Disclaimer:
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 67: The Red Temple
The Red Temple stood apart from the other buildings of Asshai, and Joffrey noticed the difference before he saw the structure itself.
The fused black stone that dominated the rest of the city gave way here to rough granite, veined with a crimson mineral that seemed to pulse under the grey twilight like the slow heartbeat of some great sleeping beast.
It was clearly not as ancient as the black walls and other buildings of Asshai. He could feel that in the stone beneath his feet, in the air surrounding the structure, and in the weight of the magic that clung to its walls.
The temple had been built long after the creation of Asshai, perhaps only a few centuries ago.
Meaning that the Red Priests were newcomers here, in the grand scheme of things.
Daenerys walked at his side, her silver-gold hair almost as bright as her white dress. The pale fabric seemed to gather what little light the sky offered, making her stand out like a flame in the darkness.
Joffrey had noted the effect before. He suspected she produced it deliberately.
They were traveling alone this time. This meant, no dragons, and no guards.
Jorah had protested...briefly, vigorously, and fruitlessly. Joffrey had assured him that he was more than capable of keeping the princess safe against a few priests.
Daenerys, much to Joffrey's surprise, had agreed with him. She had ordered her bloodriders to remain at the tower, had silenced Jorah with a look that brooked no argument.
"You are very quiet," Daenerys said.
"I am observing the surroundings." Joffrey's eyes swept the street, the walls, the archway ahead.
"You are always observing something."
Joffrey did not answer. He was studying the temple's entrance. It had a great archway carved with leaping flames that seemed to dance even in the still air.
Inside the temple, he could see the orange glow of torches, warm and inviting. This was not the cold blue fire that lit the rest of the city, but the kind of flame that would keep you warm at night, the kind that had cooked food and heated homes for thousands of years.
'Makes sense,' Joffrey thought. 'They worship fire. Not the pale imitation that lights this cursed city.'
A priestess greeted them at the door. She wore robes of deep crimson that pooled on the stone floor, and her face was hidden behind a mask of hammered gold, featureless save for two narrow slits for her eyes. She did not speak. She simply gave them a deep, formal bow and gestured for them to follow.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
The corridors within were narrow and lined with artwork that seemed to depict their god in many different forms. R'hllor as a man wreathed in flames, his face a smooth oval of obsidian. R'hllor as a pillar of fire with arms that reached toward the heavens. R'hllor as a shadow with a burning heart at its center, pulsing with a light that hurt to look upon.
The walls were also covered with scenes of fire consuming cities, of dragons descending from the clouds, of armies kneeling before a figure wreathed in light.
The mosaics were old, their colors faded, but the images still held power.
They told a story of conquest and glory, of a god who demanded everything and gave much in return.
"The Lord of Light," Daenerys murmured, her eyes tracing one of the murals.
"They are dramatic," Joffrey gave his honest opinion about the artwork.
Ahead, the corridor opened into a circular chamber, and Joffrey stopped.
The chamber was vast, its ceiling lost in shadows, its walls lined with braziers that burned with orange flame. At its center stood a great brazier, larger than any he had seen, its fire roaring toward the ceiling. And before the brazier, standing with her back to them, was a woman.
She turned as they entered.
She was young, perhaps twenty, perhaps twenty-five...with hair the color of copper and skin pale as milk. Her features were soft, and there was a beauty to them that was almost unsettling, like a blade held to the light. Around her neck was a collar of dark metal, and at its center, a ruby the size of a child's thumb pulsed with a deep, inner fire.
Her eyes were the strangest thing about her. Pale blue, almost colorless, and they seemed to see through everything before them.
'She is far from ordinary,' Joffrey thought. 'This woman possesses something powerful.'
"Welcome," she said. Her voice was melodic, with a heavy accent he could not place. "I am Lyssara. Priestess of the Lord of Light, Keeper of the Temple Flame, and Seer of the Shadow." She inclined her head toward Daenerys. "Princess Daenerys, Mother of Dragons. We have awaited your visit."
Daenerys stepped forward but kept herself close to Joffrey. "Your letter said you had important answers for us. Did you see us in your flames?"
"I have seen many things in the flames, Princess." Lyssara's gaze did not waver. "They show me a great darkness approaching. A cold that will swallow the world, a shadow that will extinguish every flame. The Long Night is coming, as it came thousands of years ago. And with it, the Others...and their armies will come as well. The end of all things approaches."
"The Long Night?" Joffrey muttered. The name was familiar, but he had to make an effort to recall where he had heard it. He had been cramming a tremendous amount of information since he awoke in this world. Some of it blurred together.
Daenerys's breath caught. "The Others? That is just an old tale."
"The Others are very much real." Lyssara's voice was flat, certain. "The Wall was built to hold them back during the last Long Night. But it has been too long, and its magic grows weak. When winter comes, the Others will march south again. And if there is no one to stand against them, the entire world will fall into eternal darkness."
"Were they not stopped by someone the last time?" Joffrey asked. "What was the name of that old hero?"
"You are referring to Azor Ahai. The Prince that was Promised. The chosen one who will wield the power of R'hllor, the Lord of Light." Lyssara's eyes gleamed. "The flames have heralded the rebirth of Azor Ahai. They will lead the living against the dead...the light against darkness."
"The Prince that was Promised?" Daenerys gave Joffrey a side glance. "And who is this Azor Ahai?"
The priestess shook her head. "Unfortunately, the flames have not been completely clear about the hero's identity."
"Of course." Joffrey rolled his eyes. "Prophecies are always vague."
