To Dream of Fire
Twenty Fifth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC
In the end you decide against involving Benerro in your plan, you would not wish him to be tangled in the middle of this should it go ill. That is not to say that you would be going at it alone. Lya, Ser Richard and Dany are all at your side as you look up to the slopes of the Dragonmount, black against the crimson light of sunset. Here you are closest to fire, and to the heritage of your House, here you will meet the Red God. You eschew the tunnels you had chased the devils through, however, for you do not wish any of their lingering influence upon this meeting. Instead you ascend to the summit of the mountain, riding the hot breath of the earth until you can see the fire twist and coil bellow.
By enchantments still bound, you realize, narrowing your eyes against the blaze.
"I wounder how they did that." Lya asks besides you, eyes slightly out of focus as she too looks deeper than the world under the sun. "Was this how the Fourteen Fires were bound?"
"No," you and Dany reply at once, almost instinctively.
The roots go deeper in stone and in time. You try to follow the thought, but as quick as it had arisen it fades into the depths of the Dream and memory.
"If you need help..." Dany trails off, obviously wishing to follow though she understands why you wish to go down alone.
"You will know," you assure her. Not even Ser Richard gainsays the notion.
Thus you descend at last to rest upon the smooth dragonstone at the lip of the fire, you claws sinking into it as they do into clay. Not the Eternal Flame of the Sea of Fire this, nor the conjured blaze of a magician's will, but the living fire of this earth that had awoken in wrath at some point in the deep past and some day it would die, the rocks will forget the kiss of heat and the winds will grow cold. The fires would arise in another place and another casting their life-giving ash upon the fields with every conflagration.
From fire light, from fire life.
There in the Dragonmount's heart you ward yourself against peril with spell and invocation, then with eyes open to drink in the flame you dream.
***
Elsewhere Elsewhen
The first thing you realize is that you are in human shape again, you are sitting on a divan that would not be out of place in Zherys' or Malarys' home, a soft even light falls upon a chamber of black stone, one you recognize though there had certainly not been anything as homey as a chair here when last you saw it.
"An altar would make for poor seating," a voice calls from your right, you causing you to turn in shock. You know that voice, you know that
face from a dream of despair and wrath.
"I am not him you know," R'hllor the Red, Lord of Light and god to most of Essos says as he approaches. Of shimmering silk that passes through all the colors of fire are his robes, between his brows the mark of a golden flame as his eyes. "No more than the fire is the kindling with which it has been fed." A smile that almost looks wistful crosses the features of the long dead mage. "Still, I reasoned you would be more comfortable with this than any of my usual faces. It has been a very long time since I have had cause to take this guise."
"But you
did use it?" you prompt, curiosity overwhelming caution. This is not what you had imagined for this meeting.
"Long ago, yes, when men first spoke the name R'hllor in prayer," the god replies, his language formal but not so much as would stand out in ordinary conversation in Volantis or even Tyrosh. "Yet the name is not all that I am either. Men have looked to the sun for light and life, and to fire for protection for as long as their line has been upon the earth. From thence I woke and thence I endure, ever-changing yet to myself and those who look to me true." He takes a seat opposite to you, though there had not been one a moment before. "I assume you have more questions, and perhaps a request."
What do you reply?
[] Ask questions
-[] Write in
[] Make a request
-[] Write in
[] Write in
OOC: Here we are R'hllor the Red, unlike the Old Gods he is very much a god of men so he can take human seeming when it suits him.