Rhaenyra's boots echoed against the stone as she climbed the winding stairs of the Sea Dragon Tower. The day's war council had left her mind restlesss, her blood still hot from the respect she'd earned from those grizzled lords. She craved solitude to plot her next move against the Crabfeeder.
When she pushed open the heavy door to her chambers, the scent hit her first—cinnamon, dragon's blood resin, and something else... exotic and foreign. The room was bathed in an unnatural crimson glow. Dozens of red candles burned in patterns across her floor—whorls and spirals that reminded her of Valyrian glyphs.
And there, lounging in her chair, was the Red Priestess.
"You must be the Red Priestess," Rhaenyra said, her hand instinctively moving to the Valyrian dagger at her hip.
Kinvara rose, standing a full head taller than Rhaenyra. Her crimson silk robe clung to curves that would make the courtesans of Lys envious—full breasts straining against thin fabric, a narrow waist that flared to wide hips, and long legs that seemed to never end. Her face was unnervingly perfect—high cheekbones, full lips curved in a knowing smile, and eyes that seemed ancient despite her youthful appearance.
"Princess Rhaenyra," Kinvara's voice was honey and smoke. "Or should I say, the Queen with Seven Crowns on her feet?"
Rhaenyra's jaw tightened. "You speak in riddles when I requested plain speech. I allowed this audience because you claim to have seen me in your flames."
"And if I showed you those flames now?" Kinvara moved toward the center of the room, her hips swaying hypnotically. Her bare feet made no sound on the stone floor.
Without waiting for permission, the priestess knelt in the center of the candle array. She raised her arms, the silk falling back to reveal smooth, tanned skin. "Come closer, Princess. The Lord of Light has messages that are for your eyes alone."
Against her better judgment, Rhaenyra stepped forward. "I've seen fire magic before. My uncle Daemon has introduced me to enough sorcerers to fill this castle."
Kinvara's laugh was musical. "What they practice is not true fire magic. They are children playing with sparks while I command infernos."
She leaned forward, her robe gaping to reveal the generous swell of her breasts. Her hands passed over three central candles, and suddenly the flames shot upward, growing from inches to feet in a heartbeat.
Rhaenyra flinched but held her ground, refusing to show fear.
Within the dancing flames, shapes began to form—a throne wreathed in fire, dragons soaring over unfamiliar cities, and most disturbingly, Rhaenyra herself wearing a crown unlike any worn by Targaryen kings.
"What trickery is this?" Rhaenyra demanded.
"No trickery. Only truth." Kinvara rose, moving closer. The heat radiating from her skin was unnatural—as though she had swallowed the sun. "I have seen what you will become, not what others wish you to be."
She circled Rhaenyra, her movements predatory. "They see a princess. I see a conqueror. They fear your woman's form with a man's part. I see completion—the dragon made whole."
Rhaenyra's nostrils flared. "How do you know of that? Who told you?"
"The flames show what is hidden. Nothing can be concealed from R'hllor." Kinvara was behind her now, her breath hot against Rhaenyra's neck. "Your secret gives you strength, not weakness. It makes you unique among the dragonriders."
Rhaenyra spun, grabbing Kinvara's wrist. She was surprised to find the priestess's skin burning hot, as though she had a fever. "Enough games. You mentioned seven crowns at my feet. Speak plainly—what did you see?"
Kinvara didn't pull away from Rhaenyra's grip. Instead, she stepped closer until barely an inch separated them. Her perfume was intoxicating.
"I saw you standing atop the Iron Throne, but not merely as ruler of Seven Kingdoms. I saw Westeros united under your banner, then Essos falling to your dragons. I saw you take what Aegon the Conqueror never dared dream of."
She leaned in, her lips nearly brushing Rhaenyra's ear. "I saw you become Empress of Flame, with seven kings kneeling before you, offering their crowns in tribute."
Rhaenyra released Kinvara's wrist, stepping back to create distance. "Pretty visions to appeal to ambition. Why should I believe any of it?"
