Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire it is owned by G.R.R. Martin.

Return of Valyria

Chapter 11

Jaenera stared at the sword she held partly-unsheathed in her hand, given to her by the Captain-General of the Golden Company following the finalization of their contract with Volantis the Great. Her eyes traced the smoky luster of the blade, the fluid swirl of half-legible glyphs and characters running over the metal, and then rising to the crossguard, took in the ruby at the center and the snarling dragon heads on either side. She knew this sword. And last she saw it, it was at her brother's hip.

"…Blackfyre." She whispered reverently. But of course: this was a sword traditionally possessed by the Lord Freeholder of their family, or their heir, and had been for over four thousand years.

They'd owned and lost or given away other blades in that same span of time, but Blackfyre had always remained with them. Or it should have been, had not that fat oaf of a despot Aegon the Unworthy given the sword to a short-sighted and overly-ambitious cadet of theirs, Daemon Blackfyre, and stained the sword's honor by turning it against the hand which had wielded it from the moment it had been forged in dragonfire.

Now though, it had been returned to her. Blackfyre had returned to Targaryen hands, where it belonged.

But…where was the other sword?

"…where is Dark Sister?" Jaenera asked. "By that, I do not mean to denigrate this gift, which is beyond value, but…Dark Sister and Blackfyre are…well, a mated pair. They were forged by the same smith, by the same dragon's breath, and from the same batch of dragonsteel even. So…?"

Miles Toyne, Captain-General of the Golden Company, lowered his head. "Apologies," he said. "But I do not know. The last anyone knew of that sword, Blood Raven, that is, Brynden Rivers, held the sword and took it with him to the Wall when Aegon the Unlikely exiled him for breaking the word of the Iron Throne. It likely remains there, but…"

The man trailed off, but Jaenera nodded in understanding before giving a heavy sigh. "I see." She said, before regarding Blackfyre once more, and then sheathing the blade lowered it. "I'll look into it further when I have the time and opportunity, but for now…again, I thank you for returning Blackfyre to me, and pointing me in the direction of my sword."

"Your sword?" Jon Connington asked.

Jaenera did not answer at once, instead looking up as she lost herself in her memories.

Aenar Targaryen stared at what his youngest sister was offering. "Jae, what…?" he began, only to be interrupted.

"Don't misunderstand." Jaenera said. "I'm not giving Dark Sister to you, not when you have Blackfyre already. And while Gaemon or Daenys might prove worthy of it one day, that won't be for at least another couple of decades. And big sister isn't nearly skilled enough in bladework…it belongs to me."

"…so why?"

Jaenera smiled. "Same reason I'm not coming with you to Dragonstone." She said. "In ten years or so…I expect this sword back, alright? Until then, I'm lending it to you."

Brother and sister stared at each other for several long moments, and then Aenar sighed. "As always," he said with an air of exasperation. "You are such a pain in the neck, Jae."

And then he smiled, and taking the sword, pulled her into an embrace. "Fine," he said, pulling away and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "If this turns out to be just me overreacting, we'll come back, and give you your sword back. Assuming either Gaemon or Daenys don't prove themselves worthier of it than you."

Jaenera laughed. "We'll see." She said. "I'll hold you to everything you've just said, so don't you dare lose Dark Sister until then."

"I don't intend to go down in family history as the one who lost one of two swords which have always belonged to the family." Aenar said, and Jaenera smiled wider.

"Go," she said. "The tide's turning. Even if I still disagree with your conclusions about Daenys' dreams, I don't want to get in your way either. Stay safe, big brother."

Aenar smiled and putting a hand on Jaenera's head, ruffled her hair affectionately. "Likewise, little sister." He said. "I too hope that this is all just an overreaction."

Jaenera nodded, and nodding back, Aenar turned towards and boarded his ship.

It would be the last time the siblings would ever see each other.

"…Dark Sister was my sword." Jaenera answered Jon Connington with a sigh. "I gave it to my brother to prove a point."

"A point?" the man asked, but Jaenera did not answer, and Jon Connington did not press. It was clearly a private matter.

Months after setting out from Dorne, Prince Oberyn's ship, the Windrunner, finally arrived at their destination. Before them, the vast expanse of Volantis' lagoon stretched out far beyond the eye could see, so great that the whole of Braavos could be dropped therein and still there'd be room to spare. And yet there it was, barely visible over the distance, crowding across the shores of the sea and the river, Volantis the Great, Eldest Daughter of Valyria, with the proud span of the Bridge of Volantis crossing the lagoon at its widest point, made of the same black stone the dragonroads and the black walls of Volantis and Tyrosh's old cities, as well as Dragonstone in the Blackwater Bay were made of, smooth, hard, and strong, nigh-unbreakable by any force at man's disposal.

