Dragonlord Chapter 107: The burning of Myr P1 (Patreon)

Arianne watched her cousin strike fast and true against her opponent in the training yard.

In her eyes, Obara was one of the most fearsome warriors among the sand snakes. She was quick on her feet, decisive and used any means necessary to secure her victory.

‘If the Warrior had teats and a cunt, the sculptors could use Obara for the statue.’ Arianne thought amusedly.

Yet, her cousin's opponent in the training yard was no slouch either.

“They've been going at it for nearly half an hour.” Teyne commented.

“I can see why your father took him as an apprentice.” Arianne said, frowning at Young Griff expertly evading Obara’s spear with some fast and fancy footwork.

She noted the strange Tyroshi boy was copying her uncle with a flair for dramatics in his footwork. Prince Oberyn was an accomplished warrior, but he was also a master when it came to showmanship. Her uncle had the uncanny ability to dance around his opponent and whittle away their confidence. That was the same acting the Young Griff was using against Obara.

No doubt, her cousin knew what the foreign boy was doing, but Obara could not pull off a victory over the boy. Despite his flamboyant outlook with blue hair and the tendency of the Tyroshi boy to sneak in High Valyrian mid-sentence. She liked his free spirit, and he was easy on the eyes. If she hadn’t already been spoken for, she’d have tried to bed the boy and make him a man.

Her father was adamant about having her married off to Harrion Stark. Prince Oberyn also spoke highly of the second son of Lord Eddard Stark. Her own interactions with the infamous Black Wolf left a good impression on her. He had singlehandedly brought Casterly Rock to heel. Since the Age of Heroes, Casterly Rock had never fallen to an outsider until Harrion Stark breached the impenetrable castle using his flying ship.

While many saw the defeat of House Lannister as House Baratheon asserting its dominance in the Seven Kingdoms, she knew better.

House Stark now wielded more power than the Iron Throne. If they so wished, the wolves could dominate the rest of the Seven Kingdoms and wrest control of the Iron Throne from the stags. The fact that they don’t make a play for the throne makes Arianne attracted to the prospect of taking Harrion Stark as her husband.

The current political dispensation in the Seven Kingdoms suited her interests just fine. With Stannis Baratheon on the Iron Throne, she could hopefully get enough support for her claim to Sunspear over her brother. However, she was unsure whether her father intended to continue with his stupid plan of making Quentyn his heir.

If she could marry someone as strong as the Lord of Avalon, her claim would only get more support from the Dornish lords and ladies. They wouldn’t easily allow her father to throw away thousands of years of Dornish traditions and succession laws.

But like everything else in her life, marrying Harrion Stark was not as easy as Arianne hoped.

As far as she knew, Lord Eddard had yet to give her father an answer despite her father making the offer. Lord Arryn had spoken favourably of the match in the hopes of tying Dorne close to the Seven Kingdoms and the natural allies of House Baratheon. But having the blessings of Lord Arryn and Lord Eddard was not the only thing she needed. Lord Eddard had left the decision in the hands of his son, which was unheard of in Westeros. But seeing as the Lord of Winterfell had allowed his son to rule the vast, rich lands of Sea Dragon Point from such a young age, no one should’ve been that surprised.

But the challenges didn’t stop there. She had tried to woo Harrion at the capital. Despite his affectionate ways, she knew her attempts at seduction hardly moved him. She had thought she could wrap the Black Wolf on her pinky finger, but he proved to be a tough one. He was as courteous and indulging as a Stark could possibly be, but she knew her cousin had more chances with him than she did.

Arianne didn’t fail to see all the glances he sneakily shot at Nymeria while she was hanging in his arms. It also didn’t escape her notice that Nymeria tends to have a love-hate relationship with Lord Harrion. One moment, her cousin was like a blushing maid, and in the next, she was an angry viper spitting venom.

Frankly, it left Arianne in an awkward position.

If it had been Teyne, she could’ve easily made some adjustments. Teyne was her close friend and trusted companion. They could’ve easily shared Harrion Stark without any issues. But Nymeria was another creature altogether.

Arianne knew Nymeria was the deadliest of the Sand Snakes. Her cousin had a vengeful streak that even made Obara pale in comparison. Even though Nymeria had the stigma of bastardy, she had high status in Volantis. After all, Nymeria comes from the Old Blood of Volantis. If her cousin so wished, she could take the name of her mother’s family and live a life of Volantine noble inside the black wall of Volantis.

