Chapter 14: Flames Foretell
Dragonstone, Westeros.
She stood on the high terrace facing the darkening sea as the clouds gathered over Dragonstone, casting an unnatural glow against the castle's looming towers. Only certain individuals – gifted individuals – could interpret the direction of light as a sign that a great force was at work. It was true that very few possessed this ability to infer the early signs of the war ahead. Even fewer had the power to determine the outcome. It was a rare gift that the Red Woman coveted as she turned from the balcony to regard the flames instead. The fire burned bright in the metal casket and the flames seemed to glow even fiercer as the she moved toward it.
Embers crackled and smoke curled in captivating wisps as the witch gazed into the flames with vision beyond what eyesight could see. She saw a face yet knew not what to make of it. Hair black as the sea that swirled outside, eyes bluer than the winter ice. The darkness within his soul was a direct contrast to the ways of her God. Could this man be important? She perceived this vision in the fire as a threat to her cause. Or perhaps it is the company he keeps, the woman thought idly as the vision warped into an image of Daenerys Targaryen.
The Red Woman, Melisandre, still did not understand the sudden empathy that the Lord of Light seemed to derive from her image, yet her God insisted on producing her likeness in every vision. The Mother of Dragons, she thought bitterly and she was shocked to discover that she felt some jealousy at the attention the Lord of Light paid to her. It was unnecessary of course for Daenerys Targaryen was just a tool in his unfolding schemes for Westeros. Stannis Baratheon was the true king. Still, as she watched the flames dancing before her, the image of Daenerys Targaryen's striking beauty and elegant smile did not fade as the fire only served to heighten her splendour. She may be the Mother of Dragons, but Melinsandre was on the side of Light. We shall see, the Red Woman contemplated as her gaze bore into the young beauty in the flames, who would wage a more fearsome war in the end, the Mother of Dragons or the Lord of Light.
The echo of footsteps in the corridor broke her concentration and she waved a hand dismissively causing the fire to go out so that the room was shrouded in near darkness. Stannis preferred his rooms darker now for he feared he would not take kindly to the visions she saw in the flames. Unless the flames showed victory, he tired quickly of her predictions. Stannis Baratheon appeared in the doorway now, exhausted and his eyes sunken into his weary skull as he dragged his thinning limbs into the room.
"Well," he prompted with a croaky but determined voice. "Is it done?"
Melisandre gave a submissive bow to her Lord and allowed the fire to spring to life once again. Her eyes became somewhat glazed as she stared into the blaze, willing it to show her what she desired. "Robb Stark is fallen," she confirmed, peaking at him through the tendrils of her thick red hair. "He perished at the hands of Walder Frey. The Lord of Light has made it so." Part of what held Stannis in Melinsandre's thrall was her ability to appear sultry and mysterious at the same time. She knew this and she exploited it to the best of her ability, using her gifts from the Lord of Light and her lithe body to incite his pride. Stannis may be the true king, as she always referred to him as, but he was still another puppet for the Lord of Light. She approached him then, swaying her body hypnotically and allowing her hair to fan out against her ample cleavage, clasped tightly and pushed up even higher than normal in her scarlet, corseted dress. She did not miss the way her King's eyes darted to her breasts nor the way he licked his lips as he forced his gaze into the fire instead.
"Good," Stannis said without mercy and he sunk into a nearby chair, facing the flames but unable to see the vision that she saw. "And what of the Dragon girl?" he asked at length, dragging his hand across the stubble on his face as he regarded Melisandre once more. "Why do we not simply kill her with a blood sacrifice as we did the other contenders?"
Melisandre forced a patient smile to adorn her features for she too was asking the same question. She did not dare place her doubts before the Lord of Light however for to question him would mean falling out of favour, and she had worked so very hard to earn it. "Because the Lord of Light commands it," Melisandre intoned, sweeping her dress into her hands as she placed herself against her King's armchair. She leaned forward, allowing her breasts to drift closer to his face as he breathed in her scent of ash and blood.
"The night is dark and full of terrors, my King," she whispered against his face. "The Lord of Light has plans for the girl. And her dragons, no doubt."
"Why?" he asked irritably, unable to tear his gaze away from her encroaching chest.
"Even I am not privy to all of his ways," she answered, her tone hinting disappointment. "He shows me only what he wishes."
"Is she in our custody, at least?" he pressed, eyes darting to her face finally.
