Chapter 25: The First Daughter

*Update*: So Fantasymaker76 was kind enough to make me realize that I made a mistake regarding the scene with Nymeria and Obara. So this is an updated version of this chapter. It is not a big change; it's just that I messed up the timeline a bit. Hope you forgive me for this oversight.

297AC

(The Shipyards; West Volantis)

When she left the Minona and walked onto the pier in Volantis she was struck of how unbelievably hot it was.

The dress she had gotten from Zazarra was not thick by any means yet it felt like it was made of wool. After two years of living in Lys she had thought she had gotten used to the heat but Volantis was not an island with the breeze constantly cooling off the citizens, it was a huge crowded city surrounded by hills. The only relief came from the mouth of the Rhoyne; the gust of the Summer Sea.

As an instinct she disliked the city. It was dirty, loud and gruff.

Realizing this she knew she had been safe for too long. A king wanted her dead and she was complaining about something so petty about it being dirty? She had gotten spoiled and that was not something she could afford.

A hand was put on her shoulder and she looked into the brown eyes of the Captain.

"You were going to say goodbye weren't you?" He asked with a smirk. "The boys' hearts will break if you don't."

Behind him she noticed the sullen faces of the sailors.

Jean had made herself truly beloved on the vessel. You had danced for them, sung for them and she had even lain with some of them. It wasn't for her amusement but for protection. If they came to care for her, even just a little, the chance of being attacked in the middle of the night reduced immensely.

So she had taken her time with each and every one of them and created affection for her in their slightly savage hearts. Or in cruder words; she had seduced them for her own gain and were now going to leave without a second thought.

At least, that was what she was going to do until the Captain stopped her. So instead of disappearing like she planned to, she was now taking an emotional farewell of the men she in truth cared little to nothing for.

She supposed that was a bit cold but their feeling mattered little to her right now. The shipyard was full a ships from who-knows-where and she wanted to get further into the city to blend into the volantenes.

She knew those with valyrian blood lived on the east side so that was where she had to go. It was easier to vanish in a place where she shared the same features as the natives.

If only she could get away from the crew!

"Yes, I will miss you too." She said as yet another had given her a wet sloppy kiss on her cheek.

The situation was a bit bizarre. A girl in a cloak was getting cuddled by eight men in the middle of the pier. Their rough unshaven faces were too close and Jean, in that moment, wanted nothing more than for them to go away.

It was strange. She was used to men being overly familiar with her, however, hugging and crying was just odd.

"Al right, let the girl go." The Captain said, sounding a bit amused. "We all have things to do."

Reluctantly the first mate ended the bear hug and Jean could finally breathe again.

The captain had been very suspicious of her at first, despite being the one to let her on board. When he noticed how she flirted her way through his crew he confronted her about it but she quickly ensnared him too.

Jean was not exactly proud of her exploitation of the men but her child's survival was her top priority.

"Goodbye, everyone." She said. "Thank you, for taking care of me these last few days."

"Believe us, miss." One of them answered. "It was our pleasure."

She smiled, and with a small curtsy left them for the First Daughter of Valyria.

xXx

(South of Dagger Lake, The Orvorta ; The Rhoyne)

The cabin where the crew slept was small, cramped and uncomfortable. Hammocks hang from the ceiling and the floor was covered by a carpet made from wool, not a material used often in Essos. The carpet was there in case any man fell out of his sleeping-place.

In this moment it was the place for sex. Three men were pleasuring a young woman of one-and-twenty.

She licked and sucked on the cocks as she rode the third with fast, deep thrusts.

They had been at it for quite some time but the woman seemed to have no intention letting them go until she had drained their balls dry.

She had much experience in love-making, more so than her older sister, and made sure not to miss and inch of their dicks.

They had spilled inside her many times already but that was of no concern, she had means to prevent any seed from quickening in her womb. Her foster-mother had thought her well.

The man to her right groaned in ecstasy as he came in her mouth and she swallowed with a grin and continued working on the cock to her left.