"The fault lies with us mortals." Lyssara's voice was soft, almost apologetic. "With our limited minds, we often have difficulty interpreting the will of the Lord. This leads to... conflicting opinions. Recently, one of our priestesses left for Westeros. She believes she has found Azor Ahai in the one called Stannis Baratheon."
"Stannis?" Joffrey raised an eyebrow. "So that is how he ended up with a red priestess at his side."
"But you do not believe it is him," Daenerys said.
"No. I do not. I believe it is someone else. Many share this belief." Lyssara looked at Daenerys. "We believe it is you, Mother of Dragons. We believe you are Azor Ahai, and that it is our duty to guide you in your mission."
"Wait... what?" Daenerys glanced at Joffrey again. "But I am not a prince."
The priestess shook her head. "The original prophecy was written in High Valyrian, where the words for 'prince' and 'princess' are the same. It says nothing about gender. You have all the qualities of the Lord's chosen one. You were reborn amidst salt and smoke while the red comet flew across the sky. You are the incarnation of fire and blood." She bowed her head. "I have no doubt that you are Daenerys Targaryen, Azor Ahai."
"But..." Daenerys did not seem convinced. "What about Joffrey?" As far as she was concerned, if anyone had the power to face a world-ending threat, it was him.
Lyssara's expression shifted. Her colorless eyes fixed on Joffrey. "The flames do not show him to me. They do not show me his past or his future. But they do show me the ripples he creates, the chaos he leaves in his wake. He himself is a void...a shadow where no light falls. He is a wound in the tapestry of fate, a knot that cannot be untied."
Joffrey smiled. "I have been called worse."
Lyssara's eyes were sharp. "You are dangerous, Sorcerer Prince. Not because of what you intend to do, but because of what you are. You do not belong to this world. The fires of R'hllor do not know you. The shadows of Asshai do not claim you. You are outside the order of things, and your presence threatens to unravel prophecies that have stood for millennia."
'She has no idea what I truly am,' Joffrey realized. 'She knows I am different, that my magic is different, but she cannot see the truth.'
This could mean their god was not as powerful as they believed, or that there was no god at all, and they were merely people gifted with some prophetic skill.
He said nothing.
Daenerys, sensing the tension, spoke. "What do you mean by that?"
"What I am trying to say is that the princess should walk her own path." Lyssara met Daenerys's eyes. "Away from him. There is no telling what the world will become if you stay at his side. He may lead you to greatness, or he may lead you to ruin. The flames cannot say."
Daenerys's jaw tightened. "I did not come here to be told to abandon my allies."
"I am trying to guide you, Chosen One." Lyssara's voice softened. "The Lord of Light shows me many things, but your companion is a blind spot...a shadow that cannot be illuminated. That frightens me, Princess. It should frighten you too."
Joffrey did not move from his seat. "You speak of me as if I were a disease."
"You are a variable." Lyssara's tone was matter-of-fact. "An unknown. In a prophecy, unknowns are dangerous."
Daenerys stepped closer to Joffrey, her hand brushing his arm. "He has saved my life. He has helped me many times. Whatever he is, he is not my enemy. I am sure of that much, now."
"Not yet, perhaps." Lyssara's colorless eyes remained fixed on Joffrey. "But the flames show me something else, Princess. Something I have not shared yet..."
The heat from the great brazier seemed to intensify. Sweat beaded on Daenerys's brow, but she did not step back. "What is it?"
Lyssara circled the brazier slowly, her eyes on the fire. "Something is watching from the east. Something older than dragons. Older than Valyria. Older than the Others and Shadow Lands themselves." Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. "A creature of ice and shadows, sleeping in the dark since the beginning of time. I have seen glimpses of it in the flames, stirring at the edges of my visions, drawn by something."
"By what?" Joffrey asked, his voice calm.
Lyssara stopped before him. Her pale eyes seemed to pierce through him, searching for something she could not find. "By you."
The word hung in the air like a blade waiting to fall.
Daenerys looked at Joffrey, her expression troubled. "What does she mean?"
Joffrey did not answer. He held Lyssara's gaze for a long moment, then turned toward the door. "We are leaving."
"Joffrey—"
"Now."
Daenerys hesitated, then followed him. At the threshold, she looked back at the priestess. "If you see anything else in your flames, anything important, you will send word."
Lyssara bowed her head. "I will, Princess. The Lord of Light commands it."
Joffrey did not look back. He walked through the corridors of the Red Temple, past the statues of R'hllor, past the masked priestesses who bowed as they passed.
Daenerys hurried to keep up, her white dress bright against the crimson walls.
<><><><><><><><><><><><>
The grey twilight of Asshai greeted them as they emerged from the temple. The cold blue flames of the city's braziers seemed almost comforting after the oppressive heat of the Red Temple.
Daenerys walked close to Joffrey, her hand still near her dagger. "She was afraid of you."
"She was."
"Do you know why?"
Joffrey glanced back at the temple, at the warm orange light that spilled from its doors. "Because she cannot see me. Because I am outside her god's vision. And because something else can."
"That creature she mentioned." Daenerys's voice was uneasy. "What do you think it was?"
He did not answer.
He began walking, his boots echoing on the black stone. Daenerys followed, her questions unanswered.
Behind them, the Red Temple watched like a burning eye, its flames flickering in the darkness, waiting for whatever would come next.
A.N: - Remember to comment, vote, and/or leave a review if you have the time. Those things help me a lot and I would really appreciate it.
You can support me on P@treon if you like and get 10 advanced chapters. You can also find character images to view for free in Collections/Got: Sorcerer Prince Images
-patreon.com/Kriogenix
For donations and commissions, go to ko-fi.com/kriogenix