Melisandre gave a dutiful nod. "I conversed with the warlocks some time ago, conveying the Lord of Light's intentions to them," she told him. "They follow the old ways and understand the importance of his plan." She gestured to the high towers outside the balcony where they kept the message ravens. "They sent a bird just some time ago," she acknowledged. "They have her in their possession and will attempt to sway her."
"Your God thinks she will see our ways?" he spat harshly. "That she will recognise me as the True King and not herself?"
"He does not explain," Melisandre reminded him. "He only commands."
Stannis seized her arm in a bruising grip, causing her to be dragged even closer until she was only a hairsbreadth from his lips. "And if you were to hazard a guess?" he whispered dangerously.
Melisandre lowered her eyes. "I think he means to use her dragons in the coming war," she said, her voice steady though her arm grew numb in his grasp. "Dragons are fire moulded into flesh and the Lord of Light reserves the right to command such creatures."
Stannis searched her face before releasing her with a mocking snort. "She is the Mother of Dragons. Only she commands them," he said resolutely, striking a chord within Melisandre. She forced herself to remain calm as she rubbed her sore arm.
"She is not their true Mother," Melisandre determined as she sat in Stannis' lap. "They only hatched in her presence. They can be turned against her by the Lord of Light."
"And if you ask any man, they will tell you that beasts follow flesh not Gods."
"That is why I do not ask mere men," she murmured seductively, leaning in to trace the shell of his ear with her tongue. "After everything I have done for you, do you still doubt me?"
Stannis breathed sharply against her neck, closing his eyes as she sucked his earlobe into her mouth. "No," he gasped raggedly. "I just wish the Lord of Light was clearer in the visions he shows you. What good is seeing the future if you cannot see it clearly and concisely? It is useless to see a picture in fragments."
"The future is fluid," she admitted, releasing his ear and placing her hand against his shoulder. "It cannot remain clear or else we would not be able to change it."
Stannis stared at her and gave a weary sigh. "Will you go to them?" he inquired. "Will you leave me again to do your God's bidding?"
She stroked his face in reverence. "No, my King" she spoke confidently. "I shan't leave you this time." She was glad of it too for she had no desire to see the Dragon wench in all her glory.
"You can assure me that her dragons will be of use?" he asked uncertainly.
"I know only what the flames tell me," she responded mysteriously. "But even then, my King... there is word that she is in possession of another dragon. One that is unhatched."
He pulled away from her in astonishment. "Another egg?"
"Do you doubt me now?" she asked smugly.
Stannis responded by pulling her into a passionate kiss, all dominance and full of need. He ripped her red dress down the front, pulling it apart at the bosom to expose her naked flesh. As he devoured her breasts hungrily, the flames sparked and raged behind them, casting shadows and exposing their lovemaking in dark silhouettes. Their gasping could be heard even above the tremulous waves crashing below.
For the night is dark and full of terrors.
...
Loki
Anxious eyes followed Loki while he paced in agitation, eyes blazing in fury as he tried to access the ever fading fingerprint of magic left behind by the warlocks. Infuriatingly, Loki could not sense Daenerys' presence any longer so either they had found a way to cloak her or...
Her screams echoed throughout his subconscious.
No, he thought severely, he would not even consider the alternative.
"Are we going to talk about what happened just now?" Ser Jorah asked cautiously as Loki moved to all areas of the tent, taking in the imprint left by the warlocks.
"No," Loki growled, not even sure what Ser Jorah had asked of him. Ser Barristan had left them some time ago to inform the Unsullied and the Dothraki of the uncertain circumstances that had befallen Daenerys. The men were preparing search parties even now, though Loki doubted it would do them much good. No one but he himself knew how to track pestilent magic such as this.
"You were projecting dark magic, Loki. Do not deny it," Ser Jorah accused as Missandei looked between them fearfully.
"What are you blathering about?" Loki barked, whirling on him and feeling quite perplexed despite his anger.
"I don't know what kind of powers you seem to think you possess but from where I'm standing, that kind magic could be what put Daenerys in danger in the first place!" Ser Jorah was relentless and Loki could feel his fury mounting, resisting the urge to pound him into the ground.
"What are you saying old man?" Loki demanded heatedly. "You think I had something to do with this?"
"I can think of worse places to start!"
Before Ser Jorah could react, Loki had him hoisted into the air with both fists thrust into his shirt and around his throat. Loki's teeth were bared mere inches from his face. Missandei gave a short scream and backed away; looking around wildly for some help but no one came.
