Playing the Game Ch. 30 (Game of Thrones) (Patreon)

A/N: Here we are with the new chapter!

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Volantis. Oldest of the Free Cities, the first colony of the Valyrian Freehold. Located Southwest of the Valyrian Peninsula, traveling there after Jon’s successful trip to Valyria itself was not so much a hardship, as merely something that took time. Time for his armies to regroup and resupply off of the treasures that he’d found in Valyria. Time for his dragons to grow bigger and stronger by the day. Time for Jon himself to grow as well, as he settled into his divinity.

It wasn’t like the trio of dragons that he’d hatched using Viserys Targaryen’s blood were getting any more food than before. They ate well enough, but given they were part of his army, which was on the move, they ate only as much as could be spared, just like anyone else. And yet, after Jon’s visit to Valyria, after confronting Balerion and reshaping Meraxes, things had changed. HE had changed.

Was it any wonder then, that his dragons were growing larger and larger in his presence? He was himself something of a Dragon God now, the combined might of two of Valyria’s ancient deities flowing through him. With Balerion and Meraxes’ power fully unleashed and unlocked within him, it was as if he was providing some sort of holy sustenance to the dragons, leaving them twice their size by the time Volantis came into view.

Once upon a time, the Volantenes had been loyal subjects of the Valyrian Freehold. And then the Doom of Valyria had struck, and the Freehold was no more. In the aftermath of that great event, Volantis had tried to rebuild the empire under their rule. They had tried to pull together the crumbling infrastructure that the Dragon Lords had built up for them and had tried to rule without the key component that allowed the Valyrian Freehold to stretch out it’s reach so damn far… dragons.

They failed, of course. Apparently, part of that failure had been because Volantis had ended up opposed by the last Valyrian House with living dragons, Jon’s house as a matter of fact. House Targaryen, under the command of Aegon the Conqueror, had entered the war on the opposite side. The reasons why were lost to history, supposedly. Whether Volantis had done something to insult Aegon or had simply not done enough to assuage his pride and bring him over to their side, Jon knew not.

What mattered was that they lost, and a large part of that was because of the Targaryen intervention in their attempt. Perhaps that was why Volantis had turned against him now? Or perhaps it was the Lord of Light that the city seemed to predominantly worship.

After turning his eyes in the direction of Valyria’s First Daughter, Jon had allowed his people to tell them everything they could. That was where he’d learned all of the relevant information about Volantis’ history. But there was also the present to be considered. What was the Volantis of today like, that they had cause to act against him?

While he could peer into the city with ease with his burgeoning divinity, his awareness telling him some of the things they were saying about him, Jon needed more than that. He needed eyes and ears on the ground. Every god needed followers; every deity needed mortal worshippers to do his bidding. Luckily, Volantis was a city teetering on the precipice of a civil war. And all because of him.

The Red Priestess Kinvara, who had dared to preach in his name, had been arrested. She’d been arrested because despite her position as High Priestess of Red Temple of Volantis, that apparently did not make her the highest-ranking member of the organization. Despite such airy and august titles as ‘Flame of Truth, ‘Light of Wisdom’ and even ‘First Servant of the Lord of Light’, she had not had full authority when she’d done what she’d did.

Or rather, she had the perceived authority… but not the true authority. Her position had not been as secure as Kinvara had thought, presumably. Her predecessor, one Benerro, was the High Priest of the Lord of Light before her, and he and his old guard had become… increasingly irritated with Kinvara’s preaching on Jon’s behalf.

She had dared to declare him Azor Ahai, the Prince Who Was Promised. She had dared to prescribe their greatest prophecy to him, a Targaryen who already had a number of prophecies prescribed upon him. And they had imprisoned her for it.

Perhaps if Jon had delayed his trip to Valyria and gone to Volantis first, he could have stopped her unjust imprisonment, as well as the hardships that she suffered on his behalf. He wouldn’t have had nearly the level of divine power he had now, of course, but from what he could tell, the city had been more split and more welcoming back when he’d made his original decision.

