Samwell
The first morning, Sam had sat on a barrel watching Mormont comfortably do the work of four strong men without getting winded. In no short order the crew had noticed as well and got to leaving the knight to himself. The captain seemed bursting to ask Sam what was going on, but the first mate it seemed was the more sensible man, politely attending to Gilly and steadfastly ignoring the peculiarities of the group from the Citadel. Maybe they don't bother me about working because I'm fat, he wondered. Or because Ser Jorah does enough for four people and more. The weather was kind and despite the imposing length of the voyage Gilly didn't seem bothered by being surrounded by men. Not many in the world who are worse than Craster, I suppose. Easy to like people when he's all you've known. "Is it all yellow?" she asked, pointing to the Dornish coast when again it came into view. The captain does not like to sail out of sight of land, Sam noticed. Ironborn reavers didn't either, but if they went a day without a Dornish house's ship on patrol it was rare. "Not all. Dorne has some mountains and even a valley or two right through them, the Prince's Pass and the Boneway, not to mention all the ruins." Sam told her. " I like the Prince's Pass better. Is that where princes come from? Ones born south of the Wall?" "No, it's just called that because whoever rules Dorne, the head of House Martell, is a prince or princess." Sam said, smiling at her. "There's princesses in charge in Dorne?" Gilly asked, surprised. "They're different from the rest of Westeros, like the Free Folk are. Your father might call them kneelers,but they're less kneely about it." "I like Dorne." Gilly said, smiling widely. "I don't think Ser Jorah does." Sam replies, notting to him. The knight had a full crate of some spice or other in his arms, pressed tight to his chest as he brought it up from the hold. Thought the ship had stopped in Salt Shore and Lemonwood, only Ser Jorah had actually gotten off and only to move cargo to and from the ship, sticking to the dock. The Dornishmen had noticed him as well, staring at the hairy bear of a man from the frigid north with contempt, then interest, then shock as he flipped the old rowboat onto his shoulder and hefted it off the ship singlehandedly. "Se should make Sunspear by tomorrow, good lady." The first mate said, always quick to keep Gilly informed. The voyage after won't half so sweet, Sam thought. Ironmen tire. Storms don't.
On reaching port Sam stared up in awe at the sand-colored buildings. The Spear Tower, the Tower of the Sun…he tried to remember the rest but he was being shuffled down the gangplank, Gilly close behind him. He could hear her shushing Little Sam in her scared hushed voice. It's the different world. After Craster's hut and a series of small apartments, even Oldtown…this is a world apart from anything else she's known. Anything I've known, too. He slipped a hand in hers while Ser Jorah hauled what crates were bound for Sunspear down. "Oooh, what's that?" Gilly exclaimed suddenly, pointing to another ship a few docks away. Sam looked and saw an ironborn longship flying of all things a dragon banner from its mast. What's that all about? I thought Archmaester Marwyn said the ironborn were reaving. When Mormont caught a glimpse of the dragon he marched off without a word, leaving them standing awkwardly on the dock. "Is he coming back?" Gilly asked fretfully. Sam could see the shirtless knight talking with someone who had the ironborn coloring, if lacking in the beard and scars. To Sam's surprise the knight kept his temper in check and when he returned, he had the seeds of a smile on his face. "These reavers belong to Asha Greyjoy. Declared for Daenerys, probably to get out from under her uncle. Guess you were right to sail all this way, Tarly." he said, hand raised as if to pat his shoulder before he quickly pulled it back again. "So now what?" Sam asked him. "We head up to the Tower of the Sun. If that beardless whoreson told it true that's where we'll find Greyjoy and the Martells both."he replied as they moved into the city that surrounded Sunspear proper. The buildings up against the great dun walls allowed for countless alleys and rooftop passages, enough to keep the canniest thief from ever knowing them all. "It's hard to imagine the Others doing much damage here." he said quietly to Gilly as Mormont came up behind them. Her lips pursed. "Sand can freeze too, Sam."