The lagoon was filled with many a ship. They ranged from river barges and fishing boats of various sizes, to short-distance coastal and patrol galleys, and long-distance trade ships such as cogs and carracks, with which the merchants and sailors of Volantis plied the waters as far east as Yi-Ti and Asshai-by-the-Shadow, to Lorath and Sarnor in the north, and before the recent war, even made the long journey west, to the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.

There were also warships as well, galleys and dromunds and carracks. Most flew the banners of Volantis, of course, but there were others as well, flying banners not seen in centuries: the golden dragon on red of the Valyrian Freehold.

Two of those warships now blocked the Windrunner's course, the latter having made for the docks on the eastern side of the lagoon, reserved solely for the Volantene Fleet, or those ships belonging to the Old Blood of Volantis. Men in brigandines and – in a source of irony – Rhoynar helmets stood at attention on the Volantene decks, crossbows held at the ready, though aimed not (for now) at the Windrunner's crew.

A gangplank was placed between the Windrunner and one of the Volantene ships, allowing a pudgy and baldheaded man to cross over. He wore a plain yet with some examination, expensive robe of serviceable brown, while around his neck like a badge of office hung a chain of gold. "In the Name of the Triarchs and People of Volantis," he began in an officious tone. "I bid the ship's master to come forward, and declare by what right he seeks to make port in the eastern harbor."

Pushing past his crew, Prince Oberyn stepped forward, wearing a copper-hued shirt of cotton over cotton trousers in a darker yet similar shade. "I am Oberyn of House Martell of the Sun and Spear." He replied. "I claim the right to make port in the eastern harbor, and a place in the Old City, by my family's descent from Aegon of House Targaryen, Fourth of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Faith, through his daughter Princess Daenerys, wife and consort to Maron of House Martell, Lord of Sunspear and Prince of Dorne."

"Any can claim descent from such august ancestry," the official challenged. "But not all can present proof of such claim."

"But of course," Oberyn said, and holding out a hand, had one of the crew provide him with a series of official documents, all bearing the seal of his brother, Prince Doran Martell of Dorne. "And you will find that I and mine are among those."

The official took the papers, and briefly examined them. "Papers can be forged," he pointed out. "And while there are ways to authenticate them, they will take time to perform. Unless there is one among the Old Blood who can vouch for your claim?"

Oberyn smiled. "Indeed," he said with a nod. "I am acquainted with one Nesaria Eranaenor, though it has been some time since we last met and spoke. Nevertheless, if she is in the city, then she would be able to vouch for me, as indeed, that last time had me as a guest in one of her family's homes."

"…the House of Eranaenor is a known and respected one of the Old Blood." The official admitted. "Arrangements will be made to inquire to their good word with regard to your claim. Until then, you and yours will be required to remain aboard, and your ship will remain as it is."

"Very well," Oberyn said with a nod, and with a nod of his own the official turned and left. Oberyn looked on as the gangplank was removed, and as orders were shouted on the Volantene ships, turned to the Windrunner's captain. "Drop anchor, this might take some time."

"Yes, my prince." The man said with a nod, and turning away, gave orders while Oberyn walked towards the rail. As the ship's crew bustled about, and the chains of the Windrunner's anchor clinked its links against each other as it was unlatched and thrown overboard to sink into the depths beneath, Oberyn kept his eyes on the Volantene ships. One was changing course and making to leave, while the other was backing away, though still positioned as though to keep watch on and if need be, intercept the Windrunner should it prove necessary.

Oberyn snorted at the thought, and fighting down a surge of impatience, turned to go below deck.

It was hours later that a response was received from Volantis, and Oberyn hurried up to the deck, head slightly hazed by several glasses of Dornish red. Nymeria Sand was standing on the deck, wearing a sleeveless dress of pale yellow, clearly waiting for her father.

"Mother is waiting for us." The girl of six and ten years said without preamble. "That ship which has been watching us for most of the day will guide us to port."

"…about time." Oberyn grumbled.

"You know how my mother's people can be." Nymeria said with a shrug.

