Chapter Seven – Cloak and Dwarfs
Daenerys landed alongside Drogon and Jon, immediately sliding down. Jon was perched up against Drogons flank as she ran up. A low gurgling rumble rolled in her childs throat as he watched with unease.
Jon held a limp hand over his shoulder which was bleeding, drenching the leather of his coat. Blood gushed from the opening, too dark for Daenerys to make out the color. It was seeping between his fingers and down his chest. She placed her hand on top of the wound and applied pressure in an effort to stop the bleeding. His breathing was heavy and slowing with his eyes sluggish to open.
'What is happening?' Daenerys thought. Every time they encountered each other, there was something different with Jon. Muddling her image of his current condition even more. He was physically bleeding and showing signs of deteriorating due to his injury. Undead do not bleed. They do not feel pain or emotions, nor do they go show signs of decline. "We need to get you help." Daenerys glanced around at the neighboring areas but did not see any settlements nearby.
"Sam." Jon raggedly muttered. Within the deep trenches of Jon Snows mind, he knew. He knew Sam would have the answers. Possibly all the answers Jon has been seeking since he stepped into that fortress, since this thing has been ravaging his mind.
Daenerys eyes reeled back to Jons face, "What?"
"Sam. Sam will know." As he begins to dip in and out of consciousness.
"Sam, right" Daenerys whispered to herself. She bent down, draping one of his arms over her shoulder. With the assistance of Drogon she was able to lift Jon into the saddle with his arms and legs hanging on either side. She climbed up, positioning herself behind him in hopes it would prevent him from falling off during the flight back to Kings Landing.
Daenerys struggled, slowly making her way down to Sams quarters in the Red Keep. With Jon mainly unconscious, she had to bare most of his weight and carry him through the keep. She had to work to avoid any servants or Kingsguard roaming the corridors. After finally finding Sams quarters in the lower parts of the keep, she frantically knocked at his door.
"Yes, yes what is it?" as he opened the door. His eyes gape at the sight of Daenerys and Jon bent over outside his room. Daenerys was grunting, gasping for air as she held Jon from dropping to the ground. Sam quickly waved them inside, peeking out into the hall for any unwanted witnesses before closing the door. "What happened?" Daenerys flopped Jon onto a nearby bench as Sam set out to gather supplies.
"A red priestess attacked the fortress beyond the wall." Daenerys was breathing heavily as she lifted Jons legs onto the bench one by one. "Kingsguard were killing wildlings. They tried to kill Jon." She took a moment to catch her breath. "I do not understand."
"You mean the red priestess, Kinvara?" Sam questioned.
"Kinvara would never do something like this. She means well for the people and wants what is best for Westeros. Did Bran order this attack?" Daenerys deflected the attention away Kinvara. Kinvara would never act on such impulse without consulting her first, unless she had received orders from Bran.
Sam stopped collecting clean bandages and rags to rotate his body towards her. "That is some accusation Lady Daenerys."
"I know. It is just, something does not feel right." She was trying to remove Jons chest piece but was failing. She was too flustered to take the time to properly undo the multiple knots holding it together. Sam intervened, removing it to reveal the wound. The wound was deep and the surrounding areas were charred black.
Sam grimaced, "What was he hit with?" as he started to clean the encompassing tissues and the wound itself.
"A fire. Rod. Arrow thing." Daenerys awkwardly said.
Sam slowly looked to Daenerys, "Right." Shaking his head up and down, making a not so convincing face. Daenerys sat back on the floor, holding her knees in the bend of her arms as Sam seemed to have it under control. Gilli brought her a cup of tea and sat down next to her, giving a reassuring smile to Daenerys while she sipped on the ginger and lilac tea.
"Do you know anything of this?" Daenerys asked hopefully.
