The Ebon Prince

Sixth Moon, 256 AC

The taste of the delicious Tyroshi wine danced across his tongue, the expressive flavor still prominent despite being his drink of choice for the last two moons. Men laughed and women danced, betraying the opposite attitude you'd think a recently sieged city should have.

Just as he'd expected, it hadn't taken much effort at all to gain the smallfolk's support after their victory. Silvertongue was already prominent in the city, diluting any thoughts of foreign invaders. The sixty day celebration– organized by yours truly, did more than enough to gain support amongst the commoners.

It made Xhobar yearn for his return to the Summer Island even more. Despite enjoying his exile quite a bit, he knew his time away from home would come to an end sooner or later. His involvement with the Band of Nine and subsequently their march westward had been a welcome detour, but he hadn't forgotten his true goal.

Alas, the fierce Summer blood still coursed through his veins, and his people weren't ones to turn down a party. He'd be surprised if the children he'd conceived over the past sixty days numbered less than the thirties. He'd been more than honored to introduce the foreign women to the Summer ways of bedding.

What surprised him the most was the endurance of the Tyroshi people. The Ebon Prince's time both in whorehouses as well as the Temple of Love itself had hardened his skills greatly. Although they were a ways away from matching his attitude, the Tyroshi people, who didn't share the beliefs of the Fertile Lady like his Summer kin, hadn't disappointed him as he'd expected.

Once he reclaimed his princely title, the gregarious prince would surely pay the city another visit. His exile had taught him many things, and it was about time his people abandoned their isolationist ways. Integrating his already controlled portions of the Disputed Lands with his eventual control over Omburu would grant him power unopposed, even by the other two Greater Isles.

That was a plan for later, however. For the present, he and his unlikely allies would continue their march west. Silvertongue seemed to be stopping here, the current city they resided in being his only ambition. He'd still lend them a plethora of ships, as well as a resting point between the Tree of Crowns and the Stepstone islands, but his war efforts had come to an end.

Xhobar cared little about the turn of events. The man had claimed his city and accomplished his goals. His drive towards their cause had been fulfilled. He didn't blame the man, either. He wasn't dumb enough to think this alliance would last a lifetime. Every single person of their group was using the others, himself included.

Even now, a small divide had sprung. The merchant-turned-prince had gotten lucky, he'd been the only one with eyes of Tyrosh out of the nine of them, and thus gained the city without much resistance. The same could not be said about the rest of them.

Conflicts had already risen between the Old Mother and Samaaro Saan over the eventual conquest of the Stepstones. Being pirates, they both saw the importance of the islands between the two continents and wanted it for themselves.

The Monstrous wanted the entire western continent for his own, with Spotted Tom and the Bad Apple promised lands after its conquest. As of now, there'd been little protest regarding the arrangement, but Xhobar was sure it'd been because of the mountainous man they'd have to oppose rather than a lack of ambition.

With the majority of their party's eyes set elsewhere, the Lord of Battles and Nine Eyes debated on how their lands in Essos would be dealt. Nine Eyes wanted the entirety of it, proposing the conquest and gifting of Myr to the Lord of Battles after their journey west.

The famed sellword knew better than that, though. In that situation, he'd be the only one without lands of his own, and thus little power to hold the rival captain to his word. Xhobar had no doubt that the man would turn his eyes to Myr and the rest of the Free Cities, but a man with his ambition would surely keep the cities for himself.

And of course, Xhobar himself was most invested in the Summer Islands. His homeland of Omburu was his goal at the moment, but that was just a stepping stone for something greater. It'd been thousands of years since the hundreds of Summer Isles were under one rule, and he'd be the one to fix that dilemma.

Xhobar's musing was cut short by the woman making her way next to him. A plethora of bright colors danced across the fabric draped across her slight body, weaving different symbols and patterns. A lush mane of pink sat atop her head— dyed much like the other Tyroshi natives nearby. Her skin was pale, aside from the brushes of red across her cheeks, signifying she'd been drinking.

