Erich
It was dark. The sounds of clashing steel, cracking bones and dying men echoed in the void. Men were begging and praying, which was followed by screams of pain. Then there was singing and laughter, somehow distant and overwhelming at the same time.
Erich Storm opened his eyes. His body was aching, and his head was thumping with pain. He didn't have his armor on, and he was tied to a pole inside a pavilion. The pavilion was otherwise empty, but beside the door flap there was a stool, and on it sat a black helmet depicting a human skull.
We were defeated, Erich thought bitterly, memory of the ambush returning to his mind. Prince Baldric…
For minutes he remained there, silently staring at the skull helmet while listening to the sounds of the Manwoody camp around him, until finally someone entered the pavilion. Erich recognized the black armor to be that of the skull knight, but he was surprised by the person wearing it. She was a comely young woman, with dark brown hair, fair skin and sharp green eyes.
"Finally awake," the woman said with a thin smirk, grabbing the skull helmet as she spoke. "You look surprised. Perhaps it is embarrassing to you that you were defeated by a woman, I understand. However, you should know it was not just any woman, but Lady Alayne Manwoody, the heir of Kingsgrave. And now that I've introduced myself, it's your turn."
"Where… is Prince Baldric?" Erich asked, his voice strained but defiant.
"He died in the fighting," Alayne Manwoody responded bluntly. "Very tragic indeed for such a promising young prince to die on a skirmish in some nameless valley so far away from home. However, perhaps it will make his father think again before invading Dorne next time. Now, tell me who you are."
"What does it matter?" Erich asked sullenly. "Why am I even alive?"
"Because I spared you," Alayne answered sternly. "You want to know why? Because of your eyes."
"My eyes?"
"You have the purple eyes of a Dayne," Alayne clarified, now taking a step closer to Erich. "And not just the eyes, your face and your hair too. You look exactly like a couple of Daynes I know."
Erich turned his eyes down and let out a joyless chuckle. "Aye, I am Ser Erich Storm, bastard son of Princess Marleina Durrandon and a Dornish knight named Jamison Dayne, though I have never met him, and he doesn't even know that I exist."
Alayne studied Erich's face for a moment with narrowed eyes. "Curious," she said calmly.
"So, will you kill me now?"
"You said your mother is a Durrandon princess, aye?" Alayne asked, and Erich confirmed it with a nod. "Well, you might be worth a decent ransom then."
Alayne untied Erich from the pole and escorted him out of the pavilion. A cheerful Manwoody army of few hundred soldiers were camped on the northern slope of a wide and lightly wooded valley. At the bottom of the valley there was a small lake and a hamlet stood at its southern shore. Cattle and horses could be seen grazing on the fields around it.
"They would've been victims of your invading army had we not ambushed you," Alayne stated as she noticed Erich gazing towards the village.
"Such is war," Erich grunted in response, to which Alayne nodded. "Such is war," she agreed and continued leading Erich through the camp.
Suddenly Erich heard a familiar voice singing nearby. After looking around for a moment, he spotted Merry Mark playing his lute and singing for a group of Dornish soldiers around a cookfire. The bard looked to be in good health and spirits, and the Dornishmen around him were singing along with him. In a spontaneous spur of anger Erich rushed towards them.
"No more songs about the dogs of Dorne, huh?" he barked, clearly catching Mark off guard and cutting off whatever song they were singing.
"S-ser Erich," he muttered with a gulp. "I- I'm just a bard, I sing the songs of those who f-feed me."
One of the Dornish soldiers, a young lad with a goatee and long dark hair, tapped Merry Mark on the shoulder and stood up, approaching Erich. "Calm yourself, Stormlander," he said with a smug smirk. "And don't worry, we heard his song about Baldric the Bold. Oh yes, we made him sing it to the prince's severed head!"
As the other soldiers burst into laughter Erich rushed forward and tackled the man to the ground. However, before he could do anything more, she felt the blade of a dagger on his throat. "Behave yourself, prisoner," Alayne said strictly, gesturing for Erich to continue following her as she removed the blade from his throat.
Erich swallowed his anger and did as she commanded. After another minute of following her silently, Alayne led them to the horses, where another familiar face was waiting. It was Ser Arys Selmy, with his hands tied and a few fresh cuts and bruises on his face.
"Ser Erich, you survived," the Selmy knight said with a relieved tone. "Prince Baldric is dead, and Ser Samwell Toyne too. I think Ser Raymont managed to escape though."
"Enough talking," Alayne said strictly. "Let's get moving."
Erich's hands were tied as well, and he was raised atop the same horse with Ser Arys, their backs against each other. With Lady Alayne and half-a-dozen Manwoody riders around them they galloped away from the camp.
"Where are you taking us?" Erich yelled.
"To Kingsgrave!" Alayne responded with a grin on her face.
They rode to east, through the hilly Manwoody lands nestled between the Red Mountains in north and south. They came across several villages, each slightly larger than the last, until finally reaching Kingsgrave about an hour before sundown. The ancestral home of House Manwoody wasn't quite as grand as Nightsong or as elevated as Skyreach, but it did nonetheless look like a formidable fort perched on the mountainside.
"We were victorious!" Alayne announced as they arrived at the courtyard, which was received with cheers and applauds from the household guards and servants. "I bring with me two noble hostages," she continued as she dismounted her horse and approached the one Erich and Arys were sitting atop. She pulled them both down on the dusty ground. "Ser Arys Selmy and Ser Erich Storm."
"Mylady, I will inform your lord father of your return," a grinning old guardsman said and hurried away.
