Volantis
Some time after the Dothraki Horde burned: Part I
The Arryn woman had taken to passing time by roaming the palatial Rahl estate. It was so different from her home, from any of the castles or towns or cities that she had traveled the past few years. Volantis was foreign in nearly every way and the short amount of time spent here had done little to make it any more familiar. The haze of smoke, of burnt flesh - horse and man, still lingered in the oppressively hot air. Even the Volantenes had seemed bothered by it, if only briefly. From pirates to a Dothraki horde, to watching two massive dragons shadow the city in departure, Volantis kept surprising her. The great beasts and their riders’ departure, she eventually learned, was to where they were supposed to be. She had watched them disappear into the smokey sky and wished that she could join them. How cool and refreshing the air must feel, at that height and speed. How wonderful to just be somewhere else.
But...But Volantis was not all that bad, not to Sharra at least. Not for the moments that she caught herself smiling, for what felt like the first time in ages. Artys still moped about, though he was less sour with each new day and treatment of their hosts. It made it more bearable for her, there was no love lost nor gained, at least.
In the quiet of the morning, as she walked quietly through a courtyard, the din of a waking city barely audible from behind thick walls, Sharra found herself blushing at the thought of finally asking to accompany Aster to the City proper. If or when his duties allowed, she quickly reminded herself. Silently she replayed the conversation in her head until she felt confident that she would get the words out without pause or hesitation.
Her other concern, what to do about the Rahl’s other guest, that was a thought she pushed aside. It had been nearly two years ago and certainly it was possible that the man’s wife had died. Or that she was simply incorrect in her remembrance of House Harroway. But it pricked and prodded at her til she was certain that Damon Harroway in fact had a wife back home in Harrenhal. At least, he had when they had visited. She had yet to bring it up to Artys who had barely deigned to notice anyone at Harrenhal beyond the pretty slip of a girl, Jeyne.
She had been happy to be out of the Westeros-styled dress, but it was difficult to get used to the bareness of Volantene fashion. Sharra fidgeted, as she paused to sit near a small pond, her hands tracing over her arms, though at least the neckline was high and clasped through with large golden necklaces. Somehow, they had found nearly a wardrobe’s worth of pale blue dresses, some nearly white, others a color that would have matched the Eyrie’s summer sky. She dipped her fingers into the water, not as cool as she wanted nor as warm as she expected. Lost in her thoughts, she did not notice when she was no longer alone.
No, not alone. Damon leaned against one of the pillars that supported the slightly overhanging balcony above him. The manse, a manor of a house that would be the equal of any in Westeros, was built to cope with the heat of the southern region. The air that coursed through the halls tugged at the white shirt that was loose under his leather tunic. A study bit of tailoring that glinted with hints of wealth in silver and gold embroidery. It was how Damon liked to show his wealth. Hints, well made over flashy. It was the flashy stuff that proclaimed you had something to steal, that something would be made of mostly gilt rather than sturdy steel. Certainty in what could be born.
Something he lacked with Sharra Arryn. The woman was far more keen than Artys. The lad being more of a morose boy, much like his nephew Elmo. A boy more interested in books and his own gloom. Crossing the paths, he stood behind the woman and appreciated her beauty. Her form was lovely and he felt a pang of desire towards her. It was a shame his pirates, when they had been his pirates, hadn’t come across her ship when they were prowling the sea. She would have been a prize and an Arryn? He would have had a claim to that Lord Paramount seat. Power, more than his father and elder brother possessed.
“My Lady Arryn, I hope I did not startle you." The roguish smile that lit the green eyes and broke across the scarred face.
“I was only admiring the beauty that dwells within Volantis. Truly, is it not a wondrous place." He studied the pond with its rippling surface.
“Will you do me the honor of walking with me, my lady?" His arm was offered towards the woman with a bow that would put any gallant knight to shame.
“Tell me how your travels have fared?" Her eyes darted upwards and widened at the interruption. Damon Harroway, think his name and he appears? Uncomfortably, she placed a docile and pleasantly meaningless smile across her reddened face at being caught unawares.
“My Lord Damon. Our host’s estate is marvelous in a city such as this." She side-stepped any untoward comment and reluctantly tose to place a delicate hand atop his arm, barely touching. Demure, meek, unquestionable in her motives.
Softly she sighed at the thought of their travels again.
