battle between light and shadow, fire and ice and you'll be at its center as will your family."
"Who is this war between? Who are we fighting and where? Give me answers, not more riddles and maybe I will take stock in your words."
"We?" She questioned. "You mean yourself and your family." She shook her head and then her hand rose to trace his jawline. Her fingers were as elegant as the rest of her, long with well-manicured nails. They left a trail of heat wherever they touched him. "So young to have so much ahead of you. And yet even now I can feel the power roll off you. So much potential."
Jon blushed at the intimate gesture and inwardly cursed at his body's desire to lean into the Priestess's touch. It had been a long while since he had felt the touch of a woman. This time Jon did step back, bumping into the hard scales of Syraxes's chest. His dragon watched their exchange with equal parts interest and amusement.
"I'm…" He started and then faltered. A simple touch and I feel like a green boy again. He took a moment to gather his wits. "Again, my duty and loyalty is to my family. Syraxes and I will defend my father's crown and one day, my brother's. We have no intention of forging our own."
"Your loyalty is admirable, I must admit but I have to warn you to be careful of who you choose to share your gifts of power. Those who taste power often desire more of it. That desire can breed treachery, even amongst family."
Jon frowned at her words. Aegon will always be my greatest friend. Daenerys, Visenya and even Rhaenys haven't ever been angry at me for longer than a fortnight. My grandmother, mother, father, even Viserys… we'd never go to war. "I appreciate your concern, but it is not necessary. My family has always been united and will remain so when I return to them."
This time Kinvara's smile was wistful. "If it were only that simple. United with dragons once again, your family presents the greatest threat against the forces of the Great Other but divided and your family becomes its own greatest enemy. Thus, the servants of darkness will make it their priority for the dragons to dance once again."
Jon's heart hitched. "You lie. What would we fight over? I have no intention of usurping my father nor brother."
"Let us speak more of this, on our way to the city. You and your dragon require an escort and what better is there than the High Priestess of the Lord of Light. None will dare impede our progress and my blessing will guarantee your safe passage into the dominion of the Old Blood."
"How did you-"Before Jon could finish his question Kinvara interrupted.
"The flames remember? I knew that you'd be here this day, land in these caves, that we would speak on this beach and all of this would precede your meeting with the new Triarchy."
New triarchy? He wondered. It had always baffled him that every few years the entire city ground to a halt to elect its three rulers. The date of the election season had escaped him. He though of the warriors at the Red Temple. "Is that why the warriors guarding the Red Temple looked skyward as if they were expecting someone? Did you announce my arrival?"
Kinvara's gaze darkened momentarily. "I am not the only one of our faith who can gain some clarity from the flames. Though that is of no matter, they will not trouble us. Let us speak more in private, your dragon can fly above us until we reach the city. Then it would be best if you mounted and rode her through the streets." Kinvara held out her arm in invitation.
Surprisingly, Syraxes didn't object when he considered the Priestess's proposal. His dragon was simply anxious to be airborne again. If Syraxes trust Kinvara enough to believe that this is not a ploy then perhaps I should to. He hooked his arm through Kinvara's and walked with the Priestess and her party to a group of horses and carriages partially hidden by a grove of trees. Syraxes circled above them.
Kinvara's carriage was surprisingly plain. The carriage belonging to the High Septon in King's Landing was a gilded monstrosity of gold, finely crafted wood with an assortment of gems that adorned the eyes of the Seven who were engraved on the exterior. Kinvara's carriage in comparison was akin to what a minor noble family might have in their arsenal, though it was large enough that it required two horses to pull it.
The horses were draped in red and gold with writhing flames decorating their drapery and the banners of the dark carriage. Their escort rushed to mount their steeds while Jon followed Kinvara into the carriage.
Dawn's light just pierced through the trees and the carriage's drawn curtains, dimly lighting the interior. The interior was appropriately done in red and just large enough to seat four though Kinvara settled just across from Jon, so close that he had to open his legs, so her knees could fit between his own. He unclasped his sword belt and leant Judgement against the far wall. This close, the sword is practically useless. If the situation went awry, then he would have to make do with his hands and maybe the knife in his boot.
