"It seems that Rhaegar's ghost has co back to life and is bringing fire and blood to his murderers," Oberyn Martell thought when he saw Prince Aenar's appearance.
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In the port of Volantis, a huge ship with no coat of arms was docked.
"Uncle, is Volantis in the sa shape as you saw it on your last visit?" Arianne asked, looking at the gigantic red towers burning brightly. The city seed alive, even at night, with people coming and going in a hurry.
"It's very different. In the old days, this city slled like a sweaty old whore," Oberyn replied, looking at the city he had visited seven years ago. It really was very different from what he rembered, especially the people, whom he had always considered strange.
Oberyn's comparison made Arianne and all his daughters laugh. His mistress, Ellaria, took his arm and subtly pointed forward with her eyes.
Oberyn followed his lover's gaze and saw troops approaching. They were all wearing red armor and looked powerful. It wasn't a new army that had never taken part in a war. The soldiers in front of him were experienced and had seen war, steel and blood up close.
A truly powerful army.
According to Doran's spies, Oberyn knew that this army had fought against a horde of forty thousand Dothraki, not to ntion the army of rcenaries. It was a great achievent, given that he knew the Dothraki and the rcenaries better than anyone, after all, he himself had been the general of a group of rcenaries.
However, it was the man leading the soldiers who caught Oberyn's eye. He was a middle-aged man, tall and thin. His skin was black as tar, darker than coal or jet.
He was a monster of a man, huge, over six feet tall and as wide as two n. A tangle of pure white hair grew around his face like a lion's mane.
Moqorro, the Black Fla of Volantis.
Oberyn recognized the man in an instant. There was no way not to. The Desert Prince saw the guards he had brought from Dorne position themselves between them, stopping the advance of the red-armored soldiers.
"Welco to Volantis, Prince Oberyn Martell and Princess Arianne Martell. I am Moqorro, a red bishop." Moqorro ignored the Dorne guards and spoke with a calm and compassionate tone, but his voice was deep and thunderous.
"I didn't announce my arrival in advance, priest Moqorro," Oberyn said. "I would like to know how you anticipated our arrival."
This was a top-secret trip. Doran and Oberyn had planned it for months so as not to attract the attention of anyone in Westeros. Yet there they were, in front of an entourage ready to welco them.
Moqorro looked at Oberyn and smiled mysteriously.
"I saw you in the flas, Prince Oberyn. I saw your ship leave Dorne and go through the storm in the dark night."
Oberyn narrowed his eyes and glared at the man. He really didn't like magic; it always turned simple things into sothing complicated. Couldn't the man simply answer the question by saying "spies"? Now he would really get paranoid about a lot of things.
"Really surprising to see the future through the flas," Oberyn replied in a dry, slightly deep tone.
"You'll see that this is just one of the countless blessings that the Omnipotent and Omniscient Lord has bestowed upon us, his lost lambs in a sea of suffering." Moqorro spoke as he gestured for everyone to follow him.
Oberyn felt his heart squeeze at those words. He really didn't like magic.
"Thank you for the welco, Moqorro. I assu we'll be well received by our prince and future king." Arianne, with the highest status in the entourage, took the initiative to speak to the Red Bishop.
"The Prince of Light awaits you in the throne room." Moqorro replied with a devout and extrely respectful tone at the ntion of Aenar.
That look wasn't one of admiration. It was pure reverence, as if he were talking about a God, not a prince or king. Arianne thought as she observed the expression of the black-skinned, white-haired man in front of her.
This only confird that the Red Faith saw Prince Aenar as a God, or his representative on Earth. Arianne then understood that the Red Faith and Prince Aenar were preparing for sothing much bigger, bigger than the Iron Throne and Westeros.
As they walked through the streets of Volantis, Arianne and Oberyn noticed n and won kneeling on a large cloth. They were praying, bowing and rising. Their religious whispers filled the air. If it had been just one group, they wouldn't have been surprised. But a crowd in front of them was doing the sa, all at the sa ti.
Noticing Oberyn and Arianne's gazes, Moqorro explained in a gentle tone, despite the serious expression on his face.
"They are praying for the grace of our God to fall upon them. Many are on pilgrimage from all corners of Essos. They all want to see our prophet, the ssiah who will lead the world along a sacred path."
"They don't really think Prince Aenar can perform miracles, do they?" Obara, Oberyn's eldest daughter, asked with an incredulous expression on hearing Bishop Moqorro's words.
Moqorro looked at the incredulous woman before him and snorted coldly, expressing his dissatisfaction, but said nothing. Oberyn noticed this and gave his daughter a stern look. He couldn't believe that she had actually dared to say sothing against a religious figure in a city full of fanatics!
Nyria looked at her sister and couldn't help but sigh, she really had to talk to her sister about always keeping her doubts to herself. Always ask sothing when they are absolutely alone with no one around.
Nyria looked at her sister and couldn't help but sigh. She really needed to talk to her sister so that she would always keep her doubts to herself, asking them only when they were absolutely alone, with no one around.
"Forgive my daughter, Bishop Moqorro. She is young and has not yet seen enough of the world." Oberyn, despite his appearance suggesting that he would settle things by force, was unexpectedly diplomatic.
"She's forgiven, but avoid speaking ill of the prophet, or your heads may appear on spears the next morning. It won't be the Red Faith that does that, but the faithful." Moqorro replied in a calm tone.
Oberyn nodded and didn't doubt his words. He was an experienced man who had seen how murderous and cruel the faith could be. Religious intolerance was sothing truly frightening.
Casting one last glance at his daughters, as a warning to them to remain silent, Oberyn finally found himself in front of a large red temple.
Before entering the Great Temple, Moqorro warned:
"Follow and don't get lost. At this hour, the Great Temple is very dangerous for strangers. The guards have orders to kill if necessary."
"Really cozy." Obara whispered to the sisters, causing Nyria and Tyene to roll their eyes at the bad joke at that mont.
Ellaria looked at the girls and couldn't help but sigh, but still walked with dignity beside Oberyn.
Oberyn and Arianne finally found themselves in front of gigantic doors. On them, they both saw drawings of a large red sun, held by a giant dressed in a cloak of the sa color.
However, their attention was soon captured by the sound of the doors opening. Then Oberyn and Arianne heard Moqorro announce his entrance:
"ssiah, before you stand Princess Arianne Martell, heir to the Throne of Dorne, and her uncle, Prince Oberyn Martell, along with his noble wife and daughters." Moqorro spoke aloud and entered the Throne Room, gesturing for everyone to follow him.
Ellaria and Oberyn's three daughters were surprised to be announced along with Oberyn and Arianne. They had never been introduced in this way before. After all, Ellaria wasn't Oberyn's wife, and his three daughters were bastards.
When Oberyn and Arianne entered the Throne Room, they saw a long line of knights lined up next to the pillars, following them to the end of the corridor. At the end, ivory steps rose up, and at the top of them, two thrones could be seen.
Oberyn raised his head and looked at the central throne. On it sat a young man of around seventeen, although he knew that the prince was only twelve. This made the Prince of Dorne wonder what Eddard Stark had fed the boy.
He had white-gold hair and purple eyes. His face was really handso, inhumanly handso. It was as if Prince Aenar were a Valyrian thoroughbred. And, just as the descriptions said, they were inhumanly beautiful.
Looking directly at Prince Aenar's face, and after analyzing every detail, the last vestige of doubt about the young man's identity disappeared completely from Oberyn's mind. The boy was practically Rhaegar, with only a few differences, such as the color of his eyes, his hair and the shape of his chin.
Aenar was Rhaegar's son. No doubt about it.
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