A/N: A snippet of Arin's family, to satisfy the curious.
Edit: Changed much dialogue and sections of the POV in Braavos, due to how cringy it read and how unrealistic it looked to me.
Chapter XVIII: Family is Forever
2 BC
Rhoyehom [1]
Rhoyehom, Rhoyne's grace in Rhoynar, provincial capital of Ghoyan-Noy, renamed in light of House Allyrion's extinction and the fall of Eastern Dorne to House Rada.
With the fall of Godsgrace, Arin Rada had it renamed and designated it as the new capital of Dorne due to its geographical position. It took a few weeks to make the necessary arrangements from shifting documents to transporting the necessary personnel, but Rhoyehom was now functioning as the new bureaucratic centre of power, and many masons and soldiers migrated to turn the small town into a capital worthy of the name.
Due to stubborn resistance from House Allyrion, Arin had caused significant damage to both the town and the castle, and while the people were grateful he did not lay a hand on them, he nevertheless had to put both the homeless people and the troops to work building them new homes.
Upon closer investigation, however, both the town and castle were horrendously designed and needed a complete reconstruction from the ground up. Many joked at how wroth he was, complaining about the winding roads and poorly maintained walls, ramshackle houses and lack of convenient bridges over rivers.
Having made himself at home with his family, Arin sighed as he shifted away the last pile of paperwork which was quickly carried away by a clerk, happy to be done for the day.
"Whew, this is murder on my shoulders…" He muttered to himself.
Belandra knocked on the door and entered Arin's study, carrying a tray with a piping hot cup of tea.
"Here, my dear," She smiled as she placed the tea on Arin's table.
"Thanks Belandra," Arin smiled back, sipping his sweet lemon-flavoured tea, "How's the kids?"
"Oh, you know, being very lazy and unmotivated," Belandra shrugged, "Reminds me of a certain husband of mine outside of work."
Arin held up his hands in defence, "Hey, at least I do my work, and you know how much I hate working while stressed or tired."
"Yes, I suppose that is a good thing, and considering that you do your work well you do deserve to be a little lazy every now and then," Belandra pointed out, moving to massage Arin's shoulders, "Though I wish you could be just a little more motivated."
"Come on, love, I can't maintain that burst of energy all the time," Arin whined, "You've got to let me be lazy sometimes~!"
Belandra rolled her eyes but smiled affectionately, continuing to massage her husband.
Then two bundles of joy walked into the room, holding up their favourite fiction books.
"Hello girls," Arin greeted, "What can papa and mama do for you?"
Azella, the eldest daughter, bearing her father's black hair and mother's blue eyes, tall as a grown man, possessed of elegant beauty and a quiet, studious confidence and firstborn child. Ismerei, the second eldest daughter, who inherited more of her mothers looks and features, slightly shorter than her sister yet no less beautiful and elegant, though with a slight tomboyish flair in her appearance.
"We want new books, papa," Azella started.
"Already? Didn't I give you those books a week ago?" Arin asked.
"Yes, and we want new ones," Azella stated.
"Alright, which ones do you want?" Arin asked, smiling softly.
"I want the new volume of Lord of the Rings," Azella muttered.
"I want Age of Dragons!" Ismerei exclaimed.
"Okay, okay, I'll get them as soon as possible," Arin answered, "Anything else you need?"
"No, not really," Ismerei stated, "It's just that lessons are boring sometimes."
Arin laughed softly, "I know they're boring, but they're important when you grow up; when you become adults, what you learn will be very crucial in your lives."
"But it's the same stuff over and over again!" Ismerei complained, "It's hard not to find it boring!"
Azella was content to remain quiet, though she shared her sister's dissatisfaction.
"Work's also the same stuff over and over again," Arin shrugged, "That's my job, and I'm working my job so you get to eat good food and read your favourite novels, you understand me?"
Both sisters shared a look of disbelief, exchanging doubtful glances with each other.
"Now see, I don't really enjoy my work, I admit; quite a number tend to not enjoy their work or their studies and that's why we all have our own favourite hobbies, don't we?" Arin stated matter-of-factly.
Both sisters nodded and hummed in understanding.
"However, I can't shelter you forever, and sooner or later y'all got to start working to earn a living. Especially 'cause you're my children; there'll be a lot of expectations for you to succeed and make the family proud. It's stressful as hell, and might make you feel very distant from others, but it's not that time yet," He continued, and the sisters listened with rapt attention at the gentle, soft yet firm tone of his voice, "I'm not asking you to sacrifice your hobbies, but at the very least, can I ask you as your father to do well in your studies?"
