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XI.

The Sun's Son

When Alyce returned from a dawn bout with Ser Barristan, she found Dany's handmaidens dressing her in cool clothes. She wore a crown for the first time since Alyce had met her, and when she eyed it questioningly, Dany explained, "I must hold court today."

Alyce was interested. "May I attend?"

Dany nodded absently. "One more sword is always welcome."

This reminded Alyce that the Sons of the Harpy could still make a bold appearance, despite the peace of the last month, and her face hardened. She nodded curtly.

When they descended to the grand throne room, it was only Alyce and Missandei that accompanied the queen amidst her usual wall of Unsullied. Alyce still was unused to being surrounded by the soldiers. The Unsullied were some of the best fighters in the world, and she could feel their cool, uniform power all around her, surrounding her. It made her feel trapped and on-edge.

When they reached the cavernous room, Alyce spotted Ser Barristan and separated from the girls to join him where he was positioned before Daenerys' throne but slightly to the left. He was alone, but seemed unbothered by her placing herself at his side. He nodded to her slightly and she returned it, taking up a similar stature to his. She utterly adored the man, but kept her face stone-blank.

As Daenerys descended, Missandei called, "All kneel for Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, Queen of Meereen, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Shackles and Mother of Dragons."

They rose as she finished. Reznak mo Reznak bowed and beamed at the queen. "Magnificence, every day you grow more beautiful. I think the prospect of your wedding has given you a glow. Oh, my shining queen!"

Dany sighed. "Summon the first petitioner."

The crush of cases seemed overwhelming to Alyce. She knew Daenerys had not held court since she had arrived, which was months ago. The back of the hall was a solid press of people, and scuffled broke out over precedence. All the Unsullied guards in the throne room, Ser Barristan, Alyce, and the rest of the queen's mostly crew of shields eyed the throng with narrowed eyes, searching for suspicious behavior or the glint of weapons. After a time of standing, Alyce's leg began to pain her, but she ignored it. It seemed the line of petitioners would never end.

A green-veiled and important-looking woman stepped forward, catching Alyce's attention.

"Your Radiance, it might be best were we to speak in private."

"Would that I had the time." Dany's voice was patient and sweet, despite the weariness that was likely setting in. "I am to be wed at the end of the month. What would you have of me?"

Alyce had known the wedding would be soon, but had not kept abreast of such things. Another month. She tried not to see the wedding as an ending. All men must die. If this husband is an ill fit for the Queen of Dragons, he will see his end perhaps sooner than he might wish. He can be done away with.

"I would speak to you about the presumption of a certain sellsword captain," the veiled woman said.

Alyce bristled and her eyes flew to Dany's. The queen had a careful mask of nonemotion, though her eyes had flashed.

"The treachery of Brown Ben Plumm has shocked us all," Daenerys replied coolly, "but your warning comes too late. And now I know you will want to return to your temple to pray for peace."

Alyce thought it likely that Plumm was not the captain to which the veiled woman referred.

The woman bowed. "I shall pray for you as well."

The color rose on Daenerys' face and neck and Alyce glanced again at the veiled woman. She wished to ask Ser Barristan who she was, but did not what to break the stony decorum that all the queen's shields stood enveloped in.

The tedium went on. Daenerys sat upon her cushions, listening, one foot jiggling with impatience. Jhiqui brought a platter of ham and figs at midday, and Irri served Ser Barristan, Alyce, and the rest of the individual guards. The Unsullied ate nothing. For every two petitioners Daenerys sent off smiling, one left red-eyed and muttering.

The pink of sunset colored the walls opposite the windows when the queen's blue captain—Daario Naharis—appeared with some Stormcrows in tow. Three of the lot caught Alyce's eye—they were Westerosi beneath their concealing sellsword fittings. Dornish. Alyce stirred.

"Three Dornishmen," she whispered to Ser Barristan. The old man was also looking hard at the men.

"The middle boy," Alyce continued in a low hiss to the knight, "He's familiar to me but I cannot place him." Daario introduced all the men as new Stormcrows, come over from the Windblown. Scruffy as they looked, they sported signs of wealth: gold arm rings, silken tunics, silver-studded sword belts. Plunder. One of them Alyce realized was a woman—big and blonde and all in mail. "Pretty Meris," Daario named her, though she was anything but. She was deeply scarred and earless, with very cold eyes. Alyce liked her not at all and chilled her own eyes to match.

"Hugh Hungerford" was slim and saturnine, long-legged, long-faced, clad in faded finery. Webber was short and muscular, with spiders tattooed across his head, chest, an arms. Red-faced Orson Stone claimed to be a knight. Will of the Woods leered at the queen even as he took a knee. Dick Straw had hair as white as flax, Ginger Jack's face was hidden behind an orange beard with unintelligible speech due to a half-bitten off tongue.