She took a seat next to him, grabbing the wine from his hand and sipping from it. The Summer Prince couldn't fight the grin forming on his face. Feisty women were always his favorite. She took a few more sips from his drink before finally turning her attention to him, her sky blue eyes meeting his dark brown.

"I'm supposed to be delivering a message to you," she began, her voice slurred from the alcohol she'd drunk throughout the night. The yearning for another sip of wine was plastered across her face, yet she continued on.

"But I'd rather sit here and party. I hear you're the reason behind the last two moons," she couldn't fight her impulses this time, downing the remaining wine from his cup. "I'd love to pay my respects for your efforts, but as I said I have a message to deliver." She pulled a sealed letter from underneath her clothes, the sigil of the new Archon of Tyrosh displayed neatly on the center.

Xhobar eyed the letter for a second or two, waiting for any information the woman could give, but decided it was useless when the pink mistress's eyes started to wander towards the nearest drink. He grabbed the letter from her hands, opening it within the same movement.

The letter was short and on the point. Silvertongue wanted all of The Nine to meet up in his palace. For what he hadn't said, but it was clearly something of at least a decent amount of importance. He knew not to disturb his time with anything less than that.

Xhobar rose from where he'd been seated, making his exit from the tavern he'd chosen for the night. Men and women alike toasted him as he passed, bringing a smile to his face.

The trip to the new Archon's palace took longer than expected, especially considering how close he'd been. Many people stopped his horse to ask for a numerous amount of things, whether it be his preferred choice of wine or a request to sponsor their local tavern for the next night of festivities. Normally he'd sulk in the attention he received, having quite a big ego, but it'd started to annoy him. Yes he enjoyed his festivities, but he was still a prince.

The entrance to Silvertongue's palace was heavily guarded, with speared guards and even a few Golden Company members placated near the metal door— said door still sporting a dent from the mass of the Monstrous.

He passed without incident, his reputation and different appearance from that of all the other Essosi natives serving as a clear symbol for who he was.

Entering the former merchant's throne room saw that he was the last of The Nine to arrive, causing the Summer Prince to laugh to himself. He'd even arrived later than Spotted Tom?

Xhobar took in the sight before him. Sat atop the Tyroshi throne sat Silvertongue, the giant Maelys standing to his right. The remaining members of The Nine sat along chairs placed slightly behind the throne, an empty seat to the very left showcasing where he'd be seated.

Standing in the center of the throne room were five women. All were of different sizes but shared a few central similarities; pale skin, blonde hair, and blue or purple eyes. Xhobar wondered whose type of women they were, but the fierce gaze of The Monstrous upon them answered his question quickly.

Finally, the object that caught his eyes the most was something he'd almost dismissed at first glance. Placed atop a jeweled cushioned stand was a scaled black egg. He'd heard rumors of the dragons of the past, and pieced the situation before him together in his head.

The other eight paid him little mind as he made his way to his seat. Upon sitting Silvertongue began speaking, his voice showcasing a hint of authority the man hadn't had prior to the taking of Tyrosh.

"Now that all of the members of our 'council' have arrived, I'll explain the situation," Silvertongue rose from his throne, grasping the egg that'd been placed behind it. Xhobar saw Maelys' face twitch ever so slightly, but chose to ignore it.

"As you can all see, within my grasp is an egg. It isn't just any egg, however. No, it is a dragon egg, something the old Archon had mistaken for a mere decoration," he caressed the egg with his hand, his fingers lingering across its scaly surface. "I do not blame him for thinking as such. See, this egg is cold as stone, and shows no signs of possessing even a small lizard, let alone the most powerful creature in history."

Silvertongue walked to Maelys, handing the giant the egg— which the man held within a singular palm. "But we have come to correct that worthless Archon's mistakes. Maelys Blackfyre possesses the blood of the dragon, his western ancestors riding atop said beasts just a little over a century ago."

The Tyroshi Archon walked down to where the women had been standing, pacing before and behind them. "But he can't release the mighty beast from its stone prison without kin, which is few and far. So, Maelys came to me, Archon Alequo Adarys of Tyrosh, for help." He stopped his pacing in front of the tallest women there, her pale blonde hair separated in long braids.