She felt a thrill of satisfaction knowing that she had them at her mercy. In contrast to her sister she preferred men weaker than her, not cowards or weaklings, just men that were unable to beat her in a fight. All three of the Qohoriki sailors were nothing compared to her but they were able to keep pirates at bay with their bare fists and on the small transport-vessel they were the best, though that was not a large feat.

After forcing the two remaining men to climax she gave them a sneaky smile.

She stood up and let the soft member slid from her cunt. She put on her leather tunic, breeches and boots and left the cabin. All in all she'd had plenty of better fucks and it had really been quite unsatisfying.

A bit disappointed yet amused by the men's naïve thoughts that they could beat her in bed. Ridiculous!

She spied her sister standing at the brow and made her way to her.

The older looked dazed over the river Rhoyne, looking at nothing in the distance. She seemed to be far away.

"What are you looking at?"

Her sister glanced at her.

"Done with fucking nobodies already, Nym?"

"Oh, come off it! They're so dumb they're cute."

"If you say so." She said sarcastically.

"But you didn't answer my question. What are you looking at?"

"I'm just trying to imagine the cities that must have stood here thousands of years ago, before Queen Nymeria fled to Dorne. It must have been amazing."

"Yeah, that's true."

The two sisters stood in silence and took in the beauty of the Mother Rhoyne; glittering and powerful, just like home.

"When do you think we'll go home again?" Obara asked.

"When we have the wolf-girl."

"That's a really vague answer, you know."

"But still true."

Over a year they had been scouring the Free Cities for her. They had started in Volantis, and then moved west to Lys, then to Tyrosh, Myr, Pentos, Braavos, Lorath, Norvos until they came to Qohor.

Fifteen months far from home, in foreign lands, searching for a girl they had never met.

When Nymeria had suggested than she would travel to Essos she had underestimated the difficulty of the mission.

Black hair was more than normal and people with valyrian descent were endless. The Dragonwolf stood out only because she was from Westeros with the accent to prove it, but a girl living in exile alone in Essos would undoubtedly have been forced to learn how to speak valyrian and to lay low. Not easy to find in the remains of the Valyrian Freehold. If she'd had silver hair like most Targaryens, their quest would have been so much easier.

"We're approaching the Sorrows!"

The shout came from the helmsman which changed the atmosphere on the boat.

The two sisters looked around at the sailors. They had all stopped in their tracks and watched anxiously as the structures were closing in from the distance.

When they came close enough Obara and Nymeria took in the ruins of the Festival City of Chroyane. The tall buildings looked black in the fog, which obscured the sun. It loomed over them as a beautiful, monstrous creature ready to swallow them up.

The place felt unpleasant even for seasoned warriors like the Sand Snakes.

Slowly, the craft traveled through the abandoned city. The broken towers, pillars and gardens spoke of a once festive and wonderful place now erased from the world by the Dragonlords.

After passing the Palace of Sorrow, they came upon the Bridge of Dream; a large decomposing construction covered in vines and fungus. Rising high above them supported by arches and piers, it hung over them like a predator waiting to strike.

While the ruins themselves were unnerving, it was those who dwelled amongst them that terrified the sailors. The sisters had been informed long ago about the danger; Stonemen, pitiful souls infected with Greyscale doomed to stagger around like the undead until the Stranger would finally take them.

In the fog they could see figures roaming around, slowly and silently.

If the crew of the Orvorta kept quiet, without disturbing them, the Stonemen would leave them alone. The touch of the infected was highly contagious, for that reason the sick were feared by all who came close to their home.

Obara clenched her hands around the railing, she had never witnessed the disease herself but she had heard stories, hard, cold scales spreading across the body driving the victim mad and aggressive.

After what felt like an eternity they passed the bridge, leaving it and its dangers behind. A loud sigh of relief came from the crew. The sisters looked at the ruin that slowly went further and further away.

They had encountered many things during their travels, both good and bad, but the threat from the Stonemen was more intense than anything. Dangerous animals or people could be defeated with spears and poison but Greyscale was untreatable, a death sentence.

