[17] The Ruler of Stormlands

Chapter 17: The Ruler of Stormlands

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The journey from Dorne was more grueling than I’d anticipated. God’s Grace lay far behind us, a few hundred kilometers away, so the journey was getting a bit better. The harshness of the Dornish sun was replaced by the cooler winds as we trudged through Prince’s Pass. The land shifted around us—a place where sand and rock gave way to craggy hills and pine needles underfoot.

The pass was both a natural marvel and a reminder of just how far the borders of Dorne stretched. We rode in silence, with only the sound of horse hooves accompanying us. I’d almost grown fond of that sound.

The path curved between steep cliffs, shadowed by jagged peaks that seemed to pierce the sky. Around Kinvara and I, the Sand Snakes rode with ease, their eyes always scanning the trail, watchful for threats. It was Tyene who broke the quiet, her eyes half-lidded in boredom as she glanced my way.

“What do you think of this, Pri- er, Your Grace?” she stammered and asked.

“I like the gentler wind. Though I have to admit, I wouldn’t have been able to appreciate it this much if I hadn’t experienced the harshness of the Dornish Sun. Anyways, how long do you think we need to travel from here?” I asked in casual interest. I already knew the answer. I had naturally done my research before on such a long journey, but it was worth stirring up some conversation with these dour-faced warriors.

“Another month, maybe less,” Nymeria replied, her voice as dry as the land we left behind. It had already been about ten days since we left. “If the gods are kind, Your Grace. Which they usually aren’t.”

A chuckle slipped from Kinvara’s lips. “Not a true statement, Lady Nymeria.”

“Let’s not argue about our religious views, girls,” I put a stop to them. “By the way, just call me Vis since it’d be troublesome if people heard you call me Your Grace,” I said, and the Sand Snakes nodded.

Kinvara shrugged, her gaze moving back to the cliffs above us, unconcerned. Obara grunted something indistinct, the words lost to the steady sound of our horses’ hooves against stone, and the conversation died again, as fleeting as the whisper of wind through the peaks.

****

Two weeks later, we were passing through Summerhall, the land softening into rolling fields dotted with green and gold. We avoided the main roads whenever possible, opting for old trails that twisted through the hills, away from prying eyes.

Viserion had been hunting wild buffalos and other animals whenever she was hungry, and although that didn’t give me much experience, I still managed to level up a little. I liked how I could receive levels even when she was the one doing the killing.

=== Page [⅓] ===

Viserys Targaryen

The Dragon King

22 Years Old

Level 14

-

17 STR

22 END

17 DEX

19 INT

19 LUC

20 AUTH

=== Page [⅓] ===

I was feeling more powerful than ever. It was a good feeling. Soon, I should become the strongest human in the world. But until then, I had to remain cautious and careful. Super skilled warriors like Oberyn Martell still posed a threat to me, enough to perhaps kill me.

Thankfully, nobody would recognize me even if they saw me, but Kinvara was another question. She had her hair red right now, so they wouldn’t realize that this Red Priestess was the Red Priestess, but still. It was better to be careful since these lands worshiped the Seven.

Tension lay heavy on our small company now. We were passing through the Stormlands, after all. The territory of one of the Five Kings, who was just nearby. So the Sand Snakes were ever alert while Kinvara smiled to herself as though she were above it all, and as for me... well, I kept my composure. Each passing day brought us closer to the lion’s maw. A place where allegiances were as solid as smoke and just as reliable.

It was far ahead of Summerhall when the encounter happened. The sudden sound of horse hooves—many, many hooves—echoed across the rolling hills. A heralding beat that pulled our attention in unison.

“Horses,” Kinvara said softly, her tone a strange tune of curiosity. The Sand Snakes were already moving, hands resting on the hilts of weapons, expressions darkening.

I pulled my horse to a stop, eyes narrowing, as I positioned myself in front of Kinvara as if to protect her. The banners came into view before the horses did—the golden rose of House Tyrell beside the stag crowned in gold, the banner of House Baratheon.

