The Prince of Dorne
Chapter Three
The warmth of the chamber made a welcome change to the endless cold that had been forced to ride through, when it hadn't been snowing it had been raining almost endlessly it had seemed to him. He wasn't sure how anyone could expect to survive in this, let alone thrive in it. Still, he imagine that for the people of the North, how anyone could live in Dorne would be just as strange if not more so to them.
Still, Lewyn was a man of Dorne with the blood of Nymeria and Mors Martell in his veins and he was used to a certain warmth. Winterfell itself was beautiful, a grand seat fit for a Lord Paramount. But it was cold as the deepest of the seven hells and the warmth of the chamber was much appreciated, as was the loaf of bread, the pots of butter, honey and blackberry and strawberry preserves.
A fully belly made any number of things a great deal more bearable. The flagon of ale was less welcome, it was so thick with yeast that he had to chew on a few mouthfuls to get it down and he found all that he wanted was a glass of Dornish Red, some strong wine that was as sweet as it was strong but he had not brought any skins with him and he did not wish to seem rude by turning down Lord Stark's ale.
The next cup was far more tolerable than the first had been thankfully and once that one was finished, Lewyn took a moment to actually examine his chambers. They were very fine, slightly larger than the chambers that he held in the capital. Sweet smelling rushes covered the floor and a large chamber pot was set next to his bed, a large fire was roaring away in the hearth.
Lewyn closed the shutters and made sure that they were firmly latched before sitting down on the bed and resting his head on the plump pillows, he was unused to furs. In Dorne, most covers were silk or cotton, in the night when the cold airs began to blow on to them, they were replaced with velvet covers instead. The furs were certainly fine enough to keep out the chill, the Northmen wore them as well during their day, but they were itching against his skin and he was fairly sure that there were some bugs living in it as well.
At any rate, he didn't want to sleep yet. His muscles were still aching from the long ride and so with a groan he pushed himself up and called out to the serving man that the Starks had so kindly assigned to him. He asked him to have a bath made for him and the servant nodded before going off to see to that.
There was all ready a heavy iron tub in the room and soon enough two women, one slightly older than he was and one younger than him. They each carried a heavy pewter jug full of steaming water, both of them emptied their jug into the tub and Lewyn gave thanks before he began to strip out of his clothes. The younger girl turned as red as scorpion and fled from the room.
The older girl did not, she simply smiled and stepped closer to him. She was very pretty, long black hair that was tied into a braid which went down to her lower back, warm chestnut coloured eyes and plump red lips which stood out against her skin that was almost paler than the snow that was currently falling to the ground. "Would you like some company my Lord?"
He couldn't deny it, he was tempted. The girl was lovely and it had been a long journey and the thought of a warm bath, a soft bed and a beautiful girl to help him relax was like something out of a dream. But, despite really wanting too, he was the future Prince of Dorne after all and while Uncle Oberyn and his brothers and sister had more freedom when it came to matters such as this, he didn't. Father would be so disappointed.
"It is a tempting offer Goodwoman, but sadly I must turn it down." The servant gave a pout at the words, and the unspoken dismissal, but still she left. Once the door was closed Lewyn sunk into the warm water of the bath with a heavy sigh, enjoying the warmth of the water relaxing his muscles. Lewyn's eyes fluttered shut for a few moments as he simply allowed himself a moment to relax.
He knew he couldn't stay there of course, otherwise he would simply fall asleep and drown himself in the bath and he did not want to be the cause of a feud between Sunspear and Winterfell, even if both seats were thousands and thousands of miles apart and he wouldn't be alive to worry about it. Once he had gotten out of the tub, dried himself off and got dressed in his night robes, he set to work writing letters.
He stared with one to his mother, so very far away in Norvos. She had fled back to her home after his Father had sent Quentyn away to ward with the Yronwoods, Lewyn remembered how enraged she had been even back then, when poor Tyrstane had barely been more than a babe in arms. His heart had broken when his Mother had announced she was leaving, he had wanted to stop her, to throw himself at her feet and beg her to stay, to cling to her skirts, to even go with her.
But he couldn't, he was the heir to Sunspear and the future of Dorne, he could not afford to humiliate himself in such a way. Arianne had cried enough for both of them, she had wept and had cursed their father as he wished that he could. But no, Lewyn had shared a far too brief hug with his mother, pressed a kiss to her cheek and then just like that she was gone, she had left him.
They maintained a correspondence even now, but the distance made it difficult. Birds were far more likely to get lost or die crossing the sea, few of their messages made it to the other. Even so, that would never stop Lewyn from trying to do so. He wrote of the journey, of arriving at Winterfell, he wrote of Ari, Quent and Tyrs so she would know how each of her children were going and of course he asked for details on her life.
