The Deal with the Devil

69 AC

Crownlands

Third Person POV

The Blackroad shimmered in the distance under the midday sun, stretching like a dark ribbon across the green grasslands of the Crownlands. At a crossroads near the castle of Stokeworth, Prince Baelon Targaryen stood in a temporary camp with a small retinue of guards and attendants.

The Blackroad, so named for the obsidian-colored Dragon Tar used in its construction, had quickly become the pride of the realm. It was now the talk of every noble house, a marvel of engineering that bore the colors of House Targaryen itself.

Baelon looked out at the landscape, the wind rustling the tall grass. The road cut cleanly through the gentle hills, lined by small wooden markers every few leagues. The castle of Stokeworth lay to the west, a mere 150 miles from King's Landing, though much closer thanks to the new road.

"Prince Baelon." came a voice, drawing Baelon from his thoughts.

Wyls Stokeworth, the son of Lord Stokeworth, approached the prince. He was a young man, around Baelon's age, with the same nervous energy Baelon had grown used to seeing from lesser lords and their heirs. Wyls greeted him with a sweeping bow, his voice eager as he spoke.

"Your Grace, it's an honor to have you here. My father has instructed me to extend an invitation for you to leave these… camps," he said with a glance at the simple tents and makeshift pavilions, "and enjoy the hospitality of Castle Stokeworth. We would be honored to offer you guest rights."

Wyls' attempt at formality didn't escape Baelon, but it was clear the boy had been sent by his father to curry favor. Stokeworth had prospered in the past year, as had many other houses near the Blackroad, like Rosby. The roads had drastically shortened travel times, allowing trade to flow more easily, and the once quiet Crownlands were now a bustling hub of commerce.

Baelon gave Wyls a polite but firm smile, masking his disinterest. "I appreciate the offer, Wyls, but I must remain with my men, we move further and ensure devolvement. There is still much work to be done here."

Wyls looked disappointed but nodded quickly. "Of course, Your Grace. My father only wanted to offer his gratitude for all that you've done. The Blackroads have transformed our lands—who would have thought that something as simple as roads could change so much?"

Baelon inclined his head in acknowledgment, watching as Wyls retreated. He knew exactly what the young man's father had told him: earn the prince's favor at any cost. Such transparent flattery had become more common in the past year, but Baelon had no interest in indulging it. He had been busy, and his focus was elsewhere.

As he turned back to the road, his thoughts drifted to the immense project that had taken shape over the past year. Westeros, though smaller in size compared to the vast continent of Essos, was unique in its diverse terrain.

From the frozen wastes of the North to the scorching deserts of Dorne, it had every kind of landscape one could imagine.

Building roads wasn't the challenge—ensuring safe travel was. The Crownlands, where the Blackroads had first been laid, were mostly grasslands and scattered forests, but bandits had long plagued the area.

To address the issue, Baelon had hired two hundred men from King's Landing. Most were young and inexperienced, but he had recruited a few veterans to create a passable force. He paid them well above market rates, giving him the manpower to patrol the roads.

He also hired the son of a wealthy merchant from King's Landing as his secretary Caesar, ensuring that his finances were in order. Gold was not something he lacked. The daily collection of tolls from the road—especially since it now covered 60% of the Crownlands—had brought in a staggering seventy thousand gold dragons. Only remote areas like Whisper are completely pending.

Baelon smiled to himself, knowing that this money would be reinvested into more roads, better security, and, eventually, into the creation of something larger.

What it gave Baelon, whom he treasured the most, was the freedom to move, uninterrupted. It was becoming suffocation in Red Keep. Though he was sure his father would never leave him out of sight, a few of his spies must be in his party.

As he was lost in thought, his new secretary approached, bowing slightly.

"Your Grace," his assistant Caesar, a young man of 17 name days with a handsome face, black hair, and eyes with a hint of North in his features. Has proved to be fiercely loyal and smart at following orders, not much of a religious, person as his mother was northern and father southern. Most valued that knows when to talk or not, he has been taught good by his father.

He said, "The red priestess has been found. She agreed to meet with you."

Baelon's eyes narrowed slightly, and he felt a cold knot of uncertainty form in his stomach. "Treat her as our guest," he instructed, but Caesar's expression betrayed his unease.

"My Prince," Caesar continued, "are you sure it's wise to meet with a…Foreigner? The red priests are not trusted in these parts of the world."

"I understand your concern. But make sure she and her companions are treated with respect. We don't need to make relationship sour with anyone, over worthless pride." 

Baelon waved away the concern. He knew well enough the horrors of Red Priest of R'hllr He had thought long and hard about this meeting. Westeros was still a land full of danger and treachery. This doesn't mean Essos is any better, one can argue it is much worse. If he ever needed a reminder, he just recalled his future descendent Daenerys journey.

While he had made many changes since his arrival, much of the canon history he knew still seemed set in motion.

