This chapter was stolen by the Dread Pirate Roberts. Watch out, or he'll come for your soul!
Chapter 27: Hello, My Name is Dust Martell
Gripping the sandalwood half of his spear, Dust hid his nervousness by grinning up at the giant of a man who had entered into the opposite side of the Trial Arena, a sunken pit made of red stone ten paces on a side. "Big bastard, aren't you? Bet it was real hard for a big, tough guy like you to murder my aunt and her kids."
Gregor Clegane regarded Dust with a bloodthirsty smile as his manacles were removed by trembling servants. "They sent a child to kill me? I thought I'd get to slay the Red Viper at least. But this? This is too easy."
"Not as easy as you think," Dust chuckled, whirling his spear into a guard stance as the Mountain rolled his shoulders. "Hello. My name is Dust Martell. You killed my Aunt Elia. Prepare to die."
"Odd choice of last words," the Mountain chuckled as his armor was hurriedly strapped on. He picked up his great sword and shield, swinging it a few times. Then he glanced to where King Stannis sat above them, along with Uncle Oberyn, Mace Tyrell, and several other high lords. "Come to witness me slaughter another babe? I'll kill any man you send against me, but a boy is just insulting."
"House Martell picked our finest fighter to face you this day, monster," Oberyn spat. "Satella herself will reject you this day."
Stannis didn't speak, but he did eye Dust appraisingly. Beside the King sat a girl a few years younger than Dust, clutching at her father's arm in consternation. She had soft brown hair and bright blue eyes, and despite her Baratheon blood was somewhat thin and short. Rumor had it she was sickly, and this was the first time that Lean Baratheon had left Dragonstone in her life. Dust waved jauntily to the girl, and she timidly wiggled her fingers back.
"Don't worry, princess, I'll handle this-" Dust did a quick backflip as the Mountain suddenly surged forward, his sword slamming into the stones where Dust had been standing. Nonchalantly, Dust brushed off his clothes and gave his foe a wink. "-brute."
Instead of answering, the Mountain just attacked again, his sword moving with grace and precision despite his bulk. Though he looked like a thug, the Mountain was a clever and skilled fighter, and Dust had to stay on his toes, dodging and weaving as the big man relentlessly pursued him.
"Hello!" Dust snapped, his spear suddenly intercepting the Mountain's sword, sending it off to the side. "My name is Dust Martell!" He jabbed the spear into the Mountain's leg joint, scoring a minor wound. Not too fast, like Uncle Oberyn had said. Though Dust had refused the poison. Where was the fun in that? "You killed my Aunt Elia! Prepare to die!"
"SO WHAT IF I DID!? SHE WAS A TARGARYEN WHORE!" Gregore Clegane raged, coming after Dust with even more fury than before, his sword arcing down like the descent of a falling boulder.
Dust caught it easily on his spear haft, causing the Mountain to start when a boy less than half his size blocked the titanic smash without flinching.
"Hello. My name is Dust Martell. You killed my Aunt Elia. Prepare to die."
The Mountain snarled, and Dust spun off to the side to dodge a straight on smash from the Mountain's shield. He thrust the spear into the Mountain's kidney this time, the point punching through the plate with a shriek of metal. The big man staggered, dropping to one knee and gasping in pain.
Dust backed off, circling back around in front of the Mountain.
"HELLO! MY NAME IS DUST MARTELL! YOU KILLED MY AUNT ELIA! PREPARE TO DIE!"
"SHUT UP!" Gregor snarled, dropping his shield to take his sword in both hands and sending a desperate flurry of blows at Dust.
Dust, however, countered them all, then began his own series of attacks, forcing the Mountain to stagger away from him. He scored more hits on the arms and legs; light wounds that wouldn't kill alone, but would continue to weaken and bleed his foe.
"ONE CUT FOR EACH YOU GAVE TO RHAENYS!" Dust shouted as his flurry continued, Gregor flailing to counter him.
"Little...bitch...deserved it!" Gregor panted, lunging for Dust as he dropped his sword. Dust rolled away, coming to his feet smoothly as the Mountain fell to hands and knees, coughing, blood oozing from a dozen places in his armor.