Ser Jorah could not tear his gaze away from Loki's in this position and Loki pushed his advantage, letting the older man stare directly at his features as he once again morphed into his Frost Giant self. In this light, and so close to his person, there was no denying the inhumane look in Loki's eyes, nor the unnatural cobalt skin that shone with the rage he was feeling. Ser Jorah's eyes widened and he renewed his struggles, giving a sharp yelp when Loki gripped him tighter. The dragons snarled as the confrontation escalated but Loki ignored them.
"How about now?" Loki hissed, his red irises flashing. "Can you think of a worse end than this?"
"What are you?" Ser Jorah wheezed, his face turning red. "You- You're not even human!"
Loki gave a bitter laugh. "You flatter me, Ser Jorah." He cocked his head menacingly. "I am curious as to how a man such as yourself reacts when facing their end. Is it courage or fear that motivates your final moments?"
"Go to hell," Ser Jorah spat with some difficulty as Loki's hold on him refused to lessen even an inch.
Loki's eyes narrowed coldly. "Believe me, I already have," Loki promised him with malice.
"Stop!" Missandei cried from the opening of the tent. "Stop this now! We are never going to find the Khaleesi if you two are at each other's throats!"
Loki shot her a look of animalistic and dark pleasure. "I do believe I am the one holding him up by the throat," he pointed out, shaking Ser Jorah for emphasis.
"You can't hurt him," Missandei solicited firmly.
"And why not?" Loki snarled, hefting Ser Jorah once more and the older man glared at him as he fought to breathe.
"Because you'll only be hurting, Daenerys," Missandei said softly. "I do not pretend to know what you are. Your magic is beyond anything I have ever seen." Her fearful eyes roved his blue skin and searing blood red eyes with a morbid fascination. "But," she continued truthfully as she spoke above her own fright. "I know that hurting her is the last thing you want to do. She trusts you."
Loki's features resumed their human countenance and he slowly lowered Ser Jorah back to the floor as the man shoved off of him, staring at Loki with no small measure of hatred. "You have only known Daenerys and myself for a small measure of time," Loki said, his tone quiet as he regarded Missandei. "How can you be sure of this?"
"Because they trust you," Missandei voiced with certainty, gesturing to the mythic beasts beside him. Loki followed her gaze as the dragons bared their teeth, still furious over the loss of their mother and eager for bloodshed. It was only now that Loki realised that as he threatened Daenerys' most trusted advisor, not one of the beasts had lifted a claw against him. Even in their absolute fury, they had not tried to harm him.
At that moment, Ser Barristan returned with Grey Worm in tow and wearing the same panic stricken expression as Missandei did when they saw the tension seeping off of the quarrelling men. "What's here?" Ser Barristan demanded, misinterpreting their anger. "Do we know if the Queen has been hurt in some way?"
Loki's cold heart twisted at the thought as his eyes returned to the furious man in front of him. "I would not have any harm come to her," Loki told Ser Jorah, his anger abating a little. "I will find her."
Ser Jorah looked at him with a less than forgiving expression. "It is for her that I do this," Ser Jorah vowed wrathfully. "I still wish that we had never pulled you from the sea."
Loki pushed aside the fury that threatened to bubble to the surface once more. "I said I'll find her."
"Then do it," Ser Jorah insisted. "Before she is beyond either of our help."
Loki gave him a grim nod and turned to Ser Barristan. "They cannot have gone too far, even with their magic. They may still be hidden within Yunkai or at the camp of the Second Sons for a brief period before they make their escape."
Grey Worm shook his head. "If they are, they won't be there for long. They got what they came for."
Ser Jorah gave the Unsullied Captain an odd look. "You mean the Queen, I presume?"
Ser Barristan and Grey Worm exchanged solemn looks. "More than that," Ser Barristan informed them. "I searched the Queen's marquee for clues on where the warlocks may have taken her but found nothing. And worse... the dragon egg is gone."
...
Somewhere in the shadows-
Daenerys moaned softly as she stirred subconsciously in her bindings, her eyes fluttering open as she squinted in the dim light. She was situated in another tent and, though it was evidently not her own, it resembled the plush furnishings that she was used to. Her hands and feet were bound so she was surprised to discover that she had been laid gently against a lavish lounge with a pillow supporting her head. She tried to sit up but found her head swam with the vague stirrings of nausea as she choked back some bile.
