Chapter Text
As the waters of the Rhoyne left its greatest temple, Princess Nymeria knew the fate that awaited her city. The survivors from Chroyane would soon reach Old Valyria and soon enough, the stewing Dragonlords would leave their hives of squalor, atop their dragons to burn the remaining Rhoynish cities.
She had been the only one who had opposed her cousin Garin’s plan, warning the other rulers that they would not be able to win the war. She had vehemently argued for a different approach, hoping for princess Synaera to aid her efforts. Alas, princess Synaera was still in hiding, her exact whereabouts known only to her closest compatriots. Even if she revealed herself, Princess Nymeria would find herself to be friendless as the princess, after seeing her city burning for weeks, burying burnt husks of luckless men and women caught in the dragonfire and praying for the poor souls to find peace with mother Rhoyne, had gone red with fury, her mind seeking nothing but spilt Valyrian blood. She had cleared her entire populace off fighting men, when prince Garin sent out his call, in a bid to slake her people’s thirst for blood.
This resulted in the woman and children increasingly assisting princess Synaera in matters of ruling. One of her first orders was to scour the city and strip it off anything and everything. The initial goal of this was to ensure her people could quickly get to rebuilding the city. The second objective was to send anything ancillary to prince Garin and his men. They also started to construct war galleys and longships. While their final purpose would be to ferry her people across the narrow sea, her initial plan was to train her spare populace to reave and raid along Valyrian coastlines.
Her primary intention, to cause as much destruction in Volantis, while borne of a noble cause, was not the most cautious way to seek revenge. However, the throes of revenge oft drown out the call of caution.
These efforts would bear fruit in the north, when the Rhoynish would construct the great city of white harbor. This does not mean that the Rhoynish did not achieve any success in rebuilding their city. The progress was slow though, as Sarhoy was a wide beast, stretching over leagues and leagues of fertile land.
However, troubling accounts would start to come in. Stories of prince Garin losing a great battle and the Valyrians pillaging Sar Mell and desecrating Chroyane would destroy many a Rhoynish. Princess Synaera would at first, not pay heed to these reports. But when a message from princess Nymeria, detailing her plans and Garin’s fate reached her, she wept. She wept for the lost sons and lost daughters. She wept for the mothers that were waiting for their husbands and their children, she wept for the women that cradled their little babes, borne of a union that was now incomplete.
She wept for the men that would breathe life into her city, laughing with their sons and daughters, showering their wives and mothers with love and affection. She wept for the boys whose grandfathers would regale them with tales of Garris the grey. She wept and wept, as her people wept with her, and their river wept with them.
The princess, while despondent at this time, was not unproductive in her endeavors. She ceased all efforts to rebuild the city instead gearing her entire populace towards crafting longships and galleys.
One more thing that the farsighted princess and queen did, that the North and especially we, the Maesters will never forget, is preserve and protect the writings of her great people.
She sent out leagues of foragers to retrieve whatever object of importance was unmolested. Decorative swords, ornate shields, chests of gold and silver, jewels belonging to rulers, great and forgettable, from princess Synaera’s line were searched for and presented to her.
Tomes and books written on a myriad subjects, ranging from metalsmithing, goldmaking, craftwork, shipbuilding, ironwork to rich histories of the Rhoynar, their ways and culture, Lineages of the Mother Rhoyne, and a variety of other topics. Hundreds upon hundreds of scripts and books were brought back to the ports and kept in specially constructed chests.
Indeed, this is what has allowed Rhoynish culture to thrive and progress so well in the north. That and the benevolence of House Stark. A kindness that lit the fire of fealty within every Rhoynish man, woman and child that came with princess Synaera. A fire that still burns bright.
These efforts never stopped, commencing in the day and continuing into the darkness of night and even the light of the next morn. However, these relentless efforts would lead to the first crisis during their journey West. The scouts of the Slavers.
The Volanteens, forever in their pursuit to curry favor with the Dragonlords of Old Valyria, planned an expedition into the ruins of Sarhoy. Some believe that this expedition was intended to plunder the ruined lands of the port city. While some believe it was to salt the city and finish the previously unfinished job. However, I believe that both of these reasons are based in fact, and there is an additional third reason for this foolish expedition.