The wind that had so far caressed her lustrous body suddenly shifted. Arianne immediately knew someone was standing behind her.

“Haven’t they finished it yet?” Nymeria asked, annoyance palpable in her words.

“He has gotten better with his footwork. Obara’s usual tricks are not having the intended effect on the Young Griff.” said Teyne, wincing slightly at a particularly hard swat Obara had to endure from the flat side of her opponent's sword.

“Do you know why Oberyn is obsessed with this one?” Arianne asked, eyeing Nym expectantly.

“Obsessed?” Nymeria raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think so.”

“Arianne speaks true. Oberyn has taken a personal interest in training the Young Griff. The last time he did it was for…”

“Harrion.” Nymeria said softly before Teyne.

“Yes.” Teyne nodded at her sister. “So the question is, why is he so important?”

“I’ve heard the boy’s father used to be a captain among the ranks of the Golden Company.” Arianne commented.

“The Griff in the Golden Company?” Nymeria said with a snort.

Arianne could only shrug her shoulders as she understood what her cousin was thinking. The Griff was not exactly what someone would call an accomplished warrior. The man was old and as thin as a woman. It was as if the man had lived under a rock all these years and tried his best to starve to death.

Nonetheless, Oberyn vouched for Gryff and his blue-haired son. That was all her father needed to host the sellsword and the Young Griff in Sunspear.

Sometimes, she envied the bond between her father and her uncle. She dearly wished something of that sort could be possible between herself and Quentyn. But her younger brother was away at Yornwood, and they hardly spoke to each other. It also didn’t help she was afraid her brother would usurp her position as heir to Sunspear.

‘I don’t want that kind of relationship with Nymeria.’ Arianne thought with a frown.

She suddenly stood up, startling Teyne and Nymeria.

“Nym, please walk with me.” Arianne said.

Teyne glanced at her with concern, but Arianne just smiled at her closest friend.

Arianne walked ahead while her petite cousin followed her a step behind. They walked through the narrow corridors of Sunspear in silence. She led them straight to the Sandship, the ancient keep of House Martell, before Nymeria’s arrival. Unlike the Tower of Sun, the Sandship was less crowded.

“We’re sisters, you and I. I’ve treated all the Sand Snakes as such, have I not?” Arianne asked once she and Nym were safely inside her quarters without any eavesdropping ears.

“You have Arianne.” Nymeria said softly.

“Then I wish for no strife between us.”

“There is no strife between us, cousin.” Nymeria immediately said.

“There is. Ever since you heard about my father’s plans to betroth me to Harrion Stark, you’ve been in strife with me.”

“But…” Nymeria started.

“Perhaps your resentment was involuntary. But there was resentment all the same. I have felt it.” Arianne swiftly spoke, cutting off Nymeria before she could lie to herself.

“Then I apologise, Princess.” Nymeria bowed her head.

Arianne frowned at her cousin. She felt like another wall was being built between them. So, she surged forward and hugged Nymeria.

“What is mine can be yours. We’ve learned to share everything from an early age. So, why stop now, Nym?”

“You’d share your prospective husband?” Nymeria asked with shock.

Arianne didn’t know why her cousin was so surprised. She supposed it’d be unorthodox for a Princess of Dorne to allow such dalliances, but since when had traditions ever stopped her hand?

“My interest in Harrion Stark only extends to what he brings to my side if we marry.”

She didn’t add the implicit ‘for now’ for her cousin's sake.

“His power and wealth will undoubtedly be a boon for my chances to secure my position as the ruling Princess of Dorne.” Arianne pulled back from the hug and stared at her cousin. “But you love him?”

“Love? I don’t know.” Nymeria let out a frustrated growl before she fell into the bed nearby. “Harrion is interesting. So far, he is the only boy who has managed to match me evenly on the field and in wit.”

“Surely you jest, Nym.” Arianne, too, joined her cousin in bed.

“You don’t understand. He does not fight to show off like the rest of the idiots. He makes a move in a fight only when he needs to, and his mind is as sharp as Valyrian steel. And, of course, there is his magic.” Nymeria let out a breathy sigh. “It’s as if he was born to wage war and dominate.”

Arianne stared at the ceiling with a contemplative look as she heard her cousin’s range of obsession with the Black Wolf.

