Near Sunspear
Whenever Vaelon was troubled, riding always helped. Perhaps it was the wind in his hair, the thudding of hooves against the earth, or the sun in his face that just seemed to relax him. And today he needed relaxing. Quite a lot on his mind and he needed to sort it all out. It was a shame, then, that he couldn't enjoy the company. As he had promised, he had gone riding with Elia with Obara and Nymeria deciding to join at the last minute. Together the four of them had raced across the dunes and through the surf, Elia whooping and hollering at the top of her lungs like the warrior she always imagined herself to be with Obara close behind. Despite Ellaria's half-hearted objections, Oberyn had filled her head with stories of the great city-states of the Rhoynar. Of the great cities that dotted the Rhoyne river, such as Chroyane, Sarhoy, and Ny Sar, which had existed side by side with the outposts of the Valyrian Freehold before they were conquered and destroyed by the ambitious fury of the dragonlords and of the princes and princesses who ruled those cities such as Prince Garin who led the last great Rhoynar host against the Freehold and paid for his defiance with his life or Princess Nymeria who abandoned the Rhoyne with ten thousand ships and sailed for three years before landing in Dorne, burning her ships after landing to discourage anyone from returning home. Elia loved these stories and wanted to be, more than anything, one of the heroes of those stories. Ellaria tried to make her more ladylike, but it was almost like trying to convince rain not to be wet.
"Deep in thought?" Nymeria asked, bringing her horse beside his and taking his hand. He drew a lot of comfort and strength from that simple touch.
"How could you tell?"
"I can practically see the stormclouds over your head."
"Jon Arryn is dead and my brother has married my sister to a Dothraki horselord in return for his army."
"The Dothraki?! Ugh, nasty brutes. I've heard they actually fuck their horses."
"So I've been told. I'm just beginning to wonder if it would be a good idea for my brother to return with an army of such men."
"You don't want to take back the Iron Throne?"
"I want a Targaryen restoration and the Usurper brought to justice more than anyone, but I'm beginning to wonder if it would be even worth it. What kind of king would my brother be if he is willing to sell our sister to an army of barbarians? Even those houses that continue to support us in secret would have to take pause at that."
"Maybe King Robert will be scared enough by the prospect of a Dothraki invasion that he might just abdicate and let Viserys take the throne without bloodshed." She entertained, brushing strands of silver hair from his face.
"And then he will build castles made of sweet breads with moats full of pomegranate wine. No, if my brother took the throne blood would flow. All of the supposed traitors who stood with Robert Baratheon would have their heads on spikes, with a few innocent men up there for being in the wrong place at the wrong time or for saying the wrong thing. Or the right thing. Or nothing at all."
"But don't you want justice for your family? For Aegon and Rhaenys? For Elia?"
"Of course I do, love. But mountains of corpses and scorched villages can't bring back the dead. They never do." He sighed, feeling tired and weary of the world he lived in. "I want justice, but I also want peace. The kind of peace where generations are born, grow old and die without ever knowing war."
"Do you really think that's even possible?"
"Honestly, I have no idea. But I can hope, can I?" The question went unanswered as Elia's joyous screaming broke through and the two lovers turned to see her racing across the dunes at full gallop while Obara closed the distance between them.
"Come on, Vaelon! Race me!" No matter what he did, he couldn't keep a smile from spreading across his face at the sweet sound of her voice.
"Besides," He said, turning to look at Nymeria. "if I had to choose between the Iron Throne and you, I would choose you a thousand times over. Viserys may be my brother by blood, but you and your sisters and Oberyn and Doran...you are my family." With a quick kiss, he spurred his horse and took off after Elia and Obara with a huge smile across his face. Turned out riding did help, after all.
(-)
After a good day's riding, Vaelon still had one last bit of business to take care of before matters could be fully resolved in his mind. While the ladies returned to the Water Gardens he rode for Sunspear. After three hours of hard riding, he saw it as he crested the last hill. The shadow city, the Winding Walls and finally, at the summit, the Old Palace with the Spear Tower rising into the heavens while the Sandship, ancient stronghold of House Martell, jutted out into the Narrow Sea. While it could not compare in size and grandeur to Lannisport or even White Harbor in the North it was, along with the Water Gardens, a place he called home and would not want any other way. The setting sun bathed the land in reddish hues as he rode slowly past the hovels, shops and other assorted buildings giving an occasional wave to familiar faces from his earlier visits. As he reached the outer walls a guard adorned and the reds and golds of House Martell and bid him halt.