Kinvara's smile was nearly disarming. "Relax Your Highness, our horses don't travel nearly as fast as your dragon. It will be sometime before we reach the city."
Jon let his back touch the rest but the tension in his shoulders didn't abate. His boots and armor were stained with mud and bits of blood, completely at odds with the plush interior of the cabin. The comfort of the carriage did the opposite of relaxing him. For months all he had known was the feel of rough ground, or a saddle, first horses and the occasional sand steed, and then Syraxes's own. It was disconcerting to sit on plush cushions and to be carted around like cargo.
The Priestess must have noticed his discomfort. "You're far too tense for this early in the day and you will need your energy; today is an important one."
"Something you've seen in the flames?" Jon asked sardonically. He fixed a piercing stare on the Priestess. Perhaps without her audience, she can drop the theatrics!
Kinvara pursed her lips and met his gaze. "Despite all that is evident, your doubt persists. Why? You know at the very least, there is some truth to my words and yet you still mock the truth I bring."
"Riddles and vague warnings of events yet to pass are all you offer. I'd be a fool to trust you."
"And yet here you are." She shifted in her seat and one of her heeled sandals fell to the floor. Jon's leg stiffened as she brushed her toes against his calf. "Surely you must have some faith, otherwise you would have flown your dragon behind the black walls without our escort."
What game are you playing? Jon wondered. "I don't doubt you have some power. I doubt you have the level of power that you believe you possess. Magic often makes men… and women believe they are capable of things far beyond them. For example: interpreting the will of the divine, predicting the future and claiming a man will be an emperor when he has no desire to be one."
"That's where you are mistaken. My abilities are not due to my own innate ability. I owe all my power to our Lord R'hllor. I am merely his conduit and occasionally his voice."
"And yet you call yourself the Flame of Truth. Is that not a boast of your own personal power?" Jon asked.
"It takes many years of rigorous training to be able to receive our Lord's gifts and even then, some have a greater aptitude at interpreting visions that the Lord of Light grants us than others. My title is merely an acknowledgement of the journey that I have taken to hear our Lord's will."
Jon took a moment to study her. Her gaze didn't flicker. If she's playing an act, then she is a very good mummer. "Then tell me of these servants of darkness that seek to divide my family."
Kinvara sighed. "The Great Other's reach is comparable to our Lord's. His servants are of many forms and faces. The visions that I see aren't the clearest and I can only speculate on their meaning. I've seen a twisting form of thorns, claws and talons strangling a many-headed-dragon whose own heads tear at one another."
Jon scoffed. "Is that all? What would help me is to know of plots and the players behind them, the logistics of the wars you say are coming. Who is leading which army? Are there any attempted assassinations and if so what are the casualties? Everything you have given me so far is open to interpretation. Even if I did believe you, what would I do with any of this? Either your powers are overstated or your withholding information."
"The future has yet to be written and the further you look, the higher the chance becomes that your vision is merely a set of possibilities. Perhaps, some form of it will pass and perhaps the circumstances preceding rule out an event from ever happening. Those who claim to know the future with absolute certainty are either fools or con artists." Kinvara stated. It was subtle, but Jon witnessed the Priestess clench her fists.
"And just what are you doing? You've called me an Emperor, you've stated that my family will likely be torn apart and you speak of a war to end it all. Is that not looking into the far future? By your very words, these events might not happen at all. What then?"
Kinvara took a deep breath before answering. "Each day the Sun rises in the east and sets in the west. We have no guarantee that when the Sun passes the horizon, the cycle will persist. Yet, we set our entire lives to this rhythm. When our eyes close at night, we know that we will wake to the dawning light and that light will stave off an eternity of darkness. You are that dawning light, Your Highness. I might not know every detail of how these events will come to pass but I do know that you will be at the epicenter of these world defining conflicts."
Jon was silent for several moments, digesting Kinvara's mantra. "Why me?" he asked.