The then triarchs of the First Daughter of Valyria, whose names are now lost to time, no doubt due to their Valyrian overlords scrubbing their names from their histories, also, no doubt due to their failings, had been miserably defeated in Prince Garin’s campaign. They lost countless cities to Garin’s army, each defeat tasting more bitter than the last. Eventually, the Valyrians won, though Volantis bore the brunt of the losses. Indeed, it may have been that the Dragonlords made the Volanteens clear their cities of every fighting slave. However, I believe that all the free men may also have been punished and made to fight the Rhoynish due to their city’s great failure in curtailing Garin’s terror.
It is whispered in hushed tones, that while every man and child born in Volantis, free or chained, fought against their mighty foes, 60 Dragonlords made Volantis their den of perverted pleasure.
These lords took over a hundred palaces beyond the black walls, all belonging to the Triarchs and their underlings.
These Dragonlords would then summon their malformed dogs and command them in some guttural tongue to bring back freed noblewomen and female slaves of equal worth. For, a dog from Old Valyria was worth a 100 Volanteens.
But Valyria saw fit to humiliate its first daughter. And so, the saying was changed.
A Dog from Old Valyria is worth a 1000 Volanteens. And one Volanteen is worth 5 slaves.
These dogs, beasts of foul blood magic, with two snouts and half a dozen sets of teeth in them, some more suited to Dragons and humans, with massive legs that sprouted mouths and tongues, gnawing and lapping at anything they would feel, would terrorize the city, hunting women and leading the Dragonlord’s slaves towards them.
The noblewomen would then be bought before the Dragonlords while the slaves would be fed to their dragons, or worse, sacrificed to their rotten gods.
The Valyrians would lay with 90 of these women come morn and come moonlight, while sentencing 10 of the less comely ones to be raped by his dogs. None of the 10 would ever see the light of the next day.
For the moon or so that the Valyrian army was out on campaign, the Dragonlords would partake in this draconian activity, leaving not one free woman untouched by their evil hands.
By the end of their stay in Old Volantis, they had raped their way through much of the female populace residing in Old Volantis, even as their dragons ate slaves and the people cried in agony.
Not even a single woman, old or young was spared from being defiled. In truth, most of them were raped by multiple Dragonlords, multiple times. This resulted in over half of the women carrying the bastards of Old Valyria in their wombs.
As thousands of dogs returned to their grand hovel with thousands of corpses in tow, bloody and battered for Prince Garin was not a light foe, they were greeted with a thousand wives and widows, carrying a thousand bastards, all while their masters flew above the city.
As they left, they extracted heavy tolls from the triarchs, going so far as to threaten them with dire consequences if they failed to aid the Dragonlords who would stay in wiping the Rhoynish off the earth. The triarchs quickly agreed, pledging even more slaves for this campaign. They even planned to dispatch a powerful fleet into Sarhoy to ransack the place and gift it to their overlords, but the Valyrians had confiscated much of their war fleet as penance.
The triarchs, already burdened with heavier taxes, still scraped their last coin to put together a meager fleet to loot Sarhoy. This frugalness directly lead to this fleet perishing in the waters of Mother Rhoyne. And thus, the Volanteens once again had to contend with their wounded pride.
Even now, men of Volantis tend to forget this great failure of theirs. But one thing they never tend to shut up about is the Valyrian blood they gained in this war. They prattle on and on about their great forefathers, and how they gained the hand of many a Valyrian ladies as reward for defeating the people of Rhoyne. Though if you question them of its sudden appearance, you encounter nothing but a mewling babe being fed lies.
No sooner had the Volanteen fleet touched the riverbed did Princess Nymeria reach Sarhoy. To avoid any Volanteen fleet, sparse as they were after the Dragonlord’s heavy penalties, she chose the older channel to sail through. Her journey while arduous, was not as dangerous as she thought it would be. The great flood of Chroyane had wiped out all danger, neutering the poison and killing the Valyrians. The river, spreading out due to the flood and as a result slowing down, had regained its flow with a vigor, ably aiding the Ny Sar fleet to sail downstream.
The princesses had wept when they saw each other for the first time in a long time, holding onto each other. They mourned their noble cousin, they mourned their people, they mourned their mother. Women from different cities, yet children of the same mother, a mother they would have to abandon now.
Princess Nymeria ordered her people to stay on the ships and took some helpers to aid Princess Synaera’s people to board their fleet. They could not afford to wait as the price demanded would be too steep.
