DAENERYS OF THE STORM, OF THE HOUSE TARGARYEN

"No matter how high you fly, I will always be the wind that holds you up if you fall." —Visenya Targaryen, thoughts on her sister Daenerys.

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[High Priestess Kinvara's POV]

Glorious. Sublime. There are no words that can fully describe the magnificence of the changes that the Lord's Chosen One has wrought. And yet, if I had to choose one... it would be this: glorious.

For glorious was her vision, glorious her will, glorious her very existence.

Princess Daenerys had proven beyond a doubt that the Lord of Light had not been wrong in choosing her. Her will was the will of R'hllor, her voice was the voice of the sacred fire. Those who had once wavered in their faith, those who had been blind and unbelieving, now burned with unwavering devotion. So it was to be! So it would be for all eternity!

The first change that the Daughter of Light and Fire introduced was the rituals. With a single command, she broke the old customs of men, separated faith from barbarism and purified traditions with her infinite wisdom.

"No more human sacrifice. I abhor such an act." Her words were firm, unquestionable. And her mercy, infinite.

But even mercy has limits.

The vilest sinners—murderers, rapists, bloodslayers, those whose very existence was an affront to the will of R'hllor—did not deserve the indulgence of a simple death. No. Only fire could purify them. Only flames could claim their souls and return them to the light of the Lord.

For fire does not merely destroy... fire redeems.

The Princess Bride brought with her other changes, changes that only a mind touched by divinity could conceive.

Kinvara slid her fingers over the pendant at her neck: a flaming sword, forged in steel, symbol of the Lord of Light. It was a magnificent piece, but its true value lay beyond its beauty.

The Princess had taught them that when they knelt to pray, they should hold the pendant in their hands. In that gesture, the Lord of Light would make himself present, and his fire would envelop them in its warmth.

Oh, what joy! What an honor to burn in the glory of the one true god!

Under the Princess's command, the Red Faith took its first great step. New temples were raised, although the Daughter of Fire called them something else: churches. Her vision went beyond what had been known until then.

These sanctuaries rose in every corner of Pentos, and soon they would do so in Volantis and the other Free Cities.

"The house of the Lord of Light" was what the Princess called them. A sacred refuge, a place where the faithful could go not only to pray, but to find warmth and protection under the gaze of the one true god.

There, believers would have the opportunity to speak with priests and priestesses, confess their sins, and seek divine forgiveness. Purification would no longer be just an act of fire… but also of redemption.

And best of all: in these churches the Word of the Lord of Light would be distributed. Not just scriptures, but sacred words, whispered in the ear of the Daughter of Fire by the God of Flame and Shadow himself and put on paper and ink to illuminate the world.

Every believer would have access to them, every soul could find guidance within their pages. There would be no excuses for ignorance, no refuge for doubt. Only faith. Only fire. Only truth.

Kinvara felt her heart pounding in her chest. What a blessing it was to be alive in this time! What a glorious destiny it was to serve the one who would lead us to eternal light!

"Oh Lord of Light, thank you for gifting us with such a wonderful leader, the only person capable of saving us from doom..."

She knelt in front of the flames and held her pendant tightly. She hugged it with all her soul. She felt the living fire in her chest, felt the light consume her from within.

The Red Faith had never been so strong.

And it was only the beginning.

[END OF KINVARA'S PRIESTESS' POV]

...

"Dany, I've been doing some research. The Unsullied would be an important acquisition..."

Daenerys Targaryen stopped reading the book she was holding and turned to look at her older sister, Visenya.

"But…?" she asked.

"They are a slave army," Visenya continued. "Their training is…"

"I know. It's horrible," Daenerys interrupted. She didn't need to be told. She knew perfectly well how the Unsullied were created.

Slave children, selected from a young age for size, speed, and strength.

Brutal training, designed not only to teach them to kill, but to strip them of all individuality, all emotion.

They weren't just castrated, they were mutilated. Their manhood burned on the altar of the Lady of the Spears to ensure they never felt any desire.