"Nothing in this world is guaranteed. Everything requires sacrifice. A champion to save us from the eternal night required the sacrifice of thousands. Your birth is the union of two ancient bloodlines. Legacy and promise flow through your veins like non-other."
The dangers of religious fanaticism. "Have you spread word of me to the entire city?" He could imagine the consequences now. What would my father do?
"I have not. The people need to see you before your legend can spread. They will see the man who brought dragons back. With my warriors as an escort and myself by your side, the people will know that you have R'hllor's favor."
Tying himself to a faith he didn't believe in wasn't something Jon was keen on doing. Still isn't this what I considered doing? I might not believe her but if she can ensure that I can safely deliver Elaerys's ashes then what choice do I have?
"You cannot do it all alone, Your Highness. There will be obstacles that you cannot circumvent and doors that will not open without help." Kinvara placed a hand on his knee while she emphasized her point.
Jon narrowed his eyes and said, "Earlier you were warning that I should be wary of who I trust, even my family. If I cannot trust my brothers and sisters, my grandmother and uncle, even my own mother and father then tell me why I should trust you?"
"I warned against sharing your power and to be wary of the gifts that you offer. I only ask for the gift of the chance to earn your trust and I only wish to increase your power. That is the difference between others and I." Kinvara stated. Her hand moved up from his knee to trace his thigh, even through the scale protecting his leg, Jon could feel the heat of her touch. Like a dragon.
He resisted the urge to brush her hand away. The last thing he needed to do was to show his discomfort. "You do know I don't believe in your god. Why spend this effort when I think most of what you preach is nonsense?"
Kinvara grinned. "R'hllor hasn't meant for you to be his prophet. Our Lord has his Priest and Priestesses to guide the masses to the light. You are his warrior and will fight to forge the path. Your belief now is unnecessary, eventually the truth will be so clear that even a skeptic like yourself will have an eventual change of heart."
Jon scoffed. "Don't hold your breath."
The carriage jerked underneath their feet. Jon peeked through the curtains. They had reach the main road now and the traffic parted in way of their escort. He felt rather than saw Syraxes. His dragon was flying low enough that her form was unmistakable. Wide eyed travelers on the road shouted in excitement.
Kinvara took the opportunity to take the seat beside him. She was so close that their thighs were touching. The action drew Jon's attention back into the cabin, centered squarely on the Priestess. "What are you doing?" He asked.
"Inspecting you." The Priestess added simply. Jon grasped her wrist when she tried reaching for his face.
"For?" He asked in a firm tone. Does she not understand the concept of personal space or does she merely not care?
"What lies beneath this armor that you shell yourself in. There is more to you than what meets the eye. A warrior, a dragon rider and a boy who became a man far too early." Kinvara whispered. This close and Jon could see the slight gloss on her full lips.
He pushed her away. "I don't know what games you're playing Priestess, but you can keep your hands to yourself."
Kinvara looked undeterred though she didn't reach out to him. "You've known great pain, haven't you? I can see the scars now, they are just under the surface, but they run deep."
Jon scowled at her. "You don't know of what you speak."
"You blame yourself for this loss. Is that why you are so adamantly loyal to your family? You have known the pain of losing someone dear and do not wish to experience it again? I am sorry Your Highness, but that viewpoint will blind you. "
Jon didn't answer but Kinvara continued. "Who was she? Is that why you must go behind the Black Walls, to pay your respects?"
"Quiet." Jon snapped. His glare was enough to pause the Priestess inquiry. "My past belongs to me. Stop inferring as it does not concern you."
"But it does concern me. As I have said before, the journey that you are on cannot be done alone. I am but a humble servant to our Lord and as you are his champion, my servitude extends to you as well. Trust me, use me, ease the pain and suffering that limit you with both my council and my body." Her red eyed stare grew intense and Jon's world narrowed as if the light at the edges of his vision disappeared from existence.
He hesitated. Her meaning and what she was offering was understood. It would be a lie if he didn't admit her offer didn't tempt him. She's beautiful... but I can't. Another time, Jon may have been ready to fall to the temptation, but duty steeled his resolve. "Let me learn to trust you by showing me that you can be silent when I ask for it."
