Chapter 21: The Emperor of Ash and Silk
The fall of Meereen echoed through Essos like the crack of a colossal whip, its sound resonating in the grand plazas of Qarth, the shadowed alleys of Pentos, and even the stone halls of the Titan of Braavos. Vaelyx Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Flames, now also styled himself Lord Protector of Dragon's Bay, his dominion stretching from the Myrish peninsula deep into the Ghiscari heartlands. His new order, built on a terrifying trifecta of dragon fire, economic control through Malakai's Valyrian Ascendant Holdings, and Lyra's pervasive intelligence network, was rapidly solidifying.
In Meereen, Boros, his Dothraki ferocity now tempered by a grudging respect for Vaelyx's strategic vision, was appointed Lord Marshal of the city, tasked with pacifying the remaining Ghiscari noble houses and integrating the "liberated" slave population. The Great Pyramid became Vaelyx's temporary Essosi seat of power, its immense structure now adorned with his three-headed dragon banners, its upper terraces converted into roosts for his colossal dragons, who cast long, predatory shadows over the ancient city. The Unsullied of Astapor, now the Aegis Guard, became the city's core garrison, their loyalty to Vaelyx a chilling testament to his power to reshape men as easily as he reshaped borders. Yunkai, the Yellow City, had already capitulated, its Wise Masters stripping their city of wealth to meet Vaelyx's exorbitant tribute demands, their own slave soldiers now swelling the ranks of his auxiliary legions.
With Dragon's Bay secured, only Volantis, the proud First Daughter, remained a significant, if isolated, challenge in western and central Essos. Their armies were shattered, their fleet crippled, their trade strangled by Vaelyx's blockade, yet their Black Walls remained unbreached, a symbol of stubborn defiance. Lyra's agents within the city reported that the Tiger faction, though decimated, still preached resistance, while the Elephant party desperately sought a way to appease the Dragon Lord without sacrificing Volantene sovereignty entirely. The vast slave population of Volantis seethed with a mixture of terror and burgeoning hope, fueled by tales of Astapor and Meereen.
Vaelyx had little appetite for a prolonged, bloody siege of Volantis. He needed its resources, its ancient traditions of law and administration (however corrupted), and its strategic position at the mouth of the Rhoyne, but he preferred to take them with minimal cost to his own forces. He decided on a display of surgical terror, a final, undeniable demonstration of his power.
Under the cover of a moonless night, Veridian, his jade-green shadow, slipped unseen over the Black Walls of Volantis. The dragon's empathic senses, guided by Lyra's intelligence, located the hidden meeting chamber of the surviving Tiger Triarchs and their most zealous military commanders. Simultaneously, Astra, her snow-white form almost invisible against the starry sky, ascended to an immense height above the city.
As the Tiger council debated their futile strategies of defiance, Veridian, from a concealed position within the city's sprawling temple district, unleashed a targeted burst of its eerie green fire, not at the council chamber itself, but at the ancient, revered Temple of the Lord of Light, the spiritual heart of the Tiger faction's war fervor. The temple, built of black, oily stone, erupted in unnatural, clinging green flames that water could not quench, the screams of its Red Priests adding to the night's horror.
At the same moment, Astra, from her dizzying altitude, unleashed a single, focused beam of her pure, colorless energy. It struck not the Black Walls, nor the legions, but the Long Bridge of Volantis, that ancient marvel of Valyrian engineering. A section of the bridge, vital for trade and military deployment, simply… vanished. Not exploded, not shattered, but disintegrated into fine dust that scattered into the Rhoyne, leaving a gaping, impassable chasm.
The twin acts – sacrilege against their god and the effortless mutilation of their most iconic structure – broke Volantene will. By dawn, a delegation led by the Elephant Triarchs, bearing the city's keys and an offer of unconditional surrender, was sailing towards Vaelyx's flagship, which had appeared menacingly off their coast.
Volantis, the last great power of Old Valyria, bent the knee. Vaelyx's terms were harsh: the city would be disarmed, its remaining legions disbanded or absorbed into his own, its vast wealth tithed, and its governance restructured under a council loyal to him, overseen by Ser Damon Sand and the Golden Company, whose Westerosi origins and knowledge of Ghiscari (and Valyrian) history made them suitable for this complex task. Volantis, like Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh, became a cornerstone of his Essosi empire.
With the Free Cities and Slaver's Bay now largely under his dominion, Vaelyx began to formalize his rule. He adopted the title "Vaelyx I Targaryen, Emperor of New Valyria, Lord Protector of Essos, and Sovereign of the Seven Flames." His personal banner, the three-headed dragon breathing its distinct fires, became the imperial standard. Malakai, as Grand Exchequer, established a unified currency and system of taxation. Kaelen was confirmed as Lord Regent of Myr and the Myrish territories. Boros, surprisingly, showed a knack for managing the vast, now somewhat settled Dothraki plains under Vaelyx's suzerainty, his title evolving to "Great Shepherd of the Dragon's Horde." Lyra, as Mistress of Whispers, commanded an intelligence network that was the envy and terror of the known world. This inner circle formed his Dragon Council, though all knew Vaelyx's word was immutable law.
He encouraged a carefully managed "Cult of the Dragon God" among his more primitive subjects – the Dothraki, the Lhazareen, and the newly "liberated" slaves – who saw him as a divine avenger. For the more sophisticated populations of the Free Cities, he cultivated an image of an inescapable, all-powerful Targaryen restorer, a bringer of a harsh but stable new order. His Voldemort memories supplied the blueprint for a ruthlessly efficient, fear-based bureaucracy that began to knit his disparate conquests together.
