Aurion IV

17th day of the second moon, 299 AC


He felt the air on his face as he flapped his wings. He looked to his left and Terrax, the massive black beast, flew next to him. He could scarcely make out the form of Jaenarys on top, dwarfed by his dragon.

Looking downward, he spotted a Volantene legion, and in front was the corpse of Lord Freeholder Vaegon's turquoise dragon, Neltharion. They were parading it around, acting as though they were now the leaders of the Freehold in the wake of the Doom.

Terrax opened his mouth, spewing out green flame and incinerating a whole cohort. Aurion followed, feeling the gold flame in his throat as he folded his wings, strafed down, and aimed for their scorpions.

Before they were shrouded in golden flames, he saw the wielder of the scorpion smile at him, his face shifting to a familiar form. Aurion caught a glimpse of his left eye covered with an eyepatch, and his right eye impaled with a dagger.

Aurion's eyes snapped open, seeing only the slumbering face of Rosana. Another dream. And another dream Euron somehow wormed his way into. This time was the attack on Volantis on his way to go back to Valyria.

For the past two weeks, sleeping on the Revenant, he had been dreaming through Aegarax's eyes, seeing his memories. It was almost useful, except none of it had been information Aurion hadn't seen with his own eyes, and he couldn't understand why Euron was present.

Aurion lifted Rosana's slender arm, draped over the large scar over his heart, then rubbed his eyes. He slowly climbed out of the bed and covered her bare olive skin with the blanket. There were no kisses shared between them, though Aurion was secretly relieved, as he was not sure what a kiss from a tongueless woman would feel like.

Rosana worked in a brothel in Lotus Point in the Summer Isles, where her parents, Naathi traders, had moved. She would part ways and return to her home once they reached Volantis. Aurion would ensure that she, her family, and the rest of the crew would want for nothing the rest of their lives, giving her a portion of Euron's many looted treasures.

He learned the fastest path to Volantis would be to travel east from Valyria to vacate the Smoking Sea as quickly as possible. He had contemplated stopping in Elyria for supplies and information, as the ship held a considerable lack of books detailing the history of the past four centuries, but the libraries of Volantis would be more extensive anyhow.

Euron seemed to have an obsession with the Great Empire of the Dawn and magic, as those were the only books that populated his quarters. It wasn't very helpful, though Aurion had enjoyed the Jade Compendium.

Meanwhile, Moqorro would simply repeat that there was "much he had missed." He appreciated the man for saving him from Euron's clutches, but he was infuriating at times. Benerro, the High Priest of R'hllor, had better be worth visiting, as the crew assured him they could wait to resupply in Volantis.

Having left the boiling waters of the Smoking Sea, they were sailing back around the Valyrian peninsula west to Volantis. Euron was a terrible person, but he had to admit he had an impressive ship, with navigators and sailors and quartermasters and the helmsman all working in unison without sharing a single word.

He collected his clothes, strewn across the room, and dressed himself again. He didn't bother to wake Rosana to… assist him again, though he did enjoy how liberal she was with where her hands veered. He finished donning Euron's basic garments and stepped out of his quarters. They were far less comfortable than the togas he had worn most of his life, but they served their purpose.

"Do you see, my prince? In the distance," Moqorro's deep voice boomed in his ears as he stepped out onto the deck.

Gods, that man was loud.

Even when he was speaking in a normal tone, Aurion could feel his ears ringing. Or perhaps that was the wine from last night, which there was a shockingly scarce amount compared to the shade of the evening. Aurion would not touch the strange, purple liquid in those carved stone bottles.

Aurion craned his neck and did finally see other ships in the distance– and land. Flying here on Aegarax would have taken no time at all, but Aurion was still excited to have something solid beneath his feet after the boiling waters of the Smoking Sea. How had Euron safely navigated that? How had he safely navigated it 400 years ago?

"What can I expect once we arrive?" Aurion asked, unsure of the procedures for arriving in a port. "Will we need to speak with a customs officer?"

Moqorro shook his head, "The Crow's Eye's sails can not be shown in the main ports. We will dock in a small port west of Fishermonger's Square."

