Only a few days after the Volantis envoy secretly left for Braavos, a Pentoshi spice-laden merchantman slipped from the quay under cover of night.
Its course was set for the Valyrian Peninsula. On board, several figures in dark-crimson robes stood out against the shadowy hold.
That same day, Dragonstone welcomed a delegation: thirteen red-clad envoys from the Temple of the Red God in Volantis, led by High Priestess Kinvara herself, come to spread the faith of the lord of light.
When they reached the platform before the fortress gates, Kinvara's normally placid eyes rippled with surprise. Behind her, monks and priests trained to perfect serenity instinctively recoiled, as if pushed by an unseen force.
There, coiled before them, lay Ghidorah. Three heads took slow, alternating breaths, and golden scales flashed blindingly in the sun.
For many devotees of the lord of light, it was their first glimpse of a dragon—let alone one with three heads—and the sight struck them dumb with awe.
Kinvara quickly mastered her shock.
She had not originally intended to come; another high priest had been chosen to lead.
Yet on the night the roster was set, while meditating before the sacred flames, she received a vision of uncanny clarity.
She saw herself seated at a long table beside silver-haired, violet-eyed Viserys Targaryen. He looked older and wearier than when she had first glimpsed him on a Volantis street. Armored knights crowded the benches, every face shadowed by worry.
They argued heatedly; tension crackled in the air. At last the flames flared, showing Viserys turning toward her. That single image persuaded her to take command of the embassy.
When their crimson-robed party stepped onto the Valyrian docks, whispers and stares followed.
Unsullied sent by Viserys ushered them onto waiting carriages that sped along the newly paved Dragon King's Road straight to Dragonstone. All across the peninsula, signs of vigorous growth abounded.
In the castle's council hall, Viserys received them. He sat at the high table without a crown, dressed in black and red bearing the sigil of House Targaryen.
Kinvara looked calmer than when they had met on a Volantis street years earlier, her blue eyes clearer.
"Priestess Kinvara," Viserys began, voice level, smile polite, "welcome to Valyria. We are old acquaintances. Speak plainly—what brings you?"
Kinvara inclined her head. "Your Grace, thank you for receiving us. I bring a prophecy of the lord of light and a letter sealed by High Priest Ben Plumm." An Unsullied took the wax-sealed scroll and placed it before him.
"We implore Your Grace to let the faith of the red god take root in your realm, that the warmth of flame may comfort your people."
Her tone hardened slightly. "In return, the Temple offers alliance. Across Essos we can spread your fame, rally believers to your cause, and if need be lend military aid."
Viserys pondered, fingers drumming the armrests.
He felt little love for rhllor, especially after learning how the god was made. Yet religion was a blade that cut both ways.
The red god counted many followers in the Free Cities, and an alliance could prove useful against rival cults—such as the Temple of Immortals—who still plotted against him.
Rather than refuse or accept outright, he shifted topics. "You spoke of a prophecy. What is it?"
Kinvara showed no irritation. Her voice was calm, as though reciting history already written.
"A vision showed a golden three-headed dragon soaring. A silver-haired rider swings his sword, shattering countless chains; shadowy multitudes kneel and cheer. Yet cold shadows advance; heralds of the Long Night awaken. Stars shall bleed, ancient pacts be recalled. The dead will ride frost-ridden bones."
Each word rang clear. "The night is long and full of terrors, yet the vision ends thus: the Dragonfire of the three-headed beast will light the darkness and turn back the cold."
She met Viserys's gaze. "The lord of light is god of flame and life, foe of shadow and frost. Your deeds and the divine will may converge against the winter that comes."
Silence fell. Viserys weighed gain against risk.
At last he said, "I will allow the Temple to preach within my realm—save on the Valyrian Peninsula." His tone brooked no argument. "You will obey imperial law: no forced conversions, no incitement, no meddling in governance. These terms are final."
He leaned closer. "Furthermore, I require your network to share any intelligence that threatens the realm."
Kinvara inclined her head at once. "Acceptable. As proof of goodwill, I offer this: the nine western Free Cities will soon meet in secret. Their sole topic—the dragon king of Valyria and his swiftly rising empire."
She paused. "I would remain here as liaison. In reading prophecy and facing coming storms, my presence may serve you."
She did not speak of the vision in which they sat side by side, yet certainty shone in her clear blue eyes.
Viserys judged her useful.
"Very well," he decided. "But while in Valyria you will remain under my eye. You may not leave Dragonstone save by leave, and your conduct will be watched."
"As you command, Your Grace." Kinvara bowed again, meek yet unmistakably relieved.
Thus the pact was sealed. Kinvara took up residence in the fortress; the other missionaries departed for Free Bay.
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