As soon as his mother's letter was sealed, he turned his attentions on the others. One for each of his siblings, one for Ari promising that he would be home as soon as he could and he would try and help her with convincing their Father to make a better match for her. His sister needed to be wed, he knew that and so did Arianne but the matches that were being made for her?
Lewyn could not care for Arianne one whit, he could resent her existence, but even if all of that were so he would never let any sister of his be married to Walder Frey. Thankfully, none of that was true and he would not let his beloved sister, his best friend, be married to that vile old man. The alternatives his Father suggested had not been much better, Old Lord Estermont was a good man and a grandfather of the King but Arianne would be bored to tears, Lord Rosby was a cougher and too lowly in position for a princess of Dorne and Lord Beesbury had died before he even met Ari.
His sister had said no to all of them, as Lewyn knew that she would. He didn't know what his Father was doing, he had to know that Arianne would always say no to such old men. He remembered a time when Lord Hoster of Riverrun had sent a bird to Dorne suggesting a match between his son and heir and Arianne. Lewyn loathed the idea of his sister marrying anyone who had a hand, indirectly or not, in getting his Aunt and cousins killed, but he had been more open to the idea once he saw how happy it had made her.
And after three days of waiting, Prince Doran sent back a letter giving his thanks but declining. His sister was then offered another old man as husband, Lewyn had to imagine that if he was a woman and not the firstborn, that he would feel just as frustrated. He swore his vows of aid on the paper and quickly sealed it.
The letters to his brothers were shorter, it had been hard to bond with Quent since he had been sent to Lord Yronwood to ward when he was just a boy and Lord Anders had been more a father to his brother than Prince Doran himself had ever been. Trystane was a sweet and dutiful lad, and clever than he let on, but there was too big an age gap to truly be close to one another. All the same, he promise Quent he would come and see him as soon as he could and that Trystane and he would have a game of Cyvasse when he next came to Sunspear.
The final letter to be written was one to his Father, it was short, quick and to the point. His Father would not care about the details of his journey, he would want to know about what he had seen and heard and what would be important to them. The letter was done and sealed the quickest out of the lot of them, he would have them sent off in the morning.
He placed the letters in one of the drawers of the desk and stood up and made his way to the bed, he climbed under the furs and shut his eyes. He hoped that he wouldn't dream, he didn't pray. He hadn't prayed since the day his Father had told him what had happened to Auntie Elia.
For once his hopes had been answered, he had shut his eyes, didn't dream once and after what seemed like only a few moments, he opened them again to see pale slivers of daylight creeping through the shutters of the room. The airs was filled the sound of yells from below, of metal being hammered in the forge and there was the smell of fresh bread.
Lewyn got up and changed into day robes and picked up a warm fur that his servants in King's Landing had seen fit to pack for him which he had to be more grateful for, he wrapped the fur around him and stepped out of the room. He decided to make his ways to the kitchens first, he got turned around twice and had to ask for directions but soon enough he was pointed in the right direction and his nose did the rest of the work.
He got some funny looks from the cook and the kitchen servants, it didn't surprise him of course. After Rebellion, most Dornishmen had fled back south to their home and very few made it this far North. Still, aside from a not too quiet mutter of how strange and dark he looked, there was no open hostility which was something at the very least.
To fill his belly he was given two small fried fish, bacon burned black, two boiled duck eggs and half a loaf of bread that was fresh from the oven. Once the plate had been scrapped clean, he gave his thanks and walked into the courtyard. The cold wasn't biting, but it was ever present. He walked through the courtyard, thinking intently until he finally saw some people that he recognised.
He had seen Robb Stark in the line up when the King had arrived, he favoured his Tully mother over his father with red hair and blue eyes, he didn't even take much from his Father in terms of the structure of his face. He was broad though, and tall as well. His bastard brother was slimmer and dark where his brother was fair, they had not been introduced as of yet but he had saw the boy standing in a place where he was out of sight and he looked so much like Lord Stark, that it was the most obvious conclusion.
The other boy was a mystery to him, he had dark hair and pale skin and a smirk on his face that suggest that he always got what he wanted, as he got closer Lewyn noticed the pin that kept his cloak in place, shaped like a kraken and done in gold. Ah, there it was. Lord Stark had taken the last Greyjoy son as a ward as punishment for his Father's rebellion, and a guarantee to make sure that he wouldn't do it again.
"Well meet to all of you, I am Prince Lewyn of Dorne." His voice must have come to a shock, whatever they had been talking about must have been very engaging as it had kept them busy to the point that he hadn't seen him coming. "Your Lord Robb aren't you? Lord Stark's son?"