Aurion scoffed, "So am I to gallivant around the city like some common citizen?"

"Indeed," Moqorro responded. "I will lead you to the Temple of the Lord of Light, where you will meet Benerro."

Aurion sighed and went back to wake Rosana, to have her assist him in donning the armor once more. After plenty of time spent with her, he leaned against a pole on the crimson deck, waiting as they approached the city. He gazed at the figurehead, a naked maiden of black iron reaching out, eyes made of mother-of-pearls. She had no mouth beneath her nose, continuing Euron's theme of silence.

The crew, mute as ever, lowered the black sail as they reached a small dock with a coupling of small cogs. With the ever-present shadow of Moqorro by his side, with a black cloak to cover his armor from Rosana's urging, he stepped off the Revenant. He had grabbed a pouch of bronze coins from Euron's loot, which Moqorro had informed him were the lowest Volantene currency, an 'honourius.'

A small man, with Rhoynar looks and a wispy black beard scampered towards him, his eyes widened in fear as he spoke the Andal tongue, "Ah, m'lord… the Silence is always welcome here, free of charge! Please don't-" Aurion silenced him by tossing a few honourii his way. He wasn't sure how much the coins were worth, so a handful seemed sufficient.

"Keep quiet, and you may find yourself with heavier pockets in the future," Aurion spoke in High Valyrian. "The crew of the Revenant knows what to do," Aurion added, with an emphasis on the name of the ship. The man vigorously nodded as his mouth peaked up at the corners, seemingly an expression of relief at the prospect of not being killed. Gods, was Euron really that terrifying? Perhaps he should have taken advantage of his reputation.

He followed Moqorro through the city, eventually reaching the Long Bridge to enter the eastern side of the city. It was a thin road made of fused dragonstone, barely enough for two carts to travel side by side. They pushed through the narrow streets, filled with merchants, pilgrims, and worshipers going about their daily activities. The air was heavy with the scent of spices and beets, mingling with the sounds of the hawkers calling out their wares and the distant chants from the temples. There were stacks of buildings of all sorts– taverns, inns, cyvasse parlors, small temples, brothels, and shops with anything one needed, with weavers, lacemakers, glassblowers, candlemakers, and fishwives. Aurion also saw goldsmiths and spicers with hired guards outside their doors. The only noise he could hear was the chatters of the crowds and loud merchants all claiming they sold the sweetest beet soup.

Among all this activity, Aurion noticed many slaves with various tattoos on their faces, from the slaves at the dock with cogs tattooed on their cheeks, to slaves with wheel-shaped tattoos dragging hathays ridden by wealthier citizens, and a myriad of prostitutes– women, and men– with small, tear-shaped tattoos under their eye, calling for customers. It seems there were almost more slaves than freedmen.

Aurion watched as a slave soldier whipped a slave collecting horse dung. He must have been one of the 'tiger cloaks' of Volantis, with green tiger stripes tattooed beneath his polished helm, fashioned into a tiger mask. Aurion knew slavery was common in Valyria, though never inside the city itself. He had never seen such needless barbarity in his own home. The Varezys household was entirely paid servants, ensuring better loyalty, his father had explained. It wasn't out of some moral purpose– Aurion knew his father owned countless slaves that worked in the mines beneath the fourteen flames.

In the middle of the bridge were the hands of thieves and the heads of other criminals, proudly displayed by more of the tattooed tiger guards. As they reached the eastern side of the bridge, the traffic got substantially lighter. At the end of the bridge was an arch of fused dragonstone carved with sphinxes, manticores, dragons, and other strange beasts, guarded by several legionnaires. They did not bear the tattoos of the slaves, so Aurion figured they must have been part of the citizen's legions. Their helmets covered their heads, but he could see hints of white hair in nearly all of them.

"Halt!" One of the guards called out, speaking the Volantene form of Low Valyrian as Aurion and Moqorro approached. "No unsolicited foreigners past this gate!" The guard noticed Moqorro's scarlet robes and tattoos, relaxing slightly.

