Chapter 2: The Dornish Ghost

43 AC, private meeting room in the Red Keep, King's Landing

"Together. The blood of the dragon must stand together." Maegor's deep, strong voice was a deathly rumble.

He loomed huge like a beast of war over a map of Westeros and the Free Cities, his shadow cast by the afternoon sun covering the fresh-made, detailed map dotted with the banners of his bannermen and various markers denoting their position regarding the Iron Throne. Regarding him and his rebellious nephews and nieces. Visenya had wanted to move the Conqueror's Painted Table here, to the Red Keep, but Maegor had refused the request by stating the royal castle was still under active construction and damage might come to the artifact the first Lord of the Seven Kingdoms had left. In truth, he remembered his Father was talking to his hated nephews at the moment of his death every time he saw the artifact. He could not bear to see it anymore, and being only aware it was in the same castle as he was didn't feel so much better. Dragonstone suited the Painted Table well enough, he decided, and that became final.

"Yes. We stand together, my son." Visenya, Queen Dowager and mother of the King, clasped her son's huge hand with hers. Her own was calloused from decades of war, but it was still firm with the strength of a dragonlord.

Maegor managed a small, difficult smile. "Mother, the children of my brother ... they have claimed dragons of their own. Even as we speak, the rider of Dreamfyre schemes in my shadow, making promises to the lords of the realm. Plotting to usurp Father's throne."

"Aenys' little boy is dead, my son, and the others are under my watch. Rhaena hides on a rock in the sea. There are no more snakes in the shadows."

"There are many still, watching and hissing, poison dripping from their fangs. Beyond my niece, her mother too, right under our noses. Many are the snakes you cannot see, Mother."

Noting Visenya's confusion, Maegor's expression hardened in frustration and disgust.

"You are getting old, mother. Where is the queen who founded the Kingsguard, who defended the king with her own sword and life?"

As if on cue, the queen who did defend the king from the snakes, Tyanna of Pentos, entered. In charge of the King's itinerary, the former courtesan knew where the king would be at any time of day, and it showed in her current ... attire of splendid Myrish silks. In terms employed by polite society, Tyanna had just enough brightly colored clothing over her pale skin to remind the king she was clothed. Though Maegor's face remained hard, the way he stood up in greeting showed Tyanna's dress was having the desired effect.

"Your Graces." Tyanna could barely perform a proper curtsey, raven-black braids billowing over her shoulders, not due to insufficient training, of course. The problem was her skirt barely has a hem to lift.

"I shall summon for you later. Leave us now, mother."

Slowly did Visenya leave the room, but without a final, poisonous glare at her raven of a gooddaughter, which the Pentoshi returned with only a smile of her own. Whatever goodwill had built up between the two queens during Maegor's healing after his trial by seven soon melted in their acrimony over the years.

"What news do you bring, my queen?" Maegor's face was still hard as stone, but Tyanna could tell when he was expressing curiosity. She had seen patrons with less facial expressions during her time as a courtesan in Pentos.

"Winds of a ghost family returning to our world, my king," Tyanna now had a genuine smile on her face. It was rare that she found news interesting enough, without it being threat to his throne, to report directly to the king.

Maegor had managed a look of confusion despite the permanent scowl on his face.

"Do you remember the stories of the burning tower, back when we were in Pentos?"

Maegor's frown and scowl deepened as he became lost in memories. A lord would fall to his knees in fear, but Tyanna knew her husband much better than most, and approached him with soft, calculated steps, placing a hand on his shoulder as he thought of simpler, happier times, his eyes focused on the small portrait of Pentos on the map. Times without the rigors and trials of staying on a throne in full force. The time she had worked her way into his heart and mind, finding her perch on his shoulder.

"The one that burned down with an entire family of Volantene Old Blood inside? We visited the ruins, have we not?"

"Yes. The old stories claim less than a decade after the Doom, the Keyhold Tower burned down with three entire generations of men from the Kaivram clan. Even today, no one knew why so many of the family even left Volantis in the first place, but all believed there were no survivors. The cream of an entire family, reduced to charred corpses and white ashes."

"They are now back from the grave like wights?" The king's voice turned gruff, his gaze already wandering across the map, losing its previous focus on Pentos.

"I cannot be sure. But just today, a report from my eyes in Dorne has reached me. There had been sightings of a ship flying the Kaivram sigil in Planky Town."