"Get up. I'm not finished with you yet," Dust ordered, and kicked the monstrous knight his sword.
Snarling, Gregor used the blade as a sort of crutch and forced himself to his feet. He raised his blade again, blood pooling at his feet. Despite his wounds, the Mountain charged again.
Dust leapt into the air, easily clearing the twelve foot walls of the pit they were fighting in. He'd always been good at jumping, but now he put something extra into it. "DRAGON DESCENT!"
He fell like a stooping raptor, his spear finding its mark in Gregor's groin as Dust severed him, root and stem.
The Mountain tumbled over like a felled oak gasping in pain and clutching at his removed manhood, blood now gushing from the wound. His eyes were mad with pain, but he still tried to crawl towards Dust, who easily backed away.
"You raped her before you killed her," Dust accused. "Her children's blood on your hands."
"And... I... enjoyed... every... minute... of... it," the Mountain hissed.
"Do you enjoy this?" Dust demanded, raising his bloodied spear.
The Mountain bared his bloody teeth at him. "I'll enjoy... caving in... your skull... like I did... those... mewling... whelps..."
In response, Dust dropped his spear and ran forward. The Mountain grabbed at him, but Dust easily slapped away the arm. He grabbed the Mountain by the hair, looking into pain crazed eyes one last time.
"Hello. My name is Dust Martell. You killed my Aunt Elia. Now, you die."
The Dust slammed the monsters head into the pavement. He heard a sickening crunch, and blood, brains, and other fluids spattered Dust's boots. He kicked away the corpse in disgust, and turned to the King and his uncle, bowing.
"Justice is done this day in the sight of the Goddesses and Men."
A few courtiers gave scattered, nervous applause, but stopped when they saw neither the king nor the prince applauding. Instead, Oberyn Martell stood, walked to the edge of the pit, and dropped his pants. Then he unceremoniously pissed on the corpse of Gregor Clegane. Once he finished, Oberyn fixed his trousers, then turned and bowed to Stannis.
"House Martell pledges itself to your cause, King Stannis Baratheon. Let our houses be joined by the betrothal of my nephew and your daughter. It will be good to have a king of Justice upon the Iron Throne."
At the mention of his impending nuptials, Dust flushed and glanced at Lean. She was looking back at him, but quickly hid her face when their eyes met. Dust smiled and rubbed the back of his head, only to realize he was coating it in gore. Wincing, he hurried off to get undressed, bathed and changed.
Before going to pay his respects to Lean, however, Dust had another trip to make. He stopped by the kitchens, getting a hamper of food, then headed down to the dungeons after grabbing some extra candles.
Knowing where he was going, it didn't take Dust long to find where Jory Cassel and Sandor Clegane were being kept. Most of the men they'd commanded hadn't been high enough ranked to merit a stay in the cells and were kept in a stockade, but these two were valuable enough to keep a close eye on.
Squinting against the light of Dust's torch, Sandor sat up from the pallet of straw. "Well. You're not dead. Have to say that's a surprise."
"And a good morrow to you too, Mr. Hound," Dust laughed. He passed through half of the baskets contents, then did the same to the cell on the other side of the hall to Jory.
"Thank you, Prince Dust," Jory gasped after taking a long pull from the ale Dust had brought him. "I fear without you they would forget us entirely."
"Nah, someone's been through and collected your chamber pots, or it would stink a lot worse," Dust observed, taking a seat on a nearby wooden stool. "You fat bastards just want more food."
"Considering they only remember to do that once in a bloody moon, can you blame us," Sandor mumbled as he gnawed on the bread he'd been given. He lowered it, eyeing Dust appraisingly. "So. Killed my brother, did you?"
"Sorry. But he's currently feeding the pigs, per my uncles' request," Dust answered, giving Sandor a lopsided grin.
Most men would be horrified to learn their brother was swine fodder, but Sandor chuckled darkly. "Only thing to be sorry for is you got to do it instead of me. Any word on what they're going to do with Jory and me?"