Sam paused briefly, "You mean do I know how to tend to a wounded mythological creature that happens to be undead and bleeding abnormally?" He continued to rub the cloth against the mangled meat. "The citadel does not exactly have books on how to tend to the wounds of the Night King, though I have uncovered something rather interesting while reading some of the books. According to the Followers of R'hllor, they believe that only two gods exist; the Lord of Light which the red priestess Kinvara serves and the Great Other. The Great Other is also known as the Lord of Darkness or the God of Night and Terror. Red priestess seek out these Other's servants which according to the text, the Night King is one of the highest ranking worshipers of the Great Other."
"What does that have to do with anything?" Daenerys annoyed by the arbitrary subject.
"Oh, I do not know. Just thought it unusual that the citadel would have such supposed folklore cataloged." Sam peered into Jons wound, as if studying the contents. "It does seem weird does it not. The Night King I would say had a pale, somewhat mummified appearance while Jon here is clearly pale but his skin has a fleshy likeness to it and is seemingly iced over, cold to the touch."
Daenerys frowned, unsure of what Sam was trying to hint at.
Sams body language sparked excitement as he reveled in his developing theory. "What I am trying to say is you stabbed him with a dragonglass dagger and it did nothing. There was no blood nor did he even flinch. So why now does a weapon crafted by a red priestess suddenly hinder him so much?" His eyes bounced around Daenerys face awaiting comprehension of his comments. "Look Jon claims he his the Night King but what if he does not even know what he is, at least not on the surface."
"Then what is he?" She drops a suspicious glance to Jon who was blacked out on the bench.
Sam withdrew, lost in his rambling. "I do not know."
Daenerys sighed, frustrated by the clouded view of Jon and everything behind it. She was so overwhelmed by the amount of uncertainty and how unclear everything was. Her own theories about Jon were questionable, held together by a simple belief that Jon was still there underneath the darkness. But with the new findings Sam mentioned, it complicates things. How does it fit into the mix? What does it all mean? If the citadel had documentation of these to figures, it must be for a reason.
Sam stood and stepped over to the water basin to wash his hands, wiping them dry on his pants. "Okay, I think I have the bleeding under control..." Daenerys rose and embraced Sam in a hug. "Oh?" Initially surprised, he reciprocated the hug, slowly patting her on the back.
"Thank you Sam." She returned to Jons side on the floor. He was still out cold on the bench and did not even rouse during Sams prodding. She laid her head down on the bench watching his relaxed features. In this moment she felt like she was seeing Jon, unaffected by whatever held onto him. Just prior losing consciousness, she felt a hand stroke the back of her head.
"Hi." Jon said in a raspy voice.
Daenerys smiled at him. "Hi." Jon lazily blinked, the slightest grin growing on his face. Her heart dropped at his dorky smile surfacing. The amount of blood loss must have knocked a few restraints lose as she had not seen this side of Jon for some time. She watched as he dipped back into a deep slumber.
Daenerys awoke some time later to a room empty of Gillie and Sam. A blanket had been placed on top of her as she had fallen asleep on the floor. She was sitting up when Sam came through the door.
"Ah Lady Daenerys, I brought you something." Sam was carrying food as he walked into the room.
"Thank you again." Daenerys added. "I wanted to ask you more about what you found in the.." It was then Tyrion followed in behind Sam. Daenerys was unsettled by his entrance, this man was responsible for the utmost treasonous acts. "Sam?"
Sam nervously exchanged looks between Daenerys and Tyrion. "He is here to help. I think." He fumbled with the food, as he clumsily drops it onto the nearby table.
Tyrion presses his hands together, fingers pointing to Daenerys. "I know we have had our differences in the past. But... I think we need to talk about the red priestess."
Daenerys stands, "What makes you think I want to hear anything you have to say?" The vile tone of her voice spouted out like a blazing flame searching for flesh to scorch.
Tyrion's gaze drops to Jon asleep on the bench, "As a result of recent events, I believe the safety of the realm is at stake and is in the hands of someone who has yet to declare their intentions."