"Are you sure it's not just a look-alike, Tyanna?" Now, his nonchalance melted away, and underneath the ever-present scowl, Maegor was really starting to get angry.

"No, because the captain of the ship sent a letter of complaint to Sunspear by raven. Apparently, she was attacked by pirates on her way along the Dornish coast, pirates she claimed were acting on behalf of a Dornish highborn House that shares the proceeds and provides funding in return."

"And the captain of this Avenging Spirit," Tyanna's lips curved mischievously,"signed her letter with the name Savram Kaivram."

"Has the family truly returned from the grave, then?" Maegor's aura lapsed back into confusion. Conflicting voices clamored in his mind: the part that was king screamed at him to cut the small talk and back to the many tasks he still had at hand, such as finishing the Red Keep or getting a son; but the part that was a rogue and dashing prince who dared to exile himself to Pentos, the carefree boy who had once seeded Alys Harroway and Tyanna side-by-side before a window in view of the charred corpse of the Keyhold Tower just can't help to learn more about something that reminded him of those times.

"Magister families from the Free Cities do take up the name of their maternal ancestors on occasion if they are more prestigious than the paternal ones, and few families are more prestigious than the last non-dragonlord Archonate family, but I cannot tell for sure with this single report. I shall keep you informed of updates, my king." Tyanna gently caressed the fine stubble along Maegor's jawline. The stories and songs spoke true. Even a huge and fierce man, a born warrior like Maegor had an otherworldly beauty to him, simply by virtue of the golden blood of Valyria that ran in his veins. She did not indulge herself too much.

"With your leave, my lord."

A huge hand clasped her shoulder firmly, before pressing her down on the table, with her face looking up. The tokens littered across the map bit into the skin of her back, but the spymaster knew her husband loved to inflict pain. His habits were worse on some days, the days Alys hid in her chambers and left her alone to deal with the king, with the bruises, welts and scars to show. She wondered if she should let the Hightower hag have a taste of their shared husband's wroth to further their bonds as his wives. Compared to those memories she stowed away, the light bleeding that started across her back as Maegor used more and more force marked today as a better day.

"Do you think I was going to just let you go, my silken raven?"

As bloody stripes were cut open across her back, Tyanna and Maegor fucked over Westeros.

43 AC, Planky Town

"Savram!" Paryana beamed and waved her arm vigorously, catching sight of her elder sister on the deck of the Avenging Spirit. Savram's return gesture was less enthusiastic than expected.

As the Whispering Shadow slid into her own docking space, a plank was lowered, which Savram, clad in a beige himation, crossed with brisk but slightly unsteady steps before she was caught up in a bear hug from Paryana, her grimace ignored by her younger sister.

"Easy Paryana, your sister's wounded, and you're pressing on it." From beneath the shadow of the main mast, a black cloak emerged, golden sigils lighting up as they were touched by the sun.

"Wha- How! WHO?!" As soon as Paryana smelled blood from her sister - which she just realized was seeping out of a wound she hugged too tightly - did she fly into a rage. She nearly tore Savram's himation in her haste to take it off and check her injuries. Apparently, her sister was wearing underneath her himation the same shirt from the day she was attacked, as the cuts in the clothing matched her wounds.

"Just some pirates that boarded the Spirit last week. I planned on having you two help me escort the lone survivor to Sunspear." The older girl seemed less proud she took out a pirate boarding party on her own and more embarrassed she got badly wounded in the process,"I'm all right now, the wounds were treated with spirit of wine. I also wrote to Sunspear about the attack on my ship."

"We could do it in your stead. The safe delivery of your next package is of paramount importance to the future of our family." Auridio approached his other great-grandniece silently like a ghost, closely checking her wounds up and down with the empty eye-holes of his mask of gold and emerald, satisfied he found no signs of rotten flesh or infection over all the visible parts of her body,"You are healing fast, Savram, but if you feel you need some more time with your feet on the ground, we could follow your plan before restocking at Planky Town. Before we get on shore leave, though, is the sacrifice still secure after your pirate trouble?"

Savram revealed her teeth in a savage smile at that. "Of course. It was quite useful when the pirates got to the hold it was in, saved me some trouble."