Kinvara's smile was dangerous now. "Because you've dreamed it too. In the dark of night, when your dragon blood runs hot. You've imagined more than just a throne—you've imagined an empire."
She gestured, and the candles flared again. This time, the image in the flames was unmistakable—Rhaenyra astride Syrax, but the landscape below was not Westeros. It was a burning city with pyramids.
"Seven hells," Rhaenyra whispered. "How did you—"
"You see? I know your dreams because R'hllor has shown them to me." Kinvara's eyes reflected the dancing flames. "You were born for more than to rule after your father. You were born to change the world."
Rhaenyra squared her shoulders, refusing to be manipulated. "Fine words. But I need more than prophecies if we're to have any sort of alliance. I need to know what you want from me."
Kinvara's laugh was rich and warm. "Direct, like a true dragon." She moved to Rhaenyra's bed, perching on its edge with casual familiarity. "What I want is to serve the one who will bring fire to the world. And in return, to help you achieve what you are destined for."
She patted the space beside her. "Sit. Let me tell you of the dragon with two parts, and why the ancient Valyrians believed such births heralded greatness."
Rhaenyra remained standing, arms crossed. "I prefer to stand. And I prefer you get to the point."
"As you wish, Princess." Kinvara's smile revealed perfect white teeth. "But some conversations are better had in... comfort."
The flames from the candles cast shadows that danced across the priestess's face, making her appear both angelic and demonic at once. Her ruby choker glowed red, as did her eyes. Three red eyes looked back at Rhaenyra.
"Tell me, Rhaenyra Targaryen, first of your name... how far would you go to claim not just a kingdom, but a world?"
"A world?" Rhaenyra scoffed, though the image of herself astride Syrax above foreign cities lingered in her mind. "I've yet to secure even my father's throne."
Kinvara rose from the bed, her height forcing Rhaenyra to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. The priestess moved closer to her.
"Your body betrays your ambition, Princess." Kinvara's voice dropped to a throaty whisper. "The ancient Valyrian scrolls speak of those born as you were—with both the sword and the sheath."
Rhaenyra's hand twitched toward her dagger again. "Careful, priestess. Others have lost their tongues for less."
The priestess's hand finally made contact, her scorching fingertips brushing Rhaenyra's cheek. The touch was like a brand, sending heat cascading through Rhaenyra's body.
"You're burning up," Rhaenyra said, trying to maintain composure as her pulse quickened.
"All who serve R'hllor carry his flame within them." Kinvara's fingers traced down Rhaenyra's neck, lingering at the pulse point. "Some more than others."
Rhaenyra caught the wandering hand. "You still haven't explained why I should trust your visions."
Kinvara didn't pull away. Instead, she stepped closer, until the heat of her body pressed against Rhaenyra's. The princess could feel the full curves of the priestess's breasts through the thin layers of their clothing.
"Because I've seen what lies beneath your ambition." Kinvara's free hand moved to Rhaenyra's hip. "You don't merely want the throne; you want to remake the world. You want to break the wheel of men who have ruled poorly, and forge something greater."
Rhaenyra's breathing quickened as Kinvara's hand slid lower, resting just above the juncture of her thighs. Even through her breeches, she could feel the priestess's unnatural heat.
"And what else have your flames shown you?" Rhaenyra asked, her voice huskier than intended.
"They've shown me your appetites." Kinvara's smile was knowing, almost smug. "The women you've taken to your bed. The way you use both aspects of your nature. The power you feel when you're inside them."
Rhaenyra's cock twitched at the words, beginning to strain against her breeches. She cursed silently; her body was betraying her.
"You claim to see much," Rhaenyra said, struggling to keep her voice steady.
"I see everything." Kinvara's hand moved deliberately, cupping Rhaenyra through her breeches. "Including this."
The priestess's touch was firm, confident. She knew exactly how to apply pressure to make Rhaenyra's breath catch.
"In Asshai," Kinvara continued, her voice silky as her hand worked skillfully, "those born as you were are considered blessed by the gods. In ancient Valyria, they were believed to be living embodiments of the dragon—fire made flesh in its truest form."