"Hmm…" Oberyn hummed in agreement, leaning against the rail and keeping his eyes on the water as the Windrunner weighed anchor and began to move, the crew rowing her towards the eastern part of the city. As they proceeded, the Sun continued its descent towards the western horizon, the afternoon light seeming to set the sky on fire and turning the mingled waters of the Rhoyne and the Summer Sea into blood.

Given the size of the lagoon, it still took the Windrunner hours to reach the eastern harbor, by which time the sky above was turning dark, stars beginning to glimmer against the creeping velvet of night. With a splash, the Windrunner's anchor fell into the shallow waters of the harbor, and shouts were exchanged as lines were thrown and secured. The gangplank was lowered, and then Oberyn and Nymeria were descending, and then guided onto a raised walkway of cleanly-scrubbed wood which led to where a large litter of gilded wood and silken drapes was waiting for them.

"…Oberyn…" a feminine voice spoke as they approached, a slender hand ever so slightly pulling the drapes open. "…and my little Nymeria…though not so little anymore, I see."

"It has been a long time, mother." Nymeria said as she entered the litter, making sure to discard her sandals before doing so. A slave picked them up, along with Oberyn's shoes, as the prince joined his daughter and former paramour aboard the latter's litter.

A foreman barked an order, and a dozen slaves picked up the litter on their shoulders, and carried them away. The sound of boots striking the ground in unison accompanied them, no less than thirty household guards marching alongside to protect their lady and her guests as they headed to one of her homes in Old Volantis.

"…it has indeed." Nesaria said as she embraced her daughter warmly. And then Nymeria's eyes were going wide, the girl pulling away while staring at her mother, whose face – an older reflection of Nymeria's own save for violet Valyrian irises – smiled back at her. Nearby, Oberyn gave an amused laugh.

"Impressive," Nesaria said, bringing the dagger she'd taken from the back of her daughter's dress for a closer look, and briefly passed it under her nose. "Hmm…I see you favor a somewhat slow-acting poison…not too painful too, though…"

"…true," Nymeria admitted. "But they would feel their body grow numb and helpless, thus causing pain of a different kind."

"The pain of helplessness in the face of a superior foe." Nesaria said with a laugh, and leaning closer to her daughter, gave her a kiss on the forehead while replacing the dagger. As she pulled away, she ran her hands over her daughter's arms, and laughed again. "Seven daggers in all? All poisoned too, I imagine? Your father has taught you well."

"That I have." Oberyn remarked, having helped himself to Nesaria's dates in a nearby bowl of gilded bronze.

Nesaria scoffed while leaning back on her pillows. "So," she began. "I am not complaining, as it is good to see Nymeria again, but I must ask: why are you here, Oberyn?"

"You say you don't complain, and yet there's a certain undertone to your voice that says otherwise." Oberyn flippantly replied. "Why is that, I wonder?"

"You know as well as I do that my father was less than…pleased, at the outcome of our time together all those years ago." Nesaria said while taking a date for herself.

"And yet here we are." Oberyn remarked.

"Yes…here we are…times have truly changed…" Nesaria agreed with a slow nod. "…very much so…even natural-born, a dynastic link with one of the Forty Families is now more valuable than it has been in a very long time…"

"…is it true?" Oberyn asked. "Aenar the Exile's sister…is she truly here?"

"…she was here." Nesaria said with a nod. "That was several months ago, though. Now, she is far to the north, on her dragon along with many other dragonriders, fighting to bring Norvos and Qohor to heel."

Oberyn laughed long and hard, prompting Nesaria to turn away and to offer dates to her daughter in the meantime. Nymeria took a handful with a grateful nod. "…I imagine you are here to enlist her aid in avenging your sister and her children." Nesaria said as Oberyn's mirth ran its course.

"…yes." Oberyn admitted after a moment.

"I don't think it will be that difficult." Nesaria said. "I've heard that when she found out what happened to her brother's descendants, Lord Freeholder Targaryen stormed out of the assembly chamber, and needed to be given a verbal command by one of the Valyrian Triarchs to keep from going on rampage."

"…sounds like a woman I can get along with." Oberyn said with a grin.

Nesaria gave an elegant roll of her eyes. "Perhaps," she said. "Perhaps not…in any case, as I've said she is currently fighting the war, and you'll have to wait until she returns to speak with her. Though, I must point out, you are not the first to come here to seek her aid in avenging your sister and her children."

"…oh?"

