Enter Volantis. Originally, I wanted to have Dany deal with the triarchs of Volantis, like Tyrion suggested, but as I started writing it felt a bit off. I remember struggling with it for weeks before figuring out that I could simply skip everything. The main reason I wanted to stop at Volantis was to pick up Kinvara and have this prophecy stuff out of the way.
4. The Prince That Was Promised - Tyrion
Volantis was hot. That was the simplest way Tyrion found to describe this heavy and humid air which permeated the city. Meereen had been hot too, but there was always a cool breeze in the early hours of the afternoon. That had been a dry heat. There was nothing dry about Volantis. It was filled with people, and it smelled like it too. It smells like an old whore, he remembered thinking when he had first visited the place. The smell hadn't improved.
As their procession entered the Temple of the Lord of Light, Tyrion couldn't help but compare it to the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing. It must be at least three times the size, he figured, glancing at the enormity of the pillars, domes and towers flowing into one another as if they had been chiseled from a single colossal rock. A hundred hues of red, yellow, orange and gold met and melded in the temple walls, dissolving one into the other like clouds at sunset.
"Welcome, princess." High Priestess Kinvara said in High Valyrian, bowing low. She was accompanied by six men with matching flame tattoos on their faces. They were tall and muscular, wearing ornate armor over their orange robes. And each carried a long spear. The Fiery Hand. Tyrion had read about the private slave army of R'hllor.
"Forgive me, High Priestess, but you address a queen. Not a princess." Lord Varys replied in the Common Tongue. Tyrion sighed, thinking back to their original meeting in Meereen. Some things don't change.
The woman smiled confidently. "The Long Night is coming. Only the prince who was promised can bring the dawn." She said, still in High Valyrian.
"That sounds like prophecy." Tyrion said, trying to remember where he heard it before.
"And you believe this prophecy refers to me?" Queen Daenerys asked. Tyrion couldn't tell if the prospect pleased her just by looking at her face. She hides her feelings well, he noted with some pride.
"All the signs point to you, Your Grace." The High Priestess replied, in Common. Good, my High Valyrian is rather rusty. "Well, most of them." She added, as an afterthought.
"That didn't sound very confident." Tyrion didn't care much about prophecies and other religious nonsense, but if enough people believed Daenerys was this chosen savior it might make things easier.
"My faith is unshaken." Came the quick reply. But the priestess sighed. "However, one of our order has recently returned from Westeros with troubling news. It would seem there is another who might fit the prophecy." Her words were measured, almost as if she didn't want to offend.
"And who might that be?" Daenerys sounded more curious than himself.
"Jon Snow, the newly crowned King in the North." The woman answered.
"What?" Tyrion must have misheard the woman. "Jon Snow, Ned Stark's bastard?" He asked, trying to be sure. How did a Night's Watch recruit become king?
"I must admit that all I know about him is what I've been told." The High Priestess said, her voice faltering. "If you wish to inquire further, I can direct you to priestess Melisandre. She is currently researching the ancient texts in our library, but I'm sure she won't mind an interruption."
"We have more pressing matters right now." Daenerys said, dismissively. We should talk privately later, Tyrion made a mental note. Even if she didn't believe it, this prophecy could help our cause. "If what happened at the harbor is any indication, Volantis is about to face a revolution." She finished, gravely.
So many dead. Tyrion had hoped to gather allies through diplomacy, but the mere sight of Daenerys and her dragons provoked the slaves to action. Their masters had tried to contain them, and the blood flowed freely. The queen's forces were useless in the ships and the dragons would have simply burned everyone indiscriminately, so all they could do was watch as the madness unfolded. It was only the arrival of the Fiery Hand and their red priests which had brought some semblance of peace.
"Well, I'd love to visit your library." Tyrion smiled, then looked at his queen. "Your Grace, I'm sure it won't take long. I'll return shortly." He knew they should be discussing war tactics, yet his curiosity got the better of him. He still remembered his visit to the Wall so many years ago, when Lord Commander Jeor Mormont and Maester Aemon were so worried about the future that they practically begged for help. That future is now, and I didn't help.
The queen didn't look very well pleased, but she nodded. The High Priestess made a hand gesture and a young girl wearing a diaphanous silk robe approached her. "Initiate Melara shall guide you." Kinvara said, and the girl started walking. Tyrion followed.
They walked in silence as he examined the temple interior. How did they get so much gold? Everywhere he looked there was a shining statue or a golden sconce. Fires burned all over the walls, on candles, braziers and fireplaces. They certainly have a theme, he mused. There were many slaves working here too, and Tyrion began to worry about how this alliance would work. Would she accept a slave army following her? He knew the answer. Daenerys won't tolerate slavery, that much was certain.
"So how long have you been an initiate, Melara?" He asked the girl, hoping she could speak Common. She couldn't have seen more than twelve namedays. Tall for her age, with willowy legs and a flowing mane of blonde hair, he could tell she'd be a very attractive woman in a few years. Perhaps that's how they choose. Kinvara was beautiful, just like every other priestess he had seen so far.
She continued walking, but turned to speak. "This one was chosen ten moons ago, after they bought me at an auction." She sounded proud.