"Come on. I'm sweating boulders here. The sooner we get back to decent country, the better." Mormont grunted. "They'll wait in port for us, I guess the sailors are eager to spend some time ashore. Can't blame them, that voyage was hell." he said. He never sounds happy, Sam thought. You can tell if he's pleased by how much he talks. Several Dornishmen shot Ser Jorah dirty looks until they saw him properly. They must never have seen a northman before. Passing through the Threefold Gate Sam found himself at the entrance to the Old Palace, the seat of House Martell proper. The guard at the door was a woman to Sam's surprise and her stare made his tongue knot. After a few moments of awkward silence, Gilly piped up. "We're headed for Dragonden, miss. We need to talk to the captain of that black-sailed ship, pirates will stay away from anything with a dragon flag." she said with a naïve smile on her face. The guard's brow furrowed in utter confusion, looking from Sam to Gilly to Mormont in a mystified silence. Stepping aside uncertainly as if too dumbfounded to question their intent, Gilly thanked her and passed over the threshold, Little Sam looking up at the mosaic-lined ceiling. Sam followed dutifully, Mormont bringing up the rear, their trunk in his arms, playing the common laborer perfectly. Again they got more than a few uncertain stares but nobody seemed in a hurry to stop them. Or stop Gilly, anyway. I wonder what's going on? Sam thought. The guards seem rather high-strung as if they expect problems and the appearance of our odd little group has only thrown them for a further loop. They waited in a round sitting chamber for someone to receive them. I don't recall Dorne being so liberal that they don't keep servants, Sam thought uncertainly. The shuffling of a dress caught their attention and he looked up expecting to see anything but a tiny old woman in black slowly making her way toward them, muttering darkly to herself. "A right whorehouse they've made of this little sandcastle…" she said before realizing they were there. "Now who are you?" she asked brusquely. "A wildling girl, a northman and a brother of the Night's Watch hoping to join that black ship on the docks for the journey to Dragonden." Gilly replied, nonplussed, before turning back to face Sam. The old woman's eyes popped. "Dragonstone." Sam whispered to her. "Don't correct her, boy. I'd not give you an escort down the hall, let alone Dragonstone. At least she had the stones to answer." The old woman tapped her walking stick on the sandstone floor in irritation. Sam frowned as his eyes found the gold rose ring on her left hand. "What's a Tyrell doing in Sunspear?" he asked, surprised near out of his skin. "What's a landed sea cow doing in the middle of the desert?" the woman responded, tapping her stick again. "You may be the fattest man I've ever seen. Fortunately for you there seems to be some steel under the suet, unlike a certain son I once had." She sharply prodded Sam in the leg with her stick. "Fat men are not always so feeble as they appear."
Sam was so taken aback he couldn't find the words to answer and Mormont looked as likely to speak as the statues they'd passed on the way in. "The maesters can argue over what my name is now. Cersei killed my son and his children when she destroyed the Sept of Baelor." the old woman said sullenly. "Olenna Redwyne I am by birth, Olenna Tyrell by marriage." she added. "The Queen of Thorns. I'm Samwell Tarly of Horn Hill, my lady." "You only took five minutes to say something intelligent. A marked improvement over your father when last I met him. The gormless fool saw fit to toss away a son more fit to the pen than the sword it seems. Well, lords use pens a deal more than swords, even precious Valyrian blades they'd choose over their own wrinkly manhoods." The woman seemed in a singularly unhappy mood, even given her circumstances. Sam swallowed nervously. The very blade she speaks of lies not three feet from her, at the bottom of the trunk. "Uh…quite. We're trying to get to Dragonstone-" Sam began. "So your charming companion has already evidenced, Tarly. Well, assuming that mongrel's stamina lasts, we'll not leave until tomorrow morning at the soonest." "Are the Martells so indolent?" Sam asked, frowning. "In a word, yes. Though being a corpse does tend to excuse indolence." Olenna said, giving Mormont a prod with the stick in turn, though a deal less sharply. Her words made Sam nervous. "Who rules Dorne now?" "The gods only know. Each lord has seen fit to take primacy over his or her keep's lands and the Viper's concubine splits her days between trying to woo them and her salty guests." "You'll speak kindly of my mother, crone. At least she has enough life in her to run both heart and mind at once." An accented sensuous voice made Olenna roll her eyes. "Half a fool and half a whore. And I thought you the smartest of the brood when you kept your mouth shut." A young Dornishwoman sashayed into the room wearing only what seemed like a yellow curtain around her waist, quite forgoing a shirt. "This is Tyene Sand. She's as much a randy slut as her mother. She's also the least annoying by far of the bunch of bastards." Olenna introduced her. Tyene frowned at the sight of them. "Well, maybe your hairy brute will have some luck with Obara, but none of you are to my taste." "I've seen dragons in the flesh, crossed the Red Waste and fought in fighting pits and I haven't been hotter than I fucking am now. All we want is to go on to Dragonstone. If you could pull your mother off whatever stripling she's got in her, we'd appreciate it." Mormont said suddenly. Tyene Sand gave a sultry smirk. "Well, maybe a little hot blood in you, after all. Too bad you haven't the kind of tongue I like." she blew him a kiss and swept off the way she'd come. "Bugger it all. If I didn't know better, I'd say she'd just come off a stripling of her own." Mormont said, pulling a face. "They're Dornish, darling. They do a good deal more coming than necessary, and as you can see the results are hardly worth the exertion." The Queen of Thorns pinched her nose in disgust.
