Doniphos I
1st day of the third moon, 299 AC
Atop his elephant, Doniphos sighed as he spotted another lick of flame sprout from the High Priest's fingers. For the last fortnight, Benerro had been preaching to the masses of their supposed savior "Azor Ahai" having been reborn to save them all. There was only so much Doniphos could do to keep Malaquo Maegyr's retribution in check.
Despite his age, the lone Tiger of the three Triarchs was a cold, hard man, being elected Triarch every year for the past fifty years, longer than even the Triarch Horonno during the Century of Blood. Unlike Horonno, however, Malaquo seemingly held no desire to forgo elections and name himself Triarch for life. If he did, he kept the truth well obfuscated.
Malaquo was a patriot, seeking to restore Volantis to its old glory. And he saw High Priest Benerro's stirs as a threat to the order of the city. He was worried some, even within the Black Walls, had converted from the true gods of Valyria. Triarch Nyessos Vhassar had agreed with Malaquo's proposal to hire the Golden Company to suppress the red faith. Malaquo feared the loyalty of Volantis' own tiger cloaks could not be guaranteed, with many of them worshipping the eastern god. Once again, Doniphos was the only one blocking Malaquo's plans.
The new years' elections would begin in a mere two moons. Doniphos was confident he would win his position again, as he had the past four years. Vogarro's widow, who ran the trade of much of western Volantis, had assured him so. The crone was as shrewd as she was ancient, and Doniphos was the closest she had to a representative within the Black Walls since her husband, Triarch Vogarro, had perished thirty-two years ago.
Doniphos was of the Elephants, earning the votes of the merchants and moneylenders, many of whom the widow influenced. Malaquo was the Tiger, earning the allegiance of all those who wished for a return to the glory days of Volantis, subjugating the wayward daughters of Valyria. Nyessos Vhassar was the face of the Elephants, though truly he was that in name only. The patriarch of the Vhassar family had astonishing wealth from trading with Slaver's Bay, and Nyessos had managed to bribe his way to power since Doniphos was suckling at his mother's teat.
"Lord Triarch," the captain of the Black Walls, Donio Ostos, hailed as Doniphos' elephant approached. He gestured for his men to open the great gates, wide enough for a whole cohort to comfortably march within. Inside the Black Walls was a new city. Carefully planned, immaculately cleaned, with wide streets and lacking the smell of the rest of the city. Doniphos passed manses with trimmed gardens and ornate gates; there were the families of Qhaedar, Staegone, Vaelaros, and others desperate to prove their wealth by flaunting their countless slaves and treasures. There was the manse of the Maegyr family, and cold and dark and functional as the man himself, designed like a castle, as though the man were about to fight a war. In the heart of the city was the old manse of Triarch Vogarro, now owned by Nyessos Vhassar, spitting in the face of the kind Triarch's memory with extravagant displays of wealth that put all others to shame. He winced as he watched as a young slave, a boy no more than twelve, was whipped in the gardens for all to see. Even Nyesos' slaves all carried the blood of Valyria, delivered to serve him by all the means he willed.
Doniphos finally reached the Paenymion family manse. It would be the envy of all outside the Black Walls, yet it was considered only average within. His elephant bent down, and he stepped onto a hathay dragged by a white dwarf elephant. He took the reigns and made his way inside his family's manse, inherited from his father. Once he was inside, passing the fountains, he was finally allowed to step on his own two feet. It was an exhausting tradition at times, a Triarch not being allowed to even touch the ground outside his own home. But Doniphos held that position to do the best he could, ensuring peaceful trade and encouraging laws for the better treatment of slaves, though the latter was seldom heard.
He passed the main hall of his manse, servants and members of his court working to clean and prepare the manse, until he reached his private gardens. "Talisa?" he called out, knowing his wife would be there.
"Here, Doniphos," he heard her flowery voice call, sitting on a bench below a lemon tree as she read a scroll. She set the scroll down beside her and rose to her feet, hand resting on her swollen stomach carrying his second child. She looked at him, sadness in her eyes.
"What is it, my love?" he asked, moving to her side and grabbing her hand. "Reading about the rumored dragon sightings by sailors from the east?"
"There's another war in Westeros. The King, Robert, has passed, and with him, countless innocents in the Riverlands."
