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Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
ASOIAF and all of its characters belong to GRRM
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
"Dialogue"
'Thoughts'
-Author notes-
Chapter 76: The Serpent's Coil
The grey twilight of Asshai had not changed in the fortnight since Joffrey's departure.
The same oppressive despair pressed against the tower's black stone walls, the same cold blue flames flickered in the braziers, and the same silence hung over the city like a blanket.
But Daenerys felt different. The waiting had changed her.
She stood at the window of her chamber, her hand resting on the pendant beneath her gown, her eyes fixed on the distant towers of the city.
Drogon lay curled on the sill while Rhaegal and Viserion slept on the bed, their bodies intertwined, their breaths coming in soft hisses.
'Where are you, Joffrey?' she wondered. 'Are you still alive? Did you find what you sought?'
She had no answers. Only the silence and more waiting.
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One floor above her chamber, in the laboratory, Tyrion Lannister was hunched over the obsidian table, his mismatched eyes fixed on the two vials before him.
One contained a thick, grey liquid that seemed to swirl on its own, as if it were alive. The other was filled with a pale, amber substance that shimmered in the blue light.
"I have finished them," he said as Daenerys entered.
"Do they work?" Daenerys asked, glancing at the two vials.
"Well..." He lifted the one containing the grey liquid. "This one works, for certain. I almost choked to death when I tested it, and that was a smaller amount than the one in here. As for the other one... I will admit I have not dared to try it inside the tower. According to the book's description, the results would be... quite potent."
Daenerys smiled. "Good work, Tyrion. I will take them."
"I have a good teacher." The dwarf gave her an intense look. "Are you planning to need these any time soon? If you need help with something else..."
She took the two vials and stored them in a pouch at her waist. "I hope I do not need to use them. But I just like to be prepared. That is all."
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Lord Varys found her an hour later, his pale face flushed, his breath coming in short gasps. For once, the eunuch had lost his composure.
"What is going on?" Ser Jorah, who had been standing guard at the door, walked into the room right after Varys.
"Your Grace." He bowed, but his eyes were darting to the window of her chamber. "A force of fully armed men is marching toward the tower. They carry the sigil of the Red Temple. There must be a hundred of them, perhaps more."
"A hundred? We have a dozen Dothraki, plus myself and Kovarro. We cannot fight that many." The knight turned to her. "Khaleesi, we must escape the tower. Perhaps we can reach the ship—"
"Impossible," Varys interrupted. "We would directly collide with that small army on our way to the docks."
"Then we go north, past the city walls, and hide in the shadow hills," Jorah suggested.
But Lord Varys shook his head. "I am afraid that the gates of the city have been sealed. It seems the shadowbinders have allied with the temple. There is no escape by land or sea. They mean to trap us here."
Daenerys's hand went to the pendant at her throat. Joffrey's gift. The magical artifact that could take her to safety. She considered it for a moment, but immediately brushed the idea aside.
What would happen to her people? What of the Dothraki who had crossed the Red Waste and followed her all the way to this dark land? Would she deserve to be a ruler if she abandoned those who followed her?
The answer was evident.
Ser Jorah stepped forward. "What about the pendant, Khaleesi? The prince said it could take you to safety. Use it now. We will find another way—"
"No." Daenerys's voice was firm. "If I flee now, they will simply chase me. They will hunt me across the world, and they will not stop until they have my dragons and me." She turned to face them. "I am not running."
"Then we will fight them off," Ser Jorah said. "For you, Khaleesi, I will fight until my last breath. If we use the tower as a bastion, we could take a few of them with arrows before—"
"No." Daenerys spoke again, her tone leaving no room for argument. "There will be no fighting. I will not have you all bleed for me this time."
"But Khaleesi—"
"Are you going to surrender to them?" Varys could guess her intentions.
"The Red Temple wants me alive. They need my blood, my dragons, my name. They will not harm me. That gives me leverage." She looked at Varys. "Tyrion also has an artifact left by Joffrey. If things go wrong, tell him to use it. Take anyone you can reach, and do not hesitate to escape the tower."
"You want us to give up without a fight, Khaleesi?" Jorah muttered. "My purpose is to protect you. If I cannot do that..."
"Your purpose is to follow my will, and that is what you will do, Ser Jorah."
Daenerys's voice was stern. "And who said I am giving up? I will go speak with their High Priest, and I will make the Red Temple see that I am not a tool to be used." She smiled thinly. "I am the blood of the dragon. Let them see what happens to those who try to control me."
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The temple forces arrived less than twenty minutes after Lord Varys's warning.
They formed a semicircle before the tower, their crimson cloaks bright against the grey stone, their faces hidden behind steel helmets. At their head rode a tall man in ornate armor, his mask shaped like a roaring flame.
He dismounted and approached the entrance of the tower, his guards flanking him.
Daenerys walked out to meet him, her dragons perched on her shoulders, her white gown bright against the bleak background.
"Mother of Dragons," the man said, his voice muffled by the mask. "I am Korath, the Flame Bearer, Lord Malachar's right hand. The High Priest demands your presence. He wishes to speak with you of your destiny and your duty to the Lord of Light."