And so as the sun set in the west, and the dragons roared in the east, thousands of ships left the port city of Sarhoy behind, venturing out to find a hearth for the hearthless.
Initially, Nymeria had no designs to sail to Westeros. Indeed, all she wanted to do was find a respite far enough from Valyria and her Dragonlords. But respite would yet elude her and her people.
A huge storm in the Summer sea sunk some hundred ships no sooner had the shore stopped being visible. Some ships turned away in fear, slinking back to the deathly confines of their destroyed homes. Neither princesses could show anger for losing their homes was soul crushing for the Rhoynish. Even princess Synaera dearly missed her girlhood home and her dear city.
Clashes with Volanteen slavers, hungry for coin after Valyria’s castigation, quickly dissipated any thoughts of going back. Others fell behind or drifted away, due to grieving captains or green ones.
It pains me immensely to say this but princess Nymeria was the latter. That is not to say her prowess as a sailor was non-existent. The princes and princesses of the Rhoynar were always brilliant sailors, some more at home on the hull than their halls. But deep into the sea, the ocean held the wheel more than the captain.
Princess Synaera proposed to cross the Jade Sea and find refuge in Yi-Ti but that prospect was quickly crushed. The waters of the Summer Sea had proved difficult enough. The Jade Sea was large, much larger than what they had sailed through and even that had claimed the lives of hundreds.
So they sailed, undecided. Burdened with thousands of people, the dangers of the sea before them and the threat of Dragonlords behind them.
The limping fleet stopped at the Basilisk Isles, to load up on food and provisions. The journey ahead would be long, and their destination, still unclear.
The Journey started as a nightmare when they ran afoul of the corsair kings of Ax Isle, Talon and the Howling Mountain. These pirate kings were monstrous creatures of the seas, plundering any poor ship that crossed their dreaded paths and capturing all on board. No amount of murder and rape was enough to sate their thirsts.
Oft times, these pirate kings, when not presented with easy pickings, would war with each other, committing atrocities and crimes of great horror. Blood sacrifices to mystical gods and long dead corsair kings was common practice in the Basilisk Isles. Younger Pirate kings would attack Older Corsairs in a bid to prove their strength, oft times winning naught but a place in hell. Kings were as prone to die of old age as they were to a kin’s dagger.
The particular corsair kings that attacked the Rhoynish fleet, were all newly crowned, having killed their kin or peers, with a sword or a dagger from the shadows, and eager to show their might. The Basilisk Isles had been ravaged by a 3 year long civil war, that had wiped out much of the populace, and with it the brashness of the Corsairs. They were now much more cautious, often using stolen ships, loading them with disguised pirates passing off as parched Sailors, lost at sea and searching for respite.
More often than not, a passing ship would take pity and let these pirates on board. They would misuse this kindness then, slitting the throats of those fool enough to fall for their farce.
However, as the vanguard of the Rhoynish fleet entered the waters of the Basilisk Isles, a great fleet of Corsairs emerged from the shadows of the Isles. After years of war, these kings had put aside their differences, for the first time in a long time, taking to wife, the sisters of the other two kings. They were desperate to regain their bravado and reignite the fire in their sailors.
In response to this sentiment, a massive fleet was created to showcase the strength of the three Isles. Whatever ships were remaining from the war were repaired, new ones were created and corsairs were trained.
Now, the remaining populace of the Basilisk Isles had thought this to be a fleet of war, giving nothing to their prey but a lifetime of slavery and taking everything in return. However, the kings had other ideas.
The Basilisk Isles had known nothing but bloodshed for the past three years, bloodshed that the kings were tired of. They planned to use this fleet for trade and as sellsails. For the sailors of the Basilisk Isles have no match in the Summer Sea.
This fleet was to go to a rich port, presumably Old Valyria and seek employment there. Presumably to entice the Dragonlords, they carried their remaining riches with them. But then they encountered the van of the Rhoynish fleet.
The corsairs perked up at the sight of the ships, their blood singing again, yearning for precious plunders and loot.
However, the older pirates cautioned their kings, having lost sons and daughters in the civil war. Perhaps they had grown tired of their ways. Perhaps they did not wish to face their children in the underworld so soon. Whatever may be the case for this caution, it was heeded by the kings. This would come to be extremely beneficial for the princesses and extremely detrimental for the kings.