Paryana did not get what her sister was talking about exactly, but obviously the sacrifice for good winds was something fierce and strong enough to injure outlaws with the gall to attack a steel-plated galley. She cannot help but worry a little that the cost of so powerful a sacrifice would lead to too great a strain on her family's recovering finances. She had grown up being constantly reminded of the fact by the very man who had apparently disregarded the same problem for the necessary gift to the gods. Understandable lest the whims of the gods turn so catastrophically on her family again like it did over a hundred years ago, but she believed Father would have told her about such pricey procurement. They had traded ideas and worked out solutions to keep checks and balances together in the past, after all.

"Father, how many honors did the sacrifice cost?"

Savram exchanged a glance with the expressionless witch, as if silently discussing who should answer.

"Very few. This was the result of a hunting mission your sister completed on the outskirts of Mantarys, all costs only generated by keeping it fed until the time of sacrifice." The sun became a little less glaring, just comfortably bright in Paryana's opinion. But as a Volantene born and raised, Paryana's opinion regarding comfortably bright sunshine holds as much water as Northmen opinion on mild snows.

"Mantarys?! The Monster City? In your trial?" Paryana had always wanted to go on her coming-of-age trial, and believed she would have gone on the trial together with her sister. There goes another expectation.

"Exactly," this success appeared to be one Savram was proud of.

"Con ... congrats, sister." Paryana had not gone on her hunting trial to Mantarys that would serve as her mark of adulthood yet, but she heard enough of it from the family members who have. She struggled to imagine how sane gods would enjoy the catch of Mantarys, twisted like the city's people in the fallout of the Doom, but she had learned a few years ago - since she started to be in charge of the Whispering Shadow, to be exact - that the capricious princes and powers residing in the sea were insane and incomprehensible. Maybe Father had found a way to appease their insanity for fast travel across the sea, and that would certainly explain why they needed a predator from Mantarys of all places as an offering to the things beneath Shipbreaker Bay.

"Which was probably connected to why your sister could be injured by random thugs," It was impossible to tell exactly, but Paryana thinks she heard a hint of disapproval in Father's voice,"Tell me Savram, how did you fight them off?"

"They didn't have armor on, so I made quick work of them with my sword," Savram seemed to squirm beneath the empty eye holes in the mask, and judging by how Father's aura became weightier, this was not what he wanted to hear. It still pressed on both sisters, sending shivers down Paryana's spine despite the morning sun.

"If you were wielding your longsword, your back won't be wounded the way it now is," Warmth seemed to drain from their surroundings as the golden runes on Father's black cloak glowed even more brightly, becoming painful to look at. Paryana could hear her own heart beating, roaring, as even the sun seemed to dim and wither in the face of the lord of the Kaivram's wrath. She was surely close to having a panic attack.

"I'm sorry for leaving it in my cabin, and I only had my greatsword at hand when I was ambushed! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please make this stop!" Savram puffed out a misty breath - they were in Dorne, how was this possible? - as she clearly was enduring something far worse than winter's cold. Frost had gathered on the deck around the feet of the wounded girl and her masked elder - the mask that made his magical aura and his voice the only 2 clues to his emotions. Paryana cannot tell what those emotions were, for her brain had shut down in response to the panic she was feeling.

Even faster than how the frost had built up, it was gone. Paryana let out a breath she had not noticed she was holding as the normal warmth of the Dornish sun danced across her skin again.

"Savram ... I cannot protect you from afar if you forget to keep Godsend on your person even once. Keep it on you, always. Hold it like a toy in your sleep, if needs must. Promise me." Auridio's voice softened like iron melting as he reached out a healthy and pink, if somewhat pale hand to tap the longsword on her belt.

"I won't ... I won't forget it again ... I'm sorry ..."

Auridio softly embraced the distant relative he had raised as a daughter, careful not to touch the wounds that had just been reopened. The bitter cold did help stop the bleeding.

"I'm sorry for losing my temper, Savram. Could you forgive me?"

Her sister nodded against the folds of the cloak that silently billowed around her like dark waves, like the shadow their own dragons must cast upon the sea floor when they crossed the waves. But those were not the waves that consumed ships and men; Paryana could see how Father was using the hug to silently heal the wounds Savram took, the sigils on his cloak glowing brighter and darker with a tempo that seemed too much like breathing. It was a long hug, so long Paryana could tell just how badly her sister was wounded, even though some of the wounds were from the skin of her back cracking from the strain of wielding a greatsword. Needlework was something her sister was never good at, and the cuts in her shirt showed the different types of wounds. And her muscles too. Come to think of it, her sister was now an adult fit for marriage, and Paryana silently hoped for a strong good-brother. Not that her sister would agree to marry a weakling, anyway.

