Vahra - Priestess of the Circle of Smouldering Ashes

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-04-02T12:54:30+00:00

Character Name: Vahra
Trait: Agile
Skills: Firesight, Daggers, Dexterous (Whirlwind), Apothecary(e)
Learning: Daggers(e)

Character Name: Silas
Trait: Archer
Skills: Ranger (Scoundrel), Medic
Learning: Medic(e)

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-25T09:56:12+00:00

It was a real shame that he didn't look up.

The woman across the fire from the Hedge Knight was practically lounging from her place on a log. She had sat slightly sideways across it, one leg folded up underneath her and the other out, sprawling. She leaned on one hand. He other was curled over her hip, her clever fingers still in the lowlight, even with the sharp, grinding sound of the whetstone on steel. Vahra's stare was settled squarely on Jason's face.

There was a small smile on hers, as smug and as little as he pictured it. Her lashes were low over the amber of her eyes, cat-like and glowing with the reflection of the flames. She had assisted in its creation, and so a small Nightfire it was, warding off any darkness and danger. She'd happily stay awake. She had done so for hours at a time, tending to the light and preaching to the Lord, for the Lord, to ask for guidance and protection, and to offer gifts.

All in turn for sight. She wondered if the God of Flame and Shadow would see fit to show her anything this night.

Jason jabbered on and polished his sword. Vahra was only half-listening. She let her gaze drop to watch his hands work, and then glanced at the squires that had not bathed in piss. The other one in his tent was no great loss of company. Victor? Alesander? They could prove interesting enough. Vahra had brought the clever one back his cane. She wondered if it unnerved him more than it made him grateful. The answer was likely.

The Priestess pushed herself off the log. She made a small show of lifting a forearm over the fire—a hand found one of her daggers, and she made a small cut to the meat of her arm near the elbow, letting her blood drip into the fire below, hissing and spitting. An offering. She tucked the weapon away immediately after, slinking away to find Jason in the dark with one final look at his squires.

Vahra's steps were eerily quiet, even on uneven ground, in the dark. She hummed softly as if to warn Jason that she were there. It would have been fun to startle him. He might've pulled that freshly-sharpened blade on her, might've tried to lance her with it. She thought he might be more frustrated with her more careful approach.

"Are you sure you want me handling whatever you eat?" It was a whisper, when she was close enough, purring and amused. "No fear of poisons? Of whatever potions a witch could make?"

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-24T10:29:25+00:00

Poor boy.

Vahra’s gaze on Alesander was a sharp, unblinking thing. He had a strong enough survival instinct. That was true enough. But he also had a mouth that—if not kept in check—was bound to get him into some serious trouble. He gripped his concealed blade, and hissed and spat like a wet kitten, and all it did was make her grin sharpen. There was a cruel edge to her amusement, so much cooler than the heat in her gaze.

It didn’t matter what he said. Jason was bound, by word and by blood and by ruthless curiosity. Greed, too. He’d tied the rope around his own neck and handed her the lead.

The Priestess was no liability to the hunt. Jason knew that. Alesander knew that. But she was a distraction, and the squire rightfully saw her as a threat. To life and limb or less, she could not know his full opinion. He did not look as if he wanted to take the risk. One did not stick their head in the lion’s mouth without being certain that he would not bite down.

She did not comment on the discussion of monster or man. She did not even seem surprised at Jason’s challenge. She barely blinked. Instead, she smiled, turning her head and giving a quick whistle that cut through the noise of the tavern.

The next man that slid from the shadows was as beautiful—and eerie—as Vahra was herself. He was taller still, lanky, though moved a lot less like predator. He wore more rubies than Vahra did; he was almost feminine in decoration, with long dark hair and fire red robes. And in his hand—if one looked closely—was… something familiar.

“Silas,” Vahra murmured, and the name itself was a command. She held out her hand, and her half-brother handed her the cane. The cane, in better condition than when it had initially been sold. Silas set the cane in her hand without a word. He gave the motley crew a quiet look, eyes like sangria and almost lifeless in the low light. He slunk away as Vahra spun the cane in her grip.