"Your father speaks the truth, my dears," Belandra smiled compassionately, and the sisters relaxed slightly, "In fact, I also had to work hard alongside him to make sure all manner of things were running smoothly, so that all of you can study and play in a peaceful environment. Surely you can at least humour one of his requests?"
Azella and Ismerei exchanged glances, then slowly nodded to Arin and Belandra.
"Okay," They said.
"Good girls," Arin smiled, and both he and Belandra went to hug them.
Sainalia entered the study, knocking on the door and bowing before them.
"Lord Arin, Lady Obela Lleryn has arrived and is waiting in the guest room," She informed.
"Best not keep her waiting," Arin nodded, "Mind looking after the kids, Sainalia?"
"Of course, My Lord," Sainalia bowed, "Come, children."
Sainalia was House Rada's Spymistress and a maid in disguise, and so she served as caretaker of Arin's and Belandra's eight children alongside her own five children.
There was no better nanny to assign for their care.
IIOII
Obela Lleryn had gracefully aged in the decade that passed since Arin's official ascension as the new Lord of Ifarahoy. At thirty-and-eight years of age, she had long passed childbearing age but managed to give birth to her twelfth child at the age of thirty-and-five. Yet her supple and curvaceous body, clothed by a thin Dornish dress of violet gossamer, only barely covered her ample chest and showed her smooth, supple and unblemished chocolate coloured skin.
Her belly was also exceptionally smooth and free of stretch marks, and her face seemed no older than thirty - a byproduct of consistent tender loving care - smooth, delicate and bright and lacking any wrinkles or blemishes.
"You seem to be in good spirits," Belandra remarked.
"I never let profitable work get in the way of my relaxation," Obela smiled sultrily.
"Figures," Arin shrugged, amused by how put off Obela was in her ineffective seduction, "Anyway, how's preparations for the Stepstones expedition?"
"Proceeding smoothly and ahead of schedule," Obela smiled, "Plenty of people are enthusiastic about ending the pirate menace once and for all."
"Especially one that loves being such for countless centuries," Belandra affirmed, "I've lost count of how many of House Qeffar's merchant ships were lost to their raids."
"The pirates?" Arin asked.
"Disunited into their own petty fiefdoms, though once we invade they will unite in the face of a common threat - not that it matters," Obela answered, sounding completely unconcerned and distracted with filing her nails, "Though I do wonder how Tyrosh and Lys will react; probably like petulant children who've been spoiled all their lives."
"Aren't they all?" Belandra remarked.
And they all shared a laugh, melodious and harmonious like a gaggle of little girls dancing and singing in flower fields.
"So my love, if they come asking for the Disputed Lands [2] or some other nonsense, what should we do?" Belandra asked rhetorically.
"What else?" Arin shrugged.
Not that any had plans to conquer that disparate region, not when it was fiercely contested between three other City-States and they would have their hands full with integrating their latest conquests, glutting their land and power a hundredfold.
IIOII
Braavos
The Sealord's Palace - and by extension the entirety of the city of Braavos [3] - was in an uproar, tensions flaring as news of Arin Rada's rapid conquest of the Stepstones rapidly spread throughout the known world. People wildly speculated on the streets, in the alleyways and in their own homes, wondering how and why the haven of pirates fell in just a fortnight.
In the mind of Sealord Ormallos Tarys, it was a long time coming; not only had the pirates continuously raided Rada and Targaryen shipping, they also exhausted the bulk of their strength in the Battle of the Greenblood River [4] and had yet to recoup their losses.
This was no mere eye-for-eye, tooth-for-tooth fight, but divine retribution, and the pirates paid a terrible price for their sins and the sins of their ancestors.
Entire towns were put to the sword, hideouts torched to ashes and heads put on display, and only those at the age of ten-and-two or below were spared; boys and girls, with over half deported to Dorne to mingle with the local Rhoynish, while Rhoynish migrants planted seeds on the torched islands once the old, withered forests crumbled to ash.
Rumours were highly varied in their content, but there were a few consistent facts to identify: Rada ships were state-of-the-art models were not reliant on rowing and used the power of wind sails; their scorpions were highly accurate and the ships manned by veteran mariners; the sheer number of ships, troops and siege equipment deployed outnumbered what the pirates had tenfold.
"And to think House Rada would achieve what no one else did," Ormallos grit his teeth, calming himself with deep breaths and decades of experience in restraint, "Overthrowing House Martell, ending centuries of dynastic rule, restoring the Rhoynar to prominence in what should have been their second home… I truly have to respect his tenacity and perspicacity. I honestly have to question his judgement in allying with House Targaryen of all people, though."