Aemon's marriage had been delayed, true, though he didn't know its cause. But some near tragedies were still unavoidable—like the deaths of their infant siblings, Valerion and Gaemon.

Maester was still in charge of healing and childbirth, just like his memory and nothing may change. Moreover, no one knows their current state of mind after some tension with Father.

He will be damned if he made things worse than canon.

For all his wealth and growing influence, Baelon knew he needed something more. He could save his family with gold. The future held too many unknowns, and the dangers were far too great for him to rely solely on money and soldiers.

It was time to explore another avenue.

As the Caesar left, Baelon composed himself. When he returned with the red priestess behind him and entered his tent, flanked by two of her red-cloaked followers, Baelon's suspicions were confirmed. Her presence was striking: dark red robes, a deep crimson ruby hanging from her neck, and red eyes that sparkled with both wisdom and danger.

It was Kinvara, the same woman who would meet Daenerys in a vision of the future. That meant she was far older than she appeared, and her presence here confirmed something Baelon had long suspected—that the priests of R'hllor were not bound by time as others were. And their power was not to be underestimated. 'Remember Poor Renly Baratheon.'

Kinvara bowed her head slightly. "Prince Baelon Targaryen," she said, her voice smooth and deep. "This servant of the lord of light, am honored by your request to meet."

Baelon studied her, keeping his expression calm. "Please have a seat, Priestess."

His soft tone immediately surprised Kinvara, as boys his age are generally aggressive or bash, lacking etiquette. 'But not all of them are princes.' she thought, as she sat on a seat on the opposite end of the desk to Prince, without now Caesar positioning himself behind Baelon.

"Thank you, Prince."

"If I may know your name, Priestess, and where you hail from?" He asked watching red guards standing behind Kinvara in silence and strong posture.

"This servant is called Kinvara. My prince, I was born and raised in Asshai."

"Oh, Asshai, a land in the far east. I guessed your answer after seeing your necklace. As necklace was the motif of Asshai."

What Baelon said greatly surprised Kinvara, as knowledge of such faraway land is as rare as Valerian Steel.

"Your words are true. Though I must ask what Prince want with this Priestess?" Kinvara asked.

'Kinvara is beautiful, breathtakingly so, there is no debate on that. Even some of my guards, having some strict believers had a hard time keeping their eyes on her. But I know her appearance in reality is much different and have many difficult things to do than to indulge in these fantasies, right now.' He thought.

"I am curious, Why have you come to Westeros? What do you intend to accomplish by a trip to such an unwelcoming land?" He asked shifting back in his seat.

Kinvara's gaze didn't waver, she already expected this question, though her followers shifted uncomfortably at the question. "I have come to spread the light of R'hllor to this land. The people here follow false gods, and I wish to help them see the truth—to guide them from darkness into the light."

At this, one of Baelon's guards muttered angrily under his breath, a follower of the Seven growing restless in the presence of a heretic. Baelon raised a hand, silencing him with a sharp look.

"You all may leave us," Baelon said, his voice calm but commanding. His guards hesitated, glancing at the priestess, but eventually obeyed, filing out of the tent, along with Red guards, after receiving a nod from Kinvara.

Now alone with Kinvara, Baelon turned his attention fully to her.

He knew the risk he was taking by meeting with her, alone or not. If she wanted to, she could kill him, and there was little he could do to stop her. Thus he must ensure to not give her any reason to harm him. 

But Baelon had learned long ago that trust was a rare commodity in this world. He would approach this carefully, but not fearfully.

"Is it this simple?" Baelon asked, sitting down and gesturing for her to do the same. "Why Westeros? Surely there are easier places to spread your faith."

Kinvara took her seat gracefully, her red robes pooling around her. "The Lord of Light calls us where we are needed. Westeros has long been in the grip of darkness, and soon, greater darkness will come. When it does, the people will need the light."

Baelon regarded her carefully, his mind racing. He had known that Westeros would eventually face calamity—the Long Night, the return of the White Walkers—but hearing it spoken aloud by a priestess of R'hllor was unnerving.

"I have heard of you healing small children and elderly for various ailments and injuries," Baelon said, his eyes lingering on the ruby around her neck. "Where does your power come from, Priestess Kinvara?"

Kinvara's eyes narrowed slightly, her lips curving into a faint smile. "The Lord of Light grants us power. Through him, we purge the world of darkness."

Baelon leaned forward, his voice lowering. "And it has nothing to do with that magical red ruby on my neck cooking some nasty Blood magic." Pointing at her neck.

The question startled her, but she recovered quickly and spoke seriously. "You are well-read for a prince. Though I am curious about your source."

Baelon gave a small, humorless laugh. "I'm a descendent of dragonlords, priestess. Blood magic was freehold's specialty."

"Still, it is true our magic comes from the Lord of Light, for he guides us towards good and light."

"Then tell me, Lady Kinvara. But burning people alive in sacrifice to your god—how can that be good?"

Kinvara's face grew tense, but she did not flinch. "The flames are a tool, nothing more. Through them, the truth is revealed."

