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The darkness of the Hallway seemed to shy away as soon as the red woman entered.
The meagre fires that Rhaego's men had huddled around soon swelled in size and warmth as the Red Priestess made her approach. The Khal felt warm as well. A queer flush running through his body as the young woman draped in crimson hovered beside him, the way one does when spent too long in the sun.
The very air shimmers around her, Rhaego observed. She is flame itself.
As soon as Gerion spotted them he immediately got to his feet and stared at Mylessa is if she was Balerion the Dread come again. "Who is this?" His voice had a sudden tremor through it as he spoke, and the Lannister would not take his green eyes off of the woman at Rhaego's side.
"A red priestess," Rhaego replied. "She saved our lost men."
The red woman laughed. "R'hllor saved your men my prince, I was merely his instrument."
The young Khal wasn't sure what to make of that yet gave a brief nod in acknowledgment. He noticed that Gerion was shaking slightly, something he thought was odd given the man's fearlessness during their escape from Norvos. What could frighten a man who has been to Valyria and back?
Finally the Lannister swallowed and tore his gaze away from the red spectre and looked up at Rhaego. "Is she to come with us?"
Rhaego hesitated for a moment but felt the warmth swell in his chest again and nodded to his golden haired companion. "Aye, she's coming."
"I have seen you in the nightfires, Khal Rhaego. You come riding through the flames astride a great red stallion, your mighty axe in hand, and with the very stars themselves bleeding above you as dragons awaken from stone and cry out in joy at the strength of your light. It is as the prophecy foretold. You are the son of fire, Azor Ahai reborn."
"Prophecy?" Rhaego bristled. "I have had the shroud of prophecy bestowed upon me once before woman, and it did little to save my father or spare my mother a life of fear." He gave a deep sigh and gestured out into the howling rain. "Either way it makes little difference; we won't be going anywhere in that."
Mylessa's lips curved upward in a smile. "The sun will return on the morrow and the Lord's light will shine down upon us all, my prince."
"We shall see."
And so it came to pass. Just as quickly as they came so did the rains suddenly stop and the skies began to clear and the sun cast its light over the land. The red woman had smiled knowingly at him that morning and Rhaego heard many of his men muttering to each other in curses and fear of the red sorceress that had joined their company. Not wanting to linger, the Khal ordered his people pack their things and be ready to leave immediately. As Rhaego attended his red stallion he caught Gerion looking off, a worried expression on his golden features.
"I don't trust her," he confessed as they rode out, and he was certain the priestess could not hear. "The worshipers of R'hllor are fanatics who burn men, women and children alive to feed their fire god. How do you know that she doesn't seek to give you to the flames also?"
A rumble of laughter rose up from Rhaego's belly and he gripped the large axe that was sheathed on his back. "This is how I know."
For once the Lannister did not join in on his laughter. "There are ghosts in Valyria, and when I first saw her last night I swear I had seen a ghost, a woman long dead from my homeland….her eyes Rhaego, did you see her eyes?"
"They were blue, what of it?" he asked.
Gerion's bearded face fell into a deep frown. "Red hair and blue eyes, I know a great House of Westeros that carries those traits," a look of recognition crossed his face for a moment before vanishing. "Just…be careful will you?"
Rhaego snorted at the other man's fear and instead turned his eyes back to the horizon. They were following along the great river Rhoyne as he had urged and were four days ride from Volantis. And the gold, remembered Rhaego, Treasures from the Freehold. It was an enticing idea.
They spotted game during the second day of riding, a small collection of pigs hiding amongst the weeds of the Rhoyne. They were big ugly beasts, with tusks as long as a child's arm and a temperament to match, something that his riders took great pride in after they had killed the beasts. It had been weeks since Rhaego had eaten anything other than dry horse meat and his stomach rumbled loudly in yearning when they went about roasting the creatures.