"My companion here is of old Valyrian blood, as pure as any in the Black Walls, as all can plainly see," Moqorro said as Aurion lowered his hood. Though the many low-ranking families behind the Black Walls carried traits of Valyrian blood, there were clear visible differences to those of the true blood of the dragon. They likely wouldn't be able to tell, so Aurion knew his appearance would be sufficient to quell any suspicions of his foreignness.

The guards nodded, seemingly trusting Moqorro on his word, and moved to let them pass the gate into the eastern half of the city. Aurion could see the silhouette of the Temple from across the city. Though nowhere near as large as many structures in Valyria, it was certainly an impressive sight. One that he didn't remember seeing the first time in the city four centuries ago.

As they made their way through the streets, the architecture of the eastern half of Volantis changed. The buildings grew taller, grander, and more opulent, adorned with intricate carvings, colorful murals, and gilded details. The streets were wider, allowing them to walk more freely. Eventually, Aurion got a clear view of the great Temple of the Lord of Light.

It was an enormity of pillars, steps, buttresses, bridges, domes, and towers flowing into one another as if they had all been chiseled from one colossal rock. A hundred hues of red, yellow, gold, and orange met and melded in the temple walls, dissolving one into the other like clouds at sunset. Its slender towers twisted ever upward, like frozen flames dancing as they reached for the sky.

As they approached the temple, Moqorro pushed past the crowds, his massive body easily clearing a path for Aurion to follow. By the entrance to the temple was a red stone pillar, joined by a slender stone bridge to a lofty terrace where the lesser priests and acolytes stood. The acolytes were clad in robes of pale yellow and bright orange, priests and priestesses in red matching Moqorro, who bowed their heads as Moqorro passed by.

At the base of the steps, a line of men in ornate armor and orange cloaks stood before the temple's doors, clasping spears with points like writhing flames. Aurion concluded they must have been the 'Fiery Hand,' the sacred guardians of the temple Moqorro had told him of. He had said there were one thousand of them, never more and never less. They entered through the great bronze doorway. Inside, the temple was dimly lit, with flickering torches casting dancing shadows on the walls. The air smelled of incense and burning oils, and the sound of chanting echoed through the halls. It opened to a grand chamber, where a large red fire blazed in a circular brazier atop a large platform. Red light glazed in from the windows, the comet still clear in the sky.

They walked up the steps to reach the peak, approaching a man kneeling before the brazier, wearing the same red robes as all the others. He was whispering incantations as he stared into the great flame. "High Priest Benerro, Flame of Truth, Light of Wisdom, First Servant of the Lord of Light, and fellow Slave of R'hllor," Moqorro began, placing his staff on the ground as he knelt down. Aurion did not.

"I have done your bidding, and found my way to the ruins of Old Valyria, where the Prince that was Promised was reborn amidst salt and smoke, where Emperor Aurion Varezys has conquered death itself. The dragon has awakened, and the Great Other trembles in its wake."

Benerro got up from his knees and slowly turned around. Tall and thin, he had a drawn face and skin white as milk, a sharp contrast to Moqorro's jet black. Flames had been tattooed across his cheeks and chin and shaven head to make a bright red mask that crackled about his crimson eyes and coiled down and around his lipless mouth. He opened his mouth to speak when Aurion cut him off with a raise of his hand.

"I am done being made for a fool. I will have my answers, and I will have them now, and if not… if this city has forgotten how hot dragonflame can burn in these centuries, I can surely remind you."

Benerro nodded. "Of course," he said, his voice more soothing than Aurion had expected. "You need only look into the flames to see R'hllor's guidance." He stepped aside, giving Aurion an unobstructed view of the brazier. Aurion humored them, staring into the fire. He saw red flames licking the air, flickering out as fast as they were created. Before he could speak of how there was nothing special to be seen in the fire, the flames began to change. He saw them swirling around, forming a long shape. A face materialized, a familiar one, the empty socket of the left eye burning brighter than anywhere else.