"Kinvara is not the realms enemy." Daenerys said sternly. Kinvara was the only one who supported a flourishing kingdom under Targaryen rule. She is one of the few to support the people. Daenerys refused to see any negative view of Kinvara. She was the remaining one who believed in Daenerys Targaryen and what she can offer this realm.
"I know she has asked you to burn all of Westeros in the name of her Lord and your destiny. The Seven Kingdoms does not need that type of blood shed."
"I would appreciate it if you did not mention my own destiny to me." She drove her dominance over the man front of her, shrinking his already small stature. "As you were the one to help in its destruction." Daenerys barked back at him as she folded her arms on her chest.
Tyrion pleaded, "Tell me there is not a part of you that does not wish to create such carnage as you did that day." The boisterous debate nudged at the comatose body in the room.
Jon stirs in his sleep, rolling to the side. His eyes slightly open to uncover Daenerys, Sam and Tyrion all staring at him. Jon grumbles at the unwanted attention. He shoves his arm under his torso, pushing downward on the bench and placing him in the upright position. A twinge of pain shoots down his arm and up his neck as his shoulder still remained unhealed. Jon rolls his aching shoulder as he makes his way to the food Sam brought. He grabs a small loaf of bread causing Sam to do a double take, appalled by Jon and the loaf he grabbed.
It took Tyrion a moment to regain himself and revert back to the conversation."We need to work on this together. My concerns…"
"And what makes you think I can trust you?" Daenerys questioned. She had not diverged her focus amidst Jons migration across the room. All her anger was channeled straight at Tyrion.
Tyrion defended himself, "Considering I have always done what I thought was right, for the good of the Seven Kingdoms."
"By conspiring behind my back!?" Daenerys raised her voice, stretching, trying to overpower his own. She was locked on to his past actions. His judgement. His criticism. Convinced it was all an attempt collapse her reign before it had even begun.
"You burned an entire city and for what!?" Tyrion shot at her. "I was standing up for the realm because someone killed innocent lives and I am standing up for the realm now because someone wants to kill innocent lives. How is that any different?"
Daenerys lets out an irritated growl, her arms flopping to her side. There is no way the same red priestess at the fortress was Kinvara. To travel from Kings Landing to Winterfell in that time is basically impossible without a dragon. That fact alone, dissolved any doubts she had about her supporter.
But Tyrion was making it apparent he would not leave till she at least gave the illusion of her corporation and if Daenerys learned anything, she should always suspect a trap or impending treachery when dealing with a Lannister.
"Fine, I will humor your proposal. But do not flatter yourself Lord Tyrion, you are still my enemy."
"Understood." Though mild relief sweeps through him, it does not erase his mistrust of the Dragon Queen. "Thank you." His eyes bounce to each person then leaves the room.
Jon spots a chair and sits down. "That was exhausting."
Daenerys sneers at him, perplexed. "You did not say nor do anything?" Jon does not reply and continues to eat. Exhausting, taxing even. His abrupt awakening combined with the piercing pain in his shoulder was exceedingly agitating and took a considerable amount of restraint to not snap their necks. He thought it had a handle on it but with each flare up, his doubts only flourished.
Sam watches in awe as Jon nibbles on the loaf of bread. His mouth drops wide open and frowns at Daenerys. "He is eating." Sams face snaps to Jon. "You are eating. Why are you eating?" Shoving bits of bread into his mouth, Jon clearly ignoring his question. "And you think my information does not make sense." Daenerys shrugs her shoulders in response, still yet to see the implications of Sams findings.
Tyrion walks along brightly light halls when he comes across Kinvara, located in the ravaged throne room. "Excuse me?"
"Hello Tyrion. I was just reviewing the necessary arrangements needed to restore the throne room." Chirping birds echoed throughout the vacant great hall with half of the roof missing. The tattered banners still swung back and forth.
"As you may not be aware but the crown is in great debt, refurbishing the throne room is the last thing on our minds. It was decided it would be best for the people if the crown placed its funds towards rebuilding homes and supplying food." Tyrion wanted it known she was not the to be making these decisions.