"If you women truly possess the blood of Old Valyria I know not," a smile crept across his face, one filled with malice and greed. If he hadn't seen it before, Xhobar would've felt unsettled by it. "But that is why I have summoned you here tonight. Maelys only asked me for a singular Valyrian woman, one which would bear his child, but I suggested something better."

The guards that had been stationed outside the throne room moved inside, their spears serving as a blockade for the exit. "As a showing of my gratitude towards Maelys Blackfyre and the Golden Company, I asked the question 'why one?' If he needs kin then he'd get them, but why waste time on one woman when you could have multiple? Monogamy is a smallfolk's game."

The women's eyes shifted towards Maelys, taking in his rather unsettling appearance. Silvertongue made his way back to his throne, smile still plastered across his face. "I care not for bastards or legitimacy, but my giant companion here does, so the nine of you will be marrying him and producing the kin he needs."

He motioned towards the guard placed in front of the exit, then shifted his gaze to another door— no doubt leading to a bedroom. The guards' formation split to welcome a robed man, his hair white and thin. There was little doubt in Xhobar's mind that he'd be the one conducting the marriage.

Silvertongue's smile grew in size, causing it to become even more sinister. "And although it pains me to say, you ladies don't have much of a choice." The fought the laugh that almost broke through his voice, directing his smiling face towards the giant next to him.

The women broke into cries and screams, but none of them moved to flee. The guards as well as the eight behind Silvertongue served as more than enough of a repellent to such thoughts. Xhobar rolled his eyes. Although he enjoyed the scene before him, was he truly summoned just to play the role of a bodyguard?

The elderly man from before made his way to the space before the throne, kneeling in Silvertongue's gaze. After getting the signal to stand, he turned his attention to the man next to the prince, the dislike towards the man's appearance clear in his face.

He hadn't spoken of such dislike, he was smart enough to know that was a deathwish. After the two locked eyes for a second, he turned towards the women and began speaking. His loud and clear voice displayed none of the age that his body carried.

"Greetings men, ladies, and Archon. I am Priest Joridos, and I will be conducting the marriage between one Maelys Blackfyre and the five women standing before me. Ladies, may you please tell me your name, so that the gods can view this marriage with sincerity and truthfulness?

Xhobar wanted to tune the women's names out, but something in his body told him that they'd be important in the future. To what extent that importance would stretch he knew not, but this would certainly be a moment in history.

The first was the women on the far left. She was the second shortest and a bit on the rotund side, but she still bore the beauty Valyrian women were rumored to have. Her voice came out in a little above a whisper, she'd been the most vocally about his dismay prior to now.

Finally after what appeared to be an internal struggle, she spoke. "Nessara, Priest Joridos." She answered, her gaze locked onto the floor below. The priest nodded before turning to the woman to her right.

This woman was the total opposite of the woman before. She was tall and lanky, her body thin and her arms thinner. Her hair was long and loose, clearly she didn't maintain it much if at all. "Wynira." She spoke, her deeper voice almost causing Xhobar to laugh at the contrast.

The priest nodded to her then moved along. Next was a woman Xhobar could only explain as average. Her Valyrian features were the only thing that made her stand out. Placed among similarly appearing women made her shrink in comparison. Even the rotund woman looked better.

"Ilissa, Priest Joridos." She spoke. Even her voice was painfully average. The priest seemed to mirror Xhobar's own thoughts and moved on to the next— the women with the braids, that Silvertongue had stopped before earlier.

She was clearly the best looking one. She was tall, but not like Wynira. Even from his seat he could see the compact muscles along her arms. Her gaze didn't falter as she stored directly at Maelys, not even acknowledging the priest. Unlike the other women, jewels and colored fabric decorated her body, signaling she'd been well off before this, maybe even a noble woman.

"My type of woman." Nine Eyes jested from beside him. Maelys' purple eyes fixated on the sellsword, causing him to cut his opinions short.

