[3] The Warrior of Light?

Chapter 3: The Warrior of Light?

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The mood in the restaurant thickened, and for a moment, I just stood there, watching the priestess sitting across the room. She returned my gaze with a calm, unwavering smile, the kind that had no business being on someone’s face when they were about to be killed.

I slipped my hand to my side, fingers brushing the hilt of my knife as I moved forward, my steps careful and slow.

The tavern’s dull murmur faded into a low hum. Shadows stretched under the dim candlelight, pouring around the edges of her table where she sat alone, draped in blood-red robes, her face mostly concealed by the hood.

The crowd around us carried on with their drinks, oblivious or perhaps pretending not to notice. This was Volantis, after all. People knew when not to interfere. As I reached her table, her eyes glinted beneath the shadow of her hood, meeting mine with a confidence that felt too solid and calm. I didn’t like that.

I settled into the seat beside her, pressing the dagger against her belly. She didn’t flinch; instead, she tilted her head, letting the hood slip back fully to reveal her face in all its bold allure. Her gaze drifted down to the blade as if it were a curious trinket rather than a threat, the barest hint of amusement in her eyes.

“Oh my,” she murmured, her voice as soft as silk and carrying a warmth like that of a heavy blanket. She sounded seductive. “I wasn’t expecting such an… aggressive greeting.”

I kept my eyes on hers, my grip firm on the dagger. “Then what did you expect after stalking someone who’s gone to all this trouble to hide? People can feel threatened. I hope you won’t be surprised if I kill you right now, priestess.”

Her lips curled into a faint smile. “Much more reason for you not to threaten me back. Or shall I scream your name for all to hear?”

I pressed the blade harder against her, enough that I saw her take a shallow breath. “Much more reason I gut you right here. Right now.”

The woman’s laughter rang out, soft but clear, as she lifted a hand to her mouth, her lips curving into a faint, almost mocking smile. She didn’t seem the least bit unnerved by the knife. Her other hand reached up, slipping the hood back from her face in one smooth movement, revealing her features in full.

Dark, cascading curls framed her face, spilling over her shoulders with a seductive elegance that softened the sharpness in her gaze. Her skin was pale, almost luminous in the dim light, accentuating high cheekbones and dark, intense eyes that seemed to hold a glint of amusement. The deep red of her gown hugged her figure, rich fabric embroidered with intricate lace that drew the eye down along every curve. A pendant hung low at her neck, resting just above her chest, the dark gemstone glinting like a flame in the shadows.

She was simply… damn.

I'd be lying if I said she wasn’t beautiful. No, not beautiful. Stunning. She was far more beautiful than what I remembered from the TV show. It was as if the actress had gone through enhancing surgeries. Her eyes sparkled a deep, hypnotic shade that seemed to hold some odd flame. Her smile held a confidence I rarely saw, even in people used to wielding power. Her elegant gaze seemed certain that I wouldn’t dig the knife into her.

For a moment, I wondered how those eyes would feel looking up at me- Ah, shit. Not the time to start thinking with my dick. Fucking Viserys. Thankfully, I managed to keep my expression strong. I love women, but I really had to control this libido of mine.

“Perhaps we should take this conversation outside?” she asked, her gaze not wavering from mine. Her expression softened as she looked down at the dagger pressed to her stomach and… I pressed it in just a little more until a single bead of blood welled up beneath the blade’s edge. She hissed.

“I think you’re taking me too lightly,” I said. “It might bring you death, priestess.” I had to establish the relationship right here. If she was going to pretend to be respectful, I was going to push her to her edge and see if she could maintain that.

Her smile faltered ever so slightly, and I saw something shift in her eyes. “Prince, trust me. You’ll want to hear what I have to say. I didn’t come here to bring you trouble. Otherwise, you’d be dead by now.”

As if to prove her words, a dozen of the customers turned their gazes at me. It was brief, but I didn’t miss it. I frowned. I was surrounded.

Kinvara, the Red Priestess of Volantis. I remembered her from the TV Show. The way she’d looked at Daenerys with that same intensity, talking about her great future, about her power and destiny. Did she already have those visions about that girl?

Was she here to capture me and hand me over?

However, it was as she had said. If she wanted to kill me or capture me, she had enough people around to be able to do that already. My eyes narrowed. The truth is, even if I do drive this dagger into her throat, I doubt that it’ll do any lasting damage. She didn’t just have the confidence of someone who thought herself untouchable; she had the authority of someone who might actually be so. A Priestess of the ‘one true god’ as they said.

I exhaled slowly, drawing back the dagger, though I didn’t put it away entirely. I glanced around the room, catching faint glints from the shadows, still feeling unseen eyes on me. I guess I had no other choice. Whatever she wanted to do with me wasn’t death. At least not an immediate one. And since that was the case, I was confident that I’d manage to find one way or another using the [System] to escape danger.

“Fine,” I said with a nod. “Lead the way… High-Priestess Kinvana.”

