Aurion VIII
24th day of the third moon, 299 AC
"And what did you learn from that chapter?" his pedagogue asked, sitting next to Aurion as he read from the scroll containing the treatise of Nycollo Makaevelys, an advisor to the Targaryen family decades ago. He heard from Jae that the disgraced Lord Freeholder Aenar had broken his friendship with Father and left the motherland. He must have taken Daenys with him, as he had not seen her in weeks.
"Religion and morals alike have no place in the political arena, except insofar as they serve political ends," Aurion summarized. He looked up from his chair at his teacher beside him with hopeful eyes. Vaegon was the fifth one his father had hired while he could petition Uncle Daemy to be temporarily relieved from his duties beneath the Fourteen Flames. The four prior had not performed to Father's standards and died.
Aurion did not want that. Vaegon was the kindest one Father had hired yet. He did not like Laerys, and neither did Father. To keep Vaegon, Aurion had to learn, or he too would be burnt by Elenixes, and Father would make him watch, and then he would beat him till he had to lie down for the rest of the week, and he would not get any opium, and he would be hungry, and Aegarax would be locked away too, and none of his aunts would help him, and maybe the next would be like Laerys, and—
"Sufficient, if not too simple," Vaegon said curtly. He was from one of the more famous universities in Valyria. Father said he paid him lots of gold to tutor Aurion, so if he didn't learn then he was costing the Varezys family. And that was bad, he heard. "Now the next chapter, and translate it into Asshai'i, Old Ghis, Yinnish, Old Tiquin, Qaathi, and Andallic as before."
"Why?" Aurion blurted out. "Aelyx and Aegor are only learning to read Valyrian, and they're reading simple stories," he pouted, as his half-siblings spent much more time playing than he could. "Even Jae only knows Valyrian and Asshai'i."
Vaegon smacked his knuckles with the dark wooden rod, Aurion flinched his hands back and licked the bleeding caused by the small barbs of dragonsteel. "Read," he repeated. Aurion's hands shook as he grabbed the scroll, careful to avoid dripping blood onto the paper as he had before.
"...do you agree to these terms, Your Imperial Majesty?"
Aurion shook his head, clearing his mind of memories from when he was a boy of six. Vaegon, too, had been removed once his father bribed the Archmage. His lessons made him stronger and smarter than his brothers, stronger than his peers, and wiser than men thrice his age. His wounds had healed. He had no need to mingle with his inferiors, no desire to be held by his aunts, neither of whom held motherly affection for Aurion as they had for their own sons and daughters.
"...Your Imperial Majesty?" the man blinked.
"Yes?" Aurion asked, "Yes." he quickly confirmed. He had not heard what the man before him had asked.
"The Bank of Lys can continue operations?"
Aurion waved his hand, dismissing the man, "Yes, send a representative to Volantis–to Triarch Doniphos– to finish negotiations. Your bank will not be harmed, Belono."
"...Torreo" the representative corrected.
"Yes, Torreo, that was it," he waved the man out of his study. Once the door had closed he leaned back against his chair and sighed. He still hardly found sleep, and was suffering the consequences.
"Do you still wish to meet with General Belicho and Admiral Izembaro, your Imperial Majesty?" the Unsullied guard behind him asked. A different face from the guards at his chambers last night, who had been burnt alive for their perceived failure. Perhaps he could have saved them. But truthfully, he did not care much for them despite their innocence. He found he did not care for much of anything or anyone out of the strangers in this new world he found himself thrust into. If he could have just stayed in Lynesse's arms, unmolested by the visions that plagued his slumber…
What was it that drove him to act on his most primal instincts? He had been paranoid, as any man should be, but Lynesse had committed no sin against him. Aurion wondered if he should consult the Supreme Stormsinger Elaera about his troubles.
"Indeed," he said, rubbing his eyes, "Let them in."
The guard opened the door and the two men walked in, the general clad in filigreed plate armor with a purple cape that flowed down his back. It was nothing compared to authentic Valyrian spellforged dragonsteel, but still several leagues beyond what the average citizen could afford. His gilded helmet was by his side, exposing his rugged, stubbled face with a scar down his left cheek, a sharp contrast to his more slender brother who was serving as the Imperial Architect in Volantis. By his side was the Admiral, an older man with dark skin and long, silver braids falling down to his chest.