Doniphos nodded, already knowing of the war. Malaquo had been elated when he heard, as this weakened the trade of the Narrow Sea and led many to seek goods from Volantis. Though much would be lost in tribute to the Dothraki, as it had been to the great Khal Drogo in years past, Volantis and her controlled territories could comfortably maintain nearly fifteen thousand battle-ready legionnaires armed and trained as Valyrian legions had been in the past, though lacking the true strength granted by dragons. Malaquo insisted they could stand against the Dothraki by adapting the legions to fight their horse archers, and proposing a joint alliance with Qohor, Mantarys, and Meereen. Yet even Nyessos agreed it would be cheaper to pay the horse lords their tribute rather than risk them sacking their farms, villages, or Selhorys, the only of Volantis' controlled cities on the eastern bank of the Rhoyne. Though walled, Selhorys was far more vulnerable than Volantis. Malaquo had countered that without the ludicrous tribute granted to the Dothraki, they could afford to build fortifications east of the Rhoyne. But such a proposal would lead to terrible bloodshed if Malaquo's calculations failed, so Doniphos had sided with Nyessos.
"Indeed, my love, but we can not help them. We can only help the people here, in Volantis, Volon Therys, Valysar, Selhorys, and the other lands we hold," he said. Talisa's care for the common people made it hard to believe she was the granddaughter of the cold Malaquo Maegyr. When she was twelve, her brother, Belicho, had been saved by a slave after he nearly drowned when playing in the Rhoyne. Once they were grown, Talisa and her brother both despised slavery and almost ran off to Braavos. But Doniphos had long admired her beauty and her heart and begged her to stay. He had freed all his slaves, paying them the wages of freedmen, and promised her that he would do everything he could to help the common people.
Talisa had accepted, as that was what she had begged her grandfather to do. She had a special fondness for the Andals of Westeros for their long-held abolishment of slavery, which Doniphos suspected was why she maintained an interest in their politics.
"She will know a better world than the one we were born into," Talisa promised, running her hand on her stomach.
"She?" Doniphos smiled as he stroked his wife's hair, as silver as his own. They both were of the Old Blood, and could trace their ancestry back to the nobility under the Valyrian Freehold. None of the houses currently in the walls were ever of Dragonlord blood, however. "You think it will be a girl?"
Talisa giggled and nodded her head, "I'm sure of it. Qavo could use a little sister." Doniphos smiled when thinking about his seven-year-old son, who was surely asleep in his room. His wife looked into the distance. "I would like to name her Daenerys."
Doniphos looked into her indigo eyes. "After the Targaryen girl?" he questioned. The last of the blood of the dragon were scattered when Doniphos was barely a man grown. He heard Malaquo Maegyr had hosted the exiled king Viserys and his sister some years back. Not within the Black Walls, however, for the risk of other families trying to gain their own influence on the children. Nyessos had hidden them in a shack outside the Black Walls, unbeknownst to all until they had been long gone.
Viserys and his sister had fled soon, suspecting assassins. And now they were both lost somewhere in the Dothraki sea after the little girl was sold to the horse lords in Pentos. Doniphos had seen Khal Drogo during his first year as Triarch, and he knew the man would not be kind to his child bride.
Talisa nodded, "The poor girl didn't get to choose anything in her life. She was a slave, just like all those out there," she looked outside the manse to the west.
Doniphos nodded, taking his wife's arm and walking with her to their chambers. Daenerys was a beautiful name, by all means. And he agreed with his wife. The girl should have someone remember her as someone other than the mother of whatever future Khalakka Drogo produced. Or, Doniphos thought doubtfully, as the sister of King Viserys during the reconquest of his home.
Doniphos thought it was quite a foolish plan. The Dothraki could plunder and pillage the lands of Essos, but could scarcely cross the Narrow Sea. And if, by some curse of the gods, they did, the terrain and climate of Westeros would find the Dothraki quickly routed. Doniphos did not know much of war, but Malaquo claimed Westeros' armies would find themselves more capable against the horse lords than the antiquated legions of Volantis.
"I spoke with a Red Priest the other day, a large black-skinned man with a strange staff," Talisa began as they reached their chambers. "He said they wish for you to have a private meeting a few miles east of the city, in a secluded temple on the Orange Shore in three days' time."
This piqued Doniphos' attention as he helped her lay down. "Oh? Did they express any reason for their sudden interest in the weakest Triarch?"