The sun was setting and the sky turning a shade of purple, when Mylessa approached him. Rhaego could smell her before he saw her, the scent of fire and smoke and blood. The wind got in amongst her long red robes and sent them flapping about, as though they were flames dancing and twirling about. She was slender, yet formed like a stone goddess; at once lithe and voluptuous. Her face seemed impassive yet cheerful in a way he could not explain. She's beautiful, he thought….though there was something about her eyes, blue amidst a sea of red that seemed to stare deep into ones soul.
"My lady," he said, putting aside the bone of pork he was chewing on. "What do you need?"
Her red lips parted as she stared down into his sombre menacing eyes. "My prince, I ask for your permission to start a nightfire and give my thanks to R'hllor for the day just past."
Rhaego met her stare and was silent for a time before finally giving a dismissive nod. "Do as you please my lady, just don't expect us to offer up any sacrifices."
That warranted a melodious laugh. "I am sure that I will make due."
And so she did, with the aid of a few of Rhaego's riders Mylessa built herself a grand pyre and stood before the flames with a gleam of joy in her eye. The nightfire burned against the gathering dark, a great bright beast whose shifting orange light threw shadows twenty feet tall across the camp. Rhaego looked over at the woman from his seat, his food long forgotten.
Mylessa lifted her arms almost like a lover's embrace. "R'hllor," she sang in a clear voice, "we thank you for the bright sun that warms our days, and for the moon and stars that watch us in the night. Lord of Light, defend us, your humble servants. The night is dark and full of terrors."
While her voice called out into the night alone, Rhaego noticed that a few of his riders were watching her in rapt attention and he made sure to take note of them. The ceremony continued on until the last remnants of the daylight had vanished and the only colour in the otherwise black night belonged to the golden orange flames. Afterwards the red woman walked over to Rhaego and sat down beside him without a word.
"Did you see anything in your fires tonight my lady?" he asked after a time.
She smiled enigmatically at that. "Much and more, an army of sellswords gathering around Braavos, and the harpy stirring itself in the far east," Mylessa paused and took a moment to study Rhaego's face, her blue eyes searching for something. "Your lion's gold will be yours soon enough."
By the time they reached Volantis days later, the sky was purple to the west and black to the east, the stars were coming out. The red woman would say that those stars were guides sent from R'hllor and Rhaego's people said they were the souls of the dead in the Nightlands. Either way he found them beautiful.
Volantis closed its gates at dark, and the few guardsmen on its northern gate were grumbling impatiently at the stragglers. Once they saw Rhaego and his Dothraki ride up they instantly kept their weapons at the ready and eyed them cautiously. "What business do you have in Volantis horselord?" one asked with thinly veiled disgust. "Your Khalasar is too few to demand homage."
Rhaego struggled to hold his tongue and allowed Gerion to do the talking. "We are simply seeking to enter your beautiful city-"
"You seek to bring savages amongst the civilized grandeur of Volantis," cut off the guard. "I would be doing a disservice to the first daughter of Valyria if I allow such scum to roam its streets."
The Khal moved his hands to his axe, ready to fight his way through when suddenly Mylessa came forth, dismounting her horse and striding up to the guard without fear. Rhaego almost made to stop her but something in the way she stared up at the other man stayed his hand.
"R'hllor has sent us here brave warrior," her eyes shone like blue flames. "These savages are to be given to him at the great temple."
The guard clenched his jaw tightly and looked from the red priestess standing before him and then at the Dothraki at her back. After a moment of tension he spat in distaste before waving them through with his torch. After they entered the city and were out of sight Rhaego looked at Mylessa in confusion. "The faithful are strong in lovely Volantis, his majesty holds much sway," She replied with a chuckle. "They will take us in at the Temple of the Lord of Light; I will make sure of it."
Inside the city walls, they rode past guildhalls, markets, and bathhouses. Fountains splashed and sang in the centres of wide squares, where men sat at stone tables playing Cyvasse and sipping wine from glass flutes as slaves lit ornate lanterns to ward off the darkness of night. Palms and cedars grew along the cobbled road, and monuments stood at every junction.