"Your Imperial Majesty," they said in unison, bowing their heads. The latter with an accent that revealed his comparatively humble origins. Aurion gestured for Izembaro to speak first.
The admiral reported few losses for their navy, while many Lysene ships were burned beyond repair. He believed they could perhaps salvage two-thirds of their fleet by using the other third for scraps and parts, though it would take several days for the seized ships to be ready for integration into the greater Volantene fleet.
General Belicho reported that the looting was mostly restrained and the surrendered garrison had been compliant since they saw Aegarax. The fires from last night had mostly been limited to the slums. Once Izembaro was dismissed, the General informed Aurion that he had seized many poisons, potions, and recipes from the Alchemists of Lys.
"Naturally, poison in a woman's weapon– a craven's weapon– and most certainly those who practice their production should not be left to their own devices," Aurion began. Belicho nodded. "It would thus be in the best interest of the empire to have the guild in its entirety moved to Volantis, where they can henceforth be more closely regulated, along with a seizure of their goods so they can be… secured from enemies of the state who would intend harm, would you not agree?"
"I would most certainly agree," Belicho responded, though looked as though he wished to say something.
"What is it, General? I will make haste for my departure, so I would hope you make equal haste for your duties."
Belicho paused for a second, then spoke, "I am your most leal servant, and with your vast wisdom, you most surely will find one of my deepest desires– that you will come to the greatness which divine fortune and your own qualities promise you. And if, from your great height, you cast a glance to these lowly places, I am most certain your benevolence will find all who supported you through your endeavors left better for it."
Aurion stopped listening about halfway through the man's speech. Once his mouth stopped moving, Aurion nodded, "Surely, in addition to the betterment under my banner, and the general prosperity of all my people, mayhaps once these conquests have been secured you will find yourself sharing closer company with your brother in my court."
"Does Your Imperial Majesty not think one who has been as loyal as I in securing these lands should receive a more public recognition?"
Ah, so that was what he wanted. "If you continue being my ever leal servant in this war against the aggression of the Triarchy of the Three Daughters, mayhaps a triumph will be held in your name, with splendor so all citizens of Volantis shall know it was Belicho Staegone that was most paramount in securing everlasting peace." If you make haste it may even be before the elections, it was left unsaid.
Belicho nodded, "I shall arrange the transportation with utmost speed, Your Imperial Majesty."
As he left Aurion groaned, most days he reveled in the mummer's farce of politics, but today he simply wished to be left alone. "That will be all for today," he told the guard. He paused. "Have a young maiden brought to my chambers," he said as he stood out of his chair.
He walked to his chambers and before long two guards escorted in a young girl, no older than twelve, with pale skin, pale gold hair, and two eyes of pale lilac. She was in a thin silk dress, shivering in spite of the heat. The guards nodded and closed the door behind them. The various perfumes on the girl permeated the room with a pleasant smell of flowers.
"Y… y… your Imperial Majesty," the girl stuttered. "My name is L-Larra, and though I have been trained to p-p-please you, I am a maiden as you r-requested." Her tiny body trembled in fear, perhaps she heard the fate of Lynesse Hightower.
"Sit down over there," Aurion pointed at a wooden chair while he looked through a chest. "I will not have need of the services you have been trained to provide."
Larra stood, confused for a second, before she scrambled to the chair. Aurion found what he was looking for, the large stick of frozen fire he had found on the Revenant. Euron Greyjoy had stolen this in the city of Qarth, under the pseudonym of Urrathon Night-Walker. Supposedly very few were left, and they had not been lit since the Doom.
"Larra, dear, do you have any family?"
She shook her head, "Only my sister, Doreah. But the fat man bought her a long time ago."
Aurion hummed in response, placing the three-foot-long candle in the center of the room. Larra looked at it and raised her eyebrows in fear. Aurion almost laughed at what must have crossed her mind, "No, you will not need to do that," he said, trying to calm her. "Come here," he told her, "You need not fear me."
The girl was hesitant but she could not refuse him. Aurion picked up a goblet and poured some wine from a glass bottle. "Have you ever tried Arbor Gold?" he asked, filling it to the rim with the white liquid. The girl shook her head, and he passed the goblet to her. "It comes from the Sunset Kingdoms, the land of the Andals. Drink," he commanded.