Talisa got comfortable on her side, "They said if you wished to be certain of your re-election-"
"I am certain," Doniphos lied.
"I know," Talisa said, waving her hand indifferently. "But the red priest– Moqorro was his name– remarked that Benerro's preaching was for a reason. The red comet in the sky was a sign. A chance for real change."
Doniphos frowned as he lay next to her, "Is that a threat of rebellion? Malaquo has been warning as such. Or a trap– after all, why meet all the way out of the city? They have the largest temple since Valyria just outside the Black Walls."
"I said very much the same. The red priest said he had been told we would have these concerns and suggested that you bring an escort of men you trust to stay quiet."
Men he trusted to stay quiet. Unless he was proposing Doniphos find an escort of mutes, that only meant one thing in Volantis. "He wants me to use Unsullied tiger cloaks. Many of whom worship the red god too." They were trained to feel no pain and would speak nothing of whatever a Triarch discussed in a meeting, from corruption to treason.
"I'm sure you can find enough that worship the true gods of Valyria, if your concern is safety."
That was a concern, to be sure. He would speak to his steward, Molaphos, to gather up the men. What Doniphos was more concerned about was why they wished to speak to him. Being an Elephant, he would certainly be more receptive to any proposals made by the red faith than Malaquo. And Nyessos was about as reliable as a merchant's scale. A merchant in the markets of the Long Bridge. He wrapped his arm around Talisa and closed his eyes.
On the fourth day of the second moon, Doniphos rode out the Black Walls atop his elephant, an escort of two hundred Unsullied tiger guards surrounding him. It was no problem to find ones that followed the faith of Valyria, as strangely, Triarch Nyessos had claimed all tiger cloaks that followed the red faith that day. To cross the Long Bridge, a detachment of the unsullied went ahead and cleared the bridge, as was standard for a Triarch's crossing. Never missing a chance to campaign for the upcoming elections, he waved at the free citizens and slaves alike as he toured down the western side of the city, though only the former could vote, and only if they owned land. He heard cheers and jeers alike to his name.
The procession took nearly two hours to simply exit the city, navigating his way through the crowded streets of the western portion of the city. They went past the distant ruins of Sarhoy, walking along the coast of the barren Vedys Lands, and approached Olvys Mell, a small village to which Doniphos had been granted tax farming rights. His Unsullied escort had already sent scouts ahead, and Doniphos simply had to follow their direction. Doniphos spotted a large red temple, though nowhere near as large as the Great Temple in Volantis, a few leagues east of Olvys Mell.
They walked the cobblestone road to the Red Temple, which was emptier than even the smaller temples usually were. It seemed the Red Priest truly wished for a tight-lipped meeting. He was lowered from the elephants and sat down in an ornate wooden palanquin carried by four of his Unsullied. The palanquin was large enough for all three Triarchs and had a draped linen canopy with various patterns of animals, from elephants to tigers to dragons.
As they approached, Doniphos noted that the two dozen or so guards were not of the Fiery Hand, but more disheveled men. Presumably hired sellswords, but Doniphos thought they almost looked like pirates. He was about to question what they wished from him when a large man, with jet-black skin and scraggly white hair stepped out the doors of the temple. He was clad in long scarlet robes and had yellow flame tattoos across his face. Doniphos guessed this was Moqorro, the priest that spoke to his wife. He was even carrying the staff Talisa had described.
"Good day, Triarch Doniphos Paenymion," the priest said in flawless High Valyrian, with no trace of the Volantene accent found in most beyond the Black Walls. "I was requested to arrange a meeting with you. Please, follow me"
The priest turned around and walked up the steps inside the temple. Doniphos' escort carried the palanquin up the stairs behind him. Two of the Unsullied went ahead of the palanquin, ensuring there were no ambushes. The priest led them to a private chamber, where the unsullied entered the room first, and swiftly turned to the right before Doniphos' palanquin was brought through the wide doorway, turning the platform and setting him facing the right as well.
Besides himself, his Unsullied, and the red priest, there was a young man in elegant robes sitting in a chair. This was presumably the one in charge of these men. Though what connection he had to the faith Doniphos could not tell.