"And if I refuse to go with you?" Daenerys stood at the entrance of the tower alone. All her men were hiding inside, as per her orders.
She was confident that the Red Temple would not harm her, but she could not say the same for everyone else. These people followed a religion where human sacrifice was common practice. She did not expect them to show restraint.
Korath's hand rested on the pommel of his sword. He drew it slightly, showing her the steel. "Then we will take you by force and kill anyone who tries to stop us. I would prefer not to spill blood, but the Lord's will must be done."
Daenerys looked at him, at his guards, at the hundred men arrayed behind him. She could feel her dragons trembling on her shoulders, sensing her tension, ready to strike.
'Not yet,' she thought. 'Not yet.'
"No one needs to bleed today, Ser Korath. I will come with you and speak with the High Priest," she said. "All I ask in return is that no harm comes to my people."
Korath inclined his head. "The High Priest has no interest in your people. Only in you and your dragons, Lady Daenerys."
Daenerys turned to Jorah, who stood in the doorway, his hand on his sword. "Wait for me. I will return soon. And if I do not... then wait for Joffrey before making any rash decisions."
Jorah's jaw tightened. "Khaleesi-"
"That is an order, Ser Jorah."
The knight nodded reluctantly.
She walked past Korath, her dragons fluttering to keep their balance on her small shoulders. The guards fell in around her, and the procession began to march toward the Red Temple.
Behind her, Tyrion stood at the window of the laboratory, his hand on the ring, his heart pounding. Beside him, Varys watched in silence, his face unreadable. Ros brought wine, but no one drank.
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The Red Temple loomed before her, its rough granite facade veined with a crimson mineral that seemed to pulsate, its great archway carved with leaping flames.
The heat washed over her as soon as she stepped inside, and the smell of incense was thick enough to make it hard to breathe.
The corridors were lined with statues of R'hllor, the Lord of Light, in his many forms. Priests and priestesses bowed to her as she passed, their masked faces unreadable, their hands pressed together in prayer. The chanting was low and constant, a drone that seemed to vibrate in her bones.
The first time she had visited this temple was with Joffrey. She remembered how safe she had felt back then, at his side. But now she was alone with her dragons, and whatever happened next would depend solely on herself.
At the end of the corridor, a massive door of black iron swung open, revealing the inner sanctum.
The chamber was vast, its walls made of white marble, its tall ceiling decorated with gold.
All around her were braziers that burned with an intense orange flame. At its center stood a throne of black stone, and on that throne sat High Priest Malachar.
He was old, his face gaunt, his eyes burning with a fanatic's fire. His robes were crimson and gold, and around his neck hung a ruby the size of an apple, emitting a deep, inner light.
Daenerys immediately sensed something was off about this man. This was not the demeanor one would expect of a priest. It was that of a king.
'He thinks of himself as a ruler,' she thought. The look in his eyes was the same one she had seen a thousand times in her brother Viserys. This was a man obsessed with power, with dominion, with ruling over others.
Behind him stood a dozen armed priests in crimson robes, their hands resting on their swords.
"Daenerys Stormborn." Malachar's voice was dry as old parchment. "The Mother of Dragons. The Heir of the Seven Kingdoms." He smiled, and the smile did not reach his eyes. "I have waited so long to meet you."
Daenerys stepped forward, her dragons hissing on her shoulders. "You have a strange way of showing it, my lord. Sending a hundred armed men to escort me."
"The city is dangerous," Malachar said. "We only wished to ensure your safety."
"My safety, of course." Daenerys laughed. "You must think me a naive little girl. One who would not guess your intentions of controlling me and my dragons for your own purposes." She looked around the room, her eyes resting on the braziers for just an instant.
Behind her stood the twenty armored knights who had escorted her, as well as the High Priest's right hand, Korath.
Malachar's smile faded. "The Lord of Light has chosen you, child. You are Azor Ahai reborn. It is your duty to serve his will."
"My duty?" Daenerys raised an eyebrow. "I do not remember accepting this duty to serve the Lord of Light."
Malachar glared at her. "One does not always get to choose one's fate. But we must always follow the will of the Lord of Light. That is the right path."
Daenerys looked at the braziers, at the priests, at the throne, at the open door behind her. "Very well. I will speak with you, Lord Malachar. But in a more private setting. There are too many eyes in here."
Malachar's eyes narrowed. "You are in no position to make demands."
" I'm not asking for much. You are not scared of a little girl such as myself, are you, my lord?"
The High Priest glanced at her for a moment. "It is not you that I'm wary of, little girl." He scoffed. "Your dragons are still—"
"Sōvēs. "
Her voice interrupted him.
The three dragons let out a loud cry that startled everyone present. Then, much to their shock, they all detached from Daenerys and flew out of the chamber, settling only in the next room.
"What about now? Can we have some privacy?" Daenerys asked.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The braziers crackled. The dragons hissed. Then Malachar raised his hand.
"Leave us," he commanded the knights and the other priests in the chamber.
The armed priests bowed and filed out, along with the knights. The door closed behind them with a sound like a tomb sealing shut, leaving her alone with the High Priest and his second in command, Korath.
Daenerys smiled.
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