"There, that should handle the damage your sister caused." The ghost-like mage quipped as he pulled away from Savram, making Paryana turn red as an apple as she snapped out of idle thoughts,"Now, let us pick up our unwelcome guest and pay the Martells a visit."

"Wouldn't we need to wait for a few days after we put in our request for a meeting to hear our appeals?" The younger girl immediately pointed it out.

"I would assume your sister had already put in that request in her letter of complaint, Paryana. You might have missed that when I ... frosted over. Sorry about my outburst."

"It's ok," Paryana thought about when exactly her sister mentioned that. Wait a moment...

"Savram," she tapped on her sister's shoulder gingerly,"did you remember not to sign your real name?"

Her older sister's grimace got even worse than when her wounds opened under her hug.

"Oh no." She seemed to visibly shrink, as if anticipating another frost attack. Paryana dared not face their family head, but she still hugged her sister protectively.

"Another reason to keep your swords on yourself at all times, then," Auridio's reaction was surprisingly calm, level and not frosty, making the sisters relax and look up in surprise,"In a few weeks' time, all the families old enough to remember ours would hear of our return to public matters. At most, those that ambushed me and your great-great grandfather and so many others of our family at that meeting with House Targaryen all those years ago have a small, useless head start if they learn of this letter. Let them tremble at our alliance with the Targaryens once our comeback is formally announced." Even though she could not see his face, Paryana dared to swear Father was smiling. The sort of smile a father would have when having the interests of the family massively advanced.

"Now, we still have a pirate to hand to our other allies. Bring your longswords, survival kit and spare change with you, I'll take the wagon. The Martells would like to see us - the older generation who remember the Dragonlord, at least. Time for me to introduce the next generation." With that happy note, Auridio enveloped both sisters in a gentle hug, before disappearing underneath the decks of the Whispering Shadow.

"Wait a moment," Hood and mask floated back out the trapdoor toward the lower decks,"Paryana, get your sister a change of clothes. It would not do for her to walk into the house of the sun without being properly dressed."

Trading a glance and a nod, the sisters followed Auridio below deck, then headed towards her cabin and him to the storage hold. Changed into more presentable clothes - she could feel her muscles straining against her sister's shirt - Savram crossed the plank back onto the Avenging Spirit to drag the captive pirate out of his cell, while Paryana began to chant in High Valyrian as the runes on her captain's glove glowed golden. At the chant's end, the Whispering Shadow shook a little as all its oars retracted within its hulls at once with a slight thud before stoppers plugged and sealed the oar holes. With a week ahead of her sister, Savram had already stowed the Avenging Spirit's oars in a similar manner. It was one of many functions that made the steel-plated galleys possible to be crewed just by a lone captain - a lone captain of the Kaivram family, as the patriarch had taken painstaking measures to render the very expensive ships useless in the hands of any other person.

Another set of functions would keep Aerea and Rhaella Targaryen alive until their return from Sunspear. It was used for keeping exotic plants and critters alive under normal conditions, so some adjustments were made to properly house human infants within the device's belly.

A few moments later, the trio of Kaivrams had left their dragonships with their captive in a wagon that moved apparently with its own power. Savram and Paryana pressed their hands on their Valyrian steel longswords - Godsend and Vastation, respectively - nervously as Auridio began calling on people in the streets for their coppers and silvers for "the magic show of the horse-less moving wagon". It was well-received enough and the pirate was gradually surrounded by coins. By the time they left Planky Town proper and got on the path towards Sunspear, the pirate was swimming in more money he had ever seen in his life, not that the Kaivrams planned to remove their captive's blindfold to let him see all the coins as some sort of final jest.

43 AC, Sunspear

"Your Grace, a pleasure to meet you again." A ghost long thought dissipated in the collective memory of House Martell had once again returned to their doorstep. If not for the elderly Princess' handmaiden leading the way to her private chamber, Antyarchon Auridio Kaivram was much more likely to be met with hostility instead of welcome. Some of them - including the Lady of Sunspear now treating with his children - weren't even born when he last came around. To have fuzzy knowledge that the older generations have a very good friend who they keep in touch with letters was quite a different thing from seeing the old friend in person, when the old friend in question was not just obviously very magical, but also the very image of a wraith from man's worst nightmares. Even with his most friendly attitude, first contact with Auridio was rarely not an unsettling affair.