"Well these are desperate times and the people need a figure, something to follow." Kinvara inspects the cracked doorway and broken beams. "Ah! Ladies!" She ushers the two individuals closer. Tyrion shifts to see a couple of priestess entering the throne room. One had golden hair that flowed off her shoulders with captivating emerald eyes and the other had mocha skin, her hair designed into a complex bun which increased her overall height. "I bring you Serena and Teraell. I felt Westeros could use some more hands to help reform this realm." Tyrion's stomach curdled with the disturbing realization that there is now three red priestess dwelling within the Red Keep.
Kinvara introduces the new priestess to the rest of the council the next day at the high noon meeting. She preaches, elated as the people and council are being enlightened by the word of the Lord. "The Lord of Light will bring a new dawn to Westeros. More prosperous, more peaceful times lay ahead for Westeros and its six kingdoms but in order for that to come to past we must serve our lord to the fullest." Kinvara scans across the table to the other members of the council. "To gain favor with our Lord the sacrifice of nonbelievers, those that would oppose the grace of our Lord by immolation."
Tyrion intervened, "You are suggesting we burn the people of Westeros to death to please this supposed Lord of Light? I do not really see how that would be necessary."
In support of Tyrion, Ser Davos spoke up. "I agree with Lord Tyrion, I have witnessed this sacrifice by fire. A priestess advised Stannis Baratheon to burn his own daughter at the stake, to bring warmth in the night ahead and victory in the battle to come but it did nothing to change our outcome."
"It may have not helped you at that very moment but your service to R'hllor was later rewarded with many victories and salvation." Kinvara spoke with an alarming confidence.
"This is madness!" Tyrion shouted. "What are we suppose to do? Pick random citizens from Kings Landing and the surrounding areas to burn alive? This will not gain us support from the people nor a prosperous future."
"Thank you Tyrion." Bran hushed Tyrion. "There will be no burning. Our citizens have been through enough. We must look to improve the collective morale if we are to move forward." Bran addresses Kinvara only, "That is not how we do things here." Ending the meeting on that note.
Tyrion stands at the end of the table, watching as Bran and the rest of the council leave without another word. Kinvara lurked in the shadows, hesitant to leave. Westeros had finally deprived the crown of its corruption and he would not tolerate another placing the kingdoms safety at risk.
"I know what you are doing. It will not work here." His tone was unforgiving, protective even.
"We will see." Kinvara was carefree in his warning, leaving Tyrion alone in the council chamber.
He rushes back to his room and hastily begins writing an urgent message to Daenerys. His handwriting barely legible as he desperately works to finish the message. A hand cramps as he fumbles with the quill, inevitably tipping the inkwell and spilling the contents on the corner of the parchment.
The nighttime glow was absent in lieu of the new moon, providing cover for his movements as he heads towards the raven coup. The air muggy as sweat accumulated on his brow, running down the sides of his face. He attaches the message to the ravens leg with the use of a thin leather strip and observes with satisfaction as the bird leaves his hand in route to Dragonstone.
It ascends around a tower, gently gliding when a crested caracara ambushes from above, plunging its claws deep into the ravens feeble body. The larger bird docks on a window seal clutching the raven in its talons. Foreign hands seize the message, removing it from the ravens foot and unravels its contents. Once its secrets had been revealed, the message is twisted back into a cylinder and fixed to the larger birds leg, continuing on to Dragonstone. The limp body of the raven was cast out of the window by the deceitful individual.
Shortly after finishing breakfast, Sam was able to assist Daenerys and Jon slip past the Kingsguard and escape to Dragonstone. Back at the dragon household, Daenerys shows Jon to one of the many guest rooms. Though her feelings for him were starting to reappear, the thought of sharing her bed with him tested her comfort levels. She opened the door so he could wander in. Jon studies the various décor and furniture positioned throughout the room.