"Your business, ser?"
"Ser Vorian Sand to see Ser Asher Stone." Upon recognition of the name, the guard turned his gaze to the top of the wall.
"Open the gates!" The command echoed as the three gates were raised simultaneously which allowed for the quickest route to the palace. With a nod of thanks, Vaelon gently nudged the horse's flanks and at a working trot rode into Sunspear. As he rode up the hill toward the palace, he observed the distinctly Rhoynish design of the walls and gates and remembered his lessons; Sunspear had been built to symbolize the union between the peoples of Princess Nymeria and Mors Martell, which gave House Martell the strength to defeat their rivals and claim dominion of all Dorne. Due to Rhoynish custom, no Kings or Queens would rule in Dorne. It would either be a Prince or Princess. He felt a small twinge of regret as he remembered that its was his ancestors who put the sons and daughters of the Rhoyne to flight and burned their great cities with dragonflame. As he passed the last gate and entered the courtyard, his mind drifted to the first time he came here as half-dead child of five summers fleeing from the destruction of everything he had ever known. 'Has it really been seventeen years?' He thought as he made his way over the stables. As he dismounted, he saw Ser Asher emerging from the armory with what appeared to be a freshly-forged rapier in one hand and an ornate scabbard in the other. He watched as he gave the blade a few practice swings, as impressed by the power his arms still had after so many years.
"Quite a beauty." He called out, striding toward him. Ser Asher turned and smiled.
"You think? It's a gift for Prince Trystane." He said as he turned the blade over in his hands before suddenly tossing it toward Vaelon, who deftly caught it by the hilt with one hand. "I'm planning on giving it at his next name day. Is the balance alright? It feels right, but I do prefer a second opinion." Vaelon took the sword and placed his index finger under the blade and held it out at arm's length. The sword remained perfectly horizontal, with only the faintest movement.
"It's perfect. Trystane will love it." He declared, tossing the sword back with Asher catching it with just the same ease. Asher sheathed the sword while watching as the blade descended into the scabbard to observe how smoothly the two came together. With a final click, he had his answer.
"Now that's out of the way…" With open arms the two men embraced, patting each other on the back. Pushing him back to arm's length he gave him a once over. "How the hell are you, my prince?"
"I'm alright. Just rode in from the Water Gardens. Doran sends his best and the girls send their love."
"That's kind of them, but I don't believe that's the only reason you've come to visit."
"I assume you know that Jon Arryn is dead." Asher's closed eyes and lips clenched in a thin line told him all he needed.
"Yes, I do. Gods grant him peace. The Vale never had a better leader." With a flick of his head, he motioned for Vaelon to follow him. Passing through the rows of swords, spears and other weapons that made up the arsenal of Sunspear's garrison and the forge where those weapons were made, the two men entered the large room that made up Ser Asher's quarters. It was rather spartan, as Vaelon remembered it being, with only a bed and two tables with two chairs; one for eating and one for working. Sitting on the working table next to his bed, was a lacquered wooden box with ornate carvings. Asher opened this box and placed the sword inside before closing it slowly, as if with reverence. Vaelon tried to find the right words to say but he couldn't think of anything elegant, so he just said the honest truth.
"I'm sorry." Asher laughed at this, surprisingly, as he ran a hand through his hair. Vaelon noticed a tinge of gray in his copper-colored locks. 'It suits him', he thought.
"Why are you sorry? You didn't kill him." He declared, interlocking his fingers and raising his arms overhead to stretch before turning to face him. "To be honest, by the time he raised his banners in rebellion against your father, he was far past his prime."
"An odd thing for a son of the Vale to say about his liege lord." Asher chuckled at this as he entered his quarters
"First of all, I'm only a bastard son of the Vale, brought into this world by the wayward thrusts of Lord Benedar Belmore. Furthermore, while Jon Arryn may have been a good and wise Lord of the Vale, he was never my liege. That honor was given to your father, when he gave me my spurs after I put a sword through Derrick Fossaway's face on the Stepstones."
"Is that why you stayed with him when the Rebellion happened?"
"You've never asked that before. Not once. Why now?" Vaelon, taken aback by this, struggled to find an answer. Perhaps it was out of fear that he didn't give his full reason.
"I don't know. I guess I want to know your stake is in all of this." That seemed to placate Asher
"I suppose I stayed because of what Aerys had given me. He took me into his household, a bastard sellsword, and gave me position and purpose in the royal court. For that I owed him much more than I ever owed my father, Lord Jon or the Vale. Despite everything that happened later, of course. I swore myself to House Targaryen and I do not take my oaths lightly."
