Early the next morning, Viserys was in his study looking at a map, carefully deliberating over the marching routes, when the door was pushed open gently.
Daenerys stood at the door, her eyes still a bit red and swollen, looking at him timidly.
"Brother."
Viserys looked up at her and beckoned. She walked in and stood before him, her head lowered.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have lost my temper yesterday."
Viserys reached out and pulled her onto his lap.
"How could I blame you?"
Daenerys leaned against him and whispered, "Rhaenys talked to me last night, and I've thought it through. I know you're doing this for my own good. I'll stay behind and wait for you to return."
Viserys stroked her head.
"Once I take the iron throne, I will take you with me wherever I go."
Only then did Daenerys smile. She hooked her arms around Viserys's neck, gave him a quick kiss on the lips, and then ran out.
That night, the study door was knocked on once again.
When Kinvara walked in, the candlelight flickered slightly. She wore dark red priestess robes, and her expression looked more solemn than usual.
"Your Majesty," she greeted. Although their relationship had become unusual, she still couldn't quite relax.
Viserys put down the documents in his hand.
"Coming to see me this late, are you prepared to attend to my bed?"
Kinvara walked to his desk, her blue eyes looking at him with a hint of speechlessness.
"The flames have given me a new revelation."
"Speak," Viserys said as he set aside his things and gestured for her to sit.
Kinvara did not sit, but spoke directly, "I saw the shadow of dragons covering all of Westeros. They flew from the east, and Dragonfire engulfed King's Landing, Casterly Rock, Storms End, and the Iron Islands."
She paused, her voice turning low. "I saw a Golden Lion wailing in the Dragonfire, its fur scorched, turning to ash. I saw a stag, a golden stag, its head severed, its body likewise consumed by fire until not even bones remained. A Direwolf fell in a pool of blood, but it stood up again, its grey eyes looking toward the north. A kraken was crushed under a dragon's claws, struggling, then sinking into the depths of the sea."
After hearing this, Viserys was silent for a moment, thinking that this prophecy likely meant he was certain to be victorious this time.
"Is there anything else?"
"There are still blurry images I cannot see clearly. Ice and fire, and a figure sitting on the iron throne, but I cannot see who it is. There is nothing more."
Viserys nodded.
"I understand."
Kinvara remained standing there after she finished speaking, saying nothing more.
After a long time, Viserys looked up and watched her.
"Is there something else?"
Kinvara met his gaze, something flickering in her blue eyes.
"No... nothing." Her voice was somewhat unnatural, and her face began to flush.
Viserys stood up with a chuckle and walked toward her. Seeing him approach, Kinvara instinctively took a step back, but her heel hit the chair behind her, stopping her.
Viserys took another step closer and looked down at her; now, there was only a fist's distance between their faces.
"We are already so familiar with each other, what are you afraid of?" He looked down at her.
Kinvara's breathing quickened, and those blue eyes that were always calm now rippled with emotion. Over the past month, her connection with Viserys had indeed deepened, but she was still not used to his boldness.
"I'm not..."
Before she could finish, her mouth was blocked.
The kiss came suddenly, but Kinvara only froze for a moment before she began to respond. Though she wasn't used to his boldness, she was already very familiar with his body; her hands climbed to his shoulders, her fingers tightening.
Viserys's hand also slid down from her waist, hooking onto the sash of her red robe.
But just then, there was another knock on the door.
The two separated.
Kinvara's face was flushed red and her breathing was unsteady. She quickly straightened her clothes and stepped aside, but a flash of frustration she hadn't noticed herself crossed her face.
"Come in," Viserys said toward the door, for he knew who was outside.
The door opened, and Margaery Tyrell stood at the entrance.
Tonight she wore a dark green gown with a neckline lower than usual, revealing her delicate collarbones. Her slightly curly brown hair was meticulously groomed and draped over her shoulders.
Her face was slightly pale, but there was a certain resolve in her emerald eyes, as if she had finally made up her mind. She had clearly prepared carefully for today.
Margaery was clearly taken aback to see Kinvara there as well, but she quickly regained her proper smile.
"Your Majesty, Priestess Kinvara," she said with a slight curtsy. "Forgive me, I didn't know you had a guest. Am I interrupting?"
"No interruption," Viserys said deliberately while looking at her. "Miss Margaery, do you have something important to discuss at this late hour?"
Margaery bit her lower lip, her gaze scanning between Viserys and Kinvara.
She saw Kinvara's flushed cheeks and slightly disheveled clothing, and the lingering atmosphere of intimacy between the two; she understood immediately.
Kinvara looked at Margaery, then back at Viserys. A look of insight flashed in her eyes, and the corners of her mouth curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
"It seems the flames have other plans for tonight. Your Majesty, I shall take my leave then." Kinvara made to leave, pausing slightly as she passed Margaery. "The flames light the way, and fate has its own path. Miss Margaery, you cannot escape it."
Margaery was slightly startled, and before she could respond, Kinvara had already left.
Only Viserys and Margaery remained in the room.
The candlelight flickered, casting intersecting shadows on the wall. Margaery stood where she was, her fingers gently twisting the hem of her skirt—a subtle movement that betrayed the nervousness in her heart.
"Is there something you need, coming to see me so late?" Viserys sat back in his chair and asked again in a flat tone.
Margaery took a deep breath to steady herself, took a few steps closer, and stood before Viserys.
"Your Majesty, you are about to set out for Westeros."
"Yes."
She looked up, her emerald eyes staring straight at him.
Then Margaery released her grip on her skirt and moved her fingers to her waist. The belt, inlaid with a rose-gold buckle, was gently unfastened and fell to the floor with a soft thud.
Then came the laces of her gown. Her movements were slow but steady, without trembling.
The dark green gown slid down, pooling at her feet. Beneath it, she wore a silk undergarment as thin as a cicada's wing. The moonlight and candlelight combined to illuminate the curves of her body.
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