"Rhaenys Blackfyre." She spoke. Xhobar fought the gasp that threatened to leave his mouth. Nine Eyes didn't. Luckily, Maelys' eyes had darted to the woman, since she spoke. One pair of purple eyes locked with another.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was truly only a couple of seconds, Maelys' deep, rough voice filled the throne room. It wasn't the fact that he spoke that startled Xhobar— no, Maelys the Monstrous was laughing.

"The gods play tricks on me," Maelys began, his voice betraying none of the joy that typically followed one who'd just finished laughing. "First the dragon egg, and now a cousin I'd forgotten long ago? How hadn't I noticed?"

"I hear news that you killed my brother, Maelys." Rhaenys spoke, her voice just as fierce as the mentioned man.

"I did." Maelys answered, doubt or regret non-existent in his voice. Rhaenys remained silent, glancing towards the priest to continue.

Priest Joridos turned his gaze towards the last women, who'd been frantically looking for an escape the entire time. "Orena." She spoke quickly, desperate to avoid the gaze of her soon-to-be husband. Luckily for her, Maelys' eyes still hadn't left the figure of his cousin.

A smile broke across Xhobar's face. Was Essos always this interesting? How had he and his kin been missing out on the fun for so long? If he hadn't been set before this, the current events made sure of such. After his conquest of the Summer Isles, the Ebon Prince would definitely be making his return to the eastern continent.

"I come as a voice to the gods old and new," Priest Joridos began, his voice regaining the power it had prior to the Blackfyres' interaction. "Before me begins a union that shall last from life and death. Nessara, Wynira, Ilissa, Rhaenys Blackfyre, and Orena, I hereby pronounce you wed to one Maelys Blackfyre. May your love bring forth faithful servants to the gods."

Applause filled the throne room, applause from only one man. "Thank you, Priest Joridos," Silvertongue began. He signaled to the guards, who made their way towards the bedroom door opposite the throne entrance. He turned to Maelys, who still hadn't looked away from Rhaenys. "Now ladies, we should all know there is no proper wedding without bedding! I have prepared the room for you, as well as a tea to boost fertility. Get along, you have Blackfyres to make!"

Much like his previous statements, these were orders and not suggestions. The speared guards closed in to the women, forcing them to the bedroom. Shortly after they made their way to Maelys. They didn't raise their spears even the slightest as they approached the man, fearing the giant's reaction to such movements. Thankfully, Maelys followed the women on his own, saving Silvertongue the task of replacing guards.

"What a show!" Nine Eyes yelled out, the threatening aura of Maelys no longer keeping him silent. "I don't have the 'blood of the dragon' or any of that shit, but I'd love a similar marriage. What do you say, Silvertonue? Got any more pretty ladies?"

The Tyroshi Archon paid the sellsword little mind. "Find your own whores, Nine Eyes." he spat. It appeared Maelys had him on his best behavior as well.

Xhobar rose from his seat, making his way towards the exit. "Tonight marks the end of the Sixty Days of Festivity, which means my work here is done. It won't be long until Maelys hatches his dragon and continues west. Until then, I'll be preparing my men. I have my own ambitions to attend to."

His sentiments were matched by that of his companions, who rose from their seats and exited along with him. He wasn't lying about preparing his men, but the reason hadn't been what he said. The Golden Company were loyal and fierce. Adding a dragon on top of that, as well as a potential continent's worth of men would secure Maelys as one of if not the most powerful man in the world.

He was considered an ally at the moment, but he wasn't nearly dumb enough to believe that'd last forever. He had preparations to make, even if it meant betraying his 'allies' earlier than he intended.

Yes, Maelys may soon have a dragon, but what's a dragon's fire to the heat of the summer sun?

The journey to the docks was quick, or maybe it seemed as such since he was deep in thought. He'd be returning home much sooner than he planned, but all was well.

His ship was on the rough sea waters before morning rose, accompanied by the men he'd taken to Tyrosh. He may be in exile, but he was still a prince— a prince with connections. His numbers weren't great enough for Omburu, so one of the smaller islands would do.

His pen danced across the paper with unmatched speed as he finally wrote in his native language for the first time in years. He wondered how his father would react to the sudden letter.