Stavanger Bay escape from the fade

She halts abruptly as the High Priestess turns to face her, struck by the sudden intensity of the moment and rendered speechless in the face of her queen's sudden fire. Dragonfire, she thinks, recalling the old witch's tales. The touch is warm, as if that fire runs through Valyri's veins. She melts under it, basking in the praise for a moment. Then the warden-queen turns away, and the spell is broken.
She takes in a breath, composing herself enough to release a breathless chuckle. Aye, the flower-queen bears thorns o' her own, She slows as the trees part fully, eyes still on the Priestess. Ain't the thorns drawin' the bees, though. Need t'protect those pretty petals o' yours, else you'd have no need o' me. She's teasing, of course, yet there is some truth to her words. Valyri's petals are her kindness, her empathy, her patience, her intelligence and foresight, all the traits a queen should possess. A touch of dragonfire runs through her veins, too, but few would follow a queen who promised destruction. So it falls to Nefris to be her sword and shield, the storm that fells her enemies before they ever reach her. "The greatest fighter she's seen." She must never fail.