Hatred Burns Ardent into the Garden
Dyanna Dayne had met the Prince of Dorne four and a half times, the half being when she had still been a babe in arms. But the other four had been occasions of the court visiting Starfall or her family visiting Sunspear and she remembered them quite clearly.
The first time had been in broad daylight, with sand steels snorting and laughter ringing all around the courts and halls of Sunspear. Dyanna had already learned that Maron Martell had spent a big part of his life here, having squired for her grandfather, and that he always loved coming here and riding between Starfall and the Red Mountains. She watched, thrilled, as he talked to the master-at-arms who had trained him and the knights he knew from that time, inspected the horses, expressed his delight at the new shortcut to the sea... And she was even more thrilled with his desire to show everything to his Princess – this dark-haired young woman who rode next to him in a sidesaddle, holding the reins of her mare in loose hands. He would look at her and smile and even at her tender age, Dyanna could say that in those moments, no one else in the world mattered but the Princess.
Who turned out not to be a princess after all. Certainly not his Princess. But his companion, the queen of his heart – yes, she was that.
"I want to be like Lady Elana," she announced that night. She must have been no older than eight.
Her mother shook her head and smiled a little sadly. "No," she said. "You don't want to. And anyway, didn't you want to be like Queen Mariah?"
That gave Dyanna a pause. Indeed, it was not a problem that could be solved so easily, although the answer was so very close…
The fifth and half time she saw the Prince, she had already celebrated her twelfth nameday. He had come almost alone, with a small group of companions and only a few household knights. Dyanna was stunned at how wan and weary he looked. There was nothing of the power and vitality enveloping him like his very own cloak.
Then again, Lady Elana wasn't there either…
"Is the palace going to be finished for the wedding?" her father asked when, late at night, he and the Prince were the only ones who had remained in the lord's solar, save for Dyanna who was looking through her father's books and they didn't pay much attention to her.
Prince Maron smiled but it was not a smile of happiness. 'What do you know about this?" he asked.
"What everyone else knows," Lord Davos replied, shrugging, and kept honing his dagger. "Masons, lords, servants, and Essosi travelers – everyone talks about it. So?"
"It'll probably be ready in time for her," Maron replied.
"With waterworks?"
"Yes."
"And white marble?"
"Yes."
His short answers were not conducive to further exploration of the subject but far be it from her father to let this deter him.
"By the Seven, I am wondering why you're doing this! I'd rather have you keep Elana than watch you walk around like the Stranger's favourite son."
Maron shook his head. "It won't be fair to either of them," he replied. "It'll just create an impossible situation as I live and beyond. At the end, Dorne will burn. No, Elana had to go. Finding her a good husband was the best thing I could do for her."
How peculiar! For someone so reluctant to talk, he couldn't stop himself now. He was pale and agitated and seemed to be arguing with himself. "Besides, one must restrain themselves in act and deed before passing judgment on someone else. The palace I am building now is not meant for housing my life of luxuries and chasing after my own heart's desires but a place for rest after hard work. No!" he warned and raised his hand as Davos Dayne tried to say something. "Don't say it. I know better than anyone else that I made a muddle of my life."
I made a muddle of my life. Dyanna didn't quite understand but she memorized the words with all their bitterness and self-derision.
At the end, the Prince went to retrieve the girl he had the new palace, the Water Gardens, built for. Daenerys, a true princess from House Targaryen. Dyanna left with him as a part of the retinue that had been chosen to attend their new lady – and see the moment Dorne would become subdued. That was how many in their homeland saw it, Dyanna knew it, although she hadn't left Starfall in months. Maron Martell had gave up on their honour in exchange for some privileges and a beautiful silver-haired girl, that was how the most warlike in Dorne saw it. If they only knew, Dyanna thought as she saw the Prince going through all the motions with his bride to be. He was charming, courteous, lively, and witty, always treating Daenerys with utmost attention – but the impression that he was watching someone who held the sun in her hands wasn't there.
That was it! That was what Dyanna wanted. What both Lady Elana and Queen Mariah had. She wanted to be her lord husband's sun. The light in his life.
