Traveling

Kinvara was in the midst of staring into the flames when she first felt the pull. As such, it was perfectly understandable that the beautiful High Priestess would assume it was her Lord speaking to her at first. Of course, as Volantis' highest ranking Red Priestess, Kinvara could not just sneak off. She was the Flame of Truth, the Light of Wisdom, the First Servant of the Lord of Light and whatever other titles they wanted to saddle her with besides.

In the end, it is Kinvara and a group of her followers that descend the mountain paths and leave the safety of the city behind. It is her and her fellow worshippers that turn a corner and come face to face with a living, breathing dragon. Even Kinvara is shocked speechless, but those who follow her react far, far more strongly. Two out of the group of ten remain at her side as the others immediately turn in flee before the sharp teeth, long claws, and whipping tail of the great fire beast.

The two who stay with her move to pull their swords from their sheathes, but Kinvara recovers swiftly enough to stop them… and prevent their deaths.

"Hold. Stay your blades my friends. You should no more take up arms against a dragon than you would against the Lord of Light himself. Dragons are HIS creatures, through and through."

Despite feeling an inner trepidation that she does not allow to show outwardly, Kinvara steps forward, a slight smile painted across her face as the dragon watches her with a startling amount of intelligence in its amber eyes. And then a blast of raw emotion hits her and Kinvara gasps as it washes over her mind and her soul. Behind her, the last two who had stayed, fall to their knees as they too feel it. She is the only one left standing as the dragon finally moves, slinking forward and encircling her in its mass.

For a brief moment, she is alone with the creature, trapped and helpless. Then the dragon finishes circling her and the line-of-sight between the High Priestess and her protectors, as worthless as they are, is clear once more. She looks to them and presses her pouty lips together for a moment. Kinvara can only presume that the Lord of Light speaks to her through one of her creatures in this. After a moment of consideration, she bows her head in acceptance and receives a burst of satisfaction in return.

Turning away from the dragon, Kinvara spreads her arms wide, even as her remaining followers finally recover enough to look up at her.

"Fear not, for the Lord of Light has shown me the way! I go now to serve his Champion! Do not worry for me, for we go to fight the Great Other! GO! Spread word of th-eep!"

And that's about the moment the dragon decides it's let her say enough, because a large set of claws encircles her waist and she suddenly finds herself lifted off the ground as it beats its mighty wings and lifts into the air. The flight is short but exhilarating and Kinvara cannot help but laugh almost giddily as they fly high above the clouds, away from Volantis and out to sea.

The High Priestess of Volantis' Red Temple does contemplate the idea of the dragon simply dropping her in the ocean for a moment, but she discards this fear as irrational. No, if this isn't a message from her Lord, the great fire beast is more likely to roast her alive, and consume her flesh, rather than just discard her out in the ocean. She has no need to fear a death by drowning.

This is confirmed moments later when a fleet of Yunkish ships appears on the horizon. One in particular seems particularly over-sized compared to the rest. It is this one that her dragon angles towards, and when it drops her, Kinvara is as prepared as she can be, tumbling to a stop on her knees even as it does another fly around to slow its own speed.

As the dragon is doing so, Kinvara is looking around closely. She is surrounded by Unsullied, but not JUST Unsullied. There is a pair of old, Westerosi Knights who have taken notice of her, and as she rises from her knees, they approach with confusion and concern on their faces. Behind them comes a dark-skinned slave girl, though she no longer wears a collar… and behind her comes the reason that Kinvara is no doubt here.

Now fully understanding her place in the world (geographically speaking) Kinvara's smile is strong and confident as the knights place their hands on their hilts.

"You! Who are you? Why are you here?"

That is the moment her dragon returns, and though it is a tight fit and the creature has to be quite gentle as it does so, he lands behind her and roars triumphantly, enough to almost knock the knights flat on her asses. Kinvara weathers the roar, despite being at its epicenter, and her smile widens as silence falls, only for her to fill it.

"Perhaps you should ask him."

It is quite obvious who 'him' is. Of course, then the white haired Valyrian girl is past both the former slave and the knights, and then Kinvara as well as she rushes to the dragon's side and in the process, names it.

"Drogon! Where have you been this past day? I've been worried sick."

Kinvara turns to look upon the beautiful girl. Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. After hearing reports of her in Astapor and Yunkai, Kinvara had begun to wonder if the girl was the One Who Was Promised. The freeing of slaves and the birthing of dragons… well, Kinvara's presence now aboard this ship was even further proof, wasn't it? Ah, but Daenerys is looking at her now questioningly, and Kinvara smiles, bowing low before the girl.

"Greetings, Daenerys Stormborn, Rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, and perhaps most importantly of all… Mother of Dragons."