Nesaria gave a bemused laugh. "Yes…" she said while taking a date and giving it a small bite. "Quite a number of them have shown up over the past few months…whether exiles from that war which threw down the Targaryen Kings years ago…or those who suddenly remembered their loyalty in the face of a Targaryen with a dragon at her beck and call…there are thousands of them at least in the western city, and they all long for the day when she returns from the north. The last of the Targaryen dragonlords…or at least the only actual one…"

"…I've heard loyalists were gathering here at Volantis." Oberyn said before narrowing her eyes. "Though that is a good point. There are the truly loyal ones, whether those who chose exile than bow to the Usurper, or those who made a show of bowing but inwardly swore to bide their time until the time was right to set things back the way they ought to be…and then there are who are only loyal so long as the winds blow their way."

"And of course those who feign loyalty only as a means to get close before striking with poisoned daggers…" Nesaria said with a slow nod. "Lord Freeholder Targaryen should take care, though I'm certain she already knows that."

"Hmm…" Oberyn thoughtfully hummed while biting down on a date.

"…mother?" Nymeria began.

"Yes, child?" Nesaria asked.

"What do you mean by that last?" Nymeria asked. "You referred to Lord Freeholder Targaryen as the only actual dragonlord of her family…do you mean…?"

"Ah…very perceptive of you, my dear." Nesaria said with a nod. "Yes…they are here. They arrived some weeks ago, and indeed will be joining us for dinner tonight…Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen…"

"Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen…" Oberyn breathed. "You really are alive…both of you…"

"Prince Oberyn…" Viserys said with a small bow, Daenerys giving a shy curtsy next to him. "I remember your uncle, Prince Lewyn in my father's Kingsguard. He was a good man, loyal and true, brave and noble…"

"…yes…he was…" Oberyn said, his eyes going distant as he remembered his uncle, and then his eyes hardened as he remembered the circumstances of his death. "And I have not forgotten the cause he died for, unlike two of his so-called brothers."

"Turncoat Barristan…and Jaime the Kingslayer…" Viserys said with narrowed eyes.

Oberyn gave a chilling smile. "I suppose we can only hope your aunt gives us the opportunity to deal with those two ourselves." He said. "Death by dragonfire is too quick and merciful, don't you think?"

"…I suppose so." Viserys agreed after a moment. "My aunt, huh…"

"Last I hear she was fighting far to the north…" Oberyn said, gesturing at Nymeria who coaxed Daenerys away to walk around the interior garden of the manse, leaving Viserys and Oberyn to talk under a vine-covered trellis.

"Hmm…"

"…do you have a problem with your aunt, Prince Viserys?" Oberyn asked curiously, and taking a pair of filled wineglasses offered by a slave, offered one to Viserys.

"It's not that." Viserys said with a sigh. "It's just that…thinking about her and what she's doing…it's…it just really drives home the fact that we've lost everything. Not just our home and birthright, but what makes us…what makes us Targaryens in the first place."

"…then you'll have to get it back, don't you?"

"I suppose we must." Viserys said with another sigh. "Though, that's going to have to wait until she comes back from the war."

Oberyn shrugged. "It's unavoidable, I'm afraid." He said.

Viserys was silent for several moments, sipping at his wine as he watched Daenerys and Nymeria wandering around the garden. "How are things in Westeros?" he finally asked.

"The Usurper's grip on power seems to be firm after he put the Ironborn to the sword during Balon Greyjoy's idiotic attempt at independence." Oberyn said while sitting down on a bench nearby. "And with two sons of his own now he has an heir and a spare to carry on his name should anything happen to him."

"What of the Lords Paramount?" Viserys asked.

"…you're better off writing off everyone north and east of the Reach, Prince Viserys." Oberyn said after a moment. "Just about all of them fought to put the Usurper on the throne, and I wouldn't be surprised if Stark's elder daughter is eventually betrothed to the Usurper's heir to secure their alliance for another generation."

"And the Tyrells?"

Oberyn snorted and took a drink. "Mace Tyrell is an opportunist." He said. "I know, I know…not really the best ally, but he still has an army of a hundred thousand at his command. Dragons might be able to destroy armies and castles all on their own, but you can't hold land without an army."

"…can we really trust that man?" Viserys skeptically asked.

"Like I said," Oberyn said. "He's an opportunist. He'll be loyal to whoever offers him the best deal. And the best deal is the one that doesn't end with him and his entire family roasting in dragonfire."