With some politics and some… aggressive negotiations, he might have managed to help Kinvara shore up her position, making her strong again where she hadn’t even realized she was weak. He could have helped her and could have ultimately taken Volantis without much in the way of bloodshed, so long as she, as High Priestess, declared him Azor Ahai before all.

But Jon had foregone that route, and truth be told he would not beat himself up over it. His path was his own, and he was content in his choices. Perhaps if Kinvara had died, he would have felt some guilt over her demise, and she certainly would have been too far beyond his reach to help even as he was now, if only because her soul likely would have gone to her precious Lord of Light.

But she lived, which meant all could be made well… even if it was to be done largely through violence and bloodshed.

The ultimate result of his tardiness was a First Daughter seemingly united against him, with its defenses prepared for his arrival. As his army made camp outside of the city’s massive walls, one might wonder how he intended to breach the city’s defenses. It was, after all, the eldest of the Free Cities. This also meant it was the most fortified. And even if he got past the first layer, it was like trying to peel back an onion. The deeper he got, the more layers he would have to break through.

In that way, the architecture actually reminded Jon of Valyria itself, which made since considering Volantis’ past. The Black Walls of the city’s eastern portion might not have been quite so magical or impenetrable as the fortress that Old Valyria had become, but they were still tall and proud and strong, protecting a labyrinth-like maze of palaces and temples and cloisters.

Jon could fight his way through the first half of the city in no time, and then end up spending his army’s strength and lives getting absolutely nowhere against those massive, hulking Black Walls. Or he could reach out and find purchase in those within the city.

They expected him to approach them as a man. Albeit a powerful man at the head of a large army, but a man all the same. They expected him to siege them, to try and break their defenses with his hulking army. They expected him to fight them mortal to mortal… but Jon’s mortality had never been more in question.

Instead of wasting the lives of his people, Jon sat and closed his eyes. With Daenerys and Bellegere having rejoined him, he is not alone, even as he reaches out with his growing divine awareness. The first of his Queens rub their naked, nubile bodies into his sides, rubbing him down and cleaning him, bathing him as he works. Jon, supremely relaxed, finds the hearts and minds of those in Volantis… and claims those that yearn for him.

He does not just represent a threat to the Lord of Light and the Red Religion, after all. He is the Breaker of Chains. He is the one who has declared slavery anathema across half of Essos at this point. The Dothraki no longer enslave. Slaver’s Bay no longer enslaves. And when he’s done with Volantis, the First Daughter will no longer worship that awful practice of slavery either.

Volantis is filled with slaves, much like the vast majority of the Free Cities. They outnumber their masters ten to one. Of course, slave rebellions happen all the time, and ultimately are almost always put down. Indeed, even if a slave rebellion was to take place, the Black Walls would still provide protection to the First Daughter’s ruling elite, where only the most trusted and loyal house slaves were allowed access.

But even among those slaves were ones who longed for freedom. Even among those, Jon found embers he could stoke into raging bonfires. Rather than a rebellion, he urges the slaves to be smart, he coaxes them to think and plan. Within a day of Jon’s arrival outside of the city walls, there were slaves conspiring to welcome their true Lord into Volantis. Within a week, a plan was in motion that, even after it was discovered, could not be stopped.

With slaves manning the city’s many, many gates, Jon and his armies were able to stride right in. That wasn’t to say there wasn’t fighting in the streets of the ancient city, there definitely was. But, armed with Valyrian Steel and effectively given a free pass inside, the fighting that did occur was incredibly one sided in favor of the invaders.

By the end of the day, even Old Volantis, that section of the city hidden behind the Black Walls, had fallen to the conspiring house slaves oh so trusted by their beloved Masters. As it turns out, having a god whispering in your ear about who to bring in on the plan and who to leave out made for all the difference in whether you could lead a successful slave uprising or not. Having that same god march in with an army to back up your bid for liberation was merely the icing on the cake.

Pulling his blade free of Benerro’s chest and kicking the dying High Priest onto his back, Jon straightens up, standing there in the midst of the Red Temple’s largest courtyard, watching as his Unsullied and Dothraki alike put down the last of the Red Zealots who had come to face them for one final, doomed last stand.