Princess Deria Martell of Dorne was old. Dappled in the afternoon sunshine that filtered through silk curtains which led to the terrace, her skin was mottled and creased, half of her teeth had fallen out, the lustrous black hair she once had thirty years ago was grizzled with age and the whites had set in her eyes. Still, in Auridio's opinion, the Princess had aged well compared to her grandmother - though he had no love for the last Storm King, the "Yellow Toad" epithet he came up with was indeed fitting for Meria Martell - despite now she was so infirm she has left the affairs of state in the hands of her daughter Princess-Regent Morgana Martell. Even the way she turned to look in the direction of his voice seemed painful. But then again, not many were heirs to the blood and fire of Lost Valyria, and fewer still had inherited his family's unique magics that tamed the fire and made it useful for a task as delicate as preserving youthful vitality.

"My friend," she managed at last,"What winds have brought you here? Morgana told me about the letter yesterday, but I want to hear it from you."

"My child was attacked by pirates off your coast, Your Grace. There seems to be more than that, but I have faith in your daughter to handle the matter with wisdom and justice."

"Pirates ..." Deria sighed,"Should Nymeria have burned her ships all those years ago, Auridio? Would pirates from half the world have infested the waters of Dorne, if House Martell maintained a say over its waters?"

"The sharks that come for the wealth of the Narrow Sea could hardly be deterred by just one more leviathan in play. The Velaryons already go on pirate-busting raids every now and then with their great fleet - sometimes they even get help from the dragons - but as we both know the pirates will always return."

Deria laughed - more like tried to, before it deteriorated into a wheezing cough.

"I am about to die."

"I could preserve you as an undead, if you so wish. In your current lifestyle, undead-you could last a decade, more or less."

Deria shook her head slowly but firmly. "No. I shall not become undead. But I do have a dying favor to ask of you."

"I am all ears."

"You are the blood of Old Valyria. Like the Targaryens. Why did you ally with us, back when the Dragonlord invaded our lands? My House ... truly believed you were a secret messenger from King's Landing, the first time we met. Another player that wanted to bring the blood and fire of Valyria to Westeros. Yet your work saved people beyond count by ending the war early." Deria's eyes, already white with cataracts, misted over as she lost herself in memories a generation ago.

An answer to this question? No wonder she never wrote about it in the decades before. Auridio appreciated the Princess keeping this secret for so long.

"Instinct. A premonition - not a dragon dream - that letting Aegon conquer Dorne back then would trigger the end of the world as we know it." Auridio stated flatly,"And I have a vested interest in not allowing the world to end before extracting due vengeance for my family. If that meant I had to play my hand against the rider of Balerion, then so be it." If that meant I had to trust the Martells not to betray me or even all of Volantis to Aegon's wrath, then so be it.

"Do you think Aegon saw through our ruse, in the end? He spent so much time on Dragonstone, after all. Maybe he understood even before coming to the peace celebrations."

Auridio tried to follow whatever the Princess' sightless eyes tried to see, but it was rather difficult when he couldn't see her pupils.

"I never really gave it much thought. We won a lasting peace, and I purchased an extra generation's worth of time with your House's help. Whether Aegon saw through the ruse or not in the end, failed to matter to me."

Deria nodded sagely.

"I admire your attitude, Auridio. Sometimes, I would dream of the day you told us about the plan. The conviction in your voice ..." Deria coughed again,"makes me wonder if it was a just a ruse and not a real threat."

"It had been too long since the Targaryens lived in Essos. They would have been able to tell if they did, but they weren't up to date with strategic ruses and relied too much on bullying all opposition with dragons."

"That much is true."

Two veterans of the First Dornish War shared a hearty chuckle.

"I know this is much to ask of in your current state, Deria," the old mage paused, trying to get his words in order, "but please keep an eye out for your coastal banners. Some of them are getting creative in their quest for more gold."

Deria gave a small nod.

"I have put out bounties for the head of Daren Gargalen. A taint that tarnishes the honor of 'knight', a criminal before the gods."

"Does the Rogue Cock not just manage House Gargalen's spice imports?" Auridio was surprised. He had learned of the man, the former knight, in passing when returning from Fair Isle and purchasing the supplies needed to produce fresh water at Salt Shore. Come to think of it, didn't he learn of Daren from the bounty the town criers were pronouncing?