"Glad that's over." Nym whispered.

"Yeah."

The rest of the day they stood in silence watching the ship pass one ruin after another on their way to Volantis.

xXx

(The Palace of Illyrio Mopatis; Pentos)

Ser Simon Conklyn sat in his room in the servant's quarters.

He was sharpening his sword before going to sleep. He had spent the past year in the service of Viserys Targaryen while sending regular reports to Lady Olenna Tyrell.

He had been surprised when he was sent for by Lord Willas. Simon was weak and not a son to be proud over so when he was required in Highgarden his father had been excited; finally his disappointment of a son had a chance to prove himself.

The request had been nothing he could ever have been prepared for. To spy on the Targaryens was a dangerous mission but he was in no position to refuse.

So he had traveled to Pentos and approached Viserys asking to be part of his Kingsguard. After swearing upon his honor as a knight that he had nothing to do with the Stag King, the foolish man had taken him in without hesitation.

The magister had been suspicious and made it hard to send the reports the first six months but after doing nothing that seemed like treason even the magister dismissed him.

The first thing Simon determined was that Viserys had inherited his father's insanity. He was reckless, stupid and abused his sister constantly.

Despite her being a Targaryen he felt sorry for her. She was a sweet girl and did not deserve her brother's wrath. However he was not there to take care of her, he was there because of his loyalty to his Lord and to prove himself to his father.

He was tired of Viserys' antics however he was going to do his duty.

For some time nothing had really happened. The Beggar King had tried to rally sellswords to his cause, and had repeatedly failed, which made him more frantic. However lately it seemed like a new plan had begun to take form but Simon had yet to figure out what it was. It had something to do with the princess so logically it was probably something like a marriage, he wouldn't put it past Viserys to sell his sister as a broodmare for money either.

In which case he needed more information before jumping to any conclusions.

He lifted his sword to inspect the blade, now it was sharp and ready. He put away the wet stone and took off his boots, as he lay down on the bed he thought of the last thing Lady Olenna had told him before leaving Highgarden; 'If they ever find out you're a spy, slit your own throat and leave nothing behind that can lead back to house Tyrell.'

He wondered if he would ever see his home again, he hoped so, even though it seemed unlikely.

xXx

(Old Towne, Fishermonger's Square ; West Volantis)

She stood by the headless statue in the middle of the square playing a solemn tune on her harp.

Her cloak lay before her with a few coins that had been tossed by a passerby music-lover.

She attracted quite a crowd but most waited for her to finish the song before paying.

Her audience consisted mostly of Free Men but a few slaves had also come to listen but she could not expect payment from them. They were not human in the eyes of their owners and so there was no way they had any money to spare.

Slaves were pitiful existences, constantly humiliated and Jean was again faced with how lucky she had been. Despite losing her family she was still alive and unharmed, the Old Gods must have heard her prayers.

After playing the last note she curtsied for the applause as coins were tossed in her direction.

She put away her harp and began to collect her earnings. The people began to disperse when they understood that the show was over.

Jean counted the coin and hoped it was enough for the next few days; she needed to make her way over to East Volantis and find some place to sleep.

She could probably afford food for a week with the money. She carefully placed them in her bag and looked up to find a stall with dried fish. Instead her gaze fell upon a hathay tied to a dwarf elephant.

The cart was ornamented with tapestries and gemstones. Over the seat a sunshade was strapped between four poles, the two in the back shorter than the front making it seem almost like a tent. Upon the elephant was a slave with a wheel tattooed on his cheek.

In the hathay a man in fine garments sat and looked at her. He was clean-shaven with long black hair, bronze skin and deep purple eyes, so dark they were almost black.

The man was a nobleman, no question about it and by judging from the dragon stitched into the tapestry he was from the Old Blood, those from Valyrian descent that lived in Old Volantis. What he did on this side of the river she didn't know, but it was best to avoid him.

For a long time they looked at each other before Jean lowered her gaze, did a quick curtsy before hurrying into the crowd.