“Stay alert,” I said to the girls, although that wasn’t needed. They already were, as the riders spread out as they drew nearer, a formation too neat to be anything but military. They circled us smoothly, not entirely hostile but certainly not friendly.

Renly Baratheon sat astride a massive warhorse at the head of the company, wearing a crown of golden antlers upon his head, his easy smile a mask of charm. Beside him, on a slimmer palfrey, rode a beautiful woman. I recognized her as Margaery Tyrell, and like Renly, she was a more attractive mirror of her TV Show counterpart. Her gaze was sharp beneath the pretense of politeness. The knights fanned out around them, each of them in glittering armor, the sheen of polished steel almost blinding under the sun.

“Curious, what have we here?” Renly called out, his voice carrying over the distance. He didn’t sound like he intended to harm us. He urged his horse forward, closing the space between us. “Interesting travelers through my lands. Don’t be startled; I simply want to know who exactly crossed my path today.”

Renly Baratheon, one of the Five Kings, the King of the Stormlands, swept his eyes across us, lingering on the crimson robes and hair of Kinvara and then the dark-haired Sand Snakes. He barely shot me a look, which I was thankful for. I had my hair black from Kinvara’s magic, so it wasn’t as if he could recognize me anyway.

However, it wasn’t as if we were totally safe either. This Kinvara refused to change her robes, so it was hard to hide her status as a Red Priestess. Stannis Baratheon was being helped by a Red Priestess, and if Renly knew about it, he’d automatically view us as enemies.

The Sand Snakes stiffened, fingers tightening on their weapons. I held up a hand, a signal to keep their blades sheathed—for now. “Just travelers, my lord,” I replied, keeping my tone smooth, almost bored. “Passing through, on our way to the capital.”

“It’s Your Grace,” said a Knight who was riding too close to Renly. Although he wore a helmet, I recognized him as the Knight of Flowers.

I smirked. “Ah, yes. I apologize, Your Grace.”

Renly’s eyes flicked from Kinvara to me, the faintest quirk of his lips betraying his interest. “Such brave people you are,” he said, his gaze returning to Kinvara. “A Red Priestess.” His eyes lingered on her. As did the eyes of many others. Nobody, not even Renly and Loras, could deny her beauty.

Renly nodded his head in respect. “My lady, I am assuming when he said he’s going to the capital, he and the Daughters of Prince Oberyn are accompanying you to the capital? Should I be worried about the Lord of Light setting his sights on my camp?”

From the looks of it, news of Melisandre the Priestess supporting Stannis, hadn’t spread across the land yet. Otherwise, he’d have been a lot more aggressive to us. Or maybe it was the daughters of Oberyn Martell, as they somehow recognized them, that secured safety for us just by being here.

Kinvara revealed a soft, composed smile, the one that spoke of secrets and power. “The Lord of Light seeks only to bring his warmth, my lord,” she said, her voice honeyed. “No harm shall come to those who respect his grace. Only those who disrespect the One God, no matter if King or peasant will be judged. I am Nyra, a close confidant of Kinvara, the Heart of Fire. So please rest assured, someone like me is not in allegiance with any of the Five Kings,” she didn’t lie. I wasn’t one of the Five Kings. “I’m simply having a pilgrimage to King’s Landing in the hope of spreading the Lord’s name.”

“Ah, grace,” Renly repeated, his tone laced with a teasing note. He glanced sideways at Margaery. “Grace is a currency we often run short of, isn’t it, my love?”

Margaery gave a delicate laugh, her eyes sharp as they studied Kinvara. “Perhaps. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen a priestess quite like you,” she said, her gaze dipping to the embroidered flames on Kinvara’s robes. The gorgeous Queen of Ashes smiled. “Such fervor even when you’re standing before the rightful King.”