Despite her rude manner, Samwell found Olenna Redwyne a deal less grating than the cloying sensuality of Tyene Sand. When she returned with a woman who could only have been her mother carelessly wrapped in a red shawl, Olenna crossed her eyes at the Citadel group before turning to her. "Welcome to Sunspear, Lord Tarly. I am Ellaria Sand, current…regent, I suppose, of Dorne." "Only because the rest of the Dornish seem reluctant to rip you and your brood out like the weeds you are. Or because they know letting you live bothers Cersei immensely. Or both." Olenna said. "You came to us half hoping we'd kill you on sight. Instead we let you linger like a mouse in a viper's hole." Ellaria Sand replied. "Indeed, the Dornishwoman who'd sooner kill the last Martells than the last Tyrell. Truly the world's gone beyond all help." "Right, I'm sure listening to you two argue would be marvelously entertaining for any other three people but we're in quite a hurry to get to Dragonstone." Jorah said, color rising in his cheeks. Despite the revealing shawl and her positively suggestive pose, Mormont seemed to be in as much a mood for the woman's games as Olenna Tyrell. "If we could get a word in with Asha Greyjoy, perhaps ask her to escort us as she's returning anyway-" "That sounds like more than a word to me." Another woman strode arrogantly into view, lustrous black hair falling to her shoulders. She had on ironborn garb, if loose and only recently donned. A man about her age grinning ear to ear brought up the rear, wearing only a pair of pants. His below-the-belt salute made Olenna groan in impatience. "You might yet be of use, Greyjoy. Don't let these louts fog those sharp wits." she put a hand to her forehead in despair. "Too late." the man said before being sharply silenced by both Sands and Greyjoy in unison.
No wonder Sunspear is on edge. The Tower of the Sun has become a bordello and a Tyrell stalks the halls, scolding anyone who will listen and poking anyone who will sit still, Sam thought. "As it happens I'm in the middle of convincing Ellaria to come to Dragonstone and lend her support to Daenerys." Asha said, slipping an arm around the woman's waist. "Speaking of, I don't think I'm quite convinced. I think you'll just have to reiterate your point until dawn." Ellaria said in reply, touching her forehead to the she-reaver's. "Right. Go back to your mongrel-making, I'll play the civilized woman and see your guests are fed." Olenna said, wringing her hands and all but dragging Sam and Gilly from the hall, Jorah hefting the trunk and following, Tyene Sand shooting a whistle at his back. "I have been naked on the auction block. I have had a man look me over head to toe for any trace of dragon scale. Until the hour preceding this one, I have never been that uncomfortable." Jorash said, eyes flashing. "You should have been here when that salty wench arrived. I couldn't sleep for the moans." Olenna said, bringing them to a small dining hall. "These blasted people gorge on fruit that boils the blood and eat serpent flesh and cooked scorpion. Had I known they'd simply leave me to haunt Sunspear I'd have saved the trip south and jumped from one of Highgarden's windows. Funnily enough, when they arrived the whole lot of them were somber as could be, it took the lusty attentions of the Dornishwomen to reinvigorate Greyjoy and her crew. I've been meaning to ask her what went wrong but I'm hardly about to watch a brass behind bounce while I do it. Maybe once we're on the ocean. Greyjoy will be too busy captaining to entertain Sand, and her mongrel will be likewise on the deck. In fact, the moment first light breaks I'm going to go right in there and start throwing pails of water, never mind we're in a desert." This woman is either too mad to reach or too brilliant to question. She has full bleeding conversations with herself! Sam thought weakly.
After dinner Olenna got them a room of their own and Jorah one next to theirs. "Remember, first light. I refuse to tolerate the thought of yet another day wasted lingering in Sunspear." she said crossly, smartly shuffling away. It seemed to Sam he'd only just dozed off with Gilly's head on his shoulder when the daft old bat was back, poking him vigorously with her stick! "Up, Sam Sea Cow! Those blasted Sands have taken the lead, we can't let them show proper Reachmen up!" she cried. Sam sat up with a grunt and a murmur, Mormont cursing from the next room as very loud steps thudded around his room. He was marched in moments later by two enormous twins, red-haired and mustached with blue eyes and no-nonsense faces. "Quite! Samwell, these are Left and Right. Since I can't tell one from the other, their proper names are quite irrelevant. Let's be off!" she ordered before sweeping from the room, her massive guards following immediately. Even Gilly was confused. "Sam?" she asked. "Is Dorne not supposed to make a bit of sense? At least to someone who isn't Dorny?" "Dornish, Gilly. And I can't be certain, Lady Olenna seems as mad as any Sand. Maybe they amuse each other." Sam said, getting to his feet. "They can amuse each other all the way up the Narrow Sea for all I care. I just want us to get gone and fast." Mormont grumbled. When they dressed and made it to the docks Sam saw that the Sands had indeed been the first ones there, dressed in elegant court finery without a hint of the night's mischief on their faces. If Jon ever met these people, his head would explode, Sam thought. They were so changing, all one feeling or the other and never for long at a time. With Jon's Stark blood slowing him down they'd seem a veritable dust devil. With an immense sigh of relief he got back onto the ship that had taken them this far, following Asha Greyjoy's Black Wind out toward the Stepstones. When the coast vanished from sight, Olenna's dry voice broke his reverie. "I don't care if it means going beyond the fucking Wall." she said. "I am never setting foot in Dorne again."