She made her way to the north side of the square, not far from The Merchant's House, and bought two fishes. They were enough to feed her for the rest of the day and hopefully for breakfast the next day.

The merchant packaged them for her and she paid two honors for them. She then started her walk to the Long Bridge. After a bit of questioning the locals she knew that she had to pass the Old Town Bridge and the Market Bridge before coming upon her destination.

Both bridges were off-limits for foreigners so she could not cross either of them, which was a bit annoying but she had no choice. The west side of the Rhoyne was no place for a lonely, voluptuous young girl. The east side was, while still infected with ruffians, safer.

Slaves with all kinds of tattoos crowded the stinking streets of Volantis.

She saw skulls for the builders, jugs for manservants, tears for prostitutes and the most unpleasant of them all; the flames of the Red Priests. One such priest stood on a platform and held a sermon for the slaves.

In her lessons in Lys she had learned of the deity called R'hllor; the Lord of Light, the Red God, the Heart of Fire, the God of Flame and Shadow. She had learnt of the obsession with fire and how they sometimes burned non-believers at the stake as a sacrifice to their God.

Jean, who was quite religious and believed fully in the Old Gods, only felt disgust. Though she realized that if they knew she followed the same ancient gods as the Children of the Forest once had, they would probably feel the same about her.

Ignoring the preaching, she continued her journey.

Leaving the square she walked east towards the Rhoyne. A stone path ran parallel with the river so she followed it to make sure she didn't get lost.

She saw a couple of children playing in the water, splashing each other and laughing. It was strange to see. They were clearly having fun and seemed so innocent, yet on the beach a slave with a jug on his forehead was standing in the blazing sun with two towels in his hands.

He was sweating and his face had taken an unhealthy shade of red from the heat, he looked as if he would collapse any second. Jean felt pity for him yet knew there was nothing she could do for him. Like every slave he was an object, an item. He did not belong to himself, he had no freedom.

As disgusted as she was she knew those children was not bad per se, they had just grown up in an environment where owning slaves were obvious. They didn't see anything wrong with it.

It was truly a shame that such a mindset were so common.

Horrified and sad, she kept walking trying to ignore the part of her conscience that told her she was being heartless.

She left the laughter behind and soon passed the Old Town Bridge. A gate made of iron prevented people from the West to cross and two slave soldiers guarded the gate.

Jean threw them a glance, taking in their muscular form and the tiger stripes on their cheeks. They were dressed in chainmail with a protective layer of leather underneath. They wore no helmets and the breeches were made from some sort of soft material, maybe linen?

All in all they were not very well armored for soldiers, but maybe they didn't need to? Guarding a gate was probably not the most important position and so they didn't receive proper gear.

Again she realized how lucky she had been. The thought came to her many times as she passed the Market Bridge.

Her bag felt heavy and she was suddenly very aware that she was pregnant. She left the path to sit in the shadow of a tree by the river. Even the shade was hot here!

She wiped her brow with the corner of her cloak. She was thirsty and wished she had some water to drink, she would even settle for a jug of ale even though she had never learned to like it. The Rhoyne was made from freshwater but Jean didn't trust it to be drinkable and she couldn't afford to get sick.

She leaned back against the trunk and hugged her bag to her chest.

. Far away in the distance she could see East Volantis, the home of the rich and noble, surrounding the Black Walls of the Old Blood. Only those descended from Old Valyria was allowed to live within the Walls, if you were not you had to be invited and never stray from your host.

This was all tales she had heard from the crew of the Minona. The merry men had been more than willing to share their knowledge to the beautiful girl and she was going to make use of it to the fullest.

The sultry air made her drowsy and without really noticing she closed her eyes and shut the sunlight out. Slowly sleep overcame her and the exiled princess fell into a deep slumber.

Author's Note:

The Black Goat is the God in Qohor and though I searched I couldn't find what happens to the dead in that religion so "Black Goat's Garden" is just something I made up.

I could not find the meaning of the jug tattoo, so I imagined they were slaves that served as manservants or handmaidens.

Here's the links to some of the maps I'm using

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Happy reading

Mimi890