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A Wolf in the Sands

A List of Mistakes

She looks like a mistake.

That was the first thought that crossed Ben's mind when he laid eyes on his little betrothed. Lit by the bright sun of Dorne, Ilana Jordayne resembled Rhaegar Targaryen more than she did her mother. Her black hair didn't matter at all. He had seen her deep purple eyes and chiseled features on many a portrait in the Red Keep. But then, Alynna Gargalen had some Targaryen blood, no matter how distant. Still, it felt like a mistake that her daughter would resemble Prince Rhaegar more than her. And then, of course, there was the matter that she was a child. She'd grow up, of course, but right now it felt like he'd have to spend decades here, in this hot land, before she became a woman, or at least a girl old enough to wed. Ser Alor had already made it clear that the wedding would not take place soon after Ilana's flowering.

"Welcome to Dorne," she said. "Welcome to the Tor."

Her words were what could be expected but her eyes were wide and scared, and relieved, all at once. She looked at her grandmother who nodded, as if she wanted to reassure her. But the girl positively brightened when her uncle engaged her in a conversation. At the feast thrown in the guests' honour, Alor sat between his niece and Ben thought that quite wise. He had no idea what he could talk about with a girl of nine – or was she still eight?

"We have to leave in a few days at most," Alor said. "I've been away from home for too long. I miss my family. Is tomorrow a good day to go over the documents, my lady? Michael?"

There was a sudden, uneasy silence, a lull in all conversations, as if the whole table had been listening to Alor, waiting for someone like this to pass. The dowager Lady Jordayne, Ilana's grandmother, looked straight ahead and her fingers clasped the tablecloth, unwittingly, most likely. A line of came dangerously close to the edge. Her son shot Alor a look that was anything but friendly. "Go over the documents? Why? Do you harbour any doubts that something is amiss?"

"Of course not," Alor said quickly. "It's just a matter of precaution, to put a distraught mother's mind at ease."

"I didn't know Alynna to be all this prone to suspicions and whatnot," Michael Jordayne said. "But you can see the documents whenever you want. I should hope that settles the matter, or are we going to be subjected to unwarranted checks each time Alynna decides that she should make sure we aren't robbing her children blind?"

The old Lady Jordayne shook her head at him, reprovingly. "Alynna has been through a lot," she said. "I'll be very sad if it had made her unable to tell friends from enemies. So very sad."

Now, all eyes turned to Ben who tried to ignore that. Of course they'd blame Lyanna. The Princess Regent had clearly been beloved here. It was easier to blame someone else than accept that perhaps it was just her character. Many women had gone through similar things without losing their sound mind. Although right now, he couldn't think of one. But none of that made the stares easier to bear.

It was late in the morning next day when he was finally able to walk around – well, ride around – and see for himself what the place he'd live one day was like. And of course, it all started with the sea.

The Sea of Dorne was nothing like the ones he had seen this far. Today, it was golden-white with brilliant sunlight, although Ben expected that once the sun went away, it would turn out to be blue, like a sea should be. But that was not the odd thing about it. Ben gaped at the streams that were too small to be worth adding to a map that poured into it… or tried to. The heat had dried some of them… kind of. The water started and stopped, and here and there it kept flowing after the end of a dry terrain which had no reason to end at all. There was even a small lake so close to the sea that it should have been fed by its waters, yet a few inches separated the two bodies of water. A few inches, less than a yard. Such a tiny gap and yet an overwhelmingly resilient one. He had to admit that it was lovely, with harsh allure that reminded him of the old fishing towns in the North. How ridiculous!

There were fishing villages here as well and since that was the day he had chosen to explore the coast, he went past them, or through them, until finally he felt lost in a mass of olive faces, black hair and black eyes, all staring at him with curiosity and hostility.

"He doesn't look like a wolf," he heard a little girl say as he dismounted to drink from the fountain in the centre of one such village, and perhaps show someone – he didn't know whom – that they couldn't make him cower. "Do you think he eats raw wolves?"

How ridiculous! Was that how they thought of Northmen here? Was that the reason Ilana had looked so relieved at their meeting – because he wasn't wearing the pelt of a freshly killed beast, the blood still dripping from his shoulders?

"Don't be stupid," someone firmly replied. "If he ate his meat raw, that means that his sister also does. The Prince surely wouldn't have looked at such a girl twice."

Even among the smallfolk, Ben was defined by Lyanna's stupid act. The squire accompanying him looked uncomfortable – but not uncomfortable enough to start a conversation for something small. Not that Ben would have accepted the sympathy. But it would have been nice to get it. Perhaps.