"Apologies," came a sly and slimy voice from the shadows and she jumped slightly, believing herself to be alone. "But I couldn't have you getting any early ideas of escape. It would not be wise at this juncture."
The warlocks. Her memory reminded her grimly of the figure who had arisen in front of her before forcing her into unconsciousness with a rag containing a vile smelling concoction. "You may as well come out. I know who you are," Daenerys croaked, forcing down the bile in her throat as she stared in the direction of the shadows which shrouded the voice.
A bald man with blue tinged lips and grey, empty eyes leered at her as he came into view, his dark cloak swirling behind him and making him seem a part of the shadows themselves. He gave her a mocking bow by keeping eye contact and bending only half the knee. "Mother of Dragons," he acknowledged with an evil smirk.
"Pyat Pree," she responded with even less enthusiasm.
She flinched as the hairless warlock gave a chilling and resounding laugh. "Oh, no you killed him," the warlock explained with a dark sneer. "He has served all the purpose he is going to serve." He twirled his hand in what she assumed to be a flourish as he swept his cloak behind him. "I am Pyat Bane."
Daenerys gave a twisted sort of smile. "Funny," she said, holding back her sickly groan. "You remind me very much of a man I once had burned to death." Her eyes stared resolutely at the warlock as his smirk fell. "You could be his twin," she finished with dark humour, her eyes alight with dragon fire.
"Careful woman," he addressed her crassly. "You are a guest in my chambers now. Speak to me with some respect."
"I didn't ask to be," she hissed and this time she couldn't hold back her groan as the nausea surfaced again. "What did you give me?"
The warlock smiled, pleased by her discomfort. "It is a new concoction obtained in Slaver's Bay to make certain servants more... agreeable," he chuckled forebodingly. "It is called Shadow's Kiss." Daenerys groaned again and he crossed his arms impatiently. "Its effects will wear off soon enough," he told her crossly. He placed a wooden bucket at the foot of the couch. "If you should need to be sick, use this."
He crossed the room again and left her there, feeling sick and utterly weak. Through her haze of nausea, she gave her bindings an experimental tug and was not shocked when they held fast. She huffed in frustration and fell back against the cushions, feeling certain that if she tried to leave the tent in any fashion she would receive another dose of the foul smelling liquid.
It felt like hours that passed and she drifted into unconsciousness again, only snapping awake when she heard a light scuffling in the tent. Her eyes were alert now and she was grateful to find that the nausea had abated. She sat up cautiously now as the soft sound reached her ears again.
"Who's there?" she demanded, her gaze roving the room. A pair of dark brown doe eyes peeked out at her from behind a desk in the corner.
"Kaz," she said softly but her anger remained. The child crept out of his hiding place and Daenerys felt her fury dissipate entirely when she saw the child's broken expression.
"I'm so sorry, Khaleesi," he sniffed tearfully, rushing forward to her but not daring to touch her. "I didn't know they were going to take you. They said they would help me and they did. They set me free and brought me to you. So I trusted them when they said they just wanted to talk to you."
Heartrending tears began to leak down his face and he wiped them away with the ragged cloth of his shirt sleeve. "You have to believe me," he begged her. "I would never do this. I'm sorry." He buried his face in his hands and Daenerys dropped to the floor beside him, pulling him into her lap.
He's just a child, her mind whispered to her and Daenerys could not remain angry with the boy anymore than she could help her sympathy for the plight of slaves. "It's alright," she hushed him and he clutched her around the stomach. "I believe you."
"I just wanted it to be over," he sobbed into her lap. "The visions, the nightmares. I didn't understand them. I thought the warlocks were going to help me."
Daenerys pushed his hair back from his face as he wept and shook in her arms. "Visions?" Daenerys asked, not understanding.
Kaz hiccupped lightly and she felt him nod against her chest. "All the time. My masters used to punish me for them. But I couldn't help them. I couldn't stop them from coming. It used to scare the animals."
Animals and visions. Her eyes widened. "You are a warg," she realised with dawning clarity and Kaz sat back slightly to look at her.
"That's what the warlocks called it," he sniffed, wiping his eyes once more. "They said it was a gift."
"And so it is," a strong, masculine voice resounded through the room, startling Daenerys yet again and she cursed herself for not expecting the vulgar mannerisms of her captors. Kaz fell back from her lap, moving to sit almost obediently on the couch, leaving Daenerys to suspect that this man was not to be trifled with. She narrowed her eyes at this newcomer as he stepped into the tent, but her breath hitched in her throat when he revealed his full visage.