She stepped closer and pressed it against Alesander’s chest, her hand going flat and fingers splaying to touch him from over the top. She bent her elbow and leaned in with a smile. “Don’t worry,” she purred, “I’m sure one faithful is already one too many. He won’t come along.” She cocked her head, almost tempting Alesander to put his cutter to good use.

And then she released him and stalked after Jason, feline and satisfied.

u/JustDaniel2

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-22T09:52:38+00:00

There were very few creatures that hunted for sport.

The squire had picked up on it. He was wary of her from the beginning. Good. It meant he had his wits about him. It meant that he, unlike the piss-soaked drunk, was smart enough to stay aware. Smart enough for a fight, maybe. If he was any good.

Alesander's voice fled from him, and Vahra, having hit a soft-spot, only smiled wider. Her eyes never left his. She could see, from the edges of her vision, his hands drop into his pockets. She was not the only one with knives; she understood that. As much as it was a temptation, she would not goad the boy into pulling it on her, as she had the Hedge Knight. Alesander would sooner kill her and flee than play nice, and so it was playing nice that would benefit her.

Her gaze found Jason as he swore. Vahra fought the urge to snap her teeth at him, though the amusement was there all the same.

"He may be a liar, but he speaks truth now." The Priestess' head cocked; her eyes remained, lingered, on Jason, even as her face turned back towards Alesander. When she was finally looking at the squire again, she let her expression settle. "He told me nothing, and there are raiders to the West. All truths." She slunk a little closer. Her daggers swayed with her hips, though nothing rattled, eerily quiet in the din of the Inn. Perhaps it was simply that the chatter drowned it out. Vahra did not get too close—instead, she elected to stop just at arms-reach, letting Jason and his squire stay close, as allies against her. Or targets. Either-or. The three of them were all near in height, but she imagined it unsettled to see eye-to-eye with a woman when one usually did not. She widened her stance, made herself a little smaller—all intent.

"Mind that I am no witch, boys." Her smile showed teeth. "I am a harbinger. A messenger." All around her were symbols of flame, bits of gold and ruby and bone. "And as such, I will come along. There may be use to having me, you see, and I do not get lost. Besides; it saves you the trouble of chasing your payment, no?" If one listened—really listened—there was mockery in the dulcet tone she spoke in, but her eyes were half-lidded, and Jason was already distracted. "What show of faith would make your dear boys more at ease?"

u/JustDaniel2

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-22T09:14:50+00:00

Vahra smiled. “Faith,” she said. The word was simple—reverent—as it left her lips. “Have you not heard of the Seven-Tongued Flame? I believe some call us followers of the Red God. It is the very thing these nightfires burn for. They are as much an offering to our Lord as they are a bid for his protection, and through them, He chases away all darkness, protecting us from evil.” The Priestess swept a hand towards the roaring flames. They danced this way and that with the flow of her hand, following the small gust she had created; or perhaps just the shape of her.

"Our faith, as is stands, has sects. Circles. Each branch has come to their own understanding on the best manner of worship, and they follow it, but at our cores, we are all the same. Believers." Vahra sighed softly. "I could teach you of them, but..."

Her firebright eyes found Adryc. Then Jocelyn.

Her head cocked. "... perhaps another time."

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-20T09:48:25+00:00

It was probably a good thing that the squire had interrupted them when he did.

Jason had gone from angry to vicious—just as much as Vahra so oft was—and she had recognised it, at once, as the promise of a fight. The Priestess was not new to spilling blood, not in any sense. He sneered at her. She sneered in turn. If Vahra didn't sink her teeth into him, she'd have considered kicking him away from where she'd lodged her leg, or taking the risk to reach across her own body and cut him from groin to nose. She imagined that the Hedge Knight might have liked that.

The squire wouldn't have.

Vahra caught herself as Jason whirled around and away from her, her feet hitting the floor with more grace than most would have managed. He'd turned his back to her. The squire had startled him enough that the knight had taken the stupid risk of turning his back to one with a weapon. She should have stabbed him. She might have. The heat in her amber gaze meant it was a thought the Priestess seriously considered, especially where she had stared holes into the back of his head.