They approached the van, showcasing their giant sails, adorned with Mystical Gods and mythical Corsair kings. The princesses would find this to be unusual but were relieved to not be facing a battle again.
The three kings and the two princesses would meet on a ship to negotiate. The kings would boast of their might, promising to color the sea red with Rhoynish blood if their demands of all Rhoynish ships and everything they contained were not met.
Princess Nymeria would shake her head in disgust while princess Synaera would just laugh. Dressed in her gorgeous black armor, she looked every inch the great queen she would come to become.
When the kings demanded why she was laughing, threatening to cut her tongue out, and asking for all of her ships, she just replied, “All 10000 of them?”.
You see, the corsairs knew not of the massive exodus of Rhoynar. They had never interacted with the Rhoynar but only knew them as Valyria’s most feared enemy.
So when the rest of the massive fleet appeared in the distance, the corsairs were frozen with shock and fear. Nymeria understood her cousins ploy and played along. “The ocean must have formed a belly for corsair blood these past 3 years, yes?”. The kings were still mute so she continued.
“The Rhoyne has sent its children to claim the isles of the Basilisk. We were warned to clear the filth before we cleared the islands.”
She put on a chilling smirk.
“Fortunately for us, the filth clears quicker in open water.”
The kings were silent with fear as princess Synaera promised to slit their throats herself if they moved without permission. She ordered them to return to their “brood of monkeys” and prepare all provisions they have on board. When asked why, she replied, “So we have the stomach to clear out your hovels”. The humiliated kings quickly agreed, hastily getting off the ships and sailing back to their own.
They meekly returned, with 120 ships, each filled to the brim with provisions. The kings had surrendered without a fight, even clearing out their island food stores.
The princesses graciously accepted these gifts before ordering the pirates to return to their wretched sheds.
And so the Rhoynar successfully fooled the corsair kings of the Basilisk Isles. The princesses had gambled on the foolishness of the Corsairs and succeeded, gaining food and water without losing a single soul. Ofcourse, if the corsairs had decided to fight it out, we may have been reading a different history, one painted with the blood of the last two princesses of Mother Rhoyne.
But the wits of princess Synaera and princess Nymeria conquered the Basilisk Isles without a single battle.
But the smattering of islands was hardly suitable for the Rhoynish. Besides there was the danger of the Corsairs finding out their truth and retaliating with full force. Add in the fact that the Basilisk Isles regularly sold slaves to the Valyrians and it was obvious why they chose to not to stay there. But had they stayed, there could have been a chance that I would have been Beldecar, hailing from the Isle of Toads, and not Maester Beldecar of White Harbor. Anyway, I digress.
The princesses and their fleet, after regaining their strength, set sail again. searching for greener pastures, which they would come to find, but not so quickly.
It was a good thing too, them leaving the waters of the Basilisk Isles as quickly as possible. As soon as the three kings returned to their isles, they were easily picked off, their might having been proven to be as fickle as husk. The Isles quickly descended into war again, ambitious sailors hoisting their own sails, freed from their previous employers. Chaos would soon erupt, engulfing each island in a bloody civil war, more vicious than the last, a chaos that would only peter out 2 decades after the Rhoynish fooled the corsair kings of Ax Isle, Talon and the Howling Mountain.
The Rhoynish fleet next sailed to the steaming jungles of Sothoryos. Some ships ventured out to Basilisk point, intending to settle there. Others sailed upriver, settling on the banks of the river Zamoyos, its glistening green waters frequently lighting up the night sky. The princesses anchored most of the fleet in the ruined city of Zamettar. The city was raised by the Ghiscari, during the days of the old empire. The Valyrians captured the city during the fourth Ghiscari war, plundering it and unleashing utter ruin upon the city. It had lain abandoned for thousands of years, the jungle slowly creeping in and reclaiming what the Valyrians left behind.
Some brave souls took a handful of ships to the ruined cyclopean city of Yeen, intending to settle it and accomplish what those before them had failed to.