Most of the rest of their ride passed in merciful silence. The Red Priestess clearly wanted to speak more but Jon took the time to glance out of the carriage. As they drew closer to the city, the crowds grew steadily larger and louder. Syraxes circled only a hundred or so feet above them and Jon could feel her curiosity. She had never been so close to so many people.
The proximity made Jon nervous. Despite their connection, Syraxes could be unpredictable at times. For a dragon, unpredictably could mean the deaths of many people. "The Old blood should know now that I am here. Where will they meet us?" Jon asked.
He could see the city guard among the crowd. They looked nervous but not hostile. Maybe that's a good sign. Still Kinvara's escort is small. Where are the others?
"The Triarchs are undoubtedly preparing a plan of action as we speak. They will only meet with you from a position of strength, directly in front of their high walls. This gives us a chance to let the people see you. Ride your dragon through the streets and win their hearts."
Jon breathed deeply. "I take it you wish to be seen with me on Syraxes."
Kinvara nodded. "Yes, it would be best if I sat on the back of your dragon with you. Tens of thousands in this city come to my sermons every day. You and I together will send a powerful message."
Jon stifled the instant urge to deny her. No one besides himself had ever ridden Syraxes. Elaerys had died before Syraxes was old enough to be ridden. Jon wanted to preserve the privilege for his grandmother. If there was anyone worthy of experiencing the exhilaration of flying then it was her. "Is that necessary?" He asked.
"It depends on the strength that you wish to project. A firm ally of our faith sends an incredibly powerful message." She answered.
And you seated on a back of a dragon does as well. I wonder what that will do for your image? The cynic in Jon couldn't help but consider that the Priestess had her own motives. He had seen how the faith operated in Westeros, any success made by his father and they were quick to attach themselves to the positive public relations. This Red Priestess was likely no different. "Very well, will more of your escort be joining us when we reach the city?"
"This is our escort, Your Highness, along with the masses that will join us. They will be more than enough."
Jon glanced out the carriage window. They were just coming to the edge of the city and yet the crowd gathering was already in the thousands. He had seen similar numbers whenever he rode with his family through the streets of King's Landing but they always had the Kingsguard, Red Guard and several Gold Cloaks as an escort. He wasn't worried for his safety, Syraxes practically guaranteed it but the safety of others was his main concern. If any fool threw something or approached in a manner that Syraxes deemed a threat, then their march could turn into a bad situation fast.
"The rest of your Fiery Hand or more Tiger Cloaks at least?" He remembered Elaerys's words. A thousand warriors guard the Red Temple, not a number more and never a number less. A treaty that the Old Blood made with the faith hundreds of years ago. Elaerys's knowledge of Volantene history had even impressed Tyrion. If she had ever met his sister, Jon imagined the two would have never left the library. He shoved away the rush of feelings that came with those thoughts and focused on the matter at hand. "There are a thousand warriors who are guarding the Red Temple, I count ten who guard us. Where are the rest?"
Kinvara's face remained composed. "They aren't needed, the masses are enough-"
Her words died in her throat when Jon's hand shot out to wrap around it. He was as quick as a wolf and the Priestess had no time to react. Her impacted against the wall with a dull thud. She's hiding something, find it. The voice in his head demanded. Jon flexed his sword hand around her throat, something inside of him delighted at Kinvara's wince of pain. "Lie to me again and I'll crush your throat. What are you hiding? Where are the rest of your warriors?" He relaxed his grip so the Priestess could speak.
"My Prince, I'm not lying to you, the masses-" Jon tightened his grip once again, cutting off her airway.
"I'll warn you just this once, omitting details is just a lie of omission. Do you think I won't do it? I could snap your pretty throat like a twig. My dragon would kill your warriors before they knew something was amiss. Do not test me Priestess and answer my question with honesty."
When he relaxed his grip, Kinvara gasped. She sucked in air greedily. Jon raised a brow, waiting for her to gain composure.