Rhaenyra's control was slipping. The priestess's touch, combined with her words, was intoxicating. She'd had many women, but none who spoke to her ambitions so directly while pleasuring her.
"Tell me of this empire you claim I'll build," Rhaenyra demanded, trying to regain some control of the conversation even as her hips betrayed her by pushing against Kinvara's hand.
"You will begin here, with the Stepstones," Kinvara said, her other hand now sliding up Rhaenyra's torso to cup her breast. "But you won't stop there. The flames showed you taking Dorne—the unconquered land—then looking east. I saw you in Volantis, in Lys, in Myr. I saw you where even Aegon never flew—to Asshai by the Shadow, to Yi Ti, to lands beyond the maps of your maesters."
Rhaenyra's head was swimming. The room felt too hot, the air too thick. Every word from the priestess's lips seemed to stoke the fire in her blood. She was fully hard now, straining uncomfortably against her clothing.
"Empress of Flame," Kinvara whispered, her lips a breath away from Rhaenyra's. "That is your destiny. Not merely queen of one small continent, but ruler of a world reborn in fire."
Rhaenyra could take no more. She grabbed Kinvara by her ruby choker, intending to push her away, to reassert dominance. But the priestess moved first, capturing Rhaenyra's lips in a kiss that tasted of smoke and honey.
The kiss was consuming, Kinvara's tongue demanding entrance that Rhaenyra granted despite herself. The priestess kissed like she spoke—with absolute confidence and hidden power. Her full breasts pressed against Rhaenyra's smaller ones, her height allowing her to control the angle of the kiss.
When they broke apart, Rhaenyra was breathing hard. Kinvara, infuriatingly, seemed unaffected.
"You dare—" Rhaenyra began.
But Kinvara silenced her by dropping to her knees, her face now level with the bulge in Rhaenyra's breeches. Despite the submissive posture, she maintained fierce eye contact, her gaze holding Rhaenyra's captive.
"I dare because I serve," Kinvara said, her hands moving to the laces of Rhaenyra's breeches. "The Lord of Light has shown me whom to follow, and I kneel before her now. Empress. Conqueror." Her fingers worked the laces loose. "Dragon complete."
Rhaenyra's breath caught in her throat as Kinvara's nimble fingers finished unlacing her breeches. The princess had been with many women before—from tentative ladies-in-waiting to experienced courtesans—but there was something about the priestess that made her heart hammer against her ribs. Perhaps it was the unnatural heat radiating from her skin, or the knowing look in those ancient eyes set in a flawlessly beautiful face.
"You seem confident for someone on her knees," Rhaenyra said, trying to maintain control even as Kinvara's fingers traced the outline of her hardness through the thin fabric of her smallclothes.
Kinvara's smile was wolfish. "Kneeling before a dragon is not submission, princess. It is recognition." Her hot breath penetrated the fabric, making Rhaenyra's cock twitch in anticipation. "In Asshai, we know that to taste a dragon's essence is to gain a measure of its power."
With deliberate slowness, she pulled down Rhaenyra's smallclothes, freeing her impressive length. Kinvara's eyes widened slightly—not with shock but appreciation. Nine inches of Targaryen heritage stood proudly before her, thicker than most men's and crowned with a head flushed dark pink against pale skin.
"The dragon complete indeed," Kinvara murmured, her voice husky with desire. She leaned forward, maintaining eye contact as her full lips parted.
The first touch of Kinvara's mouth was like dragonfire. Impossibly hot and wet, her tongue swirled around the sensitive head of Rhaenyra's cock with practiced skill. The princess gasped, her hand instinctively finding purchase in Kinvara's silken red-black hair.
"Gods—" Rhaenyra hissed, unprepared for the intensity. Where other mouths had been warm, Kinvara's was scorching—as though she truly did have fire within her.
The priestess took her deeper, her tongue tracing the prominent vein along the underside. With each inch she took, her throat seemed to grow hotter. One of her hands cupped Rhaenyra's sack gently, while the other gripped her hip with surprising strength.