"Humph…" Viserys snorted. "What about Dorne?"

Oberyn's eyes went flat. "Oh, don't worry about us." He said. "We're just waiting for the right time, and when it comes, we'll be there to finish the fight, and to take our pound of flesh from the Usurper and his dogs. Not just for my uncle…but also for my sister and her children…the Usurper and his dogs will beg for a quick death."

Viserys snorted, and then laughed. "It's strange, isn't it, Prince Oberyn?" he asked. "Our ancestors were mortal enemies, both here and in Westeros, and this city we're in was a cause for many wars between the Rhoynar and the Valyrians…and yet here and now…"

"…we find common ground against the wrongs done to our families by a single man and his treacherous confederates…" Oberyn said with a nod before taking another drink. "…yes…it really is strange…but does it matter?"

Viserys stared at Oberyn for a long moment, and then he turned away. "No…" he said. "No it doesn't."

The two princes were silent for a long while, and then Oberyn spoke up again. "How'd you get to Volantis?" he asked softly. "The last we'd heard, you were at Braavos, but then there were reports of riots and of Valyrian-blooded people being driven out into the wilderness or just being killed. We feared the worst."

"…Ser Willem gave his life to let me and Dany escape." Viserys answered softly. "Like your uncle, he was a brave and loyal man."

"Just like his brother, Ser Jonothor." Oberyn sadly remarked.

Viserys nodded just as sadly. "…we and many other refugees made our way south, and eventually arrived at Myr." He said. "A magister recognized us, and took us in."

"Strange…" Oberyn said with narrowed eyes. "Last I heard, Myr along with the rest of the Three Daughters are following Braavos' lead in embargoing…ah, I see…so that's how it is."

Viserys nodded. "The magisters of Myr seek to cut a deal with Valyria." He said. "It will help that unlike Lys and Tyrosh, neither of them have a history of turning on and killing dragonlords in the wake of the Doom. I simply do not see Valyria not exacting a pound of flesh of their own from Lys and Tyrosh in the face of such…historical, fact."

Oberyn nodded and emptied his glass. A nearby slave moved forward to refill it. "I imagine said scheme of the Myrish is a secret one." He remarked.

"It is." Viserys said. "And, as you might have guessed, our presence here in Volantis is a…show of good faith, on Myr's part."

Oberyn nodded again. "I can see how." He said. "They took in two male-line descendants of one of the Forty Families, and rather than keep them as hostages in all but name, turned them over to those openly on Valyria's side. That's enough for a talk when the time is right. Though…Myr's still embargoing Volantis and Valyria, aren't they?"

Viserys shrugged. "They can't openly move against the western cities." He said. "Not yet…they'd be caught between Braavos to the north, and Lys and Tyrosh to the south. So for now, they're feeding inside information to Volantis and Valyria, and like Dorne with regard to the Usurper, when the time comes…"

"…they'll stab the westerners in the back." Oberyn said with a grin. "I like it. Though, how and what are they telling the Volantenes and Valyrians?"

"I don't know." Viserys admitted. "I haven't been made privy to either of those, and while it was a bit galling at first, after having thought about it…it makes sense."

Oberyn nodded. "True…" he said before taking a drink. "So, what have you been doing all this time?"

"Brushing up on my High Valyrian," Viserys said without hesitation. "And looking up dragonlore from the archives I can get into here in Old Volantis. That I'm a Targaryen goes a long way, and Lady Nesaria has been of help there as well. I've also been teaching Dany High Valyrian, though I've largely left that to Lady Nesaria's household."

Oberyn nodded in approval. "Sounds good…" he began, only to break off as one of the household appeared.

"Prince Viserys…Prince Oberyn…" the man said. "My lady has asked me to inform and guide you to where tonight's meal has been prepared and served."

Oberyn stood up while Viserys looked to where more members of the household were gathering Nymeria and Daenerys to take them to the dining room, and then he looked back to Oberyn. "Now then," Oberyn said. "Shall we go and see if Nesaria's cooks are as good as I remember them?"

Viserys gave a smile at that. "Lead the way, Prince Oberyn." He said.

A/N

Update time, starting with Jae getting her hands on a piece of history, plus a flashback. Then we finally get back to Oberyn and Viserys, both of whom are finally in Volantis. Canonically, we don't have a name for Nymeria Sand's mother, only that she was among the Old Blood of Volantis. Since she didn't have a name in canon, I gave her one here.