"I remember hearing about how, after Duskendale, he offered you Ser Gwayne Gaunt's position on the Kingsguard but you declined and it was given to Ser Oswell Whent instead."
"He deserved the honor. Besides, I look terrible in white."
"I suppose you're right. You always seemed more inclined toward solid colors." A few moments of well-intended laughter interrupted the conversation before Vaelon continued. "But what about Duskendale? I mean...what he did to the Darklyns…" Asher raised a hand for silence and looked at him with a steely visage. A look he only took when explaining something of the most serious nature.
"House Darklyn earned its fate, Vaelon. They imprisoned your father and killed a Kingsguard. If Ser Barristan and I hadn't gotten him out they probably would have killed him, too. What they did was treason, plain and simple. But I stayed because, as I said before, I swore loyalty to your house. And because I wanted to protect you from seeing what your father became after that bloody day."
"Me?"
"Yes, you. Rhaegar was his own man and Viserys was enamored of his father. But you took after your mother. You were the sweet one; gentle, innocent, incapable of finding fault with anything in the world. Deep down, I was afraid that your father might destroy that gentleness by deliberate means or simply by accident. Which is why, after all these years, I've never forgiven myself for letting you see what he did to Lord Rickard and his son." Vaelon's breath caught in his throat as he remembered that awful day...the heat...the flames...the screams...and above all, the laughter...his laughter. "Do you still get nightmares? I've never asked."
"No, not since I turned seven, when Nym started letting me sleep with her."
"I always thought you two made quite the couple." "Now, are you going to me the real reason why you came here?" Vaelon, again, struggled to find the right words. He found his rescue by casual notice. He moved to the foot of the bed where the object in question rested, covered by a piece of sack cloth. Pulling the cloth aside revealed a red and white heater shield. The colors, evenly divided in half, had one symbol on each half. The red displayed a golden sun, while the white had a blue circle containing blue waves.
"It's beautiful. Where did you find this?"
"In a pile of odds and ends some obscure corner of the armory. I happened upon it a few weeks ago while doing some much needed cleaning."
"Whose sigil does this house belong to? I don't recognize it."
"I'm not surprised. I had to ask Maester Myles about it, and it was only after several hours of thumbing through old scrolls and manuscripts did he find a mention of them. It belonged to House Trennel, a family of landed knights from the Reach. Arthur Trennel won lands and a knighthood from Aegon the Third after the Dance of the Dragons only for his line to die out two generations later during the Conquest of Dorne. I seem to recall they used the title "Knight of the Sun and Sea." According to the texts it was Ser Joffery Trennel, Arthur's grandson, who last carried the title. He was killed at the Prince's Pass with King Daeron the First and left no heirs. The shield was taken as a spoil of war and stored here and here it's been for all this time."
"Is this going to be another gift for Trystane? Or Quentyn, perhaps?"
"No, this is for me. For now, at least." He took the shield from Vaelon's hands and gently laid it on the bed before turning back to him, arms crossed across his chest."You know, you didn't answer my question." Realizing that he wasn't getting out of this lightly, Vaelon sat down on the bed and allowed himself a few breaths to get his thoughts in order.
"This morning, Prince Doran received a message from Pentos. My brother has...given my sister, Daenerys, in marriage to a Dothraki khal named Drogo." Following this, only silence remained while he looked at Asher as he leaned against a wall, processing the information.
"Really?! Well, that's wonderful to hear! Shall we send a present?" His response, a mixture of both surprise and amusement, slightly startled Vaelon. This was not what he was expecting.
"Asher, my brother sold her to this man for his army! He 's treating our sister like she's nothing more than livestock being taken to market!" He shouted, rising from the bed while throwing his hands up in frustration.
"You know that your family has done this sort of thing for hundreds of years. Arranged marriages, some would say, are one of the great threads of the fabric of society." Asher was right of course. The great and lesser houses of Westeros had been arranging marriages before the Conquest, but that was between families to ensure peace, or increase wealth or prestige. But this...this was wrong. At least to him.
"But to a Dothraki?! They are vicious, bloodthirsty barbarians who care only for slaughter! There was a time when those bastards bowed to the Freehold, living and dying at our whim!"
"And when was this time?" Asher moved to the bed and sat down while Vaelon sighed in quiet resignation of the unpleasant truth. "Exactly. Centuries ago, but the dragons are dead, the Freehold is gone and the Targaryen's…"
"Are standing on the edge of oblivion."