"I hope this will suffice." Daenerys says with a light laugh. Jon briefly glances back at her but goes on to saunter around the room. He halts at the foot of the bed, releasing his cloak and tossing it onto the mattress. Daenerys watches as he starts to loosen his bracers.
"Allow me." She offers with outstretched hands. Jon stills while Daenerys softly grips his forearms, pulling at the strings. She takes her time, casually using her fingers to undo the webbing that holds them together. She could feel his eyes on her as she removed the first wrist guard. It reminded her of the time Drogon visited her in Meereen; the happiness she felt in his presence but not without the worry of his unreliable nature. It was exhilarating. Placing the last one on the bed, she slowly raises her gaze to meet his. His arms were held stiff by his side and his chest was deathly calm for any normal amount of breathing. Jon stared at her for a moment before terminating their connection, removing his shirt and dropping it to the ground. His skin was taut tight over his back musculature but Daenerys could see the frost lacing its surface.
"You may leave now." Jon says with a monotone voice. Her company was stirring the thoughts and feelings he had long repressed in the wake of his new visitor. A familiar warmth in his chest was being chaperoned by a chilled overcast somewhere in his mind. It is not safe. Not for her.
Daenerys clamped her jaw, swallowing the pit that had formed in the back of her throat. The coldness and aloofness to his words stung. She did everything she could to keep her composure, pinching her fingers held at her waist line while she drifted to the door. She pivoted back to him as he untied his pants, forcing them down and over his buttocks. Daenerys dropped her eyes and slumped back to the great halls of Dragonstone
…
Daenerys was perched atop Drogon, flying through a densely covered fog which hid their surroundings. Her rope braid and blood red cloak waved in the wind with the ruffling of leathery wings breaking the deafening silence. Daenerys tried to make out anything, any standing structure or landmark. Nothing. It seemed they were alone and far away from any form of civilization. She blinked, reacting to the cold and wet sensation of something hitting her cheek. Her hand grazed across the area to notice melted water droplets.
A single snowflake gracefully floated down, landing on the back of her hand. It was large, able to see the intricate pattern formed by the freezing liquid, melting immediately as it touched her skin. One led to many as snowflakes began to fall everywhere, increasing in intensity. It was so strange; a fog supplemented with snow, especially at this caliber. Daenerys whipped her head around to an ominous hollow rattling. To the side flew a lone bird within the fog and snow, unfazed by them. Its face warmed by the yellow-orange hues topped with black feathered cap. The reverse ombré of white to black blended down the birds body, stopping at the long legs and sharpened talons. It continued with the haunting vocals, the sound separating itself from the moving break as it grew louder. The escalating volume vibrated her skull, jolting Daenerys and waking her from her sleep to find a bird resting on her night stand. The very same bird from her dreams.
Daenerys reached up to remove the message tied to the birds foot. She unrolled the paper, reading what was written on the surface. She found Jon standing on the shores that circled Dragonstone, peering out at the incoming waves. As she approached him from behind, she noticed the white tips on Jons hair had travelled further up now, covering half the length of his hair. Daenerys slowed as she came to his side, awaiting an answer or greeting.
Jon did not acknowledge her. The noise of the ocean and waves crashing into the beach and nearby rocks kindled a sense of calm. Soothing the anarchy unfolding and the constant battle to preserve order. He did not want to disrupt or leave its sanctuary effect. Daenerys briefly glanced over at him to see he had kept his eyes forward, ignoring her. She cleared her throat, attempting to gain his attention. But he could hear the crunch of sand under her boots from fifty meters away. Her gesture of coughing to yield his focus he thought unnecessary. He moved his head enough to make out her face from his peripherals.
Daenerys felt her heart flutter when her second peek discovers his boyish sideways glare. Her eyes tarted away as she awkwardly held up the note, "Tyrion sent a message. He would like to meet to discuss further details." She felt her knees almost buckle when Jons cold fingertips brushed against hers to grab the paper. She nervously waited as Jon read the message, no change in facial expression was noted with the given information. He relinquished it back to her, reinstating his eyes back at the sea.