The Dornishmen were introduced as Greenguts, Gerrold, and Frog. Greenguts was huge and bald as a stone, with arms thick enough to rival Daenerys' enormous eunuch fighter. Gerrold was a lean, tall youth with sun streaks in his hair and laughing blue-green eyes—a face that had likely won many a maiden's heart. His cloak was of soft brown wool lined with sandsilk.

Frog, the squire, standing in the middle of the two, was the youngest and the least impressive of the three. He was squarish of face, with a high forehead and a broad nose, and the stubble on his cheeks and chin were patchy. But his features tickled Alyce's memories. Her narrowed eyes roved his person and his companions, searching for the first sign of deceit or ill will.

"You may rise," Dany said. "Daario tells me you come to us from Dorne. Dornishmen will always have a welcome at my court. Sunspear stayed loyal to my father when the Usurper stole his throne. You must have faced many perils to reach me."

"Too many," said Gerrold, the handsome one. "We were six when we left Dorne, Your Grace."

"I am sorry for your losses." She turned to his companion. "Greenguts is a queer sort of name."

"A jape, Your Grace. From the ships. I was greensick the whole way from Volantis. Heaving and…well, I shouldn't say."

Dany giggled. "I think that I can guess, ser. It is ser, is it not? Daario tells me that you are a knight."

"If it please Your Grace, we are all three knights."

Dany glanced at Daario and Alyce saw anger flash across the captain's face.

He did not know.

"I have need of knights," the queen said to them.

Ser Barristan spoke up from beside Alyce. "Knighthood is easily claimed this far from Westeros. Are you prepared to defend that boast with sword and lance?"

"If need be," said Gerrold, "though I will not claim that any of us is the equal of Barristan the Bold. Your Grace, I beg your pardon, but we have come before you under false names."

"I knew someone else who did that once. His named was Arstan Whitebeard. Tell me your true names, then."

"Gladly…but if we may beg the queen's indulgence, is there some place with fewer eyes and ears?"

Dany's mouth set a litter harder, but she replied, "As you wish. Skahaz, clear my court."

The Shavepate roared out orders. His Brazen Beasts did the rest, herding the other Westerosi and the rest of the day's petitioners from the hall. Her counselors remained.

"Now," Dany said, "your names."

Handsome young Gerrold bowed. "Ser Gerris Drinkwater, Your Grace. My sword is yours."

Greenguts crossed his arms against his chest. "And my Warhammer. I'm Ser Archibald Yronwood."

Knights and nobles of Sunspear. Alyce looked again at the boy with them. Is this boy they guard…?

"And you, ser?" Daenerys was asking the boy, the one the others called Frog.

"If it please Your Grace, may I first present my gift?"

"If you wish." Daenerys was curious, but Alyce and Daario were both suspicious.

"Give this gift to me," the captain commanded of the boy, stepping in front of him and holding out a gloved hand. Stone-faced, the stocky lad bent, unlaced his boot, and drew a yellowed parchment from a hidden flap within.

"This is your gift? A scrap of writing?" Daario snatched the parchment out of the Dornishman's hands as Alyce relaxed.

Daario unrolled it quickly, squinting at it. "Very pretty, all the gold and ribbons, but I do not read your Westerosi scratchings."

"Bring it to the queen," Ser Barristan commanded. "Now."

There was anger in the hall. Ser Barristan was angry at Daario, though Alyce felt a bit relieved at his rude interference. There could have been a dagger hiding in the scroll. The Dornishmen were furious with Daario, and he again with them.

"I am only a young girl, and young girls must have their gifts," Dany said lightly. "Daario, you must not tease me. Give it here."

The parchment was written in the Common Tongue. Dany's eyes traced over the seals and signatures which Alyce could not read from her place. The queen appeared to read it twice.

"May we know what it says, Your Grace?" asked Ser Barristan.

"It is a secret pact," Dany said, "made in Braavos when I was just a little girl. Ser William Darry signed for us, the man who spirited by brother and myself away from Dragonstone before the Usurper's men could take us. Prince Oberyn Martell signed for Dorne, with the Sealord of Braavos as witness." She held out the parchment to Ser Barristan so he might read it himself. Alyce inspected the parchment from beside him. Dany continued, "The alliance is to be sealed by marriage, it says. In return for Dorne's help overthrowing the Usurper, my brother Viserys is to take Prince Doran's daughter Arianne for his queen."