They moved at a slow pace through the crowded streets and it was well and truly dark when they came upon the ancient structure. An enormity of pillars, steps, bridges, domes and towers flowing in and out of one another in a way that seemed as if the entire building had been carved from a single massive rock. Its slender towers twisted upwards much like flames would.
Fires burned beside the temple steps and torches hung from every wall, bathing the building in its light and casting twisted and frightening shadows across the yard. When they came upon it Mylessa sighed with genuine disappointment. "A shame, had we arrived earlier we could have seen the High Priest give his sermon."
As they approached the massive steps Rhaego caught sight of a line of men in ornate armour and orange cloaks. They stood before the temple's doors, clasping spears and watching as the Dothraki came closer. Without saying a word Mylessa dismounted and walked up the steps and said something softly to the men in a language that Rhaego could not make out and after a beat the orange knights stood aside and the doors opened. Two score children came out and after hearing an instruction from Mylessa followed her down the steps back to the Khalasar. Rhaego noticed that each child had a flame tattooed onto his or her face, marking them as slaves.
"They will see to your horses," explained Mylessa. "You and your riders are welcome to R'hllor's hospitality."
As they walked through the large doors the red priestess slipped her arm through Rhaego's. Part of him wanted to be outraged at how casual she was being with him but he also found her warmth oddly comforting and instead turned his attention to the grand structure before them. Various torches hung suspended above them in two long rows from the doors all the way up to the temple proper. Waiting up ahead for them was a tall man with skin the colour of sour milk and a great brown beard that hung down in two forks. Much like Mylessa he was also draped in crimson robes. He said a single, strange word in what Rhaego assumed was the tongue of Asshai and the woman responded with another single word.
The man turned his attention to Rhaego with a faint smile. "Welcome my friend," he said in Dothraki. "We never turn away warriors of Light."
The Khal gave a slight nod in acknowledgement but said nothing else. There was something about the man that he misliked. Best let them talk amongst each other for now, he thought. Ser Barristan always told me that it was better to remain silent when amongst those who might mean you harm…
After a brief exchange of words between the two followers of R'hllor, Rhaego and his men were all escorted to their sleeping chambers. They were small rooms, and sparse aside from the thin mattresses and small candles that sat beside them, however as Rhaego made to enter he felt the soft touch of the Red Woman's hand on his arm.
"These are the quarters for your riders, you shall be given chambers much more befitting your status," she explained.
He was hesitant but reluctantly followed her down the long hallway to a much larger room. It was not dissimilar to the rooms Magister Illyrio had bestowed upon him and his mother when he was a child. He had his very own wash room, a solar and grand bedroom that was ornately decorated and coloured in hues of red, orange, and gold.
Rhaego suddenly found himself alone with the red woman who was watching him carefully. He felt as though he was surrounded by this priestess and her red god. I'm in the belly of the beast now, he thought tensely. After a moment he couldn't help but voice his thoughts, "Why did you bring us here? I would hear the truth, why do you think I am your messiah?"
Mylessa bit her lip, an action that Rhaego found oddly comforting, and took a breath before speaking. "You are born from the Targaryen blood line, on the day of your birth it was said that a red comet tore across the sky and that you were born as the Dothraki gave your father's body to the flames. The tears of your mother mingled with the smoke of your father. Born amidst salt and smoke and…more importantly, I have seen you in the flames. R'hllor has shown me his warrior."
"I'm no hero or saviour," he answered. "My people worship the Great Stallion; they told my parents that I was to be the Stallion Who Mounts the World, that I would be the Khal of Khals. That has not happened, and I have been living as a nomad for years. Gods and prophecies, they're all bigger than I. Let me enjoy life as it is; the taste of wine and rich meats, the hot embrace of a woman in my arms and the mad rush of battle. That is what I live for my lady, not the whims of a God."
A sad smile crept along the woman's face then and for once she seemed as if her façade of mystique had slipped. "Perhaps that is all that he wants from you."