Kinvara bowed her head, her smile deepening. “Faith is powerful indeed, Your Grace. It touches even those who resist it. Like this young man, for example,” she raised a hand at me. “One of the Second Sons. Doesn’t believe in the Red God, even if he acts otherwise with me, and yet he’s sticking with me. Isn’t that what faith is?”

I winced, not that surprised that she knew my true feelings toward this so-called God. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to change her goal with me. Margaery’s eyes met mine then, and I held her gaze—her smile was kind, almost too kind.

I wondered if she could see through the guise, if she noticed the mask beneath which lay something entirely different. Of course, that was impossible. If this greedy woman knew I was a Targaryen, she’d have run from Renly and jumped on my horse instead. There was a sharpness in her eyes, a calculating look that reminded me of a cat toying with a bird. She knew we were more than what we claimed, or at least suspected it.

Renly turned his attention to me, his easy smile unwavering. “And you? You seem more than a simple bodyguard. What brings you to Westeros, my good man?”

I returned his smile, careful not to let the annoyance show. I didn’t respect him—he was weak, a pretender with dreams beyond his reach. But he was powerful enough, at this moment, to become an obstacle. “The Red Priestess travels where she’s needed. I’m simply here to see her safely to her destination. Don’t ask me why I’m here. Ask my captain, Daario Naharis, why he wants me to protect this pretentious woman.”

Kinvara raised an eyebrow at me, but I just ignored her. As far as she was concerned, I was just playing a character.

“A noble cause,” Renly mused, though his eyes said otherwise. “And a dangerous road. These lands aren’t as peaceful as they once were.”

“We’re prepared for whatever may come,” I said, my gaze steady. Beside me, I could feel the quiet readiness of the Sand Snakes, their eyes locked on Renly’s knights.

Margaery’s voice slipped into the conversation, soft. “You should join us, if only for a night. We’re camped not far from here. I’m sure we could all benefit from a bit of company. The roads are lonely, after all.”

I smiled politely. “Gracious, but no. We’re on a tight schedule, I’m afraid.”

Renly raised an eyebrow. “So quick to move on, and yet you’ve nowhere pressing to be. Curious.”

“The Lord’s work is ever pressing,” Kinvara interjected smoothly, her tone unwavering. “We appreciate the offer, my lord. But we must keep moving. Time is short, and the light must reach those who need it most.”

Renly watched her for a moment, his smile remaining though the curiosity in his eyes sharpened. He nodded slowly. “Very well. I won’t hold you. But beware, the path ahead grows darker. Friends may turn into enemies when least expected.” His gaze held mine, the words hanging in the air like a veiled warning.

“Wise words, my lord,” I said. “Perhaps we’ll meet again under different circumstances,” I said, but my eyes were now on Margaery.

“Perhaps,” Renly echoed before pulling the reins of his horse and turning back to his camp. “Safe travels, Priestess. And remember—King Renly always appreciates those who recognize true kingship when they see it. We shall meet again when I take King’s Landing.”

He smiled, and then they were gone, the thunder of hooves fading into the distance.

I waited until they were well out of earshot before glancing toward Kinvara. “Take King’s Landing, he says,” I muttered, loosening the annoyed grip I hadn’t realized I still held on my horse’s reins.

Kinvara’s smile was unfaltering. “An ambitious man, a kind one too. Unfortunately, I don’t think he’s powerful enough. But this encounter did go better than expected. The Lord of Light guides us well, my prince. Trust in his flame.”

“Yes, yes,” I said dismissively, turning my horse toward the direction we were heading. North. Toward King’s Landing. “Let’s keep moving.”

The Sand Snakes exchanged glances, Tyene scoffing softly under her breath. I didn’t bother asking what she thought. But as we rode on, the golden fields stretching before us, I felt the tension ease. We were close.

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Author Note: Although the Ai Images rarely gets it right, but Kinvara always has a red jewel on the necklace around her neck.

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