"You think this marriage is an act of desperation, don't you?" Asher asked, to which Vaelon turned and looked him straight in the eyes.
"Yes I do. I think my brother is now willing to do whatever it takes to reclaim the Iron Throne, even if it could possibly result in devastation and death the likes of which this world has never seen. All to satisfy his wounded pride and lust for revenge." He said, fists clenching and unclenching.
"So, again, what's the question?"
"You stayed loyal to my family despite seeing firsthand what my father became. I want...no, I need to know...would you stay loyal to us if my brother…" He couldn't finish, his mind both forming the thoughts and yet preventing them from being expressed.
"If your brother became the same kind of mine Aerys was, or worse." Vaelon nodded, trying not to betray the fear that his brother's return would cost him one of his dearest friends, teachers and allies. "To be honest, I can't say I would be loyal to him…" Vaelon felt his heart sink at this proclamation. "Because I'm already loyal to you. Because I know you."
"What do you mean?"
"Vaelon, from the time you were five years old I have watched over you. You have grown up from a little boy who was afraid to leave his room to the strong, confident young man who's sitting next to me. A man who knows how to speak fluent High Valyrian, ride a horse, stitch up a wound, identify poisons and fight with multiple weapons. You have earned such respect and love from the Dornish that they would move heaven and earth for you, and so would I." He clasped Vaelon's shoulder tightly. "As I said before, I know you. I don't know what drove your brother to this course of action and I don't care. As long I am alive, I'm your man." At this declaration, Vaelon felt so many burdens lift from his shoulders that he could swear he was capable of flight. This is what he wanted so desperately to hear and know! He seemed to slump over, as if no longer full of worry and doubt. Raising his hand to rub his eyes, he pulled back to find that it was covered in tears.
"Thank...thank you, Asher. That...that...dammit, I can't think of the words." He felt Asher's strong hand on his shoulder with a reassuring squeeze.
"No words are needed, my prince." After that, the two men remained silent for what seemed like hours but was only minutes before a voice floated through the entrance.
"So this is where you've been hiding, Vaelon." The men turned their heads to see Arianne Martell, Doran's eldest daughter and the heir to Sunspear, leaning on the entrance while Tyene Sand, her cousin and Oberyn's third daughter stood a step behind. The look on her face suggested she was angry, but eyes held elation instead. "You should have told us you were here."
"My apologies, Princess." Vaelon stood up and walked towards Arianne. "I had hoped to have a few words with Ser Asher before making myself known to you. I humbly beg your forgiveness." He dropped to one knee and bowed his head in a sincere gesture of apology. Hearing giggling, he looked up to see Arianne trying to cover up a smile with her hands while her dark curls moved in time with barely suppressed giggles. Tyene kept her face passive, save for her eyes which glinted with mirth.
"Oh, Vaelon. Do get up." As soon as he stood Arianne launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting a firm kiss on his lips. "I can't possibly stay mad at you." She asked as she pulled away and looked into his eyes, her head tilted upward slightly since she was slightly shorter than him.
"Certainly not for a lack of trying, Ari." Vaelon said, pulling her into a hug.
"So what were you two talking about?" Tyene inquired, clasping Vaelon's arm and giving him a kiss on the cheek.
"Nothing important."
"Oh really? Be careful, cousin, I sense conspiracy." Tyene said. Asher, still sitting, shook his head while a smile grew on his face.
"No, my ladies. No conspiracies here. Prince Vaelon and I were discussing Jon Arryn's death."
"Ah, yes. The Usurper has finally lost his puppetmaster. How tragic." Arianne replied, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"With all due respect, my lady, Jon Arryn was a good man. We just had the misfortune of having him on the opposing side." Asher's voice had no anger, only firmness.
"Do you miss it? The Vale, I mean." Tyene's innocent question brought an immediate change to Asher's face: his sternness was replaced by mirth as he slowly shook his head with a quiet laugh.
"Not really, Lady Tyene. I was born there, but Dorne is my home."
"I'm glad you think so, Ser Asher." Arianne declared. "Now if you gentlemen would not object, you will be my guests tonight for dinner."
"I would be honored to join you at your table, Princess."
"Sounds good to me. I'm starving." With a shared laugh, the two ladies took an arm each and guided Vaelon out of the armory. As he walked, he felt like he was floating. All of the doubt, uncertainty and fear he had felt that morning had been stripped away. He looked to see Asher following and gave him a nod of thanks. He still didn't know what the future would bring but he knew now that he would not face it alone.