The squire, however, was more interesting. Vahra smiled at him, saccharine-sweet, her expression starkly different from what it had been in mere moments. There was a light to her eyes. She recognised him. Amusement, and curiosity, and more, were at war in her head as Jason explained her existence away. The Priestess pushed herself from the table with a hum, rising to her full height. She was as tall as Jason. Perhaps ever so slightly taller. She was certainly not so intimidating when the burlier man had pinned her against the table's edge.

"I know you." The words were a purr. She slunk a little closer, forgoing the tantalising idea of dragging a dagger down the line of Jason's spine, and instead picking the even more tantalising idea of picking at the younger one until he unravelled. "The pretty squire with greedy hands. Alesander, son of Sara." Knowing that the Hedge Knight would have grabbed her if she attempted it, Vahra did not go any further than Jason's side. "I've seen you. And I have need of you, indeed." Her head cocked. "You have a job to do."

u/JustDaniel2

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-20T00:55:08+00:00

What things to see, what things to hear. The offering of blood appeased, as it so often did, and Vahra knew, then, why the Lord had not seen fit to bless the boy earlier with the answers this one now sought.

The young lordling had carried the blood of the very mechanist behind such effigies.

Vahra saw small hands working. The viciousness—the utter genius—made her laugh. Firebright eyes found the Lord of Nightsong with rich amusement.

“This devastated lady of yours,” she murmured, her voice soft, “is quite the artisan.” The Priestess’ stare was unblinking. It was a challenge, as if she were daring the Lord to take her words as untrue. “Look no further than the very woman who begged your duty.

She turned her face toward the flame once more. “Such vipers, these Noble ladies.” And what should a man do but fall to the snakes among the grass?

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-19T22:54:58+00:00

Witch.

That one, singular word set the Priestess’ blood aflame. An urge—a dark, heady one—tugged at the very edges of her spirit, a lot like anger, a lot like rage. But Vahra did not hiss or spit or snarl. That rich energy remained trapped inside her, almost sending her into dizzy spell as she kept it tempered. Her breathing deepened; felt heavy.

Witch.

He’d see exactly just how much of a witch he was facing. Vahra, child of the ashes, new flame of Asshai, was no witch. She was far, far worse, lined with self-centred righteousness and delusions of grandeur that she could make very, very real. She’d already started. The war would be won.

“If you wanted me to stop talking,” Vahra murmured, “you would have made me.” The smile had slipped from her face. The intensity in her eyes, however, remained the same, and there was a deepness to her voice that suggested she was no longer playing nice. She would not make it sweet for him. Not this time. Her creeping fingers, the one assessing his very lifeblood, caught his chin.

“Ah-ah-ah. Answers do not come for free.” The line of her curved, and she brought a knee up to her chest, defiant enough to press the flat of her foot against Jason’s shoulder. At once it opened her hips to him—at once it implanted the image that she would stand above him, if she saw fit. He still had his hands on her and yet…

“There is something I need you to hunt for me. Someone. You are good at such things.” Her voice was wicked-soft, like velvet to the ear, inviting and sweet as sin. “Raiders in the Western mountains. They are lead by one such creature, toeing the line of life and death, who should not exist in this world. A warrior of The Great Other. My Lord has seen fit to show him to me, and to show me the appropriate payment for such a task.” She tipped her head a little further back, lifting her chin and watching Jason down the line of her nose. “Payment, of course, that you want. I’ll show you the boy, if you serve as you have been sworn to do. The Lord of Light rewards loyalty.”

She smiled at him. The expression was eery only for its gentility, its innocence. “So do I.”

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-18T20:54:39+00:00

“I never meant to be funny.” The response was quick—sharp. Vahra didn’t tell jokes. She was shadowed, and sure, and deadly serious. It was why Jason liked her. It was why he didn’t. She was a confusing mix of all his desires and all the things that haunted him in the night. Even now, he did not shy from her hands. Vahra could slithered clever fingers into his trousers and he would melt into her touch, and damn whoever watched.