"Benerro controls most of the Fiery Hand and many of those who I have swayed won't risk coming." Kinvara whispered. She dropped her gaze.
Benerro? The High Priest? Jon gripped her chin with his left hand, forcibly turning her head so she was forced to meet his hard stare. "Why? Are you not the High Priestess, surely he could spare a few spears?"
She didn't respond to his inquiry, so Jon gave her a shake of encouragement. "I… Benerro's sight has been corrupted. He is at odds with my visions."
"Your visions about me." Jon finished for her. The Priestess nodded, as much as possible. With his hand still around her throat. Jon leaned in closer. "Why?" he breathed. "Am I not your Lord's champion? Benerro should be here as well."
"Benerro believes the opposite. He's misinterpreted his visions and operates in opposition of our Lord's will." Kinvara stated firmly. Her hands were to her side, non-threatening even as Jon pressed her against the wall.
The opposite? Jon wondered what that meant. "What did he see?" He demanded.
She flinched. "He didn't tell me! My sermons were restricted when I foretold of your arrival. Benerro is the only one with that kind of authority."
"And so you thought to drag me into the middle of your power play?" Jon said through clenched teeth.
"It is not a power play. I told you the truth, you are our Lord's champion! Benerro is mistaken or his vanity prevents him from seeing the truth." Kinvara pleaded.
"And what will happen when Benerro finds out that I'm here. Will he try anything.?" Inwardly Jon cursed the last thing he needed was to be caught in the middle of a religious war. I hate this city.
"So as long as I am with you then no." Kinvara answered.
Jon's jaw clenched hard. "What makes you so important? As far as I see Benerro has the army and the temple. You are seeming more and more useless as time goes on."
"And I have the people and my Priestesses. Benerro knows that any attempt against my life risks him losing control of our flock. Half a million souls in this city alone. He is not so foolish to risk the consequences."
Jon stared at the Priestess for several moments. To her credit, she didn't flinch or break his gaze. Finally, he released her and slumped in his seat. She rubbed at her neck but the elaborate choker she wore would hide any bruises. With his adrenaline decreasing, Jon felt a twinge of guilt at his outburst. He doubted the Priestess would have told him truth without a threat but still. My outbursts are getting worse now. How long till I'm Aerys II? What will they call me? Jaehaerys the Mad Dragon? His family needed dragons if that ever came to pass.
Their carriage drew to a stop a few moments later. Jon pulled Kinvara to him before she could exit. "If this goes south, Priestess…" He trailed off in warning.
"You'll kill me?" She finished. Despite what just happened, Kinvara didn't look too alarmed.
"No, I will make you wish I did." Jon answered. Judgement pulsed in his hand with agreement.
She nodded. "Eventually, you'll learn to trust me. I know it." She stepped out of the carriage not waiting for his reply. "Shall we begin?"
Jon stepped into the bright outdoors and commanded Syraxes to land. "Let's begin." He answered.
Eastern Volantis was a labyrinth of twisting streets, alleyways, boardwalks, plazas, and market squares. The streets went from dirt to cobblestone, wide to narrow, serpentine to straight as the path of an arrow. The heat was pervasive, and the air was heavy with moisture from the Rhoyne as well as the sweat of thousands of onlookers who had come to see the dragon. A rank smell hung in the air. Tyrion said the city smelled like an old whore. Jon had no idea what an old whore or even a whore smelled like but thought the description was fitting.
Elephant dung littered the streets and added to the smell, made worse by the waves of heat that wafted from the ground. Jon's armor only made the heat worse and his tunic clung uncomfortably to his skin. However, the heat had done nothing to dissuade the citizens from adding to the crowd. Thousands packed either side of the street, pressing against each other as those further craned their necks to look. He could see rich merchants in ivory and silk, their palanquins and hathays abandoned as they gaped alongside the slaves who drove them.