“You know he might not agree to the offer. No Stark has ever married a Dornish woman in the past.” Arianne said eventually.

“That’s true. Harrion is unpredictable. It’s very difficult to divine his thoughts, which makes him a dangerous foe.” Nymeria mused aloud.

“But we might stand a chance to make the wolf fall for us if we work together.”

Arianne and Nymeria exchanged a grin while in bed. An understanding emerged between them as they discussed what should be done to prepare for Harrion’s visit.

****

The walls of Myr were high, but they were not as high or thick enough to defend against Harry’s magic. Sneaking inside the city was so easy that he didn’t even bother with a disguise.

Not that Harry had any impression that he was recognisable in Myr. Even though most of the people in Myr sported olive skin, a possible ancestry from the Rhoynar, there were also people with Andal and Valyrian ancestry inside the city. In the melting pot of cultures that was the Free Cities, only one thing could distinguish the people: the accent.

The Myrish people used a bastardised version of Valyrian and heavily accented Common Tongue as their common language. Therefore, the accents could determine a man’s nationality easily. At least, people could understand whether a person was born and brought up in Myr using the accent.

But even with the accent, Harry and his brothers were relatively undisturbed in the city. So long as they had silver, they could access any part of the city, gaining access to many strategic locations. When silver was not enough, a well-placed Confundus charm and Imperius curse were enough to open doors for them.

“This is one of the largest glass-making streets of Myr.” Daro explained as Harry walked with his chief spy along the busy street.

He could see many colourful glass panes and even small glass sculptures lining the streets. The most favourite items among the potential customers on the street were the miniature glass figurines of gods. There was the fiery R’hllor in the form of a red warrior surrounded by red and yellow colour glass in a fiery design.

Likewise, the miniature figurines of the Seven and even the Vlayrian gods were available on the street.

“That is where the glassblowing takes place. The production floor covers nearly an acre. Some of the best glassmakers work there.” Daro said, pointing at a substantial fused stone complex with distinct valyrian architecture and several chimneys churning smoke into the air.

“Slave labour?” Harry asked, somewhat taken back by the Valyrian structures that were common in the city.

He doubted even Dragonstone hosted this many Valyrian structures. Even some of the manses he had seen were built by the Valyrians. He supposed they were most likely old dwellings of the dragon riders of Valyria. Myr, Tyrosh and Lys had turned on their Valyrian overlord and their dragons after the news of Doom filtered in.

“Most workers are slaves In Myr. There are three slaves for every freeborn. Of course, some glassmakers are favoured by the magisters and enjoy certain privileges, patronage and protection.”

“Hmm.” Harry grunted noncommittally.

“Most workers live close to a community south of this street.”

“Guarded community?” Harry asked with a frown.

“Unsullied guards patrol the streets to keep the peace. But there are also sellswords stationed at certain communities that the magisters want to watch closely.”

“I see.”

Harry looked around at the street one last time before going straight for a storehouse close to the glassmaking factory.

“Confundo.”

The guards standing guard at the warehouse ignored them, and Harry had free reign inside the storeroom. He levitated several caches of wildfire and placed them safely into a corner. After applying a notice-me-not ward on the volatile substance, Harry left the storeroom in search of another spot on the street.

After a few more runs, placing several caches of wildfire in a circle around the whole street, he met up with Jon and Robb, escorted by his other spies, Crayat and Brox.

Ever since the registers of Myr sent assassins, he had been planting spies in the city for something like this. He knew from experience that people who enjoyed tyrannical power seldom allowed a threat to that power base to thrive for long. The history of the Free Cities of Essos also suggested that they never tolerated a rival power if they could help it. He didn’t see why that shouldn’t extend to the North now that they were encroaching on Myr’s most lucrative glass–making business.

“Have you identified the other places?” Harry asked as they left the street behind.

“We have.” Robb said with a troubled look.

Jon and Robb looked far gloomier than usual. Harry already knew his brothers had reservations about what he had planned for the city. They had no qualms about killing the magisters, but they had some sympathy for the slaves toiling inside the city. At the same time, they also knew Myr could not go unpunished after the latest assassination attempt.

“Good. Let’s go.”

****

Daenerys busied herself with embroidery, trying to sew a small red dragon into the cloak for her brother. Unlike what she feared, Magister Aelux never kicked them out of his manse despite Viserys being a bad guest. Her brother had always been a lousy guest with many of their hosts across the many Free Cities.