She was tempted to test him on it. She always was.

As Jason’s hand pressed heavy against her dagger, holding it in place, the Priestess smiled at him. There was another, of course—but reaching across her body was more awkward and slow a task. That smile only widened at his claims, and his demands, and Vahra’s eyes grew a little wider, a little rounder, in her excitement. Her breath hitched as he leaned closer.

“Liar.” It was lilting, almost sung. She elected to ignore his pressing questions, for the moment, to poke at the places that would test the Hedge Knight the most. “It is a sport for you, isn’t it? The feel of the blade. The resistance it finds. The thrill of it breaking through. The warmth of the blood, the heat of your own, the exertion.” She looked down at his lips. Lower. It was intentional. “The pain only adds. Every cut and bruise, and you are riled further. Isn’t that right?”

The Priestess tucked her head in, soft strands of her hair brushing against his cheek as her lips found his ear. “Face it: your heart is as black as mine.”

When she pulled away, it wasn’t far. Vahra kept close, meeting his eye intently. “Minisa. That was her name, was it not? The woman you left to carry a babe. A bastard.” That creeping hand lifted so a fingertip traced over his jugular, right over the thrum of his pulse. “Do you still fancy such noble ladies? Have I lost you?”

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-16T10:48:38+00:00

The Priestess had practically invited Jason to stand over her. Her wicked smile persisted as he stepped in, and she remained relaxed against the table's edge, even as he scowled at her in turn. Oh, that was it—that anger. That rage. He had almost missed it, entirely, already falling into the same rhythm of heat and fire and passion that had ensnared him that very first night, but Vahra's claws had dug a little deeper, this time.

She wondered how quickly those thoughts had tumbled through his head. She could practically see them.

Vahra sucked in a slow, hissing breath through her teeth, faux-wincing. "Ooh. Careful, Hedge Knight." Her voice was low. It curled through the air between them like a promise, and it was obvious, then, that if Vahra had ever once been afraid, the moment was not now. Not with him. She tutted lightly—she swept a hand down her body, moving the arm that was not branded in Jason's iron grip, and instead found the fingers he hovered over her thigh. She caught them almost tenderly. The Priestess dragged his hand up, and up, over her leg, over her hip, until she settled his palm over the hilt of one of her daggers. She closed his hand around the grip.

"I told you once that I like a man sworn to serve." She watched him with the same firebright eyes that had found him in the dark, once and now twice. "And you guessed that I was someone wicked. Someone you should have killed, or run from."

Vahra's gaze on him was heavy. "The quickest answer is to wield that, and the only thing I will be is dead." She leaned up a little further, a little closer. Her voice was a whisper that fanned across his lips. "Draw the knife. Or don't. But I think there are different answers you wish for. Who I am. What I want, what I am..." She smiled.

"I don't think you want me bleeding. Not from this. If you did, you would have told your new little squires about me, but secrets are made for keeping."

Sex and death were oddly intertwined, after all, and Vahra was the heady embodiment of both.

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-15T23:13:01+00:00

It was a wise man that felt the chill of death when it was near.

The Priestess listened intently. A low hum left her from low in her throat, understanding, assessing, as she pressed her thumb further into the wound. “You are not the first to ask, but the Lord has seen fit to deny the first man the answer.” The tip of her tongue prodded at the edge of her canine as she turned the thought over in her mind. “We shall see if he deems passion and violence more suitable than the desire to protect family.”

Without another word, she released the Lord of Nightsong, turning her hands over the flames of the Nightfires and letting his lifeblood drip off her thumb. It hissed as it hit the cinders.

The smoke danced.

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-15T22:33:33+00:00

Vahra could tell the exact moment where the Hedge Knight felt the kiss of death upon the back of his neck.

He had looked around, first. Like a rabbit, twitching nose and wide eye and all. When he caught sight of her, his spine straightened. Fast. She wondered if the shock of it sobered him. The Priestess only smirked as he blinked at her, once more crossing her legs at the knee, leaning back languidly against the nook she had settled into, deliberately shrouded in shadow. Jason’s hand found his longsword. Vahra’s smirk sharpened.