Even elephants were present in the crowd, though thankfully they were further to the back. Some were sequestered in alleyways, while others shuffled nervously at the sight of Syraxes. His dragon appraised the beasts, with both curiosity and hunger. The biggest bull elephants were nearly twice her size in both height and weight but Syraxes was already developing a plan of attack. How much speed would she need to topple them? Were their tusks any threat? Could she eat them? Could- "Syraxes, no." Jon commanded. His dragon was stalking toward a young dwarf elephant who was driven into a panic at her approach. He grit his teeth as the elephant's handlers beat the beast with braided whips.
If controlling Syraxes wasn't a challenge in itself, then Jon would have warged the beast. He had done it before. Despite their intelligence, elephants were surprisingly easy to warg once you had established trust. Seeing such a majestic animal being mistreated only fueled his ire. Kinvara's hand on his thigh distracted his train of thought and reminded Jon that this was not the time to intervene.
The Red Priestess rode with him. Even after patting her down for weapons, Jon hadn't trusted her to sit behind him. Kinvara wasn't shy about leaning against him while she waved and preached to the crowd. Her hair was laid over one shoulder and sweat made her robes cling to her curves. Jon was taller than her and with her so close, every time he bent his head he inhaled a whiff of her scent. She smelled a mix of smoke and mint. A reprieve from the stench of the streets.
"Be hold our Lord's champion!" Kinvara shouted. There was a wide smile on her face that didn't look the least bit forced. Jon didn't share her enthusiasm, nor did he bother waving to the crowd. Instead, he was too busy scanning for threats. He was too occupied with scanning the crowd and windows of the surrounding buildings for possible threats. The Tiger Cloaks were present and in force. Some assisted their escort in keeping the crowd from spilling into the streets while others did nothing else but stare. True to Kinvara's word, thousands followed behind them.
"Do you see now? I was telling the truth. Look at these souls, men, women and children. You will save them all." Her voice was smug.
"We will see." Jon muttered. The heat sapped him of the will to argue.
They passed through courtyards and pavilions, under bridges and elevated walkways. Everywhere he looked there were throngs of people. Children rested on their parent's shoulders or climbed onto the hundreds of often headless statues dispersed throughout the city. Slaves, freedman and merchant lords stood side by side, perhaps for the first time in their lives.
Being at the center of attention was unnerving. He had participated in parades before but Daenerys and Visenya were always at his side and his father was always the focal point, not him. Jon didn't know what would be better, to wave or sit still. He chose the latter, if only to maintain his grip on Syraxes's reins. Their position made his hands rest on Kinvara's thighs. As intimate as a lover.
"How much longer till we reach the Long Bridge?" Jon asked. His armor and clothing clung to him like a second skin. Already the effort of keeping Syraxes in line along with his fitful sleep and the heat was taking its toll. He longed to be in the air again and flying west. To home. To family.
By now his sense of direction had already been lost. High buildings on either side restricted his view to the street ahead of him. Even through the gaps in the buildings, the Rhoyne was not yet visible. He hoped getting closer to the river would drive away the stench.
"We will make our way through the market district and that will give way to the checkpoint before the Long Bridge. From there, that is where the great game begins." Kinvara answered. Despite the heat, the priestess didn't look the least bit perturbed. He watched a bead of sweat travel down the long column of her neck and couldn't help but notice how soft her thighs were beneath his hands.
I don't want any part in your great game. The sooner I deliver Elaerys's ashes to her family, the sooner I can leave to my own. Jon thought sourly. He knew that he was on a time crunch as well. Daenerys's marriage was only a few months away and he had no intention of letting that happen.
Even if she hates me for leaving, I won't abandon her to Dorne. Even with Syraxes, Jon knew it would take some convincing for his father to halt the marriage. He had been out of the loop of Westerosi politics for so long that he had no idea if Aegon had married Margaery or if his father had any success in marrying off Rhaenys. His elder sister was nearly as stubborn as his uncle. There will be hell to pay if Visenya has been betrothed. His little sister was too pure to be the property of some Lord Paramount or his help whelp. Jon wouldn't allow it.
"Thoughts of your family again?" Kinvara asked. She twisted her torso to meet his stare. "Whenever you grow silent for too long it is either due to you scanning for threats or I suspect thoughts of home. You miss them, don't you?"