“For an unintended destination, our travels have been better of late." A few steps in silence and she at last offered in return,
“And you, my Lord, I hope your time with our generous hosts has been favorable as well? Or do you miss the Riverlands?" What could he know of her beyond her name, few seemed to know much of anything beyond that of her. The whispers and rumors of just what had occurred in the Vale, of betrayal and sin and royal justice that had upended her entire world.
A deep chuckle came from the corned second son of House Harroway. Here he was reaping rewards and gaining a foothold outside of his family’s influence. A wife of the Rahl’s family would do his image good in Essos and put him in good standing with the Triarch of Volantis he hoped. From there he would find a good harbor for his ship. His lovely,
honest ships. Not a lout on them with loose lips and a less than proper skill with a weapon. He had seen to carefully shaping his crew for his flagship, the ‘
Lady Melrose'. The name of his lady love he told some, to others it was his dear mother, or that it was a lost childhood friend killed by Gargon the Gross. In truth, the ship was nothing more than a ship to Damon. He put more effort into it as it was his personal ship. Fast and quick to dance across the waves with him and with a crew that he had handpicked.
Again.
“Indeed their estate is." He let the compliment slide off her shield and drew her on a walk through the gardens with slow easy steps. Not leading her away from the public eye, but not allowing any near. A private word did not require eavesdroppers.
“My time here seems extended and I find myself glad of it. The Riverlands can be a bit crowded even in Harrenhal with two uncles, their children, and my father, brothers and their children." He winked at Sharra with a sea man’s weathered eye.
“Though with Alys married to Maegor, and my other sisters looking for prospects of their own… Perhaps I shall bring one to Volantis?" He had thought about it, though the ‘sister’ he would bring would be nothing more than a silver-haired whore to trade for more of a foothold and to use as a spy. Not that the Lady Sharra needed to know such.
“So will you be attending the ceremony? Apparently I am to take a wife." Best to strike the blow while they were out of hearing. He could craft his lie and be done with it. Already he had sent word with one of his ship and most closed mouthed people, namely the sort that was good at carrying messages. Soon, Minisa would be on a ship and that son of his would stay in Harrenhal. If the woman had an accident at sea? Well, he had produced the required heir on his end, he could take time making a spare with the Rahl sister.
She could at least sympathize with what it felt like to live in crowded halls. Though, she thought with disbelief, it would take a far larger family to make the halls of Harrenhal feel crowded to most. Sharra mulled over his words and tried to hide any reaction. She had become quite good at that, at least, a blank face to give away little. So what if others found her aloof or cold. At least she was spared the awkwardness. Except for Damon Harroway now, who’s attention on her grew more unwelcome the more he shared.
“How thoughtful of you, to think on your sister’s matches. Your father must appreciate your help managing these matters." Her eyes glanced around, others milled but none drew close enough to hear and she was certain her escort knew that. Her discomfort grew, she let her free arm drop to her side, extended enough to brush her fingers over flowers as they passed.
“Take a wife?" The young falcon struggled for appropriate words that would give her reason to get away. An error already in losing grasp of her tongue for that fleeting moment.
“I had not known, or I had thought..." Her lips pressed together tightly before smoothing once again.
“Apologies, what I mean to say is what wondrous news for you, my lord. My nephew and I would be honored to attend, of course." “That I was married?" The man gave a twist to his lips that was little less than a scoff.
“Minisa Butterwell and I were never suited to one another. A wife my father had picked and… my brother had favored." Had, past tense. So the games would begin and Damon hoped to play them to his advantage. Though there was no lie there, he had seen Jon give Minisa’s favoring glances. Desire? Perhaps. That the man could be so devout and yet long for women other than his wife. A wife that much as he styled his own, let her wiles wander to another that was not her lawful husband.
“Alas, a great many things can happen in a short frame of time. I have had trusted news that she fell ill and passed. A widower, though I might have been since our wedding. You, as the kin of a Lord Paramount, must understand the needs of rank and the privileges we garner?" He gave a sigh.
“Well it is as it is, and I have no wish to let my father pick another wife for me that will scorn my love of salt and sea, for something more pious."As if many marriages were of men and women suited to one another, no, such was not their place. At least she had been spared so far the indignity and awkwardness of it all. The Maiden, wasn’t she? Whether it was said as a cruel jest or some lofty ideal.