The girl puffs up a bit more every time Kinvara gets one of her titles right. By the time she's done, Daenerys has a slight smile on her face and her back is straight as she regards the High Priestess.

"And you are?"

Kinvara grins and bows again before answering.

"I am but a humble servant of R'hllor, the Lord of Light. I believe you, as an outsider to my religion, would label me as a Red Priestess. My name, should you wish to use it, is Kinvara."

It feels SO good to shed all of those oppressive titles and the extravagance and bullshit that goes along with them. Kinvara has a genuine smile on her face as Daenerys regards her NOT as a High Priestess, but as a simple follower of her Lord. Behind the Targaryen Queen, her dragon, Drogon as Kinvara now knows he's called, snorts a bit and the High Priestess can't help but wonder if he knows more than she thinks.

There's such intelligence in the magnificent creature's eyes, it befuddles her a bit. Dragons have always been of the same affinity as the Lord of Light, but as far as she knows from the lore, they are but beasts of magic, nothing more, nothing less. Of course, magic can go a long way, can't it…

"Well, Kinvara. It's a pleasure to meet you, I suppose. I apologize, but it seems Drogon has decided you are to join us on our journey."

Pulled from her thoughts, Kinvara can't help but smile, her eyes lighting up as she shakes her head at the Queen.

"No! No apologies necessary… your dragon… the Lord of Light works through him, as he does all beings. You are Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen… and this only confirms what I had already begun to suspect. Where ever you go my Queen, my place is at your side."

Daenerys blinks dumbly at that.

"What do you mean?"

Kinvara's shoulders rise and fall in a shrug as she grins, almost giddy with excitement.

"I confess, I do not have all the answers right now. I will need to consult my Lord in the fires. But I believe you are the One Who Was Promised. You will lead the people against the darkness in the great war still to come. Until that time arrives, I will stay at your side for as long as you will have me, your grace. My counsel will be yours, for as long as you are willing to listen."

Bowing her head once more for good measure, Kinvara glances back up to see Daenerys nodding, a considering look in her eyes and a smile on her face. It's Drogon's gaze that pulls her attention though, as the large dragon's amber eyes seem to pierce through her very soul. There is something mysterious about the large, black-scaled beast. One way or another, Kinvara intends to find out what it is.

-x-X-x-

Doran Martell sits in his wheeled, wooden chair, overlooking the Water Gardens as a few of Oberyn's younger daughters play with Myrcella Baratheon. The aged man, confined to the chair by a debilitating case of gout, can only hope that Oberyn's eldest daughters are not off getting into trouble. Still, he must concede that it's better the older Sand Snakes be nowhere near their hostage-guest.

With Oberyn and Ellaria off on King's Landing, Doran fears there is no one left in Dorne who can truthfully tame Obara, Nymeria, and Tyene. So long as they cause no problems, he won't need to find out anyways. Letting out an explosive sigh, Doran lets his eyes drift shut. It is a beautiful day to day, though he sits in the shade while the girls play out in the sun. Not a cloud in the sky… it was days like today that their sister Elia liked most of all.

Oberyn wants revenge for their sister's death. Doran knows this and though he has tried to temper his brother's rage, that is hard to do when he can barely control his own simmering anger sometimes. And so Oberyn has gone to the capital of Westeros, ostensibly for Joffrey Baratheon's wedding. The truth is clear though, Doran is no fool. Oberyn will try to find a way to avenge their sister. He can only hope he does not lose his only remaining sibling in the process.

A cry of alarm abruptly tears Doran from his thoughts. His eyes snap open and he looks out at the water gardens. As the girls point upwards, eyes wide in shock and mouths agape. People are running back and forth, but Doran has no idea what is happening. Then, a massive shadow covers the ground and Doran's eyes go wide as well, as the owner of said shadow lands in the midst of Sunspear without any warning.

The black-scaled dragon is large, and though he is no Balerion the Dread, for a creature that has been extinct over a hundred years, he's certainly big enough to cause Doran's heart to stutter and stop and then beat rapidly in his chest. Captain Areo Hotah, the leader of his guards, is suddenly behind him, clasping the handles that will allow the man to wheel him away.

"My Prince! I must get you to safety!"

Doran's eyes widen as he realizes that the girls are still down there, three of them, including the Baratheon girl, trapped between the dragon and a large rock. Even though there's nothing he can do, the chair-bound Prince of Dorne finds himself lunging forward half out of his wheeled chair as the dragon lungs as well, right at them.

"NO!"