Jon answered honestly. "I do."
"Be careful to not let nostalgia blind you. How long have you been gone?" Kinvara asked.
"Nearly four years." Jon answered. It is nearly Visenya's name day. His sister would be four and ten, old enough to be wed.
"Four years is quite a long absence. Much can change, including the people we once held dearest to our hearts." Kinvara said sagely.
"And somethings, like blood are timeless." He intoned.
"You are not ignorant of your family's history. They have gone to war with each other before, many times in fact if you include those exiled." The challenge was evident in her voice.
"I am aware of my family's history, as is my family. We have no desire for history to repeat itself." His irritation with her continued pursuit of the topic was clear.
"When we go behind the black walls-" Kinvara started.
Jon interrupted. "We?" he asked. You assume too much.
"You will need my guidance when dealing with the Old Blood. My ability to see through their deception will be to your advantage." Kinvara muttered as if her answer was obvious.
"That will be of no need. I do not plan on being here for long." What he left out was that he would have no use for her once he met the Honorros.
Kinvara smiled again, as if she was aware of something that he was not. "The Old Blood are an ambitious sort. Each grasps desperately for power and you are presenting yourself as a ladder to the top. Undoubtedly, they will try to tie themselves and their families to you. Not to mention the Tiger party with their recently found majority will envy your dragon's martial prowess and will want to add it to their growing forces."
The tigers are building an army? Jon wondered. Elaerys's father was an old tiger who spent years in the senate and a fortune on influencing the political sphere. What will the Old Tiger say when he sees us? "Who do they plan to war with?" He asked.
"Knowing the history of the Tiger Party, perhaps everyone. This new Triarch is quite ambitious and innovative. The lone elephant on the triarchy has attempted to use the merchant lords to negate the Tiger's influence but Daelyx Honorro has met with Benerro multiple times before and after his election. Some would argue Benerro's endorsement secured his victory."
Jon's heart skipped a beat and then his mind raced. "The Old Tiger is part of the Triarchy?"
Kinvara turned to regard him with a furrowed brow. "Malaquo Maegyr has been re-elected yes, but Daelyx Honorro is the youngest ever to ascend to the position. He is just shy of thirty years."
Elaerys's older brother then. Jon had never met Daelyx but the way Elaerys had talked about him, it would be believed that Daelyx was in the same vein as the Conqueror himself. Apparently, Daelyx and their father had always had friction between them. Which had prompted Daelyx to leave Volantis when Elaerys was a little girl. Her older brother returned occasionally to wow their family with tales of his exploits.
"You've grown quiet. Does the news trouble you? Benerro sacrifices the sanctity of the faith to gain political power. The deception that he still operates under our Lord's will and not his own is what must be slain." She said.
"I don't plan on killing anyone today or interfering with your politics. My interests lie half a world away." Jon grumbled.
"Half a world seems much closer on dragon's back, does it not?" Kinvara asked, almost playfully.
They passed through the market district and the humidity grew nearly unbearable. To the west, in between the market stalls, Jon could see the turquoise waters of the Rhoyne. The stalls were draped in banners of a hundred different colors marked by the category of wares that they sold. Fisher stalls depicted various aquatic wildlife on banners of green to blue, red banners were decorated with swords and spears, yellow to orange with livestock and the livery continued adding to an incredible spectrum. Vendors stopped peddling their wares to stare at the procession. Jon wondered if thieves were taking advantage in the lapse of attention.
Eventually, they reached the end of the district and as they rounded a corner the Long Bridge came into view. Halting access to the Long Bridge were two hundred warriors of the Fiery Hand. Their orange armor blazed in the sunlight, the combined glow was bright enough to hurt Jon's eyes. Their spears were held at ready and at the sight of Syraxes, as one their spear tips ignited.