Rhaenyra had always prided herself on her stamina—she'd spent hours pleasuring Alicent and Laena without losing control—but Kinvara's skill was overwhelming. The combination of her molten mouth, swirling tongue, and the obscene wet sounds she made as she worked had Rhaenyra's thighs trembling within seconds.
"Slow down," Rhaenyra commanded, tugging at Kinvara's hair. "I won't be undone so quickly."
Kinvara pulled back just enough to speak, her lips brushing against Rhaenyra's sensitive tip with each word. "The fires of R'hllor cannot be controlled, princess. Surrender to them."
Before Rhaenyra could respond, Kinvara took her entire length in like she was trying to swallow her cock, her nose pressing against the silver-blonde curls at the base. The priestess's throat constricted around her, and the heat was unbearable—pleasure bordering on sweet pain.
"Seven hells!" Rhaenyra cried out, her control shattering. Her release hit her like a tidal wave, powerful and unstoppable. Her cock pulsed rhythmically as she filled Kinvara's eager mouth with thick ropes of her seed.
The priestess moaned appreciatively, her throat working as she swallowed every drop. Even as Rhaenyra's knees threatened to buckle, Kinvara's strong hands held her upright, milking her until the last shudder passed through her body.
When Kinvara finally released her with a wet pop, she looked up at Rhaenyra with triumphant eyes, a single pearly drop clinging to her lower lip before her tongue darted out to claim it.
"Your essence tastes of smoke and salt," Kinvara said, her voice deeper than before.
Shame and anger flared in Rhaenyra's chest. She had been reduced to a quivering mess in less than a minute, while this foreign priestess remained composed, looking pleased with herself. This would not stand.
With a growl, Rhaenyra yanked Kinvara to her feet. "You think to control me through pleasure?" She spun the taller woman around and shoved her toward the massive canopied bed. "You'll learn what it means to challenge a dragon."
Kinvara stumbled backward onto the bed, her crimson robes splaying around her like pools of blood on the dark furs. Her smile never faltered, even as Rhaenyra stalked toward her, still impressively hard despite her recent release.
"Dragons take what they want," Rhaenyra said, climbing onto the bed and straddling the priestess. She grabbed the front of Kinvara's robes and tore them open like a savage about to feast, revealing the bounty beneath.
Kinvara's breasts were magnificent—full and high, tipped with dark nipples already stiff with arousal. Her skin was the color of burnished copper, unmarked except for intricate red tattoos that swirled across her ribs in patterns resembling flames. A narrow waist flared to generous hips, and between her long legs, a neatly trimmed patch of black hair glistened with evident arousal.
"Is this what you wanted?" Rhaenyra demanded, roughly cupping one perfect breast. "To be taken by the dragon?"
Kinvara arched into the touch, her back bowing gracefully. "Kessa," she responded in High Valyrian. "Yes. But not for the reasons you believe, zaldrīzes."
Rhaenyra pinned Kinvara's wrists above her head with one hand, while the other continued to explore the priestess's body. Despite the rough treatment, Kinvara showed no fear—only a serene confidence that further infuriated Rhaenyra.
"I've had enough of your cryptic words," Rhaenyra said, lowering her head to capture one of Kinvara's nipples between her teeth. She bit down—not enough to truly hurt, but enough to assert dominance.
Kinvara gasped, her body responding even as her mind remained unbroken. "Aōha drēje ēdrugon," she moaned in High Valyrian. "Your dreams grow. Zōbrie glaesagon. Shadows dance."
Rhaenyra moved lower, trailing bites and kisses down Kinvara's taut stomach. The priestess's skin tasted of exotic spices and burned like fever against Rhaenyra's lips. When she reached the apex of Kinvara's thighs, she paused, looking up the length of the woman's body.
"When I'm inside you, I want only my name on your lips—not your god's, not your prophecies. Just Rhaenyra."
Kinvara's eyes glittered in the candlelight. "We shall see, zaldrīzes. We shall see what names the flames compel me to call."