After the victory banquet ended, the guests gradually dispersed, and Dragonstone slowly sank into silence.
Viserys returned to his study, preparing to handle some daily administrative affairs while contemplating the increasingly chaotic situation in Westeros.
According to the latest news from the ravens, the Westerlands had completely defeated House Tully of Riverlands and had now besieged Riverrun.
The Young Wolf of The North, Robb Stark, had also officially led his army across Moat Cailin and entered Riverlands. The Northern army was advancing towards Riverrun, intending to break the siege on House Tully.
However, the Lannister army, under the command of Lord Tywin, was operating in an orderly fashion.
One part, led by Jaime, continued the siege of Riverrun, while another part of the elite force was personally led by Tywin, stationed at the Green Fork, guarding the key pass and waiting at leisure for the young direwolf of The North.
The Green Fork was the battlefield and grave he had prepared for The North, and they had no choice but to take the bait.
On the other hand, the allied forces of Stormlands and The Reach gathered by Renly Baratheon at Bitterbridge did not strike directly at King's Landing as many expected; instead, he fell into a standoff with his elder brother, Stannis.
Stannis had now stationed his fleet in the waters outside Storm's End, declaring himself the rightful heir to the iron throne and demanding Renly's submission.
This was because he had ultimately been persuaded by his subordinates, realizing that relying solely on the strength of the Dragonstone fleet, it would be impossible for them to capture King's Landing.
Therefore, he wanted to take over Renly's men first before advancing step by step. But Renly, relying on Robert's will, as well as his numerical advantage and the support of Stormlands nobility, refused to back down.
War between the brothers was on the verge of breaking out.
As expected, King Balon of the Iron Islands did not let this perfect opportunity pass. The Iron Fleet struck out in all directions, raiding coastal villages and towns in The North and the Westerlands, plundering and burning wantonly, as the cry of the "Old Way" echoed through Westeros once more.
The chaos of the iron throne was evident, but the timing wasn't quite right yet. Viserys mused, letting them consume more of each other and shed more blood. When they were exhausted, that would be the best time for the dragon to cross the sea.
Just as he was deep in thought, extremely faint footsteps came from outside the study. If it weren't for Viserys's keen perception, it would have been impossible to notice.
Kinvara stood outside the door, her fingers curled, almost digging into her palms.
The study door was right before her eyes, with warm candlelight leaking from within. But her feet felt as if they had taken root, unable to be lifted no matter what.
At the same time, her heart pounded incessantly in her chest, not because of the terrifying prophecy she had just received, but because of the man inside the door, Viserys Targaryen.
She hated her current cowardice, and hated even more her loss of control that night before.
She closed her eyes, and her mind uncontrollably flashed back to that night, the images as clear as if they had just happened.
That day, it was also late at night, and just as quiet.
In the quiet room of the castle's Temple of the Red God, only the holy fire on the altar flickered, casting shifting light and shadows across the room.
She and Viserys had talked for a long time. At first, it was serious topics, such as the position of the red god faith within the Valyrian Empire and the possibility of its future spread in Westeros.
But his questions were always very sharp, even pointing directly at the contradictions between doctrine and practical power.
"If the will of the 'lord of light' conflicts with the laws of the Empire, Priestess, which side would you choose?"
She tried to answer with her doctrine, "The flames will guide my choice..."
Then, the topic began to drift unconsciously toward more personal territory.
He spoke of the ancient texts found in the ruins of Valyria, which recorded the ancient Valyrians' views on deities—they were seen more like powerful ancient lifeforms.
"Perhaps what you worship is just a particularly powerful existence." His voice was low, carrying a strange magnetic quality. "Just like a dragon."
She was shocked by this subversive statement, yet found she couldn't rebuke him as she would a common believer.
Because when he spoke, those purple eyes were fixed on her, containing only a sense of inquiry, as if he were measuring the quality of her faith.
It was then she suddenly noticed he was very close. So close she could smell the faint scent of a man's presence on him.
"Your Majesty, you are leaning too close." She wanted to step back, but her feet hit the stone steps of the altar.
"Am I?" He didn't move; instead, he leaned forward slightly. "But High Priestess, your flames tell me that you don't truly want me to step away."
Her heart skipped a beat.
He was right. The prophecy she had told Margaery earlier hadn't actually been told in full, because that prophecy also contained a mark representing the lord of light.
And among the believers in Valyria who could get close to Viserys, she was the only female, so she believed that mark represented her.
Now, even worse, when he drew near, she could actually feel his attraction to her, and it felt like an instinct.
"That is a misunderstanding." Her voice was dry.
"You said before that you couldn't see my destiny clearly in the flames."
He continued to lean forward. "Then what about your own, Priestess Kinvara? Did the flames tell you that you would be at this place, at this time, standing before me?"
Danger. A voice screamed in her mind, but her body did not move.
"The flames only show fragments, Your Majesty. My destiny is with the fire." She heard her own voice sounding a bit parched.
His gaze slid from her eyes to her lips, then fell to her chest, which was rising and falling slightly from nervousness.
The holy fire of the altar cast their shadows onto the wall, distorted and overlapping, as if performing some kind of ritual.
"You are afraid," he stated. "Not of me, but of what is in your heart."
This sentence broke her defenses. Yes, she wanted to know. The prophecy haunted her, and he was right here, exuding a fatal attraction.
Then, she closed her eyes in a sort of silent consent.
What followed happened very naturally. He kissed her directly, and after a moment of freezing, she began to respond awkwardly.
Then his hands clasped her waist, bringing her to the side of the altar, to the place covered with a deep red rug where she usually knelt for meditation.
Her priestess robes looked complicated on the outside, but were actually quite simple to undo; however, his movements were so practiced it startled her, and caused a shameful heat to surge through her body.
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