Daenerys glared at Jon, he was retreating into himself again. "We need to return to Kings Landing."
"We?"
He spoke so matter of fact. It bothered her to see glimpses of Jon but yet left to interact with the dead corpse. Maybe he needed a push. "That is your brother."
"The state of the Seven Kingdoms are none of my concern."
"And yet you rushed to Winterfell at the news of its attack." She called his bluff.
Jon pressed his lips together, twisting his body in her orientation. Her prying was an annoyance he wanted to rid himself of. "Do you need me to hold your hand?" He barked at her. "You are a Targaryen taking orders from an imp."
"I would have thought one such as yourself would not stand for such an attack placed on you." Daenerys spoke softly with a hint of arrogance, mocking him. Jon stepped closer, towering over her but she refused to back down to the poser.
Daenerys could see the anger boil up behind his eyes but it felt different this time. There was anger but not directed at her. Had he wanted to he could have used it against her with no one to stop him. Daenerys confidence around him was becoming more prominent. "You will go back to Kings Landing with me and we will hear what Tyrion has to say." She swiveled on her heels and stomped back into Dragonstone before he could object.
Jon was slightly taken back by the abrupt change in her demeanor but no more fazed than usual. His eyes watched her speed back into the castle with equal hunger and thirst as a burning sensation could be felt in his groin.
He starts to proceed in her direction when images of Kings Landing and unknown people filled his sight, stopping him in his tracks. Immense pain and pressure dramatically increased with the associated images causing his hand to shoot up to the side of his head. The episode only lasted a few seconds. Jon released a breath like he had been holding it in forever after the pain had past. He scowled at his hand like it had been the source of the interruption. The darkness crept nearby in the back of his mind as the deep voice whispered, governing his thoughts. Jon promptly progressed after Daenerys with darkness lingering in his shadows.
Sam was reading one of his stolen books when there was a knock at the door. He opened it to come upon Daenerys and Jon standing outside his door. Sam glides to the side, allowing for them to enter. "Back so soon?" He says.
"I guess Tyrion has important information to share with us." Daenerys states with a sigh.
"Oh well, you are more than welcome to wait here for him." Sam offers.
Daenerys was asking Sam more questions about what he had read but the relaxed environment was cut short when there was an unexpected knock at the door. "Sam? It is Kinvara, do you have a moment?" Horrified looks shot between the two speaking individuals while Jon tilted his head down, eyes darkening in color as he bore them into the door. Sam stood in a frenzy, pointing to the nearest closet. Daenerys nods in understanding. She could not tell which was harder to move, Jon or the bolt embedded into Drogons shoulder.
"Is the Dragon Queen in your company?" Kinvara asked through the door. Everyone froze at the question.
"What should we do?" Sam hysterically mouths. Daenerys flashes a finger to calm him down as she finishes pushing Jon into the closet. Still Sam rushes about, fumbling with random objects in a spastic manner.
As she closes the door she warns, "Do not move. Do not make a sound." Their inevitable confrontation was something Daenerys was not ready for. Not yet at least. The result of their encounter would most likely be unfavorable, knowing where they stand with each other. They both brought something to the table, each unique to her. Each something she was not willing to give up quite yet. She spins around, to fix her hair and armor. Moving her finger in a circle to signal Sam to hurry up and open the door.
Sam trots over to open the door to his quarters, slightly out of breath. "I apologize, I was in the process of arranging herbs for Lady Daenerys."
Kinvara tiptoed into the room, "Do not worry dear." She seemingly searched the room for anything out of place. "Lady Daenerys." She scurried up to Daenerys, embracing her in a hug. "I was so worried when I heard you had flown back north. I could have only assumed you were following through with the plan." Her embrace was genuine. Her worried expression was genuine.
"Plan?"
"Mhm.. To exterminate the Night King and his blanketed darkness as you as the Lord of Lights beacon."