And then the beast is gone, beating its massive wings and flying up into the air. Doran's eyes bulge out of his skull as he expects to see blood splatters and torn apart bodies. Instead, Oberyn's youngest two bastard daughters are hunched against the rock, seemingly unharmed. As they realize the dragon has left, they uncurl and look around in shock at their good fortune.

For a brief moment, Doran is so relieved that he forgets about the third, blonde girl who should be with them. Only for a moment though, and then his heart stops as his voice fills with dread.

"Myrcella… where is Myrcella? WHERE IS MYRCELLA BARATHEON?!"

The loud shriek of a young girl fills the air from high above, all eyes turning skywards… and Doran can't help but shed a tear as he has his answer.

-x-X-x-

Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen is… perplexed. She stares down at the young blonde that Drogon has brought back from his foray this time. Rather than just a day, Drogon has been gone for three, and now she knows why.

"Your name… tell me your name again?"

Sobbing quietly, the young woman rubs at her eyes and answers in a small, scared voice.

"M-Myrcella Baratheon…"

Baratheon… Baratheon. Daenerys reins in her anger towards that name and turns towards Drogon. The large black dragon doesn't even have the good grace to look ashamed or admonished as he lounges alongside both of them, one eye open and watching the pair interact.

"I confess the Red Priestess has been a boon to our voyage so far Drogon, but I cannot help but wonder just what the hell you picked up this one for!"

A sensation fills her mind as Drogon communicates his desires to her.

"M-Maiden?! C-Collection?! What in Seven Hells is that supposed to mean?!"

The next thing Daenerys feels is soothing calm and despite a momentary struggle, she allows the sensation to wash over her, her anger and confusion fading away in the face of his overwhelming confidence. Letting out a low sigh, Daenerys' eyes are almost lulled shut when she hears a giggle from behind her. Turning, she finds Myrcella Baratheon's tears drying up, and the young blonde looking to her dragon with a hesitant smile on her face.

"H-He's not so scary... when he's like that."

It's obvious that the soothing calm was sent to both her and the Baratheon girl. Daenerys presses her lips together tightly, but before she can speak, Myrcella looks to her with such earnest hope.

"I-I know not who you are Milady, but did my mother send you? I… I know that I was in truth a hostage in Dorne, and not just their guest… Is that why you sent your dragon to fetch me?"

She knows not who Daenerys is?! Is the girl slow or ignorant? Well, even if her looks have not given her away, Daenerys is quite sure her name well. Staring imperiously down at the kneeling girl, Daenerys speaks clearly and concisely.

"Your mother did not send me Myrcella Baratheon, and I am no mere lady. My name is Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. I am the rightful owner of the throne your father usurped from mine many years ago. I have returned to reclaim my throne and my kingdoms. You are in the presence of the Queen of the Andals and the First Men, and the Mother of Dragons."

As Daenerys speaks, Myrcella's eyes grow wider and wider. By the time she's done with her little monologue, all the blonde can do is say one thing.

"Oh."

And then she topples backward in a dead faint. Daenerys stares for a second at the daughter of the man she's hated all her life… and then she blushes as Drogon chuffles behind her, sending his amusement through both the air to her ears and through the connection to her mind. Gritting her teeth, Daenerys decides she'll let Drogon have his 'maiden' for now. Stupid dragon, dragging half-grown girls out of Dorne to join their voyage.

What did he need Myrcella Baratheon for anyways? He had her after all, d-didn't he?

-x-X-x-

Stannis Baratheon, true heir to the Iron Throne, grinds his teeth together as he looks out from the wall of Dragonstone at the fleet of Yunkish ships below. The cry of a dragon fills his ears and the man glares up at the three creatures that fly above the fleet. They are out of range of Dragonstone's ballista, but he has every single one manned anyways, waiting for the opportune time.

Will that time ever come though? The Targaryen bitch has a fleet, and ten thousand men. Stannis had once commanded far more than that number as well as a bigger and far better equipped fleet than hers. But now, after the Battle of the Blackwater, he is left with nothing but Queen's men and this castle, his last remaining stronghold. He is secure here against the Lannisters and the Tyrells, but not against bloody fucking dragons. Nor their bitch of a mother, with her army of eunuchs. To be brought low by such a thing.

"Your grace…"

Melisandre appears at his side, as she always does when he is busy falling into despair. His face stony as her hand on his arm sooths him for reasons he cannot adequately explain, Stannis looks to his Red Priestess.

"What does your Lord of Light say now in the fires? What am I to do in the face of this."

The Red Priestess looks troubled, unsure for a moment, and Stannis is honestly surprised. Even when he was busy losing the Battle of the Blackwater, even when he'd holed himself up in the Stone Drum to brood, she'd been by his side, confident and assured of herself as ever. Despite his failure, Melisandre said he was still Azor Ahai. That he was still the Prince Who Was Promised. It was all Stannis had had to latch onto after his monumental, humiliating defeat.