The girl had clearly never drunk before, and before long she was fully inebriated. It helped that he had placed a drop of a Lysene sleeping potion in the goblet. Now Aurion was sat in the chair, and she was on his lap, almost asleep against his chest as he rubbed her back gently. As his hand went to his waist, the girl snored in a manner that almost reminded him of his little half-sister, Aelora.
He drew the dagger and soon she was dead, just like Aelora and all the rest. It was the least he could do to make it painless, to not have to see the fear and betrayal in her eyes like Lynesse Hightower.
Was he not doing her a mercy? If left alone she would grow up used and abused by her owner and customers, by ending her misery now he let her preserve her innocence. If there was an afterlife she had surely not committed enough sin to be judged poorly.
"Kostagon zirȳla gīs jorilta isse lyks, se kostagon Arrax mōrys zirȳla drīje," he prayed. May she rest in peace, and may Arrax judge her fairly.
The blood stained her white dress and Aurion made haste, drawing a pentagram around the candle with her blood, enclosing it with two circles with various glyphs between the spaces. He cut off some strands of her hair and placed them atop the candle, before snapping his fingers, "Perzys," he whispered. Fire.
The glass candle burst awake, and Larra's body evaporated into a mist that swirled and sparkled around the room like stars in the night sky. The colors of the room grew brighter if they were bright and darker if they were dark. The whites of Larra's now-empty dress flew around the room and glowed like the sun, the yellow on Aurion's banner shone like the gold of Aegarax's scales, the blood on the floor turned to flame, and the shadows were so black they looked like holes in the world. The pale flame did not flicker, but stood bright as dragonfire.
Aurion knelt before the candle and closed his eyes. His mind felt as though a million tiny vermin were burrowing into his skull, and through the pain, he looked east for the Orange Shore. He found himself moving more than he expected, with power he never had before with a glass candle, but he could hardly control it. Suddenly he felt the searing heat, passing endless wastes of red parched soil, stone, sand, and red clay, the bones of a dragon from ages gone, and a barren city. The Red Waste, mayhaps. He thought the city was empty, but there were a scattered few men strewn about, wearing the garb of the horse lords. A trace of silver caught his eye, and he watched a young girl wrapped in a white lion pelt as she slept, her silver-gold hair shrouding her features. There were riders in the distance, but this was of no interest to him. He heard what almost sounded like a dragon hatchling, but pushed the thought away. All the dragons were dead, he remembered.
He pushed his mind to look slightly north and west and was thrust further than he could imagine, until he was staring into the snow where a wall of ice stood, taller than in his dreams. About three hundred men were ahorse, riding away from the gates holding lanterns as cloaks as black as midnight whirled behind them.
Before he could think he was nudged to the east a minuscule amount, gaining some semblance of control once more. He recognized the waters of the Rhoyne, and a boy about his age stood atop a ragged single-masted poleboat, his hair dyed light blue like the older man standing beside him.
He was not sure why he saw these visions, and moved his mind to the west once again, trying to find his armies, as this would be faster than any messenger. From the Rhoyne it was only a short trip, but once more he found himself in an unfamiliar land, a dark island fortress of fused black stone, statues of dragons populating the castle. The architecture was reminiscent of that found in Valyria, though it was comparatively quite barren and lacked all demonstrations of a true dragonlord's wealth. What drew Aurion's attention was the sight on the beach, a burning not unlike those found in Volantis, performed by the Red Priests. The objects aflame were carvings depicting gods of the Andal faith, and before the crowd observing stood a large, sinewy man with fringes of dark hair, a trimmed black beard, and bright blue eyes drawing a flaming longsword. The cherry-red steel of the blade was covered with jade-green flames, yet Aurion could only feel the cold of the night.
Aurion slowly breathed and focused on the Disputed Lands, inching slightly east. He saw the party of the Windblown marching aside the second legion of Volantis. The legion was chanting as they marched, "Hen vēzñāqo naejot vēzendio! Hen vēzñāqo naejot vēzendio! Memēbili, memēbili, memēbili! Memēbili, memēbili, memēbili!"
He saw the Tattered Prince riding at the front, alongside Malaquo Maegyr and his son Colloquo. Aurion even espied the Red Priest Moqorro riding with the men, amusing them with his staff as some played the lyres, others blowing double-piped auloi.
"Pyrys Rhoinari, pyrys Ghiscari! Pyrys Rhoinari, pyrys Ghiscari! Arlī se arlī, arlī se arlī, bartunektogon! Bartunektogon!"