The Night King. Kinvara had mentioned the King but never the Night King, to which Daenerys had only assumed she was referencing Bran. She had engaged in the discussion with impression that King Bran would be deceived, slowly sabotaging his reign and allowing Daenerys to take the throne from under him.
"You were able to lead the Night King away from the fortress, allowing our forces to advance. We have alienated him, halting his progress. It was more severe than I anticipated, I mean he was farming wights." Kinvara stopped, milking the gravity of her statement. She shook her head from side to side, illustrating her grief for the victims. "Thankfully with my Lords guidance I struck him down. It is only a matter of time now. My priestess are working on locating him so we can end the terror. Well done my dear." Kinvara gleams. It was Kinvara at the fortress. Attacking unarmed wildings. But how did she get there so quickly?
"You were at the fortress." The words spilled from Daenerys mouth at the realization. She faced Kinvara, "But I only left a day earlier, how did you?"
"Our Red God graces those who remain vigilant and true to his word. He is truly a gracious one." Kinvara revealed in the so called beauty of her God. Daenerys only furrowed her brow in confusion.
"He opened a portal Queen Daenerys, allowing passage through his plain to another. It require measures that were necessary but I had to ensure our plan was to make light."
Fists clenched, shuddering at the competing forces. Jon closes his eyes, pushing air through his nostrils as he held back the tsunami flooding his consciousness. Ice was crystallizing on the interior of the cabinet. 'R'hllor.' The voice was deep, words finally audible. It garbled and felt like nails scraping on glass. Jon grimaced at the unpleasantness.
"Maester Sam, I bring quite concerning news."
"Oh?" Sam could feel his heart rate elevate as sweat formed on his forehead.
Kinvara spun to Sam, attempting what would be seen as a frightened expression. "I believe someone is conspiring against our beloved king."
Sam raises his eyebrows, forming an O shape with his mouth. "Oh!?" Daenerys could feel the moaning of the metal in her armor as the temperature deviated. The hairs on the back of her neck stood erect. Jon. She shuffled so she was between the cabinet and Kinvara, hopefully obscuring her view. She could feel the heat disappear when was in proximity of it.
"I need to know if you know of anything?" She closed the distance separating them.
Sam leaned back and forth on his feet. "This is the first time I am hearing of this." He picks up on Daenerys moving to in front of the cabinet, comprehending that something was going on with Jon.
"I see. Well do keep your eyes open. Our king can not see everything." Kinvara fumbles with the collar of Sams shirt before leaving the room, smirking at Daenerys. The seed was planted, Kinvara knew that much. Now it was just time for the weeds to fester.
The latch clicked shut pronouncing the red priestess departure. Jon burst through the closet doors. They flung open, slamming into the sides. Rage tearing at the edges of his being. 'She cannot be trusted.' He storms out eyes planted on the stone floor, shoulder barrels into Daenerys as he walks by. Anger seeping into his facial features. Sam instinctively wraps his arms around himself, shivering as it gets colder.
"Jon?" Daenerys gently asks.
"Do not speak!" Jon snaps, whipping around to shove a finger into her face. The blue of his eyes were shimmering, more radiant than before. But the whites were completely black and bled into the surrounding tissue of his eyes sockets.
Hours roll by as Daenerys and Jon wait for Tyrion but he never arrives and night was upon them. Jon remained quiet during that time, leaving a hue of restlessness in the air. Daenerys squirms in her sit occasionally sending a comforting smile to Sam. No one speaks. Terror of the ramifications was too great. Daenerys does not know what would happen if he lost control, but she thinks it would be similar to the bashing she had received. She doubts she would live through another round.
Enough time passed that Daenerys felt it was unfair to place Sam in such a position. They can not stay in his room for much longer without raising suspicion. It would be best for her and Jon to return to Dragonstone and wait for a second message.
He could not move. His back was pressed against something hard. His wrist and ankles stung, rubbing the bordering fiber that bound them. A faint sound of erratic crackling and the assorted smells of onion, putrid copper, and the tangy hint of leftover lemon cakes plucked him from his daze. Eyelids pop open to a low bearing ceiling, stone held up by thick support beams.
