"It matters not whether they call me a saint or a witch. All that matters is that my people do not suffer." — Daenerys Targaryen, reflecting on the cruelties she saw afflict her people upon arriving in Westeros.
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Sitting across from her sister and Magister Illyrio, Daenerys cast a discreet glance at High Priestess Kinvara, who stood beside her.
On her other side, High Priest Benerro remained silent, expectant.
There was no one else in the room except them.
"I understand why you hid Saphira's existence," Visenya began, crossing her arms. "While you could have trusted me, your older sister, I think it was the best decision you could have made..."
Daenerys nodded slightly.
"The truth is, Saphira has been with me for about a year," she revealed.
There was no reason to keep hiding it.
Of course, that didn't mean she was going to tell him about her memories from another life.
"With Saphira's birth, something inside me awakened."
She reached out her hand and showed him the mark of her Gedwëy Ignasia.
"I joined her… and I began to feel the magic within me."
The truth was, she had always felt her magic, ever since she was born.
But she wasn't going to say it.
Visenya looked at her skeptically.
Daenerys knew her sister had never believed in magic, staring at her in disbelief whenever she spoke of it.
But this time, she wouldn't give her the chance to doubt.
Without taking her gaze off Visenya, Daenerys raised her palm and conjured a flame.
Kinvara smiled as she watched the fire float above her hand.
The small flame changed shape, molding into a small fire dragon, identical to Saphira.
The fiery creature flapped its wings, traced a circle in the air around her, and then disappeared, as if it had never been there.
Visenya exhaled slowly, bringing a hand to her forehead, as if she had a headache.
"I still can't believe I'm just finding out about this now."
"You've never believed in magic," Daenerys reminded her. "You could have done that demonstration earlier and I would have believed in it."
Daenerys smiled, knowing she couldn't refute it.
"You may be right," she admitted, before frowning. "But, like you, I too keep secrets. You didn't tell me about your engagement until everything was decided."
Visenya's face tightened.
She preferred to remain silent. She didn't want to talk about it.
Of course, compared to that, her secrets didn't carry the same weight.
But she didn't say anything.
"With High Priestess Kinvara, High Priest Benerro, and the entire Faith of the Lord of Light as our allies, you no longer need to marry Khal Drogo."
Visenya's eyes lit up at that. She nodded to herself as she realized what it meant.
"I fear it is too late. My men, if they have not been slaughtered while relaying the offer, should have already returned from the Dothraki Sea with the Khal's reply," Magister Illyrio interrupted.
"Then send them back and let them know that there has been a mistake. My sister will not marry Drogo." I turned to Illyrio with a frown.
The only reason she was still at this table was because we were in her home.
Though of course I had no intention of letting her leave here in one piece.
"Khal Drogo might take it as an insult and march his army to meet us, Your Majesty," Illyrio warned Visenya, his voice gravelly and panting.
"And we will be waiting for him," I replied coldly.
For the love of the gods, I had a full-grown dragon. With Saphira alone he could reduce his army of forty thousand men to ashes.
"That would not be wise," the magister replied, turning to me.
"And I will soon have three more dragons in my hands," I reminded him.
"MY dragons," Illyrio corrected, frowning. "The dragon eggs belong to me. The eggs fell into your hands by accident, I'm afraid," he said, trying not to offend me by calling me a thief.
"Since when does something so valuable belong to a dead man?" I replied with an open threat.
The man seemed oblivious to his situation, as he abruptly stood up from his chair and slammed the table hard.
"Are you threatening me, ungrateful child? Me, who took you into my home when no one else did?"
"Under whose orders, exactly?" I replied, staring at him coldly. His frown deepened. "From what I understand, it was the Spider, Varys of the Small Council and Advisor on Rumors, who asked you to take in my sister and me."
"I don't know what you're talking about," he growled, but his discomfort was evident.
Visenya stared at him, her expression hardening with understanding.
She stood with a regal bearing and declared,
"If what my sister says is true, and I believe her, you have allied yourself with traitors to the Crown, accomplices of the Usurper Robert Baratheon. Therefore, as Heir to the Iron Throne and future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, I sentence you to death for the crime of treason."
Benerro, elated, smiled as he summoned the Hand of Fire. The warriors filed in and surrounded Magister Illyrio.
"Any last words, Magister Illyrio?" Daenerys asked coldly.
Knowing he could no longer deny it, Illyrio fell to his knees in front of Visenya.
"Your Majesty, please have mercy. We have been allies for a long time. Remember my good deeds and show mercy to this old man…"
Visenya hesitated for a moment, but her thoughts were interrupted by my words.
"You are right. A rope that is broken by betrayal can be tied again…" Illyrio sighed in relief upon hearing me, but his hope crumbled with what I said next. "…but it will never be a whole rope again. At any moment, the knot could come undone, and that would be dangerous."
I waited for my sister to make her decision. Finally, she nodded in my direction and closed her eyes.
Without further ado, I gave the order to Benerro.
The Red Hand led Illyrio out of the room. He would be taken to the bonfire, for one of their rituals, where he would burn to atone for his sins and, perhaps, be reborn a better man in another life.
If the God of Flame and Shadow, the Lord of Light, so wished.