Alayne then helped Arys and Erich back up on their feet. "Now you shall meet the Lord of Kingsgrave," she stated nonchalantly, while haphazardly dusting the dirt and sand from their clothes.
"Son of Albin the Mad?" Erich asked quietly, and Alayne shot him with a sharp glare.
"Yes," she said after a notable pause. "Lord Arvin is not the kind of man his father was. He has honor and dignity."
"Even towards his enemies?" Ser Arys asked poignantly.
"So long as they treat him with respect, yes," Alayne answered strictly, eyeing her prisoners tensely. "Will there be a problem in that regard?"
"Of course not, mylady," Ser Arys was quick to answer with a polite tone, chivalrous as always. Alayne turned her gaze to Erich, clearly expecting an answer from him as well. However, before he could say anything the guardsman returned.
"Your father awaits you at the audience room, mylady," he said with a bow.
Alayne and two guardsmen led the prisoners inside the keep, through the shadowy stone corridors and stairways, and into the lord's audience room. It was an airy room with large windows opening a view towards the east. On the walls hung tapestries depicting battles and legendary Manwoody kings, ornate weapons, as well as a black shield with the crowned skull of House Manwoody painted on it.
Behind the desk sat Lord Arvin himself, a dark-haired man looking to be on his early fifties clad in black and dark green silks and velvets. While the look in his green eyes was sharp and attentive, Erich thought he looked sickly. He was very thin, his skin was pale and his face was gaunt – even if he clearly tried to hide it with his greying beard.
"My dear daughter," the lord spoke up with an affectionate tone on his raspy voice. "I knew you'd be victorious."
"Thank you, father," Alayne responded softly. "I bring with me noble hostages," she continued, gesturing towards Arys and Erich.
"So I was told," Arvin said calmly, eyeing at them with little interest. "So, who are they?"
"This is Ser Arys of House Selmy," Alayne started. "The second son of the Lord of Harvest Hall. A well-respected knight among the Stormlanders, I believe."
"Second son, huh?" Arvin spoke with a frown. "Tell Maester Dramon to ask… two-hundred pieces of gold for him."
"It's a more than fair price, mylord, I'm sure they'll agree to that," Alayne said. "Are you sure you don't want to ask for more?"
"I'm in no mood to haggle with marcher lords," Arvin responded with a stifled chuckle. "The sooner we have these Stormlanders out of our castle the better. Who's the other one?"
"Ser Erich Storm," Alayne answered to her father.
"A bastard?"
"Aye, bastard son of a Durrandon princess and Ser Jamison Dayne."
A moment of silence followed Alayne's words, and a thin smirk formed on the Manwoody lord's face. "I thought he looked familiar," he said, studying Erich's face with his eyes. "Oh yes, he looks exactly like his father. Brings back memories."
"How much would you want to ask for him?" Alayne asked, and Arvin thought on it for a moment.
"He is a bastard, but he has royal blood from both of his parents," the lord pondered.
"Throughout my life my royal blood has always been secondary to my bastardy," Erich chimed in nonchalantly. "I am no prince, so don't expect anyone to pay a prince's ransom for me."
"I see," Arvin spoke with a mildly disappointed tone, turning his eyes back to his daughter. "Fine, tell Maester Dramon to send ravens to Wyl and Storm's End about him, ask for a ransom of three-hundred pieces of gold."
And so, having learned their worth in ransom, Arys and Erich were escorted to the dungeons beneath the castle. Before the two of them were separated, Arys grabbed Erich's arm for a moment. "Remember, you are the Storm King's knight," he whispered, before the guards dragged him to one of the cells. Erich was taken a bit further along the corridor.
Later that night, after Erich had been given his meager supper, he saw a torch on the corridor approaching his cell. As it got closer, he recognized Alayne as the one carrying it. Before speaking a word, she pulled a flask from her coat, and threw it for Erich. Opening it, he could smell it was filled with wine.
"Thank you," Erich spoke with a confused tone. "Mylady."
"The ravens have been sent," she said nonchalantly, her curious green eyes glimmering in the light of the torch. Erich took a gulp of the wine.
"Do you think they'll pay the asked price for you?" Alayne asked sharply.
With a sigh Erich turned his gaze down. "If it was up to my mother, I'm sure they would. However, I'm less sure about King Ormund."
"The Storm King is your uncle, right?" Alayne asked with a frown, and Erich nodded. "Three-hundred pieces for your nephew doesn't sound that much to me."
"I never really was part of the family," Erich said quietly. "Besides, I failed my duty to protect his firstborn son's life."
"You're hardly to blame for the young prince's death," Alayne insisted. "He could've surrendered, but he chose to fight to death instead."
"He knew that the Storm King's heir being imprisoned by the enemy would mean the end of the war," Erich said, tears welling up in his eyes. He hadn't known Baldric for long, but he had grown attached to the lad, as well as seen his potential for greatness. By his side I could've been a great man too, but now I shall remain nothing until the day I die.
"The war will be over soon enough regardless," Alayne claimed confidently. "You know, Ser Erich, you're as much a Dornishman as you are a Stormlander. If you chose to switch sides, you'd be welcomed among us."
"I am no turncloak," Erich answered without hesitation. "I am the Storm King's knight and will remain as such."
"Admirable loyalty," Alayne said with a slightly amused tone. "Let us see how much your king thinks it's worth." With those words the lady turned around and walked away. With tears in his eyes Erich watched as the light of the torch grew smaller, until disappearing into the darkness.