It was not as if he were an arrogant noble brat, whose only redeeming qualities was his strong sword-arm, ego full of bluster and his virility to sire many heirs for his house; he knew that without House Targaryen's alliance, the Reach and the Stormlands would easily deploy their navies to occupy Dorne's shores and land troops and supplies and crush House Rada's navy through sheer force of numbers alone, allowing either to conquer all of Dorne with impunity and smothering Arin's ambitions in the cradle. Furthermore, it was through trade with House Targaryen that Arin was able to enrich his coffers, which was necessary to outfit and supply his professional full-time army.
If one took the alliance at face-value, it was obvious that House Arin reaped many benefits from this alliance with the rising powerhouse (propped only by dragons). And yet, Ormallos could not deny that something sinister was being conceived in that fox's mind. He knew not exactly what, only that Arin wanted something more - more than Dorne itself.
He could only hope that Arin's ambitions did not involve Braavos in any negative connotation.
At his approach, the servants quickly and gently opened the doors to the council chamber, where the shouts and barks of politicking could be heard from leagues away the moment the heavy-set doors were opened a smidgen. Ormallos nodded to the servants who backed away and curtseyed, and as he took the centre stage, his aide was by his side as was his duty.
The old Sealord always appreciated how quick the council was to silence itself at his approach.
"Sealord Ormallos, the Council is ready to proceed," His aide reported, his voice a soothing mezzo-soprano.
Ormallos nodded appreciatively at his aide, and as he took centre stage on the Sealord's podium, he began his speech that he rehearsed several days prior.
"Gentlemen, we are facing an unprecedented rapid tide of change close to our waters for the first time since the Century of Blood came to a close just a few years ago - a change that will engulf Essos," Ormallos began, voice calm and certain, "And the one spearheading this change is none other than the ruling Lord of House Rada, Arin."
There were knowing whispers and nods exchanged among the council, some expressing a darkened face at the mention of his name.
"This Arin Rada, I do not know what that man wants, but it is clear he has lofty ambitions he aspires to fulfil within his lifetime," Ormallos continued, pointing his finger westward, "His achievements are many and varied, including his latest one which we all know by heart now. And I say this is a cause for worry."
All gave silent nods.
"His family is already shaping up to be the sole power in Dorne and a new power in the Waking Sea, capable of standing toe-to-toe with House Targaryen of Dragonstone, and now their navy is more powerful than before. Certainly nowhere near powerful enough to threaten our naval dominance, but he may achieve such a feat if given enough time. Normally a noble house is no real concern to us; countless of those in Westeros who do nothing but butt heads or break bones over trivial affairs, but Arin Rada chose to make a most troublesome alliance with the descendants of the very empire that destroyed the Rhoynar homeland: House Targaryen."
Many mouthed curses, calling House Rada hypocrites and all manner of derisive terms.
"Arin Rada's top priority is the reconquest of the Rhoyne, given the direction of his warpath, and while we are geographically too far to be of concern to them, Tyrosh is closeby to them now that House Rada occupies the Stepstones. Should Arin choose to conquer and annex Tyrosh, he will effectively control any and all trade routes passing through the Narrow Sea."
Ormallos refused to believe Arin was not eyeing Tyrosh as the next prize; the Valyrians built the city to control the Stepstones before the Doom snuffed out such ambitions, and with its runic walls designed to withstand ferocious siege bombardments, it was a costly endeavour to any army unprepared for a lengthy siege.
And even if he did not say it outright, through control of all trade in the Narrow Sea, House Rada could easily charge heavy tariffs on passing Essosi merchants or even sell his own luxury goods at high markups to belligerent fat merchants whose appetites and facades as civilised people were little better than muddy pigs, making them not only filthy rich but also giving them a position to directly contest Braavosi trade head-on.
Perhaps it was just a knee-jerk reaction, but Ormallos could not fathom a lifetime where Braavos had to worry about a powerful trade rival, potentially threatening its profits and prosperity.
"What about House Targaryen, Sealord?" Questioned one of the councillors, "They eyed Essos as their prize before its current Lord decided to settle for Westeros instead, but who knows if that can change - when that can change?"
Ormallos made a dramatic show of shaking his head and sighing, masking his internal smile at that question.
"As reluctant as I am to admit it, we do not have the means of besting House Targaryen's dragons," He concluded, and he could see many sour faces among those gathered which further elevated his mood, "That does not mean we cannot prepare, however."
At Ormallos's words and devilish tone, all the Council of Braavos showed great interest and listened eagerly.