"My eyes and ears recently confirmed he also manages the House's slave imports," the Princess' lips twisted in disgust, "Of course, Lord Velvet claims the House itself has no part in the slave trade and would assist my men in capturing his son."

"I could wring more honesty from a Bravossi pawnbroker." Slavery, like many other kinds of cold trade, was family business. Lord Velvet clearly wants to buy his own head with that of his son.

"And yet this is what I must deal with. Events like this ... make it seem like we didn't win the war at all. Should it not be defeat that makes the other houses defy our rule? Make them trespass the laws of the gods in their greed?"

Auridio repressed an urge to introduce the Princess to the gods of the Rhoynar. He did not consider her to be more than a lukewarm adherent of the Faith, but it would go against his good sense to provoke an old lady and a friend with talk of conversion to gods so distant they might as well be foreign. The Targaryens may have left Essos for nigh two centuries, but House Nymeros Martell was even further gone, even further away from the clan of Nymeria they claimed descent from, even further away from the power that had matched the blood and fire mages that came before the Kaivram family. Had they not lost it, three dragons they could defeat alone, without his interference.

"Does it not trouble you that I too practiced slavery once upon a time?" The mage decided it was wiser to change the topic.

"It does," The sight of Deria's slow nod caused a phantom pain in Auridio's neck, "But for your efforts, House Martell recognizes an exception. You are the one who secured victory and twenty years of peace against the Dragonlord: may the Seven judge you lightly for the past sin of slavery in light of your atonements. Our family prays for your soul."

Auridio tried very hard not to laugh at his friend's words of comfort. If his soul ended up in the judgement of the Seven, he doubted he'd get anything besides a special eighth level of hell which holds all the tortures of the previous seven. A good thing then, that he follows the gods of Lost Valyria.

"My deepest gratitude. I maintain an unconsecrated ānogrion in honor of your House and our alliance in Volantis."

"Unconsecrated?" The specification caught the Princess' interest.

"Consecrating an ānogrion involves sacrificing one's blood relations. But I know enough of Dornish customs to know this usually is not a sign of friendship and alliance here."

Auridio's matter-of-fact tone still made Deria's face scrunch up.

"Keeping it unconsecrated would sure help our alliance more," she agreed.

The two old people sat in silence after that, listening to the waves in the distance that gently caressed the shoreline. Auridio reached out a leathery palm and clasped his hand with Deria's, and as the sun slowly set, the glow of the sigils on his cloak dimmed too.

"Come to think of it, there is one more favor I want to ask of you, Deria." After he was sure the Princess was asleep, the mage spoke the words. Satisfied that he received no reaction, he got up and left, with a small nod and handshake for the handmaiden standing watch over her liege. On the morrow, both their memories of this afternoon would fade to the point where they remembered he was here and had a friendly conversation with the Princess.

There was a literal witch in King Maegor's employ, and until he got the chance to gauge her talents, Auridio could never be too careful.

AN:

Yes, Auridio is very old. He is old enough to remember the Doom of Valyria as news instead of history, which makes him at least 150 years old by the events of the story proper. To clarify, he is Savram and Paryana's great-great-grand-uncle, or the younger brother of their great-great-grandfather if that helps understanding. It is way too clumsy for daily life, so they (and most of the Kaivram family) just call him Father.

I don't think my vocabulary allows me to properly describe his pride for living so many years, not to mention he actually did a lot of things straight out of the Age of Myths in this lifetime. Not just feats of magic - as noted in the chapter, the two youngest active members of the Kaivram family both have a Valyrian steel sword of their own. It has something to do with them being tasked sailing the seas alone, but on the other hand, more importantly, their family could afford to lose both swords. Auridio does charge a fee for his services after the burning of the Keyhold Tower to rebuild the fortune of his family, and this income was ridiculously high.

No, the Kaivram family are explicitly not dragonlords. Reasons will be given in later chapters, including their further history. They did come on stage in Valyria only after the wars with the Rhoynar, let me put that right here that just in case my wording in the story proper was too indirect. I personally am satisfied with the backstory I gave for their rise less than seven centuries ago to become one of the most powerful families in the Freehold, but I will let you be the judge when I update that. Next chapter would touch on it, but nothing specific, since it is mainly about something else: Auridio is confident he could ally with Maegor the Kinslayer of all people. Let us see how that meeting goes in Chapter 3 as Auridio and Paryana travel to King's Landing.

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