Visenya slumped in her seat, guilt on her face.
"Dany…" she muttered, not having the strength to say more.
"You don't have to explain yourself. We can talk about this another time. You need to rest now."
Though neither of them held Magister Illyrio in high regard, Visenya still believed he could be trusted.
After all, the man had helped them in their darkest hour, asking for nothing in return.
Moreover, for Visenya, Illyrio represented her first step towards the reconquest of Westeros, the way back to her home.
But everything they had planned since their arrival had fallen apart. Illyrio would have already revealed everything to the Rumor Counselor, Varys, with whom she was in cahoots.
Discovering that the only man she had trusted since the death of her master, Ser Willem Darry, had betrayed her was a heavy blow.
As Visenya retired to rest, I turned to Benerro.
"You have until he wakes. Order the Fire Hand to extract as much information as possible from Illyrio. I want to know how he communicated with Varys and what he told him."
Benerro smiled confidently.
"There is no need to involve the Fire Hand in this, my lady. Allow me to take command personally. It will be an honor to carry out your orders."
I nodded, giving him permission to continue. As she walked away, I reminded her in a firm voice,
"Do not purify his soul with fire. When this is over, tie him up and throw him into the sea. I will never be merciful to traitors."
Benerro bowed her head slightly in obedience.
"As you command."
I turned to Kinvara and saw her awaiting my orders with a serene smile on her face.
"The Red Faith is yours, my princess. Our bodies and souls belong to you. Your commands will be taken as the will of the Lord of Light."
I smiled, marveling at her words.
Religions have always been powerful, driving the world's cultures, shaping societies, and influencing people's lives. In Essos, the Red Faith dominates over all others, wielding immense influence and power.
Unfortunately, in Westeros, the Faith of the Seven prevails, and followers of the Lord of Light are few and far between, with no temples or real authority. However, the Red Faith extends throughout Essos: from Pentos and Braavos to Lys, Selhorys, Volantis, and beyond, even to Dorne.
Kinvara has offered me the Red Faith… And I will accept it. Not just as an ally, but as its rightful leader.
"There will be many changes to implement, Kinvara. We will deal with them later," he declared firmly.
"It will be done, my princess," he replied, bowing his head in respect.
"For now, begin preparing a great funeral pyre," he ordered. "It is time to bring back the dragons."
Kinvara's eyes shone with devotion and excitement. Without hesitation, she rushed to carry out my will.
…
At the same time, in different places in the mansion, both sisters shared the same thought.
Visenya, lying on her bed, felt the weight of exhaustion on her body. Her red, tired eyes stared at the ceiling without really seeing it, lost in her memories.
Daenerys, on the other hand, walked through the halls with a firm step, but her heart beat with the weight of a new burden. With each step, more and more people knelt before her. Not with the simple submission of a subject to his mistress, but with the fanatical devotion of those who believed they saw in her the will of a god manifested in flesh and blood.
«Azor Ahai was reborn.»
«The Daughter of Light.»
«Our salvation.»
Whispers and prayers rose around her. Some trembled with emotion as they saw her pass. Others cried. Some extended their hands as if by touching the hem of her dress they could reach the grace of the Lord of Light.
Daenerys felt every gaze fixed on her skin like burning embers. The Red Faith had made her something more than an exiled princess. She was their messiah. Their savior. Her only hope against the darkness that, according to the prophecies, threatened to destroy the world.
And she... wasn't sure she was up to it.
As much as her blood was of dragons, as much as Saphira flew at her side, the weight of those expectations piled on her shoulders like a mountain.
"If I fail, it won't be just me... Everything will fall."
She clenched her fists, keeping her expression calm as she continued walking. She couldn't let anyone see her doubts. She couldn't afford weakness.
As she reached the great terrace overlooking the city, she felt the wind whip her face. In the distance, she saw how the faithful of the Red Faith worked tirelessly on the construction of the great funeral pyre. Kinvara stood in front, hands clasped, whispering prayers. Her gaze burned with an almost terrifying devotion.
"Lord, lead us out of darkness. Enlighten our hearts so that we may walk your luminous path. R'hllor, you are the light of our eyes, the fire of our hearts, the warmth of our inner being. Yours is the sun that warms our days, yours are the stars that protect us in the dark night... Lord of Light, defend us. The night is dark and holds horrors."
Around them, the Red Priestesses murmured their own prayers, their voices intertwined in a solemn chant.
"We thank you for the sun that warms us. We thank you for the stars that watch over us. We thank you for the fire that keeps the darkness at bay and guides us in the night."
Meanwhile, Kinvara raised her voice, her eyes lit by faith.
"We thank you for Daenerys Targaryen, the Princess Promised by your will. We thank you for the pure fire of her soul, for the red flame of justice she wields, for the devotion and love she inspires in her people. Guide her, R'hllor. Protect her. Give her the strength to burn her enemies to ash and the light to rule in your name."
"Give her strength. Give her courage. Give her wisdom" the others said in a fervent whisper.
And it was at that precise moment, as the echo of the prayers dissipated in the wind, that Visenya and Daenerys, separated but united by the same thought, came to the same conclusion:
"Everything would be easier if Rhaegar had won the Battle of the Trident."