Tyrion sighed. No, Daenerys won't like any of this. He refrained from asking further questions. When they reached the massive library doors, the girl greeted the two soldiers standing guard before they pushed the heavily ornamented doors open.
Looking inside, Tyrion had to pause for a moment. Wow. Being a lover of books from a young age, he had visited many libraries in his lifetime. This was clearly the largest. Even the library at Oldtown didn't come close to the opulence displayed by these Red Priests. It was five stories tall, each floor filled with books and scrolls on huge shelves.
The girl allowed him a few seconds to admire the view, before saying, "This way, my lord." She started walking along the passageways, up the stairs, on and on, until they reached the top floor. "Priestess Melisandre is over there." She said, pointing to a hunched figure in red robes.
"Thank you." Tyrion offered, as the girl bowed her head and walked away.
He quietly approached the woman, looking around. This must be where they keep the oldest books. He could see ancient scrolls in foreign tongues, with the words barely visible. And heavy tomes with their stitching coming apart at the seams. Tyrion was about to grab a copy of The Fires of the Freehold, when he heard a woman's voice.
"Tyrion Lannister." Priestess Melisandre rose from her reading table, staring at him with piercing red eyes. "You're a long way from home, my lord." She sounded more curious than anything else.
Tyrion regarded her for a moment. She was indeed a beautiful woman. Are there any ugly priestesses? Looking closely, he noticed a sparkling red gem on her neck. He tried to remember if the High Priestess had one too, but he couldn't recall.
"My home is wherever my queen goes, my lady." He replied, with a smile.
"Yes, Daenerys Targaryen…" She also smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "The Promised One, if High Priestess Kinvara is to be believed."
"You don't share her faith." He tried to catch a glimpse of what scroll she had been reading, but he couldn't make it out.
"Prophecies are open to interpretation, and we are only human. Humans do err." There was a hint of sadness to her voice, but she quickly changed her tone. "I believe there's another who better fits the description."
"Jon Snow." He supplied. Could it be true? That young boy who rode with him to the Wall so many years ago had grown up to become a king.
"He is Azor Ahai reborn to save the world from darkness." She spoke with fervent ardor.
"Why do you believe so? The last time I saw him, he didn't look very impressive." Tyrion tried to goad the woman. He had actually enjoyed the company of the bastard of Winterfell during their trip. I'm sorry to see you leave, the boy had said. And that was something he didn't hear very often.
She smiled. "He's the only one who has faced the enemy and lived." She said, simply.
"The enemy?"
"The War for the Dawn has already begun, and Jon Snow is the only one who's doing something about it. Dark forces rise beyond the Wall."
Tyrion felt a chill. He remembered mocking the young man on their journey to the Wall. Grumpkins and snarks might be real after all. His rational mind refused to believe it.
"If he's that important, why aren't you with him now?" He wondered aloud. This woman had whispered in the ears of Stannis Baratheon during his campaign to claim the Iron Throne. If Jon really was this hero of legend, it would be even more important that he should rule the Seven Kingdoms.
She looked down, her eyes unfocused. "My prince is too noble for his own good. He's the Lord's chosen, yet some of my methods were beyond his sense of morals." She sounded both proud and frustrated at the same time. "He has banished me from the North. Since I cannot be by his side, I decided to learn more about the prophecy." She said, moving her arm in a sweeping motion towards the scrolls on the reading table.
"And what have you learned?" Tyrion was curious. The extent of his knowledge on prophecies was admittedly limited, for he had never truly believed them. Prophecy is like a half-trained mule. It looks as though it might be useful, but the moment you trust in it, it kicks you in the head.
She hesitated, probably considering how much to divulge. "Most of the texts don't reveal anything more than what I already knew, but there is a reference to Blood of the Dragon. It seems the promised prince must have Targaryen blood." She said, slowly.
"Well, then it must be Daenerys. She's the last Targaryen." That should settle any doubts.
"Perhaps." She replied, frowning. "Though... What do you know about Jon Snow's parents?"
"Everyone knows Lord Eddard was his father, and there was no dragon blood in the Stark family. Are you suggesting his mother had Targaryen blood? I suppose it's possible, though the options are limited." He tried to think about the identity of this mystery woman. Tyrion knew Ashara Dayne was rumored to have developed a relationship with the young lord of Winterfell many years ago, before Robert's Rebellion. However, despite their purple eyes the Daynes had no Valyrian descent. And beyond the late lady Ashara, the other candidates weren't noteworthy. Lord Stark knew how to keep a secret.
"I often doubt what everyone knows." She said, almost in a whisper.
He had to laugh at that. "If you think Eddard Stark lied about fathering a bastard, it's obvious you didn't know him very well."
She smiled, eyes afire with certainty. "The answer is simple, my lord. If Jon Snow is the promised prince, and if the prince has dragon blood, then Jon Snow must be of Targaryen descent."
Tyrion considered arguing with her, but something told him it would be a waste of time. Never argue with fools or fanatics, his lord father had once taught him. The man had been a horrible father, yet Tyrion couldn't deny his wisdom.
I know the big battle would have been fun to read, but that's really not why I'm writing this. Battles can be boring if you aren't invested, and I didn't want to waste time developing characters who wouldn't be involved in the story.
As a side note, Tyrion is a fun POV to inhabit. I can see why Martin likes him so much.