"Trust none," he heard a cacophony of whispers snapped like the crackling of fire. "Open your eye, as I did. Learn to fly," a new voice muttered. Aurion stood still as Euron Greyjoy's body emerged, an outline of flames in the shape of the man as he loomed in front of the bonfire. Aurion glanced to his side, but both Benerro and Moqorro seemed to not notice Euron. In fact, they appeared frozen entirely, not reacting to anything. "These last four hundred years, Valyria has ceased to exist. Certainly, there are those that played at it– the Old Blood behind the Black Walls and the Targaryens for the past two centuries. But it is I who achieved the impossible. It is I who defied the gods, and death itself. Remember– there are no gods but those we forge through our own will. And there are none more deserving of being gods than us, Aurion."

"No gods but those we forge through our own will… Perhaps there is truth in those words," Aurion admitted. "But I will not be a pawn in your game. And there is no us, so do as I command and remain dead!" Aurion shouted, drawing Solfyre. The white longsword shimmered in the red flickering light of the brazier, and without hesitation he lunged forward, driving the ornate blade straight through the heart of the apparition. The flames erupted into a brilliant display of red and gold, consuming Euron's ethereal body.

Euron cackled as his form shaped into a wild inferno, filling the room with red, with heat, with screams of the forsaken. And it was as though time had been unfrozen, as the bonfire erupted with a violent crack, reaching nearly the top of the massive temple, burning brighter than ever as it blew Aurion's robe back and exposed his ornate dragonsteel scale armor. As the fiery specter dissipated, the frozen figures of Benerro and Moqorro regained their motion, their eyes widening in astonishment at the sight before them.

Aurion exhaled heavily as he saw Benerro staring at him inquisitively. After a second of silence, the priest spoke. "The Lord of Light has chosen you, Azor Ahai reborn." Benerro got on one knee, bowing his head.

Azor Ahai? Aurion recognized the name from Euron's book, the Jade Compendium. A hero from millennia ago who forged a sword of fire and purged the world of darkness "Enough of these illusions," Aurion said, his voice tinged with newfound authority. "I seek not the cryptic riddles of flames, but the truth that lies within the hearts of men. You wish for me to be your prophesied leader? I must understand this new world I find myself in. And I require your assistance."

Euron had mentioned the Targaryens were merely 'playing' at being Valyrians in Westeros. Did they lose their true way of life? Aurion wasn't sure, but he knew that meant they were nowhere to be found in Volantis.

Under the Archon of the greater state of Volantis appointed by the Senate, there would be three Triarchs elected by the citizens who served as the administrative leaders of the city itself. When the city surrendered, triarchs Marqelo Tagaros and Jaekar Vhassar had bent the knee to him and Jaenarys. The third had been burned by Aegarax during the battle.

I took this city once already, Aurion thought confidently.

With thirty thousand men and two dragons, his mind reminded him. He needed to be wise about his ambitions. Aurion had not noticed a particularly large garrison in Volantis, nor had he noticed many barracks. Even on the eastern side of the city, there were more slave soldiers than free ones. He estimated a garrison of about four thousand of the tiger cloaks, but he was unsure of the size of the army of Volantis. He would be surprised if the city had any larger than forty thousand, however, and many of those seemed to be slaves and those that were not Unsullied would have terrible morale.

Not that it mattered, as Aurion had no army to speak of. Well, he supposed he had over a hundred of Euron's crew of mutes, which would know how to raid. Notably, he also could call on Aegarax. Even without the crew of the Revenant, he would be able to destroy any army, but he could not hold a city with Aegarax.

No, Aurion needed allies. And if this tattooed High Priest thought him to be his faith's prophesied leader, then why not take advantage of his help? Surely the man would have connections with someone- perhaps an ambitious triarch with a weak hold on his position. Or one that sought to restore the glory of Valyria. Aurion looked down at the kneeling High Priest and smiled.

"Rise, High Priest Benerro, Flame of Truth, Light of Wisdom, First Servant of the Lord of Light, and Slave of R'hllor. The Lord of Light has chosen me for the mantle of Azor Ahai reborn, and I shall embrace my destiny. We shall bring forth a new era of fire and justice, and purge the darkness that engulfs this cold world."

He would play their game.