"As we know, the Faith and the Conclave treat the existence of magic itself as a heresy that must be eradicated from the face of the earth, and House Targaryen being a magic-wielding house that possesses dragons is yet another blight on the world they would sooner see die, no matter the means, no matter the cost. Dragons are mighty beings, but who says they are invulnerable to poison? Or the Targaryens, for that matter? And the Conclave's Maesters are Westeros's healers and doctors, but in reality they are spies for the Citadel, who work to keep the nobility ignorant and prevent anyone from going against their millennia-old agenda. Furthermore, the people of Westeros are largely Andals loyal to the Faith of the Seven - a people who inherently despise the Valyrians for driving them from their homeland."
One of the Councilors stood up, raising his hand.
"If I may, Sealord?" Asked the Councillor.
Tycho Jokune, Bank-Chief of the Odacnon [5] - the chief keyholders of the Iron Bank - was one of the wealthiest and most powerful bankers and politicians in the entire country, and all who heard his name trembled in fear; with one word, the entire House of Black and White [6] would annihilate his enemies.
"You may, Tycho," Ormallos gestured.
"Thank you, Sealord," Tycho nodded, "Even though House Rada is clearly becoming increasingly powerful and prolific under Arin Rada, do not forget that it is precisely because of its alliance with House Targaryen that House Rada must not appear as if it is opposing or subverting House Targaryen's power; they surely had to seek Lord Aegon's permission to invade the Stepstones, and they must seek permission to invade Tyrosh in the future. Furthermore, I predict that at least for the foreseeable future, both House Rada and House Targaryen will be preoccupied with the savage continent of Westeros to pay attention to us."
Tycho's voice was like honeyed gold, soothing and pleasurable to their ears, and the logic in his words swayed the Council to his side.
"And if it is magic the Radas and Targaryens wield, magic can also bring them down. Do we not have the House of Black and White, for that matter?" Tycho pointed out, and Ormallos found himself nodding in agreement, "With the Council's permission, I can help commission a few deaths of their most prominent ringleaders, weaken them enough so they will no longer pose a threat to us all."
Tycho bowed to Ormallos, who nodded and excused him as Tycho sat back down.
"Anyone else wishes to share their opinions?" Ormallos questioned.
"I believe Sir Tycho is completely right, Sealord Tylos," Said one councillor, "We need only commission the Faceless Men, and they shall fall like wheat to a scythe. They may have their own security, but surely they cannot stand against such fearsome, skilled assassins?"
"Hear, hear!" A handful of Councillors echoed, and Tycho smiled briefly before settling into a grimace.
"I believe while Sir Tycho is right, it is not the time to commission them against Westeros, or start a fight with House Rada or House Targaryen," Said another councillor, "They pose no immediate threat to us, and so we shall use that time to consolidate our power and anticipate more raids from nearby Lorath. Already, several of their merchants have been seen aggressively fleecing money from unsuspecting buyers, selling famed Lorathi timber at ridiculous markups. Several of our own merchants were even raided and killed from bandit raids."
Emollo Nestoris, a high-ranking member of the Iron Bank's Odacnon, a fierce contender for the position of Vice-Bank-Chief of the Iron Bank, a lanky, wiry man with the ability to slither his way around every nook and cranny of every political court, his violet eyes sharp and piercing.
This time more cheers were heard for Emollo's statement than Tycho's, and Ormallos flashed Tycho a sympathetic look at his disappointed expression. Tycho simply accepted it with a curt nod.
"Does anyone else wish to put forth their opinions?" Ormallos questioned.
None stood up or raised their hands, all remaining silent at their seats.
"Very well then, as head of this Council, I believe our greatest imperative is to fortify our armies and navies in preparation for a potential conflict with Westeros, should the unlikely come to pass. If not, we focus on making good with House Targaryen and its allies and making good trade," Ormallos declared to approving nods, "Furthermore, Lorath's aggression against our merchants take priority; our reputation is everything, for without our fearsome reputation we will become easy targets for our rivals. Therefore, I task Tycho Jokune with commissioning the Faceless Men to find and kill the culprits responsible - both the killers and the masterminds."
"I shall strive to accomplish my task, as the Council wills," Tycho bowed with flourish, his political mask betraying nothing.
"Emollo, commission the Arsenal to begin production of more ships for our navies, and begin sending agents to Rada-controlled Dorne; we must get our hands on their advanced ship designs so we can produce some of our own, and thus maintain our position as the undefeated power at sea."
"No secret shall escape my sight," Emollo acknowledged.
"Very well, the Council is dismissed," Ormallos stated.
As the rest of the councillors dispersed, however, Ormallos discreetly gestured for Tycho to follow him to a private room. Once they were alone, Tycho was the first to ask.
"May I ask why the secrecy, Sealord?" Asked Tycho.