Ser Barristan read over the pact slowly. As he read, Alyce looked again at the boy, coming to conclusions. She whispered to Barristan, "We have a Frog Prince among us." She was quiet enough that only the closest knight—Ser Archibald—heard her. He glanced at her, but the boy had not heard and neither had the queen.

Ser Barristan told Daenerys, "If Robert had known of this, he would have smashed Sunspear as he once smashed Pyke, and claimed the heads of Prince Doran and the Red Viper…and like as not, the head of this Dornish princess too."

"No doubt that was why Prince Doran chose to keep the pact a secret," suggested Dany. "If my brother Viserys had known that he had a Dornish princess waiting for him, he would have crossed to Sunspear as soon as he was old enough to wed."

"And thereby brought Robert's warhammer down upon himself, and Dorne as well," said the boy called Frog, the prince of Dorne, though Alyce could not remember his name. "My father was content to wait for the day that Prince Viserys found his army."

"Your father?"

"Prince Doran." The boy sank to one knee. He was of an age with Daenerys, perhaps only a year older or younger. "Your Grace, I have the honor to be Quentyn Martell, a prince of Dorne and your most leal subject."

Dany laughed.

The Dornish prince flushed red, whilst Dany's councilors gave her puzzled looks. Alyce frowned at her. She did not understand why this was a laughing matter. It was not wise of her to shame Dorne, especially when it comes all this way to drop to one knee before her.

"They call him Frog," Dany said, "and we have just learned why. In the Seven Kingdoms, there are children's tales of frogs who turn into princes when kissed by their true love. Tell me, Prince Quentyn, are you enchanted?"

"No, Your Grace."

"I feared as much. You have come for a kiss, however. You mean to marry me. Is that the way of it? The gift you bring me is your own sweet self. Instead of Viserys and your sister, you and I must seal this pact if I want Dorne."

Alyce allowed herself a small smile. What a sweet gift. This Hizdahr has no luck, and the Sons of the Harpy would have to be dealt with in a different manner entirely. Here was Dorne on a platter. A home, a landing, and protectors for Daenerys in the Seven Kingdoms. Alyce gave another look to the boy prince. Not much to look at, but the Dornish were a fiery and righteous house. They ruled well, and not without wisdom. Or cunning, some would say. They would make true allies, connected to her and her plight through the blood of Rhaegar's murdered wife.

"My father hoped you might find me acceptable," Prince Quentyn replied courteously.

Daario Naharis gave a scornful laugh. "I say you are a pup. The queen needs a man beside her, not a mewling boy. You are not fit husband for a woman such as her."

Ser Gerris Drinkwater had darkened at his words. "Mind your tongue, sellsword. You are speaking to a Prince of Dorne."

"And to his wetnurse, I am thinking." Daario brushes his thumbs across his sword hilts and smiled dangerously.

His absurd and brutish discourtesy made Alyce furious. "You disgrace yourself, Naharis," she snapped like a cold wind. She wished to say more, but knew he might leap at her, and she did not wish to create a scene in Daenerys' court. He knows nothing of Westeros and would hold his tongue if he were less of an ignorant prick.

He sent her a fearsome look, but Skahaz was speaking before he could. "This boy might serve for Dorne, but Meereen needs a king of Ghiscari blood."

"I know of this Dorne," said Reznak mo Reznak. "Dorne is sand and scorpions, and bleak red mountains baking in the sun."

Prince Quentyn answered him. "Dorne is fifty thousand spears and swords, pledged to our queen's service."

"Fifty thousand?" mocked Daario. "I count three."

"Enough," Daenerys said. "Prince Quentyn has crossed half the world to offer me his gift—I will not have him treated with discourtesy." She turned to the Dornishmen and what she told them made Alyce frown. "Would that you had come a year ago. I am pledged to wed the noble Hizdahr zo Loraq."

Ser Gerris said, "It is not too late—"

"I will be the judge of that," Daenerys said. "Reznak, see that the prince and his companions are given quarters suitable to their high birth, and that all their wants are attended to."

"As you wish, Your Radiance."

The queen rose. "We are done for now."

Daario, Ser Barristan, Missandei, and Alyce followed her up the steps to her apartments.

"This changes everything," Ser Barristan said.

"This changes nothing," Dany replied without heat as Irri removed her crown. Alyce stared at her, her eyes going wide. "What good are three men?"

"Three liars," Daario interjected darkly. "They deceived me."

"And bought you too, I do not doubt." Ser Barristan's distaste was plain and Daario did not even trouble to deny it.