Syraxes snarled at the sight and her spines raised in agitation. Jon could feel the thrill of an impending battle running through their bond and he readied to throw Kinvara from the saddle. Her weight would only hinder Syraxes's ability to take to the skies. A rush of magical energy flowed from the warriors. Jon grit his teeth. The feeling was similar to the battle-magic that the Valyrian Spellswords once wielded. Thoros of Myr ignites his blades with wildfire but this is no cheap trick. Judgement pulsed in its scabbard across his back.
Kinvara spoke before Jon was tempted to give into the bloodlust. "Wait!" She exclaimed. "Please let me talk to them before you act."
She was already sliding off the saddle before Jon could answer. A murmur went through the crowd at the sight. "Please follow me. Let them see our numbers."
Jon chanced a look behind him. Their train had swelled so much that the throng of people disappeared behind the corner. They must be ten thousand or more. The Priestess was confident that the numbers would be enough to dissuade an attack but a rabble of citizens was little match for trained warriors in formation.
His face twisted with displeasure. "What have you dragged us into Kinvara? I won't risk Syraxes for whatever game you are playing." Jon hissed.
"I play no games, Your Highness. This is Benerro's power play. He wouldn't risk so many warriors. It is a show of strength to convince you to flee. Stand strong here and he will have no choice but to let you pass." The High Priestess pleaded. Her distress was plain.
Briefly, Jon wondered what she would do if he abandoned her. A woman in need tugged on his heart strings and he abandoned the train of thought nearly as soon as it came to mind. We are close enough already, may as well see this through.
They closed the distance between them and the warriors until a gap of about a hundred yards remained between their groups. Then Jon halted. Syraxes's first response to any conflict was to meet it with overwhelming force. It took all his power to restrain her.
A tall, thin man emerged from the warriors. Two guards escorted him across the cobblestone street. As the Priest drew closer, Jon could see the flame tattoos that covered the man's cheeks, chin and his shaven head. The tattoos formed a bright red mask that crackled about his eyes and coiled down and around his lipless mouth.
The priest and his two guards stopped thirty yards away. Kinvara held a hand up that bid Jon to wait and then she walked over to the trio.
Jon closed his eyes and reached out across their bond to connect with Syraxes. The feedback from her sharper senses was briefly overwhelming. He tuned out the swell of background noise and focused on the conversation unfolding in front of them.
"Priestess Kinvara, you have over stepped your bounds inviting that creature here." The Priest fixed a withering stare on Kinvara, the tattoos further twisted his face making his scowl monstrous.
Kinvara's spine was straight and her head held high. "I operate under the guidance of our Lord. What guides you, your own ambition or greed?" Her voice was a sharp as the crack of a whip.
Benerro's eyes narrowed. "You are a fool, and what is worse than a fool is a fool who doesn't know that they are. Bringing him here invites disaster to thousands!"
And then Kinvara laughed. A sudden gust, both musical and full of scorn. "You, more than any are aware that the greatest of gifts our Lord grants us require sacrifice. What is the difference here?"
"The difference is that he is not our Lord's champion! Death clings to him like a shroud, infecting everything and everyone that he comes into contact with. Your blindness has caused you to bind yourself to the champion of our greatest enemy." His voice carried across the courtyard, reaching those closes in the crowd who then passed the information in an excited murmur.
Frustrated, Jon broke his connection with Syraxes and vaulted from her saddle. Benerro's guards bristled at his fast approach but a hand from their High Priest stilled their flaming spears.
"Kinvara insists that I will build an empire, that I am your Lord's champion. Every word out of her mouth has been some vague warning of events yet to come of things that I have no desire of doing. Yet you suggest the opposite, tell me what you have seen? "Jon eyes were hard and the High Valyrian sharpened his tone.
Benerro didn't flinch from the gaze. He was several inches taller than Jon. His spine steeled as he spoke. "Kinvara does not lie. You will build an empire but the bricks of it are held together by blood. Where she is mistaken is the belief that you are our Lord's promised champion. The only promise you bring is death, first by fire and then a deep freeze."
Jon's jaw clenched, and he took a deep breath to center himself. Benerro's words touched on an underlying fear of his. He looked to Kinvara to hear her retort.
She met his eyes. "The foundation of an empire must be built on something."