"The Council is far too concerned with their own profits and agendas and see no external threat, and so long as neither House Rada nor House Targaryen make direct efforts to encroach onto the mainland, none of them will truly care," Ormallos explained, expressing bitter disappointment and reluctant acceptance, "However, that does not mean we can afford to slacken our vigilance; they will attempt to extend their claws into Essos - you and I both know this."
Tycho slowly nodded in understanding, and shook Ormallos's hand.
"I will carry out your task, Sealord," Tycho bowed with flourish, his expression determined and severe.
[1] Rhoyehom - As the new capital of Dorne, through its access to the Greenblood River, it developed a strong maritime trade network and shipbuilding industry, and its high-quality fish when smoked makes for tasty jerky. The name is derived from 'Rhoy' which means deity or god, and 'hoamys' which means grace or blessing.
It is also known to be the most well-defended and well-designed city, engineered by none other than Arin Rada himself. Defended by a star fortress layout, the fortress-city is surrounded by a deep moat, connected to land by large stone bridges, and the city itself a massive thrice-tiered city protected by large, thick walls and high towers.
Shophouses and fabricae from a variety of industries dot the city, each surrounded by easy-to-reach amenities from inns and taverns to teahouses, coffee shops and restaurants. Streets are paved with smooth cut stone and kept dry and clean by a brick-paved sewer system, regularly patrolled by city guardsmen known as the Rhoyehom Gendarmerie - military police with law enforcement duties. As a result, Rhoyehom is highly attractive to merchants and bankers as the financial capital of all of Dorne.
Since the Gendarmerie double as men-at-arms, they are also called upon for defense whenever the province of Ghoyan-Noy is invaded by military forces.
The city is also home to the Bank of Dorne, the largest banking institution in all of Dorne which, many suspect, is planned to be the supreme contender with the Iron bank of Braavos.
[2] Disputed Lands - A region of Southwestern Essos frequently contested between the Free Cities of Lys, Tyrosh and Myr. Once a rich land during the reign of the Valyrian Freehold, the chaos and devastation of the Century of Blood after the Doom of Valyria rendered much of it barren, and the region has played host to countless conquering armies.
Volantis, Lys, Myr, Tyrosh, even King Argilac Durrandon led their armies to war on this region, stampeding the ground flat and irrigating it with the blood of countless soldiers and Smallfolk caught in the middle. The violence was said to have reached its peak as Volantis approached the end of its two-generational rule over Lys and Myr, which it conquered by force.
Due to the constant skirmishes and changing of borders, its people have developed a culture of obedience for the sake of survival, simply submitting to the next conqueror the moment rulership of their own or village changed hands.
[3] Braavos - Known as the Secret City or Valyria's Bastard Daughter, a city formed by freed slaves who escaped to the lagoon from the wrath of slaving dragonlords of Valyria. Its national symbol is the Iron Titan, a massive statue standing guard over the sole entrance to the lagoon. Its people are known to have an immense hatred of the Valyrian Dragonlords of yore.
[4] Greenblood River - The River bisecting eastern Dorne and one that extends halfway across the desert country, and the one from which the Orphans of the Greenblood derive their name. Strangely enough, it has never been properly harnessed as the heart of an extensive canal network despite House Martell's centuries of ruling over it, instead used for more small-scale, decentralised canals that water family-owned orchards and groves.
As of late, Arin Rada has invested extensive amounts of capital and resources into building the Greenblood Canal Network, intending to harness the river's powers and irrigate all of Eastern Dorne to make it more fertile than ever before, capable of supporting millions more people living in the region.
[5] Odacnon - Translates as 'Bondholder' in Bastard Valyrian, and the Odacnon are the Iron Bank's upper management who oversee the employment of the Iron Bank's staff and all loans and investments made by high-profile personas, kings and queens included.
They are also among the most prominent politicians in all of Braavos, for the Iron Bank is known as the Iron Arm of the Titan, the arm that strongarms all who dares make light of Braavos of the Hundred Isles.
[6] House of Black and White - The one Assassin Guild from Braavos who trains and houses the deadliest assassins in all of the known world: The Faceless Men.
The Faceless Men are widely renowned and feared for their skill and meticulous successes in the Underworld; agile form, finely-honed techniques and an eerie dedication to accomplishing their missions are what define them. Yet their most feared advantage is their ability to mask themselves as literally any person in the world, using the hanging masks in a secret chamber at the third level of the House.
This ability comes from the blessing of the Many-Faced God - patron deity of the Faceless Men - and the House itself is a temple dedicated in his name and the name of many forgotten Gods whom the rest of the world has willfully forgotten.