"Have a nice nap?" Serena jaunts over to Tyrion. He was secured to a plank situated on the table. The mixed fruits, vegetables and baked goods indicated they were in the kitchen. No light was coming in through the windows and the room was darkly lit by a spattering of candles. It was barren of the regular daily hubbub. Tyrion lifted his head to see rope weaving around his body and the plank, tied tightly at his wrists and ankles. Teraell strolled into view, her eyes lacking any kindness with her silence only amplifying it.
"King Bran will not stand for this." Tyrion stammered.
Kinvara meanders in, "Lord Tyrion. I wish we could be meeting on better terms." She leans onto the table, forging an artificial smile as she strokes a strand of hair from his face. "The king is under a lot of stress and does not need any added complications." Her face changes unnaturally, backing away from the Tyrion. Teraell yanks the leveler to the side, dropping open the iron door of the oven. Tyrion could feel the heat melting the top of his head as their intentions were becoming more clear.
"No!" Tyrion pulled at his restraints, wiggling underneath but they did not budge. Serena shoves a rag into his mouth to any unruly outbursts. Grabbing the sides of the plank, Serena and Teraell slide it into the broiling oven. Tyrion's body thrashes, the fire drowning out his muffled cries.
Kinvara steps forward, mesmerized by the flames. "Jemagon īlva hen se sȳndror, o issa āeksio. Leghagon īlva prūmi rūsīr perzys, sīr īlon kostagon geron aōha shining path. Rullor, ao issi se ōños isse īlva laesi, se perzys isse īlva prūmi, se bāneves isse īlva loins. Aōhon iksos se vēzos bona warms īlva tubissa, aōhon se qēlossās bona guard īlva isse se zōbrie hen bantis." Kinvara loudly chanted during the nightmarish scene, her arms gradually rising with each phrase.
Her priestess respond in a lower and softer tone. "Āeksiot Ōño, mīsagon īlva. Bantis zōbrie issa se ossȳngnoti lēdys. Āeksiot Ōño, mīsagon īlva."
"Rullor qilōni teptan īlva jelevre, īlon kirimvose. Rullor qilōni teptan īlva tubis, īlon kirimvose."
"Īlon kirimvose syt se vēzos bona warms īlva. Īlon kirimvose syt se qēlossās bona urnēbagon īlva. Īlon kirimvose syt īlva hearths se syt īlva torches, bona gaomagon se savage zōbrie rȳ rāenion."
Their prayer is eerie and unearthly. Their voices projected from another dimension. The prayer had finished before the cries had stopped. Flames engulfing him, the shallow rumbling covering his pleas. Kinvara bends down, astonished as the flames speak to her. They depict an image of her enemy.
Kinvaras eyes had not left the spot where the flames highlighted two faces peering above the Red Keeps walls. One with blue eyes illuminating the night. "The Lord of Light will have his kingdom Daenerys Stormborn." The screaming had ceased while the fire continued to eat away at flesh and wood. You could feel the heat radiate outward, cooking your face.
"Make sure no one disturbs the lords sacrament. Dispose of the remains once it is done." Kinvara instructs the others before withdrawing for the night. She enters her room, flipping her hair back behind her shoulders as she expressed a heavy sigh. She reached back to unpin her dress which fell to the ground revealing her bare skin. Kinvara stepped at the nearest water basin, dripping water across her arms and neck.
"It is hard you know. Manipulating a kingdom to turn on itself by the hand of an incorruptible force." She slowly drug her hands up and down her arms, coating them in water. "All the pieces must align if my lords plans are to see the light." Her words were slow and slithered from her mouth.
"I need the means to draw him out into the open." Her priestesses had located the dead one within the keep, only to find Daenerys Targaryen standing between them. She was sheltering him, lost in her feelings of the past. She gasps, "Oh wait. I do." As a sickening smile spreads across her face.