The young man was admittedly quite handsome; beyond his natural appearance, he clearly groomed himself well. He had clean-shaven porcelain skin and medium-length platinum white hair brighter than Doniphos had yet seen framing his sharp face. He was lean, though what little Doniphos could see indicated he was well-muscled. His eyes were a bright lilac and seemed to pierce straight into Doniphos' soul. The room was silent until one of Doniphos' Unsullied, the designated herald, spoke.
"You stand in the presence of Triarch Doniphos Paenymion of the illustrious city of Volantis, first daughter of Valyria!" the slave recited loudly. The sides of the young man's lips twitched up in amusement as the red priest vacated the room, passing Doniphos' tiger cloaks.
"I would have had one of my men outside introduce myself in an equally splendorous manner, but unfortunately all their tongues have been removed," the young man began, his voice as smooth as silk. Doniphos furrowed his eyebrows. The men outside, the sellswords, had not uttered a word. Had this young man meant that literally? He looked no more than seventeen years of age, yet had gathered such a force. Who was he?
"Thus, you will have to settle for a more simple introduction for now," the young man said, rising to his feet. "My name is Aurion. I believe we can become very close friends, Doniphos."
The herald lifted his spear and smashed it against the ground, "You will address the Triarch by his proper title of Lord Triarch!"
The young man, Aurion, tilted his head to face Doniphos, unfazed by the Unsullied. Doniphos raised his hand to calm the herald.
"And how would you plan on that?" Doniphos asked. Aurion had to have some connections already, having had the temple cleared of its usual attendants. Doniphos was admittedly confused. If this was an attempt at a bribe, Nyessos Vhassar already had quite the reputation for permitting his 'friends' to do as they wished. But Aurion had asked for him specifically.
Aurion simply kept up his smile as he stepped to the balcony overlooking the coast, one hand behind his back. A few seconds of silence passed before Aurion nodded, and spoke again, "it pained my soft heart, walking the streets of this once fine city to see such needless cruelty. Even in the days of the Freehold, there were those in power who fought for the rights of the slave. But here, it is only you."
Doniphos remained silent, puzzled and waiting for Aurion to get to the point.
"And to the east, Dothraki savages control this continent, extorting all daughters of Valyria since the dragons disappeared. They may keep the dragon roads mostly clear of bandits, but they take up that role themselves. And Volantis, along with the rest of this continent, seems to have entered a period of stagnation. Sellswords, horse lords, and slavers reign supreme. Unity has never been lower among the daughters of Valyria."
Doniphos was beginning to get frustrated at how Aurion meandered around the conversation, as though he wasn't wasting precious time. "And what does-"
"Look," Aurion interrupted, raising his hand to silence Doniphos. He looked at where Aurion had pointed, some sort of bird on the horizon. Doniphos had enough, and prepared to order his Unsullied to lift the palanquin and take him back, when he noticed the bird had gotten quite large. The distant speck surpassed the size of even the carracks it flew over, and in the span of a few seconds, Doniphos saw it was no bird.
He looked around the dark room, seeing his Unsullied remained as stoic as ever. He turned back to face the balcony, seeing that the dark shadow loomed over the waves, and the flapping of wings grew louder. It became clear to him, how the red light from the comet reflected against the shimmering gold scales. As it flew closer, it seemed to glow like the sun itself, or a massive statue of pure gold. But it was no statue, and Doniphos felt his stomach churn as he realized just how little all the statues of dragons present within the Black Walls had done to make Doniphos recognize they were once living creatures.
The dragon only got bigger. It landed with a thud on the beach outside the temple, shaking the ground beneath Doniphos' feet, and moved its neck to the temple. Doniphos scampered to his feet, fully prepared to run outside, uncaring of the rules of being a Triarch. Aurion reached his hand out and grazed the snout of the creature that looked as though it would be able to swallow a whale whole. Perhaps even a leviathan. Its molten golden eyes turned to him, and Doniphos abandoned all hope of retreat as he froze in terror. He held back the need to get on his knees and beg for penance, for forgiveness. For what, he knew not.
Aurion turned around, a more genuine smile on his face, the dragon's golden front completely enveloping the view behind him. "Behold, Doniphos! My name is Emperor Aurion Varezys, and by the grace of the gods of the Fourteen Flames, I have been resurrected after four hundred years. The bleeding star heralds my arrival, and now I stand before you, to aid you in rebuilding this world."