"Three knights," Alyce argued against him. The fact that Daenerys had not immediately leapt for joy at this new revelation of Dorne's loyalty to her was past her understanding. "Prince Quentyn's aunt was Elia of Dorne, Prince Rhaegar's princess and—Your Grace—your goodsister. Dorne is as close to family in Westeros as you have. They have power, money, arms, and they would take you in like a beloved long-lost daughter. They would provide you a place to land in Westeros in safety. A home. A starting place from which to conquer."

The young queen had unrolled the scroll and was reading it again, her eyes far away. Alyce feared she was not truly hearing her.

"Ser Barristan," she asked, "what are the arms of House Martell?"

"A sun in splendor, transfixed by a spear."

Dany appeared to shiver. "The sun's son… Shadows and whispers."

"Your Grace?"

"Beware the perfumed seneschal." It seemed as if they were no longer there and the young queen was speaking to herself alone. "Dreams and prophesies. Why must they always be in riddles? I hate this. Oh, leave me."

Daario hesitated to leave with them as if wondering if she meant for him as well, or if he were exempt. But Daenerys ignored his eyes and he left with Ser Barristan, Alyce, and the handmaidens.

Alyce had been expecting retribution for her scolding of Daario in the throne room, and so she was ready when halfway down the lavish hall, the sellsword turned on her. He reached for her neck with one arm and a blade with the other, wishing to shame her, as he opened his mouth for a scathing reprimand. But she blocked his hand with her arm and rammed her knee up between his legs. She could have done so harder, but she imagined the queen would have been upset had she damaged his faculties. With her other hand, she drew a sharp knife and swiftly sliced off his leather swordbelt so his weapons tumbled to the rug, clanking. By this time, Ser Barristan had drawn his longsword and was bellowing for them to separate.

Daario was too wild to be stilled by the touch of steel to his flesh, so Alyce did not attempt it, but she did close her fist around her knife handle and crack the arrogant scum with a solid right cross across his absurd blue-bearded jaw. He stumbled back, cursing her foully and reaching for one of his fallen weapons. The handmaidens were shrieking. Ser Barristan stepped between them with a roar.

"STOP THIS!" he thundered, his sword pointed at Daario and one hand held toward Alyce. They both glared across the space at one another like brawling schoolchildren. A dozen scalding, nasty curses jumped to Alyce's lips, but she would not behave like a Fleabottom bastard child in front of Ser Barristan the Bold. Instead she hissed, composing herself coldly, "You are a brute and a fool, Naharis, and Queen Daenerys degrades herself to give you such leeway."

Daario began a scathing retort as only he could spit, but Ser Barristan thundered over him, his voice like a storm in the hall: "You will not find this woman an easy target for such retribution, captain, and Her Grace will hear of your attack on one of her personal guards. Shall she hear you fought both of us, or will she hear you let your offense go?"

Daario struggled with himself a moment, his lip dripping blood and his weapons held tightly in now-white knuckles.

"I mean you no ill, Ser Grandfather," he announced, feinting a sort of careless flourish of apathy, "but your pet snake is another matter."

"She is the queen's and you shall not touch her," Ser Barristan commanded, his voice colder and fiercer than Alyce had heard before.

"As you say. Sleep well, little snake." He left them, his usual saunter stiff.

"Did he hurt you?" Missandei asked in her quiet voice after he was gone.

"No, little one. I know his kind and am always ready for their tricks." She touched the girl's small, smooth cheek with a finger affectionately, trying to keep her face clear. Her heart was pounding with the jumping, urgent beating it always did after fighting. Irri and Jhiqui were muttering things to one another in Dothraki. They slipped away, likely to relay such happenings to their khaleesi.

Ser Barristan was stony-faced. "I had expected his antagonism, but not for him to attack you. I will speak to Her Grace."

The three of them began to walk down the hall again, hopefully toward dinner. Alyce was hungry.

"Insults from a man he could have taken better," Alyce replied, sighing. "I should have known to hold my tongue in the throne room, but his behavior toward Prince Quentyn made me furious."

Barristan was nodding, disgust in his face as well. "I felt similarly."

"He doesn't have the manners for a throne room. He never will. He can only disgrace Her Grace if allowed in places he does not have the qualities for."

But she is determined to have him there. And his boldness grows with every passing week. The words went unspoken between them.

"He is a danger to you now," Barristan told her in a low voice. "He is formidable as an enemy, and you have made him angry."

Alyce knew so already and wariness has already sunk down into her. Every turn in the hallways will be a danger now. "I regret it, but I cannot change it. I will not walk the halls alone from now on."

Ser Barristan looked grim and unhappy. While Missandei returned to her queen, he and Alyce took their supper in room open to Meereen through its open columns.

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