The Lady of Spears, also known as the Mother of Hosts, is the goddess of the Unsullied. That would soon change, of course.

They would have no choice but to follow her. And this time, she hoped they would do so with even more devotion than the original Daenerys.

During their training, they were forced to drink the Wine of Courage, an elixir that numbed their pain, turning them into something more akin to war machines than human beings.

Failure was not tolerated. The weak were mercilessly weeded out. Out of every three boys who began training, only one survived to become an Unsullied.

On the day of their castration, they were given a pup to raise. A year later, they were to strangle it with their own hands. If they failed, they were executed and fed to the dogs that had survived.

Punishment was constant. If they made a mistake, they ran under the scorching sun until they collapsed, climbed mountains in the dark, or walked on red-hot coals.

And to earn the spiked helmet that symbolized their status, they had to take a silver coin, buy a newborn at the slave market, and kill it in front of its mother. If they hesitated, they died.

They weren't slaves. They weren't even people.

They were weapons. Soulless tools. Machines of war.

"Dany..." Visenya suddenly stood up and approached her. "Ever since the Red Faith knelt before you, I have slowly come to understand that I am not fit to sit on the Iron Throne."

The words took Daenerys by surprise.

"What are you talking about...?" Although deep down she sensed it, she still found it hard to believe.

"Dany, I am not fit. I do not understand politics, I cannot deceive anyone, much less see through a lie. I realized that the day Illyrio Mopatis begged me for his life."

Visenya paused, as if every word weighed on her tongue.

"I have spent my entire life training my body, perfecting my swordsmanship, and I have neglected the most important thing: developing the qualities needed to rule." Her voice became softer, but no less firm. "But you are different. I am soft… Instead, you are strong. You are smart."

Daenerys set her book aside and slowly approached her sister before encircling her in a hug. "I am sure you would have done well… for an empty head."

Visenya tightened her grip and let out a tearful laugh. "Don't let my words go to your head," she told him, trying to wipe the tears from her face.

"Each of us has her qualities, Vys. You say I am strong and smart… Well, I accept the compliment." She smiled, with that hint of playful arrogance that she only shared with her. "But don't underestimate yourself. You are strong too." You have qualities I do not possess. I have never been good with a sword or in combat… and you have protected me all my life." She felt Visenya's grip tighten even more. "I don't think there is anyone more trustworthy than you, Vys. That is why I want you to lead my army. No one else." Daenerys pulled back enough to look her in the eyes. "Because you are the only one I can trust to do so."

Visenya looked at her in surprise. The idea took root in her mind, and the more she thought about it, the more she liked the proposal.

"And lastly, when I have sat upon the Iron Throne, I want you to be a member of my Small Council. I don't think there is a better choice than you, sister, to be my Lord Commander of the Kingsguard," Daenerys concluded with determination.

He felt Visenya's grip tighten even more. "I don't think there's anyone more trustworthy than you, Vys. That's why I want you to lead my army. No one else." "Daenerys," he pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. "Because you are the only one I can trust to do so."

Visenya looked at her in surprise. The idea took root in her mind, and the more she thought about it, the more she liked the proposal. "And finally, when I have sat upon the Iron Throne, I want you to be a member of the Small Council." "I do not believe there is a better choice than you, sister, to be my Lord Commander of the Kingsguard," Daenerys concluded with determination.

Visenya nodded, agreeing with every word. As Dany had said, she had protected her all her life, and as her older sister, it was her responsibility to continue to do so until the last of her days.

That position would allow her to watch over her safety, to make sure no one could harm her.

However, one small detail made her frown.

"You mean Lady, not Lord..." she corrected, raising an eyebrow.

Daenerys rolled her eyes before cracking an amused smile.

"Wait, you're a woman?" she teased, feigning surprise.

Visenya snorted and lightly punched her arm.

"Ow!" Daenerys complained exaggeratedly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Is this how you treat your future queen? Guards, cut off her head!"

But she couldn't continue her dramatics. Before she could react, Visenya pushed her onto the bed and began one of her infamous tickle tortures.