Usually, her brother’s uncouth behaviour would get them thrown out of many wealthy nobles’ homes. But for some reason, Magister Aelux had graciously hosted them in his manse despite her brother occasionally acting out.

At first, she had mistaken the Magister’s tolerance of her brother’s vices as a product of loyalty to her family. But she knew better now. She had been observing everyone and everything in the manse. The servants had loose tongues when they thought no one was watching. That’s how she learned of the many plots the wealthy magisters of Myr planned concerning herself and her brother. There was hardly anything nefarious, but there were talks of marriage and buying sellswords to raise her brother’s claim on the Iron Throne.

But these talks remained just that – talks. Nothing ever came off it. At least, she never saw any tangible change. But she heard hushed talks about a failed assassination of Harrion Stark.

For some reason, the magisters of Myr were terrified and envious of Harrion Stark. Daenerys could understand their envy because she was also envious of the Black Wolf. She had heard the second son of Eddard Stark found the secrets of Valyrian steel and glass making. The latter didn’t bother her, but Valyrian steel was one of the greatest feats of magic and metalwork that belonged to her people. It should’ve been her family that discovered the secrets of Valyrian Steel.

But Daenerys knew wishes don’t come true despite how much she dearly wished otherwise. After all, her greatest wish was not Valyrian steel, glass or magic. It was to have a family and live happily.

Daenerys took a deep breath and shook her head. Suddenly, her ears picked up a rushed movement outside her room.

Curious at the sound of footsteps outside her chamber, she opened the door and found servants running along the passage with fear and panic on their faces.

“What has happened?” Daenerys asked.

“It’s the city, princess.” One of the servants told her, out of breath.

“The city?” Daenerys blinked in surprise.

“Yes, princess. The city is on fire,” the servant said, and immediately after that, a large tremor went through the palace and made her stumble.

She started hearing screams from the city as she ran along the narrow passage as fast as her legs could carry. Only when she neared a window did she see the full scope of what was happening outside. Bright flashes of fire appeared all over the city, illuminating the night sky in an eerie red and green glow.

“No.” Dany whispered under her breath, horrified at what she was seeing.

She immediately ran towards her brother’s room but didn’t find him there. Her panic only rose as more tremors shook the palace, and the glow outside became brighter. She didn’t know what else to do. The servants fled the palace despite the Unsullied guards’ best efforts.

“Where is my brother? Where is Magister Aelux?” she asked repeatedly, but no one answered.

Daenerys feared going outside the palace when an uncontrollable fire consumed the city, but she also didn’t feel like cowering in a corner.

‘I need to see what’s happening in the entire city.’ Daenerys thought.

She started climbing the stairs of the main keep of the palace, where there was an open balcony that could watch over the city. As she climbed higher, she saw guards lying on the floor, unmoving. At first, she thought they were killed, but on closer inspection, she realised they were all sleeping.

With trepidation in her heart, she carefully climbed the stairs until she reached the balcony. When she sneakily looked through the open door, she saw Magister Aelux and her brother sitting stiffly on a couch.

“Brother!” Dany cried as she ran to his side.

However, she noted that her brother didn’t react and sat stiffly on the couch, unmoving with his eyes open.

“Viserys, what has happened?”

But Viserys remained stiff as a stone.

“Why are you silent? Say something.” Daenerys shook her brother’s shoulder, but he remained silent and unresponsive.

“Magister Aelux. Please say something. What is happening?” she screamed hysterically.

“I’ll tell you what is happening, princess.”

An unfamiliar voice suddenly spoke up, making Daenerys freeze. She slowly turned around, and only then did she see a figure standing close to the ridge of the balcony, watching the fires spreading in the city. As the unfamiliar figure turned to face her, she saw the steel greaves on his arms and the shoulder plates gleaming under the light of the fire, indicating armour.

Daenerys saw a black-haired boy closer in height to her brother standing across from her. When a strong wind rushed into the balcony, the black cloak on his shoulders fluttered and that’s when she saw the sigil of a black wolf on a gold field.

“Stark.” Daenerys breathed in fear.

“Yes. It’s time for us to have a chat, don’t you think?”

The wicked grin on her enemy's face stopped her heart. It felt like there was a lump in her throat, and she had forgotten how to breathe.