And now, she had no more answers for him? Stannis is about ready to lose it on the red-haired woman, when Melisandre finally opens her mouth and speaks.

"Your grace, I may have been inc-."

A dragon's roar cuts off whatever the Red Priestess was going to say. Stannis whips his head back around, just in time to see the largest of the three dragons, the black one, swooping in towards the castle. Even as Melisandre falls back, the would-be King draws his sword, Lightbringer unlit, and lifts it high.

"DRAGON! READY THE BALLISTA! FIRE AT WILL!"

His words reach all along the walls of Dragonstone's fortress as those men that remain to him follow out his orders. Far fewer than should be though and as Stannis looks out across the walls, he finds, to his horror that many of the ballista crews are refusing to fire at all, loyal men dead or dying from knives to the backs beside the massive siege weapons.

It is in that moment, as a few of massive steel-headed bolts launch at the dragon, that Stannis remembers something he was told long ago by the Maester, when he first took up residence in Dragonstone.

The seed of dragons runs strong on this island.

Stannis had taken those words to heart at the time. He'd removed the obvious Targaryen sympathizers from his new seat, one way or the other. But now, with the loss of good, honorable men that he'd incurred at the Battle of the Blackwater, Stannis had been forced to conscript able bodied smallfolk from the harbor town below in order to man his ballista.

Just one more mistake in a long line of them at this point. Even still, even with this betrayal, at least ten massive bolts fly through the air towards their target as the dragon closes in on the wall. Stannis watches raptly as five miss outright, while five get dangerously close to hitting. And yet, somehow the dragon sees them coming. Moving with almost human intelligence, the massive creature rolls to avoid every single massive bolt flung his way.

Only then does Stannis realize where the dragon is going. The dour man's eyes widen even further, and he lifts his sword at the last second, as the black beast gets bigger and bigger, it's amber eyes homing in on him. The last thing the would-be king sees before death is the dragon's maw opening wide, and a fire building in the back of its throat.

-x-X-x-

I quite literally burn Stannis Baratheon alive AS I pull him into my maw and down my gullet. He sears nicely, and he tastes even nicer. Hm, the deliciousness of a man of little excess I suppose. As I swallow the charred corpse whole, I swing my long, armored tail this way and that, and begin to wreak havoc on the armored men attempting to attack me on the wall. There are still a few bowmen to worry about, but the ballista lining Dragonstone are not designed to fire inwardly. As such, now that I am within the fortress itself, I am 'safe' from the massive siege engines.

Admittedly, I'd been leery to approach at first. Dragonstone was brimming with defenses, even ones that could harm a dragon, I was surprised to find. I suppose I shouldn't have been, but from a distance, I could see the men with their scorpions lining the castle walls on every tier. I wasn't going to get close to that shit, not when they could fill the air with fifty massive bolts that might injure or kill me.

Instead, I'd settled for flying over my mother's fleet alongside my brothers, even as she and her advisors discussed their options on her flagship down below. Eventually though, I'd gotten bored and when I get bored, my mind wanders. There was something calling to me on Dragonstone, but at first, I'd thought it something silly, like the volcano or the dragonglass I knew was buried beneath the island.

It took me far longer than I cared to admit to realize that I was being called to by actual living, breathing people. The minds of Dragonstone's smallfolk reached out to me as I expanded my awareness, and I realized belatedly just how much Targaryen, and then Valyrian blood ran through the island's inhabitants. The Targaryens had practiced the act of First Right after all, and they'd done so frequently… and those on Dragonstone had praised them for it, treating the dragonseed that came from such unions almost reverently.

It had been almost child's play to use the blood of dragons in the smallfolk manning Stannis' ballista. They'd already been in awe of the sight of me and my brothers, and they'd already secretly longed for the return of a Targaryen Queen. I'd simply given them a small nudge in the right direction, and the next thing I knew, most of the ballista crews were stabbing their fellow men in the back.

That was when I'd attacked, and though I'd still had a few bolts to contend with, I'd seen the more dangerous ones coming and avoided them easily. Now with Stannis dead and me rampaging through the castle, resistance would crumble. The battle was over, and my mother had won back her family's seat without wasting a single of her precious soldiers.

I deserved a treat for a job so well done. A nice, big meal of Stannis' last loyal men would certainly do. The ones foolish enough to attack me deserved to die for their idiocy anyways. Not to mention, the plate armor some wore allowed my dragon fire to cook his knights so evenly throughout, leaving me to merely peel back the useless, melting armor to get at the tasted seared morsels within.

Mm, life was good.

-x-X-x-

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