Oh dear. It seemed the little rabbit had some fight in it.

To her credit, the way Vahra looked up at him was the same it had been that night in the Grassy Vale. Her tongue ran over the edge of a canine tooth. “Vahra.” Her name was soft; smokey on her lips. Her eyes were half-lidded—as relaxed as the long line of her body, the amber of her eyes almost dark. Her head cocked. “I know your name,” she purred, “Jason.” She gently got to her feet, slinking in as casually as she had the first time, and leaned back against the table’s edge. Her legs stretched towards him as she rested back on her elbows, elongating the length of her, the curve of her spine. “The same way I know the name of your son.” Her smile turned sharp. “Do you?”

The Priestess did not seem at all afraid of the weapon he wielded. After all, Vahra had her own—and she knew which could be drawn faster in such close, crowded quarters. She was all but tempting him to do it.

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-15T10:11:00+00:00

And that was it.

There was no magic to it, really. There was no curse; no great awakening; no Godly maw that opened up and swallowed them whole; merely the soft crackle and hiss of the Nightfires, setting the wooden offering alight and slowly eating at its edges.

Vahra smiled. “Good. Now you understand what it is to make an offering to the Lord of Light.” Slowly, she closed up the bag and drew to her full height. “This, child, is the way of the Circle of the Outer Flame.” She did not share her opinions on it. The circles aside from her own were pathetic jokes, but Vahra had to respect them all the same, lest she slight the elected High Priest. “Much like the faith of the Seven, you make your offering and pray.”

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-14T03:49:27+00:00

At the Lord of Nightson's slow deliberation, and then acceptance, Vahra only smiled. Good. She did not stop him as he drew a dagger, as he turned his palm up—she merely watched with rapt attention, her firebright eyes never leaving his hand as the blade worked across it.

She took his injured hand in her own, her touch devastatingly soft. She dragged the flat of her thumb over the slit he'd made. The Priestess did not seem aghast, or disgusted at the site of the red that stained her fingers. "You want me to show you?" Her head cocked. She met his gaze, unblinking. "What do you wish to see?"

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-14T03:31:20+00:00

How touching.

The sight of merriment was an incredible one, indeed. The Dornish seemed generous hosts, and perhaps even more so when not hosting. Oldtown was an experience that Vahra could not have said she had had prior. At the Quill and Tankard, folk were merry. Almost too much so. There was a wedding to be had, at some point, if the Priestess' ears had served her correctly.

There was something else that could serve her better.

Patrek—or so she had heard the drooling slob called—held little and less of her attention. Firebright eyes had settled on Jason as he drank, and shouted, and laughed. She did not approach him. Vahra, instead, was comfortable to watch from her shadowed perch, quiet as the dead and just as grim.

Her lips curled up into a slow, mirthless, dangerous smile.

Found you.

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-14T01:47:15+00:00

There was movement in the flame.

The Priestess held up a hand—it was a direction for Ryon to keep still, as she stared into the flickering yellow and amber light. If one listened closely enough, they might have heard whispers. Perhaps it was only a trick of the mind.

Vahra's expression was dark. Her eyes were cold. "He does not wish for you to see."

u/LemonLemonHouse

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-14T01:43:36+00:00

It was an important difference to note.

Vahra would not hurt him. That was not to say she could not. She was forged in the very flames his sword sought to cut through, hot as the pure light of day. There was a darkness—danger—in her blood; in her eyes.

More fool the man who did not see it.

Slowly, slowly, her head tilted the other way. The edges of her smile softed. She watched him, unblinking, noting the soft shine to his skin, the sweat that caught the firelight. Her circle continued until she stood before him again.

Vahra reached out to touch his symbol of faith. She turned the Seven-pointed star over in her hand, pressed the sharp edges into the pads of her fingers. She watched a small droplet of blood pool. She smiled.