It was amidst this imperial consolidation that Lyra brought him the most pivotal news from across the Narrow Sea.
"My Emperor," she said, her voice low and devoid of inflection as she knelt in his audience chamber atop the Great Pyramid of Meereen. Seven Valyrian steel braziers, replicas of those said to have burned in the palaces of Old Valyria, cast flickering shadows, their flames – one for each of his dragons – illuminating the intricate tapestries depicting his conquests that now adorned the walls. "Word from Westeros. Reliable, confirmed by multiple sources. The Usurper's rebellion has reached its zenith. At a place called the Trident, your nephew, Crown Prince Rhaegar, met Robert Baratheon in single combat."
Vaelyx, who had been studying a map detailing the mineral resources of the Bone Mountains, looked up, his pale lilac eyes instantly focused, cold and sharp.
Lyra continued, "Prince Rhaegar fought valiantly, but… he was slain. Robert Baratheon crushed his breastplate with his warhammer. The Targaryen army, leaderless, broke and fled." Her voice dropped further. "And shortly thereafter… King's Landing fell. Not to the rebels, initially, but to Lord Tywin Lannister, who marched his forces to the city gates proclaiming loyalty to King Aerys, then… sacked it. It is said Lord Lannister's men murdered Princess Elia Martell and her children, Rhaenys and Aegon."
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Vaelyx's eyes. Elia. Rhaegar's children. More Targaryen blood spilled. More obstacles removed, however tragically.
"And my brother, King Aerys?" Vaelyx asked, his voice a soft hiss.
"Slain, my Emperor. By a knight of his own Kingsguard, Ser Jaime Lannister, Lord Tywin's son. Cut down before the Iron Throne itself as he was screaming for the city to be burned with wildfire."
Vaelyx leaned back, a slow, chilling smile spreading across his face. Rhaegar dead. Aerys dead. Rhaegar's son, the infant Aegon, also dead. The line of succession, by any conventional Westerosi law, now pointed directly, unequivocally, to him – Jaehaerys II's other son. The fan-memory had been largely accurate. The fools had destroyed each other. Robert Baratheon, the Usurper, would now be attempting to sit a throne to which he had no true claim, a throne stained with the blood of children and a murdered king. Westeros would be fractured, resentful, and unprepared for what was to come.
"The time is upon us, Lyra," Vaelyx said, rising to his feet. His shadow, cast by the dragon-flamed braziers, seemed to grow, to envelop the chamber. "The fruit of Westeros is ripe for the plucking. My brother's madness and my nephew's folly have paved my way with their bones."
He convened his Dragon Council immediately. Kaelen, Boros, Malakai, Lyra, Ser Damon Sand, and the newly elevated Commander of the Aegis Guard, a stoic Unsullied now named Valerion (in his master's honor).
"Lords and Commanders of my Empire," Vaelyx announced, his voice resonating with absolute authority. "Essos is… pacified. Our dominion here is secure for the moment. But across the Narrow Sea, my birthright, the Iron Throne of my ancestors, has been usurped by a drunken, whoring stag, his claim cemented in the murder of my kin. House Targaryen has been brought low by madness and rebellion. It falls to me, the last true Dragon, to restore its glory, to reclaim what is mine with fire and blood."
A stunned silence fell over the council. They had served him in Essos, carved out an empire here. Westeros was another world, a distant, almost mythical land for many of them.
Kaelen was the first to speak, his voice rough. "My Emperor… an invasion of Westeros? It is a vast undertaking. The Seven Kingdoms, even fractured, will resist."
"They will resist," Vaelyx agreed, his eyes glinting. "And they will break. Or they will burn. Robert Baratheon sits uneasy on a stolen throne. The great houses are divided. And none of them… none of them have ever faced what we will bring." He gestured to the skies beyond the pyramid, where his seven dragons now wheeled, sensing his intent. "They have forgotten the meaning of 'Fire and Blood.' We shall remind them."
He outlined his plans. A massive invasion fleet would be assembled from the combined navies of Myr, Lys, Tyrosh, and his own captured vessels. An expeditionary force of his most elite troops – the Aegis Guard, the Golden Company, the Serpent's Scale veterans, the Myrish and Norvoshi legions, and a core of his Dothraki outriders – would be chosen. Malakai would oversee the immense logistical challenge. Kaelen would remain in Essos as Lord Regent of the Valyrian Dominion, ensuring its stability and continued flow of resources, a testament to Vaelyx's trust in his grim marshal. Boros and Lyra would accompany him to Westeros, their skills vital. Ser Damon Sand, given his Westerosi origins, would also be a key commander.
His seven dragons, now nearing their full, awe-inspiring maturity, would be his vanguard, his ultimate argument.
As the chapter drew to a close, Vaelyx stood on the highest tier of the Great Pyramid of Meereen, looking out not towards the east and his Essosi conquests, but west, across the shimmering expanse of the Summer Sea. The winds of Essos carried the scent of ash, spice, and fear – the perfume of his new empire. But the winds from the west… they carried the scent of his homeland, of betrayal, of a throne waiting to be reclaimed.
He issued his first commands for the great Westerosi Crusade. Fleets were to be gathered. Legions mustered. His dragons, his children of fire and shadow, roared their assent, their calls echoing across Dragon's Bay, a promise of the storm about to be unleashed upon the unsuspecting Seven Kingdoms. The Emperor of Ash and Silk was preparing to cross the sea, and Westeros would never be the same.