"Was everything fine with the accounts, Ser?" he asked in the afternoon as he inspected Alor's weapons for any sign of spots.

Alor looked at him as if the question had been an extremely stupid one.

"Of course it was."

"But I thought…"

Alor sighed. "So that was how it sounded? I made a mull of it, then. I offended those who were undeserving when that was not my intention at all. I had no idea how to go about it and it looks I chose the worst way possible."

Ben started polishing the sword with a cloth. It was glinting spotless, so he was just keeping it in order. No great effort. He only needed to be careful to not cut himself when he looked at Alor.

"So it was just the Princess worrying?"

"I pray that it was," Alor replied, a shadow laying claim to his features and making him look suddenly older. "I hope it was just a brief concern. After her husband's antics, she can be excused if she thinks she's the one who should take care of her children's interests and her own and check everyone else's work… for a while. They have never given us a reason to doubt them, yet doubt she did. And I made it worse by deciding to indulge her about this, only this time. But I won't let her keep going like this."

Ben's blood froze. So, the Princess turning her allies against her was a possibility now? Should they prepare for another war borne out of mistrust and misguided judgments? Please, my lady, he begged of her silently. Please shake it away.

"Perhaps an apology?" he suggested.

"Perhaps," Alor agreed. "If it doesn't make it all worse by reminding them that she wanted to see for herself… If I can make her do it at all…"

We aren't this different, you and I, Ser, are we? Ben thought with a mix of gloating and sadness. You love her just as I love Lya. And you cannot condone her misdeeds just as I cannot condone Lya's. It was only when he was dismissed again that he realized: for the first time he admitted to himself that in this, Lyanna had been in the wrong.


The Tor was a huge sprawling castle of a most unusual form. From a distance, it distinctly looked like a battlehammer, with the long part shining in white and the two shorter ones resembling the colour of blood. The adjacent buildings were as small as dots. But the interior of it was even more unusual. Even in chambers at the same side, light entered differently. The very air was different. The late lord's solar – well, Lady Ilana's solar now, or at least it would be when she grew up – was bright and inviting. The great hall looked downright grim, despite the rich furnishing. And there was no gallery for the tapestries of House Jordayne's ancestors when there were so many of their portraits. Instead, they hung on the walls of a dark long corridor, so one could miss them. Ben almost did, glancing at them absent-mindedly until he suddenly found himself face to face with a young Alynna Gargalen. The shock was such that he recoiled. No, not that she looked more beautiful or even less beautiful here. The difference was that she looked very happy. A small smile of content somehow couldn't mask the zest of life poring off her. She was holding a babe in her arms. Ilana?

"Is she really this beautiful?"

Startled, he looked at her. He hadn't noticed her arrival. "Don't you… know?"

Ilana bit her lip. "I am not sure. I was only six when she left. I remember some of the things she did but not what she looked like. I can only remember one thing – long hair."

She no longer has that, Ben thought and his anger at Alynna surprised him. Her hair was now unfashionably short. But he didn't tell Ilana that. He didn't tell her that he had no recollection of his own mother at all. "Your lady mother is very, very beautiful," he said and as he said that, he realized with some surprise that it was so.

She beamed. "I've been sending her rope," she said, confidentially. "Well, my lady grandmother has. She's been measuring how tall we all were and sending the ropes to my mother. Each of us has their own rope. Even the baby."

"That's very… kind," Ben said. "Is there also a portrait of your father?"

She nodded and showed him a man in his twenties, with hair that was lighter than the colours Ben had used to seeing here. Myles Jordayne was dark-eyed, serious, well-built. Not very impressive but not unimpressive either. No different from any other man. "Do you remember him?" he asked.

Ilana shook her head. "Barely. Mostly, I remember what he did."

"And what was that?"

"He loved riding and sailing. And my mother."

Did he, Ben wondered. If he did, how could he have loved another man before? He wanted to know more about the House he would wed into but it was getting increasingly clear that his little betrothed was not the one who could provide him with this information. Not that he could ask any of the other people from the Tor.

"And then he died?" he asked.

Ilana nodded. "And then he died," she confirmed. "And she left."

As he wondered what he should say at this and if he should say something at all, she thought of something else and brightened. "She says she'll send for us soon. I should make another rope, so she won't be surprised at how tall I am!"

To Ben, she looked positively tiny but he knew better than say it. "In the North, we use sticks. We mark them with the respective height."

Ilana nodded. "You can find such a stick in Saltshore," she promised.

She clearly meant well. She wasn't to blame that now Ben could only show his father how tall he had grown by sticks or ropes. He avoided her eye because he was afraid that she's see in his something that could only make things worse.