"What?" Meliora Celtigar exclaimed, looking very shocked when she heard about Dyanna's aspirations. "I thought you'd choose your own husband. Perhaps even wed for love."
She burst out laughing and laughed even harder when Dyanna looked away. "What?" she asked. "Don't tell me you're still sorry about the lip? I've long forgotten about it… but not my father or grandfather's faces," she added, closing her eyes as if she was relishing the memory once again.
Now, Dyanna laughed as well. "I think even the septa believed me," she said. "I was sitting there talking all those things and I couldn't believe that no one objected."
"I think we all wanted it to be true," Meliora said, face serious now, and Dyanna knew she was thinking of her own forthcoming wedding to her ancient betrothed. "Even the Princess, I would say…"
She broke off, looking very awkward, and Dyanna wondered what she was hiding. By unspoken agreement, no one in their party ever spoke the name Elana Jordayne. But the Red Keep cradled plenty of secrets to its ample bosom as well and Dyanna wished to know at least some of them.
The day of the wedding was drawing closer and under the cheer and joyful mood of the incessant celebrations, Dyanna was aware of ever growing tensions, much like the ones she knew they had back in Dorne. There were many who rejoiced but the barbs, the heated arguments, the clashes ending up in brawls were too many – she could feel it and her brother confirmed it.
In the women's chambers, the situation was not much better. The presence of the Dornish princess, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms put an effective stopper on any open conflicts but when she happened to be absent, one or two women from both sides were enough to start a mass fight, although a much more refined one than the men's. And there were always one or two such women.
"Why won't the King send the malcontents away?" Dyanna asked one night as she and Ultor had left the noisy great hall after supper.
"It isn't this easy, Dyanna," her brother replied, wincing as he spoke. His face was now decorated with a huge fist-shaped bruise that she could imagine only too well how he had come across. "They are too numerous. And many of them live here."
"And others live in Dorne," Dyanna said climbing a spiraling staircase winding against the entire length of a tower. "I thought we'd have peace and accord, finally. That was what the Prince said."
Ultor's silence showed her what he thought of Prince Maron's promises and his power to keep them.
"But the celebrations are splendid," Dyanna stated, unwilling to give up on the lovely display every young girl in King's Landing so adored.
The festivities and the strife were still going strong. Gestures of great amity were followed by people waiting for the traitor who had made the overtures in the hall to give them their due. Friendly practices in the yard traded places with huge fists hours later. Crownland's and Dornish ladies inspected fabrics together and traded tales of ruling children and households and then made snide remarks about loose morals and humiliating submissiveness.
It was five days before the wedding that the tensions finally reached a feverish pitch. Hoping to relieve her headache, Dyanna had gone out into the garden. One of the things she liked best about King's Landing were the magnificent gardens, the vast expanses of green and flowers spanning the Red Keep. She was one of those girls who liked to work in the flower beds, to her mother and the septa's shared horror.
"Don't go there, my lady," the head gardener told her as he oversaw the watering of some trees that took water best about the time the sun set.
She gave him a dazzling smile and the old man melted a little. He had spent hours discussing flowers with her and giving her advises on how to preserve the bulbs and seedlings he had already promised to give her on the long way back to Dorne. She had written everything down – this and the instructions that gave them the best chance of survival in a land as hot as Dorne.
"Why not?" she asked. "You're afraid that I'd steal the winter roses and hide them in my chests?"
This time, the man laughed. He had spent the last twenty years of his life in vain attempts to make the blue flowers survive here. And this little Dornish lady had only seen them in a book about gardens. "If I had two of those, my lady, I would have given you one of them and accepted the punishment," he assured her and paused. "Don't go there. Some young lords sauntered in and…"
Some drunken young lords, was the part he had probably omitted. Dyanna had no desire to find herself in such company so she stayed where she was, staring at the roses.
"They are lovely," she said. "But if you happen to come to Dorne, you should visit Starfall and see our rose garden. All colours, all heights. I…"
"Perhaps I will," he said and they looked at each other, shaken by the realization that there was no reason for him not to. He could ask King Daeron to let him go there to inspect flowers that were not typical for the rest of the kingdoms and bring samplings; Dyanna could turn to the Queen and ask to borrow him. Save for his age, there was nothing standing between him and Dorne. Dorne would be part of the Seven Kingdoms now.