Her eyes trembled slightly seeing me refer to her by her title and name. It was not as if it was a secret, but regardless, most people didn’t know her name. It was the case with most High-Priestesses. People referred to them by their titles instead. So she stared at me for a brief moment before smiling.

“I shall do that,” the priestess rose gracefully, her gaze lingering on me as she adjusted her robes, covering the small spot of blood left from the knife. Her wound healed, the blood vanishing. She smiled up at me when she saw me staring at the scene that’d have been considered a miracle in the modern world.

She turned toward the door, casting one last glance over her shoulder before slipping into the crowd. I followed, keeping close, my hand never far from my dagger.

****

The streets of Volantis stretched and writhed around us like the veins of some ancient beast, pulsing with life and decay. Stalls lined the cramped alleyways, vendors shouting out the prices of spices, dried fish, and half-rotten fruit, while slaves shuffled past in chains, their eyes hollow.

I didn’t like this place. No, I hated it. It smelled like trash here.

It was a thick smell—filled with sweat, salt, smoke, and something else, something bitter and metallic that made me want to gag. Around us, the noise was loud and relentless, but she glided through it, untouched, like the chaos existed only for everyone else.

I kept my gaze on her, my grip tight on the hilt at my side. “What exactly do you want to talk about?” I muttered, just loud enough to reach her over the noise. Every nerve in my body was on edge, wary of eyes in the crowd, ears too close, and whispers that might carry my name. I really wanted to leave Essos as soon as possible.

Also, I should do something about this hair. Blonde stood out.

She shot me a sideways look, lips curled in that maddening smile. “Oh, be patient, Prince. Do you really want to discuss such… sensitive matters here, in front of everyone?”

I stopped cold, letting a few shifty-eyed passersby bump into me with muttered curses. The Red Priestess stopped as well, turning to face me with that look that I had come to find annoying. Calm, condescending like I was an overeager child. “Prince? What’s the matter?”

I narrowed my eyes, clenching my jaws and showing her my irritation. “I’m not about to follow some suspicious bitch to a secret meeting place. So either say what you have to say or leave.”

Was I being too paranoid? Too annoying and immature? Maybe. Since I was already surrounded by her people hidden in the crowd, it might have been pointless to complain. But still. I didn’t feel like giving her whatever she wanted without resisting.

Her smile widened, a flash of teeth against red lips. “Heh… Quite a foul mouth for royal blood,” she said, the words dripping with amusement. “I don’t wish you harm, Prince. In truth, despite my subtle threat at the inn. None of those men can hurt you, neither can I, even if I wanted to—not when you’ve already defied death once.”

Silence. The crowd continued to push around us, but her words hung in the air, making everything else feel muted and distant.

“...What are you talking about?” My voice was low, steady. Testing.

Her gaze softened like she was peering into me, past me, into something I wasn’t even aware of. “Ah, yes. It makes sense that you wouldn’t know, would you? People are rarely aware of their coming death,” she murmured like she was speaking to herself more than to me. “The day you escaped the Dothraki… that was the day you were supposed to die. That was your fate.” She moved closer, slowly, her hand reaching out until her fingers rested against my chest. They lingered there, cold and deliberate, like she was marking something only she could see.

I stayed still, barely breathing, as her hand slid down. Her fingers were soft, her touch felt both too intimate and too calculated. “Fate,” she whispered, her voice barely louder than the hum of the crowd. “The will of god. And yet, despite the order of things, you survived. You did not defy death; rather, the one True God simply… changed his mind about taking your life. For reasons only He knows.” Her fingers pressed slightly against my chest. “So, when you came to Volantis—of all places—I took it as a sign. That R'hllor has chosen me to guide you. To help you achieve whatever goals you hold close to your heart. Because…” Her voice softened, carrying a reverence that sent a chill down my spine. “I think you’re him. The chosen.”

A moment of silence stretched between us. I forced my voice to remain steady. “Who?”

Her lips curved, and she leaned in, her breath brushing against my ear. “The Warrior of Light,” she whispered, her words laced with a worshipful kind of madness. “My hero.”

Her hand left my chest, and she pulled back, her gaze never wavering, locking onto mine with a look that could have been mistaken for love—if love was ever that intense, that consuming. “Or perhaps you’d prefer ‘my king’ more suitable?” She lingered for a second more, smiling, and then, without another word, turned away.

Her steps were now slow and deliberate, the sway of her hips seductively calculated.

I watched her fade into the crowd, her red robes blending with the chaos of the market until she was nothing more than a smudge of crimson. The Warrior of Light. The hero.

Somehow, I managed to hold back my laughter.

She thought I was some kind of chosen one, some mythical figure her god had anointed. What a fool. But a useful tool if I played this right. If this woman wanted to make herself a willing tool, who was I to correct her?

I could use a practitioner of Blood Magic more than ever right now. After all, I had something very precious that I wanted to awaken.

Magic. To rejuvenate the world itself.

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