"Yes, my lord. My prince, I mean." Robb Stark spoke with a smile that he imagined was going to get some girls into trouble, assuming that Robb Stark took after his infamous Uncle Brandon. And was that way inclined. "I am Robb, this is Theon Greyjoy, my Father's ward." The Greyjoy bent his head to him. "And this is Jon Snow, my Father's bastard."
"A pleasure to meet all of you, I hope that I am not interrupting but I was in the middle of exploring Winterfell and then I saw the three of you speaking with one another, I thought I would come over and say hello."
"Theon and I were about to do some sparring, if you would like to watch my Prince. Or perhaps take part?" Robb suggested as he walked over to the sword rack and picked out two wooden swords and handed one over to Theon. It had been a long time since he hadn't spared with live steel, so he decided to simply sit and watch. Sitting on a wooden barrel next to the bastard of Winterfell as the two highborns began, being watched over by the grizzled old Master-At-Arms.
"I've never been to Dorne." Lewyn had been so busy watching Robb and Theon step around one another that he almost feel of the barrel in shock when he heard Jon Snow talk. Lewyn turned his attention from the match to Jon himself. "I've never actually left Winterfell, aside from going to the Winter's Town or to go on hunts. What's it like?"
"Hot, as hot as the North is cold." Lewyn spoke as he made himself more comfortable. "We have little grass, only some along the coast line. Much of the rest of Dorne is an endless desert, but the Greenblood river is the most beautiful river in the world. The poleboats of the orphans are richly decorated, a thousand different colours that shine in the light. And up in the mountains, there are waterfalls and rivers and cold lakes. Dorne is Dorne."
"I have read about it, in the book about the Young Dragon's conquest." Jon spoke, leaning closer as he did so. "I always wanted to go and see the goat path that he walked, to slip past the sentries and the watch towers."
"He was a hero of yours I take it?" When Jon nodded Lewyn let out a sigh. "Well, let me give you some advice Jon. If you do happen to go to Dorne, maybe do not speak of the Young Dragon so glowingly. We are not fond of him in Dorne as the rest of the six kingdoms are, and to another matter, do not trust all that you read. There was a goat trail, but it was ships that won that war."
Jon frowned at his words. "Perhaps, but he still managed to conquer Dorne even without Dragons." His eyes went wide, clearly remembering who he was speaking too. "I am sorry my Prince, I don't mean to be rude."
"It is quite alright Jon, don't worry. Some with hotter heads than I might have stabbed you in the eye by now, thankfully my head couldn't be cooler in a place like that. And yes, he did manage to conquer us. Most Dornish won't deny that, but note Jon that we did not stay conquered very long. As soon as the Young Dragon had left, the Rebellions had begun."
Suddenly there was a debate, the lad was smart. Every now and then he stumbled over his words, as if he remembered again his status and who he was speaking too but Lewyn did naught but encourage him. He was well read as well, seemed to be able to remember whole passages from the Conquest of Dorne without needing to go and find said book.
Lewyn did not feel like breaking the boy's image of his hero quite yet, so he did not point out some of the obvious mistakes that the Young Dragon had made or the fact he was a terrible bragged. Dorne never had the numbers that the Targaryen had suggested they had, but if he made the threat seemed bigger then his victory seemed all the more impressive.
Their conversation came to a sudden end when they heard a grunt and turned back to see that Theon Greyjoy was flat on his back, cradling his wrist with an indignant pout on his face. Ser Rodrik gave an approving nod and then glanced up at the covered bridge above them. "Thoughts my Lord?"
"It was a well struck blow Robb." The voice was like something out of one of his dreams, Lewyn didn't realise he was moving until he had jumped off of the barrel and was almost standing next to the Master-At-Arms and following his gaze.
And there he was, the Usurper's dog, Eddard Stark with his frozen heart of ice. His grey eyes landed on him and Lewyn felt a shiver going up his spine but forced himself to speak. "Lord Stark, an honour to meet you. I am Prince Lewyn Martell, son of Doran Martell, Prince of Dorne."
For a moment, though only a brief one, Lewyn though that he saw Lord Stark's eyes widen, but if he had seen it then it was gone a heartbeat later. Eddard Stark nodded his head to him. "Prince Lewyn, I thought I saw you. I apologise for not greeting you personally but I am afraid that the king had demanded some of my time. I would like a word, might I invite you to my solar."
"My lord, nothing in this world would please me more." Lewyn began to make his way insides, his fingers curling into fists. This had been something that he had been waiting for.
End of Chapter Three
Another chapter done, I hope everyone enjoyed this one and you have a clearer idea of who Lewyn is. Next chapter is the events in the Solar, but we switch perspectives.
If you enjoyed this chapter, then please leave a review, a follow and some constructive criticism is always welcome.
With much love and warmest regards,
DiscordantSymphony