"Tomorrow night, I'll show you the moonblooms," the gardener said and groaned when he looked up and saw her already headed forward. She had never seen those flowers either, had been expecting their blooming eagerly. Nothing's going to happen to her, he told himself after he gave a shout after her and she didn't look back. The moonblooms bed is so close.
That was Dyanna's reasoning as well – she'd go there, have a look at the moon flowers, and come back. Just two turns between the flower beds, and she'd be there. She had been there many times…
Always in daylight, though. It took her very little time to realize that she had got lost. In the falling darkness, the flowerbeds all looked similar. Frighteningly similar. She needed to get close to tell roses from lilacs, daisies from golden kisses. And while she tried to summon her memory to lead her back, it only led her to places that she didn't remember at all. Her heart was beating fast in her throat. Suddenly, she realized that she was all alone in the darkness…
Finally, she heard voices and ran for them, lightheaded with relief. The next moment, she realized that they were not the gardeners' voices.
She had come across the young drunken lords! Given the fact that many of their kind had ogled her leeringly when completely sober, she decided that she'd rather stay in the dark.
Until she heard Myles Jordayne. She was sure that it was him, she had known him since he had come to squire for her father. "Go away and dump some buckets over your heads or something," he was saying. "Leave me alone!"
By the sound that erupted, it was clear that they wouldn't leave him alone. "Look at the Dornishman! He thinks he's so brave. Let's see him without his spear… He's Dornish and I'll have him say it…"
Dyanna wildly looked around for help but in the moonlight that had finally started shimmering over everything, she only found a bed of magnificent flowers, violet, with scarlet hearts… Just what she had come to look for.
No help, though. And by the sound of it, she could say that the wine the young lords had taken in would not let them stop at the usual brawl. On the other hand, Myles was not the one to beg. He'd fight to death and beyond. It would be bloodshed around here in no time at all.
Without thinking twice, Dyanna ran and shot through the circle of younglings who had Myles with his back pressed against a chestnut tree. At seeing her, his eyes went wide and he wildly waved her off. Too late, of course, even if she was so inclined.
"Take this," Dyanna said and held her scarf out to him before turning to face the boys. "Let him go," she said, speaking directly to the one who had a dagger pointed at the young squire. "Let him go immediately! He… we didn't do anything."
"You did if you're Dornish," the boy said after a moment of shocked pause. "Come on, tell us. Aren't you filthy Dornish with spears in one hand and poison in the other?"
"Go away," Myles urged her in whisper. "Now!"
She pretended not to hear. Something in her core told her that being a girl wouldn't protect her now. With the frictions reaching all times high, they were baying for blood, emboldened by the wine they had drained. If they smelled any weakness, it might be over for both her and Myles. She could not afford to be scared. She couldn't even think of running because they would know.
"We are no Dornish!" she cried out. "How dare you!"
The brief shock on their faces told her that she had taken them aback. She was on the right path! "How dare you walk around as drunk as pigs and harass people who do not belong to your mud!"
The words came out without thinking and she froze with fear. But before it could paralyze her, something deep within her, something that went beyond reasoning, down to some level controlling her will to live, survive, made her go through the names of the girls and boys she had met here, in the Red Keep, in a flash.
"I won't let this pass," she declared and lifted an arrogant chin. "My name is Aelinor Penrose and this is Viserys Plum. As you may know if you hadn't spent the last five years staring at the bottom of your cups, I will wed Prince Aerys soon. I daresay the King will be very interested to know that his future gooddaughter had been assaulted in his own home. And it'll become worse if you don't let us go right now. This, I can promise you."
Myles had moved slowly away from the tree to come next to her where he could shield her with his body if need be. Only a moment ago, he had been terrified for both of them but now he dared believe in her success because her anger and arrogance looked just so real.