… In the end, he hadn’t even had to use his dragons. Twice the size they were when he arrived in Valyria, the sheer destructive potential they represented could not be discounted. Which was exactly why he’d left them behind after his plan regarding the Volantene slaves had rapidly showed results.

Casting his senses out, Jon thins his lips and makes his way out of the courtyard, down a hall and then further down still a spiral staircase that went underground. Unlike King’s Landing’s Famed Black Cells, the Red Temple’s prison was not quite so dark and dreary. Oh sure, it was still bereft of sunlight, but the dungeon was nevertheless well lit with open flames, perhaps all the better to hypnotize, entrance, and ensnare their prisoners with.

Jon can feel the magic in those flames, can feel the ever so light touch of another deity. However, when HE looks into the flames, he sees nothing but the back of a fleeing coward, as the Lord of Light runs from his attention, time and time again. Thanks to Balerion and Meraxes’ combined essence, Jon was so far beyond R’hllor it wasn’t even funny. In fact, something told him that the Lord of Light had not always been a Lord at all. Once upon a time, the vaunted Lord of Light had been little more than a steward to his betters.

It was only in the destruction of Valyria and the slow decay of its gods that upstarts and usurpers such as R’hllor had managed to… make their mark.

Regardless, he eventually arrives at the dungeon cell in question, and with a strike of his sword, breaks open the lock and throws open the door. There, in the depths of the cell, is a woman chained to the wall, a flame put in front of her, ever roaring. As she slowly leans forward, said flame illuminates her badly burned flesh, the sheer abuse that Benerro and his followers had forced upon their captured High Priestess turning Jon’s stomach and making him wish he could go back and kill the bastard again.

As it is, he already knew it would be bad. Without hesitating, Jon approaches the burned woman.

“A-Azor Ahai… you’ve come…”

Smiling, he tosses aside the burning brazier between them, and lets his eyes alight in a glow that provides illumination to the space instead. Gently, he reaches out and caresses one of her charred cheeks, even as his palm begins to glow as well.

“I did, Kinvara. I came for you.”

Before his glowing eyes, Kinvara is healed. This is but a small fraction of his power, a paltry use that Jon doesn’t mind one bit. Burns like these are honestly quite easy to turn the time back on, and as her flesh restores itself under his divine direction, the deposed High Priestess’ beauty is revealed. With her red robes in tatters and shreds, their abuse and torture of her extending all the way down the length of her body, Jon can only watch as her flesh heals all across her half-naked form.

Hair regrows, and her eyes refocus as the haze of constant pain is lifted from them. Her lips, pouty and full where moments before they’d been cinders, part slightly as she breathes in her first clean breath in months.

“You… you have s-such power. The Lord of Light has blessed you mightily, Azor Ahai!”

Shaking his head, Jon offers a sympathetic smile.

“No, Kinvara. This is my own power. R’hllor had no part in it. Whether I’m his Azor Ahai or not… he is not my god and never will be.”

The surprise on Kinvara’s face would be priceless under better circumstances. Her eyes wide, her lips parted. It’s almost amusing… almost. Because he knows what he’s doing here, in shattering her misconceptions. He’s all but confirming for her that her detractors and naysayers, those that deposed her and put her down here… were right to do so. If she was a true follower of R’hllor, she should have been right alongside them, dying to defend Volantis from him.

Or at least, that’s what Jon figures is probably going through her mind right now. In truth, from what he could tell, the ‘Lord’ of Light was hedging his bets. R’hllor had pitted his followers against each other so that he would hopefully have one side that could follow Jon and influence him if the other side failed to kill him and remove his threat from the board.

Well, fuck R’hllor and fuck his Red Religion. Any society based on slavery wasn’t one that Jon felt he could abide by. Which meant he only had one option available to him right now. He was going to have to convert Kinvara around to his way of thinking. He was going to have to make it clear to R’hllor’s former High Priestess that she was staying his FORMER High Priestess. If she wanted to worship a god… then she could worship Jon.

Still, he didn’t have to be mean about it. Not unless he wanted to be.