"How long is it again, sellsword?" he heard Malaquo shout down from his elephant to the Tattered Prince among the sounds of the drums beating and elephants stomping.
"At our current speed, it will be but two days and two nights to Myr, Lord Triarch," the founder and captain of the Windblown company responded.
"Let us hope the boy was right and he will be there when he says," Colloquo mused to his father.
"Regardless of who he claims to be, his dragon speaks for itself. Lys will fall, by the blessings of Vhagar," Malauo responded, stating his faith in the god of war. "And place more respect on his name, this is the closest Volantis has been to achieving her deserved glory since the Century of Blood."
"By kowtowing to a foreign dragonlord playing as an Emperor?"
"Volantis is the first daughter of Valyria. As long as the Emperor allows us to maintain our traditions, he will have my allegiance."
"And if he doesn't? Shall we all end as Nyessos Vhassar did?"
"I have met many men with dragonlord blood who were incompetent and indulgent. Aurion is far too quick to make such a blunder." Aurion would have been lying if he said he was not pleased by the compliment made in his absence.
"Mayhaps," Colloquo said, visibly unsatisfied. "But-"
"If one were to look for those defying our traditions, look at your own children, Colloquo," Malaquo interrupted. "Your daughter ran off and seduced the patriarch of the Paenymion family, and the Maegyr family has earned nothing from it but the tarnishing of our name among the slavers."
"Talisa is still young," Colloquo countered. "She can come to her senses yet. And Aurion Varezys can still take leave of his. The blood of the dragon-"
"Elections are upcoming. At long last, we will have two Tigers as Triarchs, I can sense it. He will listen to us then."
"Surely you do not mean me, father? Even Horonno did not dare share the position with his own kin."
"Of course not, you imbecile," Malaquo spat back. "Parquello Vaelaros and Belicho Staegone seem to be the most likely candidates."
"I hear Vogarro's whore has been spreading her name amongst the people."
"Hah!" Malaquo bellowed, drinking his wine. "Not just a woman, but a former whore. The crone has not even her looks to fall upon now. The citizens would sooner elect a child as a Triarch. Or a foreign family, mayhaps a Lannister from the Sunset Kingdoms." One of the few Westerosi families Aurion could name. The others were the Gardeners, Starks, Durrandons, Arryns, Nymeros-Martells, Hoares, and Hightowers. And Greyjoys, since acquainting himself with Euron.
"They'd sooner elect a horse!" Colloquo chuckled.
"A Lannister horse!" Malaquo cackled. The father and son laughed as they drank their wine, until they were drunk and making japes of the Lannisters, as well as countless other Westerosi, secretly being horses. My father never drank with me, he thought.
Once the incoherent quips began, Aurion felt his mind slipping, and he was returned to his chambers. The glass candle dimmed, and Aurion found his sight once more in the room, the colors dulled once more. The blood on the floor had been used up, leaving the carpet etched with merely the outline of burns in the shape of the ritual he had cast.
The spell had been broken, the colors faded and the flying dress slowly came down like a leaf during autumn onto the floor. He opened the door and left, ignoring the confused looks the soldiers gave to the reddened floor and Larra's disappearance.
Aurion rode atop a large palanquin carried by fourteen slaves and passed through the intact city until he reached the gates of the western walls, where the rest of the island sprawled out with beautiful green encircled with beaches filled with white sand and palm trees. Eventually, his escort reached the field where Aegarax slept. He mounted his dragon and flew north to Myr.
Author's Note:
Sorry for the long wait, just got a lot on my plate at this time of year. This isn't abandoned I promise :3
Don't worry, I won't be making a habit of having untranslated High Valyrian. Remember that pretty much all dialogue and internal thoughts of the POV characters are in High Valyrian so far, I only add it in to emphasize certain parts (ie saying "dracarys" to burn a dude is way cooler than saying "dragonfire"). The marching song is basically translated from Farya Faraji's "Apollinaris", as I love the Roman vibes. Listen to the Civil War section of his "Avgvstvs" symphony for Aurion's Valyrian Empire vibes. I had to bs some valyrian words myself (ie bartos/head + unektogon/cut off = bartunektogon/decapitate) and I used multiple sources so one single online translator won't work, but it's not like there are any native valyrian speakers to critique any inaccuracies ¯\_(ツ)_/¯