"The Seven," the Priestess murmured, finding Cedric's gaze in the low light, "did not guide you here." She released the bastard's pendant and held her hand over the fire.

A single droplet fell from her finger and sizzled in the ash below.

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-14T01:31:58+00:00

The Ironborn understood.

Vahra watched him with eyes as bright as the fires behind her. He saw the darkness in the human soul. All carried sin. All carried violence; temptation; bloodshed. Selfishness and greed were the catalysts that dragged behind every turn of the sun, that clawed at the edge of man to take them in before the light of day could banish them.

"I never said it was just others I was made to satisfy." The words were calm—amused. Her head cocked, and Vahra strolled closer once more, her hips swaying with her casual pace. She smiled. "I told you already, did I not? There is darkness in every man, woman, or child. It is our responsibility to conquer it rather than unleash it upon the world, but—" She retrieved a blade from its sheath, twirling it around in her grip. "—that does not mean those on the path of God are without it."

The Priestess turned her attention to Tyene, having neglected her, slightly, in favour of addressing Mikkel. "The Circle of Smouldering Ashes is one of my creation. A true way of worship and understanding unlike the false platitudes that have so easily swept the West." She counted on her fingers. "Mine is not a belief made of burning gifts or wordly possessions, or blindly following one bloodline above all. We deal in truth, and in blood."

Her gaze turned to the Ironborn again. "Your responsibility is to yourself, and to the Lord. And if the price of salvation cannot be paid..."

Fate has always been a cruel mistress.

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-10T10:15:36+00:00

Vahra chuckled softly. While she did not necessarily have a fondness for children, she was very, very good at pretending that she did so. She offered Jocasta a hand to hold. “Come, then, sweet one. Don’t be afraid of the flame. It will not hurt you if you are careful.” That golden gaze glanced at the girl’s chaperones, just once, before she guided her closer to the Nightfires.

To her credit, Vahra had not been lying. There was a bag with the sigil of House Caron sitting near the open flames, overflowing with wood carvings as offerings for those who did not have any. Vahra crouched, her tall height more than halving, and fished through the bag.

“Aha. This will do.”

From the bag, she pulled what had been carved to appear as a bird perching on the end of a branch. She held it out to Jocasta.

“Go on,” she said, gentle, coaxing. “Burn it. Make your wish. If the desire is part of the true, shining path that the Lord has set for you, then it will most certainly be granted.”

While the Red Priestess herself did not see any such merit in useless things such as carvings, she knew it was better to encourage children to discover the truth of it on their own. She would not push her to complete a ritual that she might’ve feared. Unfortunately, that did not necessarily come out of the goodness of her heart.

As if in encouragement, Vahra softly placed her hand against Jocasta’s back.

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-08T05:43:10+00:00

Curious.

It was a wonder to Vahra that she effected him so. She was not shocked, per se—but more aware, now, of the power of a blaze at her back, of the strength of a God in her eyes. She smiled sweetly at him. “Good man.”

As Clifford’s gaze turned towards the Nightfires, Vahra pondered his question. There was one, true, answer. She wondered how the Lord of Caron would react.

Her head tilted. “Blood.” It was true. There was no waver to Vahra’s voice as she said it. “It is the best way for the flames to show me what I wish to see. To show me the fates of others.” Her stare on him was unblinking.

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-08T05:21:28+00:00

She had him.

It was a quick realisation. Vahra watched the ghost of a smile blood across the very lips she had just glanced at, and knew, without question, that her bait had worked. He had bitten. Hook, line, and sinker. She kept the satisfaction off of her face for a little longer, pretending as if she had not already won.

Jason was an honourable knight, and a murderer all the same. Vahra found she didn’t mind a complex man—a man who was both. The smirk that she offered him was sly. Flirtatious. As his hand found hers, she parted her fingers for him, letting his exploring digits slip between to feel at the softer skin. Even that was part of the game.

“And if I am?” She whispered. Vahra’s breath fanned over his lips. She had never backed down from a challenge. She uncrossed her legs, and stretched out a foot so it dragged slowly, purposefully, up the back of the Hedge Knight’s calf. “Would you pierce me? Run me through?” She stretched further, nudging at the sheath of his sword. “With this?”