Yeen is one of the countless enigmas of the Mystical Sothoryos, certainly the greatest of them, having stumped hundreds of learned scholars over many thousands of years. The city, which may be older than time itself, is built entirely of oily black stone, with massive blocks so heavy that It would require a dozen elephants to move them. Thick towers, some reported to be taller than the Hightower, the Five Forts and the Wall put together, occupy Yeen. Some of the largest structures are monolithic, holding no stairs and no doors. Some towers are windowless, while queer magic makes some belie their true height on the inside.
Dark magic runs rampant in Yeen, magic of such power, that even the colossal jungles surrounding Yeen dare not touch it(princess Nymeria had said, “A city so evil that not even the jungle will enter it”, upon receiving the first reports from the city). Each and every attempt to resettle Yeen has ended in horror, and this, would be no different.
Now, some question why the Rhoynish would choose to settle in Sothoryos, a land jotted with cursed cities and cursed forests. However, we often forget that the reason we have such detailed records of the happenings of Sothoryos is due to the Rhoynish residing there for half a year. And Sothoryos was not a meagre land.
There were riches to be discovered in Sothoryos--gold, gems, rare woods, exotic pelts, queer fruits, and strange spices that were coloured wonderfully—but the Rhoynish did not thrive there. The sullen wet heat oppressed their singing spirits, and swarms of stinging flies, bigger than mouses spread one disease after another. green fever, the dancing plague, blood boils, weeping sores, sweetrot, paleskin. The young and very old proved especially vulnerable to such contagions.
Even to splash in the river was to court death, for the Zamoyos was infested with schools of carnivorous fish, and tiny worms that laid their eggs in the flesh of swimmers. If anyone was misfortunate enough to swallow the glistening waters in large enough quantities, they would meet a grisly death within minutes. People were reported to bleed out of their skin, a sizzling black metallic liquid, unlike blood, oozing out of pores. The soil on certain banks would magically ingest any skin it came in contact, leaving any poor soul who stepped or laid in it to scream in agony, attracting evil creatures to their exposed flesh.
Two of the new towns on Basilisk Point were raided by slavers, their populaces put to the sword or carried off in chains, whilst Yeen had to contend with attacks from the brindled ghouls of the jungles deep. Men and boys would be carried off, their corpses surfacing the next morn, their genitals sawed off and their hands sewn in place of their legs.
For half a year the Rhoynar struggled to survive in Sothoryos, until the day when a boat from Zamettar arrived at Yeen to find that every man, woman, and child in that haunted, ruined city had vanished overnight. Then the princesses summoned their people back to the ships and set sail again, intending to leave behind, the cursed continent, of Sothoryos. Princess Synaera remarked, “Gaze upon this land that we leave behind. Lands so evil, Naught but ghosts would dare to settle it”, as Basilisk point faded in the distance.
For the next two years the Rhoynar wandered the southern seas, seeking a new home. But respite would not yet arrive.
On Naath, the Isle of Butterflies, the peaceful people gave them welcome, but the god that protects that strange land began to strike down the newcomers by the score with a nameless mortal illness, driving them back to their ships. In the Summer Isles, they settled on an uninhabited rock off the eastern shore of Walano, which soon became known as the Isle of Women, but its thin stony soil yielded little food, and many starved. Synaera was reminded of the horrors that took place in Chroyane and the princesses decided to take to the seas once more.
When the sails were raised again, some of the Rhoynar abandoned Nymeria to follow a priestess named Druselka, who claimed to have heard Mother Rhoyne calling her children home … but when Druselka and her followers returned to their old cities, they found their enemies waiting, and most were soon hunted down, slain, or enslaved.
The worn down Rhoynar fleet sailed west. This time they made for Westeros. After so much wandering, the princesses had found their fleet to be less than seaworthy. The ships that were constructed in Sarhoy during the war were in much better shape than princess Nymeria’s hastily assembled fleet. However, close to three years of sailing had taken its toll on the ships, old or new.
The fleet would not reach Westeros unscathed. A terrible storm, one so powerful that the oceans were said to part, occurred, some leagues off the coast of Dorne. This storm was so huge that close to a thousand Rhoynar Ships broke under its force, sinking their way to a watery grave.
As a 1000 ships sunk to the bottom and 10000 souls cried out in horror, 4000 ships were jolted west and 5000 ships were thrown north.
And thus, the last voyage of the princess and the first voyage of the queen, began.
- The last voyage of the princess and the first voyage of the queen
Maester Beldecar, sworn to New Castle, White Harbor.