Still, her face stayed reddened not just from heat but continued embarrassment at the slip of her tongue. And now, what could she possibly offer to a man who seemed wholly unperturbed by the death of a woman he was sworn to.
“Should I find a sept, I will light a candle for Lady Minisa’s passing, and for you that the Crone will guide you to a true match." Something remained unsettled within her, though she was lost as to pinpointing it. A silly exercise, and one that she should not pursue, it mattered little to her own situation.
“You are a man of the sea though, my lord. Tell me, do you think we will find passage soon to Pentos? Our hosts are kind but Artys has business to attend to and we have been gone from the Vale for so long now." Sharra spoke the words but felt little longing of her own to return to the Eyrie. What else was she to do though, Artys would return, likely wed, and she would again return to the shadows.
The cool shadows of the gardens within his home were a favorite retreat of Aster. The calm cool meticulously plotted oasis had been a favorite since he was young. He and his siblings knew all the little hiding places which was where he was currently observing Sharra and Damon. He had every intention of revealing himself when it had just been Sharra but now he watched the interaction between the two. Not hearing the conversation was irritating but he did watch the faces and the reactions of those who had not realized they were being watched. Thankfully his mother had made her spies, which included her children, learn to read lips as well as come up with hand gestures that were a language unto themselves. Sometimes he marveled at how brilliant his mother really was.
Time to interrupt. Sharra looks like she could use a rescue. Quietly, slowly and softly Aster climbed out of the shadowed recess of the garden making his way to Sharra and Damon. Smiling he swiftly ran over the pieces of conversation that he had been able to read. The words didn’t bother him as much as the expressions and the words. He found that he enjoyed watching the Westerosi peoples, probably because they were not connected enough to realize that they had walked into a house that specialized in spying. His family was the equivalent of Master of Whispers to the King across the narrow sea. Riss would just be starting his tutelage with mother and learning what the rest of the family did.
Striding up to Damon and Sharra and greeting Damon with a polite acknowledgement,
“Lord Damon," but bowing his head to Sharra with a private smile all for her, Aster greeted her. His gray eyes sparkled and his deep dimple flashed.
“Good morrow gevie mēre1. How was your night?"At the mention of lighting a candle for his ‘dearly departed wife’, Damon maintain a composed look though he wanted to smile. He doubted that Sharra Arryn bought the story completely but he could hope this would lead her down the path of thought he desired. Going to answer, he gave a slight frown as the young Rahl, Aster, interrupted. That he had approached so suddenly and seemed to favor the Arryn was troubling. Still the captain answered with the ease of continuing an interesting conversation.
“I think it is possible and would be more so if one was not adverse to travelling overland and the risks therein. If you were to take boat from Pentos, so to say? I have no reason myself to rush home, but that route would be clear of the Stepstones. As for going through them? It will rely on how fed up the Dornish and the Three Cities will be of the vermin soon."Her hand that had barely rested upon the riverlander’s arm slipped away suddenly at Aster’s entrance. Sharra, ever appreciative at how easily they all switched to the common tongue for their benefit, had yet to ask what his greeting meant. Her mouth formed words too slowly, her tongue lagged at the polite thing to say. At least she could be glad for Damon to fill the silence, her awkwardness shifted to fretting about their conversation now revealed.
“It seems there is no path home but to wait longer." She hoped the relief in her voice was read as one wanting to avoid another brush with piracy, but the crimson that flushed her neck worked hard to betray her.
“Lord Aster, a pleasure to see you this morning." Sharra offered, blue eyes briefly meeting his.
“My nephew has been eager for news from the Vale or of the conflict at sea calming. Perhaps he will be luckier with the first." Her fingers fidgeted at the side, playing with the loose layers of fabric that hung from her waist.
“I had a thought to accompany him, but he worried for my safety. Your gardens are a welcome diversion though." Smiling Aster responded to Sharra.
"It pleases me that you, Lady Sharra, share my view on a most pleasant diversion that every generation of Rahl’s has improved upon." He was normally quiet and didn't speak much because he found it wasn't needed often. Rather he'd become accustomed to not having to speak to get his point across. He wasn't austere, far from it, rather just oddly expressive and understood easily when he wanted to be.
However Sharra was an interesting enigma. She was beautiful and intelligent. His mother had commented on the fact. Often. It wasn't like the man was blind or deaf. Just willing to take it as slow as she seemed to need.