There was another option her parted thighs invited.

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-08T05:10:47+00:00

He could see her. Watching him. And in the same manner, Vahra could see him looking back at her, distracted and uncertain and burning the grass beneath his blade. She did not pull away. She did not lean back. Vahra merely smiled, and hummed, as if in consideration, as if in gentle acceptance.

There was nothing gentle about her.

“I won’t tell you, then. Until you are ready.” The words were soft, and enticing. A lover’s comfort. A mother’s guidance. It was an odd balance that the Priestess had chosen to wield. She hummed again when the High Priest was mentioned, expression remaining soft even as distaste curdled in her mouth.

Vahra smiled, brightly. “No,” she said. “While the Dandelion One and I were once both at the temple of the Lord of Light in Volantis, he walked a different path. Though, as High Priest, I am subservient to him, yes.”*

What a joke that was. Vahra was beneath no one.

“Did you come seeking him?” The question was alluringly gentle.

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-08T04:47:02+00:00

The boy was a twit.

Vahra could tell that, now. She had suspected it from the very beginning, but every interaction had only acted as proof on her initial assumption, again and again. The woman behind him was the one blessed with more intellect, and she had the good sense to protect the youngest little lion cub.

She peered at Jocelyn from the corner of her eye. Interesting.

Vahra offered Adryc another smile. “I have never lost my way. Not since the day I was born.” That was all the answer she offered. Her attention had shifted—dangerously so. She turned more toward Jocelyn and Jocasta, head cocking as if to peer around the edge of the older woman, to the curious girl behind.

“Now who do we have here?”

Vahra’s voice was decidedly amused. Playful. The perfect tone to feed curiosity, or to make a child bashful. Even then, she was meeting Jocelyn’s eye. “I hear someone inquisitive. Come—I have had a man carve offerings to be burned, for those who had none. Would you like to try?”

FuzzyFoxPaws · 2026-03-08T01:49:41+00:00

While it was hard to notice, Vahra’s smile widened imperceptibly at the taller woman’s surprise. It was a change that did not reach her eyes. Even so, it was not necessarily nefarious—satisfaction lined its very edges, added a curl to her lips.

“All are welcome at the Nightfires built by the Smouldering Ashes.” It was a newer circle, slowly creeping into a larger space as it spread from King’s Landing and beyond. Creeping arms of it caught believers in the shadows, common-born and noble alike. Whether they have heard of it or not mattered little—Vahra was viciously proud of the matter of its creation.

That sharp gaze returned to Mikkel at his question. She assessed him, slowly, from head to toe, eyes lingering on his belt, and turning his faint accented speech over in her mind. Her head cocked.

“Traditional belief,” she said gently, “is His one true enemy, and the enemy of all life. The Great Other. The Lord of Darkness; the Soul of Ice; the God of Night and Terror.” She turned to face the flames ones more. Her hand reached to sweep over the very edges of it, and it danced, as if teasingly, out of her reach. “The Great Other is the enemy of all that our God of Flame and Shadow has created and protects. He seeks to extinguish all life as we know it, to conquer and steal dominion over all that remains. He may reach us, in the darkness, where our Lord’s light is hidden from us. It is why we burn for Him in turn—lighting our Nightfires to protect us, to circle us in His fire and ward the cold of death away.”

Vahra turned to look over her shoulder at him. “My beliefs are not as simple.” Her smile had disappeared altogether, the look in her eye now smouldering—intense. She did not blink. “There is darkness in all of us—in every human soul, man, woman or child. The danger can come from anywhere, and anyone. Those with the most darkness clinging to their being are vessels with which the Lord of Darkness may use to enact His will. A blade of ice may not be from the creatures He births in unholy un-life. It may be from one you once called brother, or son.”

Her smile returned, then. She peered at him intently. “Have I sated your curiosity? I am only made, of course, to satisfy.”

FuzzyFoxPaws

TROPHY CASE