"Come on!" she urged angrily. "Look at us. Look at me, have a good look! Have you ever met anyone whose dragon blood is more evident?" She thrust her face toward them, hoping that they wouldn't focus on her hair instead. "My eyes are purple, my cheekbones high, and my skin as pale as the moon above. Do I look like someone who lives in the sands? Of course not since I am not Dornish!"
Like many other audiences before, this one was starting to believe her as well. In fact, Dyanna almost believed the story herself. She realized that she had even concealed her accent. The dagger pointed at Myles did not flinch, though, and Dyanna sprang to attack again.
"I asked who you were," she reminded them. She only knew that words were coming out of her mouth by the fact that they reacted. She couldn't hear anything over the roar in her ears. "I intend to complain to His Grace. Lately, he's been very displeased with the likes of you. So, your names please?"
She almost screamed with joy when the dagger fell down – and then froze when someone clapped in sarcastic applaud. "Well played," someone said. "Aelinor Penrose, was it?"
The owner of the voice had been standing a little apart from the crowd. Now, he approached, giving the rest of them angry looks. "How stupid can you be?" he asked. "A slip of a girl fooledall of you as easily as she breathed. And you were dancing on her tune like good little puppets on her mummer string…" He paused. "She's indeed Dornish, you fools!" he snapped. "They both are. Her name is…"
But Dyanna's name was lost in the roar when everyone lunged at her, infuriated by the success of her ruse. She screamed… An iron fist found her face and for a moment, the stars that were yet to rise rushed in front of her, flying like sandsteed…
And then – another voice. A solitary and angry one. The hands reaching for her fell down. Everyone turned to the silhouette that came running towards them.
"How dare you!" the shade yelled without breaking stride. "How dare you!"
Dyanna saw the silver hair and felt a bout of relief that almost made her slump straight to the ground. They were safe now. No one in their right mind would dare attack him. This crowd here who most certainly weren't in their right minds wouldn't either.
Maekar Targaryen stopped before the two of them and assessed them quickly. "Are you well?" he asked.
"Yes," Myles replied and gave her a look of concern. "Dyanna? My lady?"
"I'm fine," she managed.
Maekar spun around, facing the assailants. "What?" he asked. "Aren't you going to attack me? I don't have any weapons about me. I am not quite as defenseless as a girl but it should suffice for your brave souls. Come on!"
They started backing out, stumbling on each other in their hurry to make themselves scarce. Only one person remained and the Prince turned to him. Dyanna hadn't thought that his derision for the drunken brawlers could pale in comparison but it did.
"So, that's your new way, Aegor, right?" he asked. "Making some brawny fools do your dirty work for you? My father didn't think you'd sink so low."
The older boy did not move or look away. Surprised, Dyanna realized that his eyes were as violet as Maekar's.
"Luckily for him, he has you to assure him of the contrary," he said.
"Much so," Maekar concurred. "Enjoy this lovely night, Aegor. I expect it would be your last for a while."
The other one glared at him. "Of course, you'll go running to the King to tell on me."
Without answering, Maekar nodded at the two of them to follow him and headed down a path. Dyanna followed suit and Myles looked over his shoulder.
"Have no fear," the Prince said in a calm voice. "He'll never attack me. He isn't this stupid. It's bad enough for him that he won't take part in the tourney now. I'll make sure of that. Where are your rooms?" he turned to Dyanna.
She swallowed. Now that the first fear had passed, she felt something entirely different altogether. "Can't we go to the kitchens first?"
Maekar stared at her, as stunned as if he were seeing a real dragon being hatched. "You're mad!"
"And you're discourteous to point it out right now!" Dyanna retorted, her gratitude replaced by anger.
"At least being discourteous won't get me killed! What were you thinking, going alone into the garden at night?"
Fortunately, his indignation seemed to reach a level that made him just ignore her stupid self. He just led them down the long way to the palace kitchens, making a point of not noticing her. Dyanna was perfectly happy to let him converse with Myles instead. This way, she could focus on making a step after a shaking step. The fear still hadn't left her completely but she wasn't going to explain it to this arrogant prince that it wasn't her fault that after great disturbances of mind, she was always so very hungry…