"We have received word from Westeros. It seems rather more of the ramblings of a mad man than facts. Aegon was killed in a riot of people that claimed to be working in the name of the Faith. Aneys collapsed and is dead. Heartbreak some say. There were whispers about some priestess of R'hllor being directed to some sort of ritual in the Westerlands. Finally Maegor was crowned king and the Faith are against him. It sounds too much like the ranting of a mad man to me." His deep voice turned over the words like dark rich velvet.
Damon listened with one polite ear. He did not approve of the news he was hearing, it proved too much that the Rahls were indeed the information gatherers who had taken his ships and hamstrung his own privateering. Yet, if the Realm of his birth was in chaos? All the better that his father and elder brother might leave Harrenhal to him. A man could rise far if they were smart and with the alliance with the Rahls? If everything went well, he could use the connection to bolster her strength under Maegor. There was little doubt there the man had seized the Throne. Damon personally thought that the younger Targaryen had been a better fit for the throne from the start. A decisive hand to hold together the kingdom his father had made. Aenys had been too soft, of course he had sired plenty of children, but such a thing was the domain of womankind. If they lacked the ability? Who was to blame a man for taking another wife better suited to him. Damon himself was following that example.
“It does not sound so mad." Damon interjected his gaze seeming to drift across the gardens.
“The Faith has been on edge since Maegor took my sister as his wife and the King married his son and daughter. That there are those who took the Faith of the Realm into their own hands… Fanatics tend to get aggressive and this is most likely nothing but a corrupt Septon and his gaggle of small folk. The lords will stay silent if Balerion once again crouches behind the Throne."Her vision narrowed, black and fuzzy, a hand to her abdomen, her legs weak. Damon was flippant, but it was heavy news to hear. What would they return home to? How would her brother react? They had only held their position for a scant few years. Did it even matter to her?
“I..." She stammered for a moment before her vision cleared and she took a deep breath.
“I think I would like to sit for a little while, and break my fast. I was too eager to be out in this heat still, I’m sorry, my lords." They retired to a large room with a vaulted ceiling and a large woven rotating device that spun drawing a breeze through the room. The room was quite cool due to the strategically placed cuts in the ceiling that allowed light in and heat to escape. The view was spectacular and open fully to a shaded balcony that looked over from a high height as if looking down from the Eyrie. The whole of Eastern Volantis could be seen all the way to the black walls.
The walls of the room were an intricate stone carving that seemed to have no seams. The carving told a story that was echoed in the wading pool tiles. Mythical animals cavorted on landscapes that climbed arches for deeper alcoves across from the open balcony. The columns that seemed to frame the view rather than break it were carved much like the walls. The stone seamlessly blending into the ceiling and floor.
The Doom was clearly pictured with a bird that looked like it was part dragon part peacock looking on crying. The strange bird was pictured throughout the room and where it touched it seemed to bring prosperity, or rather, pointed out prosperous events. The stone was set with gems that twinkled like stars catching the light and moving the eye around the room.
Sheer fabrics dampened hung so that the glare from the reflection of mirrored surfaces used by other Volantenes. The fabric defused the light and kept the room cool. Woven mats were also dampened and set around for the same reason. Not as cool as the pool, which was a favorite item of the Rahls and was how their wealth was expressed. For nearly all places that people would spend time in boasted a shallow pool or fountain. Water in a desert was the epitome of wealth.
Beside the pool was a light repast of fruits, nuts, cheeses, flatbreads and meats sliced so thin that you could almost see through them. Containers that held cool water, juices and wine. Light sauces were in containers set decoratively around.
A lovely slender dark haired woman sat in a chair with her bare feet dipped in the pool looking out at the city. As the trio entered the room the woman turned her gaze on them, a small smile hovering on her lips. She wore a flowing gown of light filmy material that matched the jade green of her eyes. Her age seemed to be indeterminate save for the way she carried herself with all the maturity and alacrity of lifelong knowledge she had gained.
Pointedly she swept over the trio and pinned Damon with a lazy smile and the quirk of a sardonic brow. She sipped her drink and appraised the man who could be her next husband.
"He's decent looking, at least, perhaps even good looking closer or with less on..." She tossed over her shoulder keeping her eyes on Damon seeing how he took to the teasing. There was a barely audible sigh and groan from both Lyra and Darkin who were seated in a nice shaded area.
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