'She didn't even deny sacrifices.'

Baelon shook his head and his turned serious, unnatural for a boy his age. "Let's not play games, Lady Kinvara. Please don't lie to me again. You didn't come to Westeros to help the people. I am sure many people in Essos need your help too. You came here because you want something—power, influence for your religion, maybe even a temple in King's Landing."

Kinvara's eyes flickered with something unreadable. She said nothing, and Baelon took that as confirmation.

"Let me be clear," Baelon continued. "There are two major religions in Westeros—the Faith of the Seven and the Old Gods of the North. They've fought for dominance for thousands of years, and even now, neither fully controls the realm. If you want to spread your faith here, it won't be easy."

Kinvara's composure didn't falter, but Baelon saw the slightest hint of interest in her eyes. "What are you proposing, my Prince?"

Baelon leaned back, studying her carefully. "I'm offering you a deal. If the all red priests swear never to harm a member of House Targaryen—now and in perpetuity—and agree to assist my family in our time of need, I will build a temple to R'hllor in King's Landing in my lifetime. It will hold such status as the Faith of Seven in the face of House Targaryen, But no burning people alive. Those are my terms."

Kinvara's eyes widened in surprise. It was clear she hadn't expected this offer. For the red priests, a foothold in Westeros was a dream. But Baelon's terms were steep. The priesthood would be vulnerable if they agreed never to harm the Targaryens, and the bargain would bind them for eternity. It is not something that can be taken lightly.

"That is a decision I cannot make alone," Kinvara said after a moment of silence. "It would require the blessing of Benerro, the High Priest in Volantis."

Baelon nodded, expecting as much. "As it will be an oath under your God. Take your time. You can even return to Essos and discuss this with your temple. But if you agree, this could be the beginning of something….mutually beneficial."

When she heard that the second prince wanted to meet her, Kinvara initially planned to seduce him slowly and use the royal family to her advantage. However, the young prince was unyielding in his resistance to her advances.

Now she finds herself in an unexpected situation, facing a major decision. As a high priestess, she could not take this decision alone, as it involves all Red priests until the end of time, and an Oath under R'hllr is bound to all Red priests. It is an unbreakable vow, showing the prince's intention from the start.

That's why, this agreement was unfair to them as it made them vulnerable to Targaryen, as they can't harm them. 'And What if the prince fails to fulfill his part of the bargain? she thinks.

"I dare ask something disrespectful, my prince. What if you fail to fulfill your end of the deal? Faith of the Seven is still strong in Westeros and you are only a second prince." Kinvara said with much courage hoping not to hit a possible sour spot.

Baelon smiled at the question, and replied with a calm face, "Firstly, Priestess, it is an agreement between him and Temple of R'hllor, no other member of Targaryens will be involved in this agreement, ever. If I fail, then I am sure your religion loses nothing, other than a few years of no progress, which is unlikely in the first place and you can also ignore your obligations towards this. No need for bad blood between our two groups over a failed mutually beneficial alliance."

Kinvara liked this arrangement, no one likes to provoke a Dragonlord family, who seems to reaching a new peak of their power at any stage.

But couldn't help but ask, "But prince expect temple to support you, even at no guarantee of your terms fulfillment." She asked.

Baelon says "A gesture of goodwill is required for a relationship, Priestess. I am doing the same, currently by even meeting, and risking my reputation as a prince, after knowing the horror and powers of shadow binder from Asshai. Though you must know House Targaryen will not lose something, if we didn't agree on these terms, but the same couldn't be said for you."

Kinvara at this fell into deep thought, very impressed by the intelligence 13-name day child in front of her. She had seen many, in her long life, but few ever came close to this.

And thought to herself as she was sure of something at that moment, as long as he remains alive, the House of the Dragon will not fall.

She stood up slowly, her expression thoughtful. She had come here expecting to calm rumors spread by the followers of the Seven, but she had encountered something far more interesting. The young prince was far more intelligent than she had anticipated, and this offer—though dangerous—was tantalizing.

"You've given me much to think about, Your Grace. I will discuss it with High Priest and inform you." Kinvara said, bowing her head slightly. "I hope to meet you again, My prince."

Baelon rose and gave a polite nod in return. "Until we meet again, Priestess. Remember—As the night is still dark and full of terrors."

"!!!"

Kinvara's head jerked, but she ultimately smiled at his words, there was something in her eyes that suggested she had not expected them. She turned and left the tent, her red-cloaked followers trailing behind her, leaving Baelon alone with his thoughts.

As she departed, Baelon knew that this was just the beginning. Though he thoroughly enjoyed her reaction at the end. 

Whatever future awaited Westeros, he would need every advantage he could get. No matter the cost. But he will be vigilant and cautious.

And if that meant striking a bargain with a Red priestess or a Deal with the Devil, so be it. From now he plays a dangerous game, with very high stakes. It's either win or lose.

...

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