The man before her towered taller than Drogo ever did and he was even more formidable. Muscles stretched full and firm across his arms and chest, with skin so tan that it almost did resemble Dothraki. She would have supposed him to be of Dothraki or similar origins if not for his dark golden blonde hair, cut short and without any braiding. His halo of hair fell softly against the sculpted planes of his face and his eyes were of a deep russet brown. But there was no warmth in those irises, and yet ironically enough Daenerys was reminded faintly of fire when she looked at this man. This might be because he was also garbed in deep, blood red robes which fell to the floor, cinched at the waist and showing a small amount of tanned skin at the apex of his taut stomach. He was also breathtakingly handsome, marred only by the evil smile that stretched full across his lips.
"You should be proud Kaz," the man affirmed with a smile that did not reach his eyes as he glared at the boy. Kaz sunk into the couch, avoiding his gaze and pulling a pillow closer to him for protection. "You have a gift that many would kill for. In fact you should use it for just that. Killing."
"And just who are you to decide?" she shot back angrily as the man's gaze slid to her. She wished she had not opened her mouth but she refused to back down now as the man regarded her.
"Daenerys Stormborn," he said silkily, his eyes raking over her figure in an appraising manner. She felt her skin crawl under his gaze and she fidgeted as his eyes returned to hers and his smirk widened. "Well, aren't you just the loveliest being I ever did encounter."
"Haven't had the pleasure," she said through gritted teeth, fuming at the way his eyes lingered appreciatively on her breasts. Thankfully, she was still fully clothed.
"Of course not. I am R'Nhor, named in the favour of the Lord of Light and High Priest of the Red Brotherhood," he spoke amiably, seizing her hand and bending to place a kiss on it. She whipped it away before his lips could touch her skin and his mouth quirked to the side as he straightened to full height.
"I believe you have already met Pyat Bane," he admonished, moving to the side as the warlock once again made an uneasy appearance. The warlock's eyes appeared even more sunken into his skull as he stood next to this vision of a man. Daenerys shook herself, feeling as though his pull was placing her under a slight trance. She would be damned before she would let that happen.
"Well," she snapped, feeling her anger get the better of her once again. "At least I know what names your widows will scream when my dragons burn your flesh into charred corpses."
This did not have the intended effect as R'Nhor through his head back and laughed, even to the amazement of Pyat Bane. When he finally stopped laughing, Daenerys saw her first actual glimpse of emotion in the man's eyes. It made her want to run far and fast, an emotion that she was unused to but unable to withhold as she witnessed his predatory nature.
"Simply delightful," he purred, still chuckling and Daenerys felt her stomach drop as he approached her. "That fire burns hot in your veins, doesn't it Mother of Dragons?" he whispered provocatively and Daenerys recoiled from his looming figure. She could tell he scented her fear but it only heightened his enjoyment at her expense. "You know," he admitted with a rapacious grin. "If you wanted to know if I had a wife waiting for me, you only had to ask."
"You're vile," Daenerys said truthfully but his menacing sneer did not waver.
"Actually, I am legend," he told her, spreading his arms wide with arrogance that Daenerys could only marvel at. "I was chosen. As are you. To serve in the haven and at the pleasure of the Lord of Light."
"Chosen?" Daenerys voiced coldly. "You mean coerced. I was brought here and not my will."
"Everything you have done and will do has all been a part of his plan," R'Nhor affirmed. "Your dragons are the very essence of his power and your magic flows from them. You are able to wield it because you are his servant."
"I am nobody's slave," Daenerys scowled at him with unmasked fury. "And I posses none of this magic of which you speak."
"You do," R'Nhor assured her. "And you will." He was in front of her so fast that she cried out when he grasped her shoulders firmly, spinning her so that she faced away from him and his hard chest was pressed flush against her back. She was too absorbed with what she now saw in the corner of the tent to even pull away from the awful touch he was exuding upon her body. Her dragon's egg lay amidst dozens of candles and silken scarves, seeming too fragile to touch in this dark arena.
"You will do his bidding," R'Nhor promised her as his lips pressed against her soft hair and she shuddered in revulsion. "Beginning with your new dragon."
...
OHMIGOSH! How's that for a fast update? ;) Well folks that's all for two weeks. I hope it is enough! If I have time tomorrow I may update chapter 1, but I am leaving tomorrow night so we will see how I go. Still packing! See you all in a couple of weeks.