"You are to be held, but the King admires your courage. He does not intend to have you executed for being loyal to your lords and then surrendering with honor," Dust explained. "If you were to swear fealty to Stannis…"
"My loyalty is to the Stark in Winterfell, not to whoever sits the Iron Throne," Jory replied, picking crumbs from his stained surecoat and popping them in his mouth. They really weren't feeding either man enough, and Dust resolved to see to it that was fixed.
"And you can tell Stannis to piss off for me. You've heard the lies he's spewing about Kazuma, who is the true king now. He was your friend, boy. How can you even consent to serve Stannis?"
Dust hesitated, but decided it was safer for everyone if Sandor didn't know the truth. Dorne did not intend to serve Stannis any more than it did Kazuma. For now, they just wanted to see Lannisters and Baratheons slaughter one another.
"Kazuma may be my friend, but our houses have long had enmity between one another. He is a Lannister, Sandor. Even you have to see that." Dust bowed to the two men, leaving them a few candles each, then headed back up the long flight of stairs.
Feeling morose as he always did after a trip down to the dungeons, Dust simply went back to his chambers. However, his uncle was there waiting for him. "Celebrating your victory?" he asked when he noticed the empty wineskins Dust had slung over his shoulder.
"You don't celebrate taking out the trash, Uncle. You know me better than that. These were to comfort poor Sandor. He lost a brother today, you know," Dust said, giving his uncle an impudent grin.
"Ah, helping another celebrate then. You are still filthy, however, This will not do. Go get washed, and change. We dine with the king and his family tonight."
"Am I really gonna have to marry Lean?" Dust asked as he shucked off his filthy tunic, tossing it towards a basket.
"She is not so hard on the eyes, eh? Some would consider you a fortunate man. Claiming the hand of the princess, and becoming Stannis Baratheon's heir. Hardly a terrible fate."
"Yeah, but I'm only eleven. I wanted to, you know. Play the field. Like you," Dust commented as he stepped into the already prepared bath.
His uncle took a seat on the other side of the screen, but Dust could practically hear his shrug. "Just because one is married does not mean he cannot take other lovers. It would be boring to only sleep with one person, even if they were a princess, yes?"
"I guess," Dust admitted. "Ain't exactly had much experience."
"Ha! You will. You shall be quite handsome, I think. And already a mighty warrior. Not to mention the blessing of the goddesses, eh? You shall have many paramours, and even more bastards than I do!" Oberyn laughed.
Scrubbing himself, Dust considered this. That was the Dornish way after all. Have a wife, but also a lot of lovers. He dismissed it for now, as he frankly didn't care yet. "Yeah. But I mean... there's still The Plan, right?"
"Yes. And what have I told you of such things?" Oberyn growled.
"Yeah, yeah, sorry." Dust dunked his head underwater, feeling uncomfortable. He didn't like the idea of betraying anyone, even Robert the Usurper's brother, especially if he were going to marry Lean. Sure, she would be his ticket to becoming Lord of Dragonstone, or maybe Storm's End, but how much would she like it when Dust helped kidnap her and let Iris Targaryen retake the Throne after the Lannisters and Baratheons had bleed themselves white?
And Dust really didn't like the idea of betraying Kazuma. Sure, he bought that Kazuma was a bastard born of incest, but he still liked him. Wasn't like it was Kazuma's fault who his parents were.
Politics, Dust decided, sucked.
Dinner was awkward, and it wasn't even that Dust had a hard time making his usual jokes and small talk. The queen was a severe woman who had once been a Florent. She and her husband were both stiff and uncomfortable in one another's presence. Their daughter seemed to be a shy thing, only glancing nervously at Dust occasionally before looking away quickly and burying her face in her food.
As for the king, he talked only of troop deployments, logistics, the likely moves that Tywin Lannister would make, and the need to prevent him from joining up with the River Lords, getting them to favor Lysa over Catelyn in the battle for the Iron Throne. Uncle Oberyn was able to discuss such matters, but Dust was a bit mystified by them all. True, he was informed enough to have an idea of what was being discussed, but it would be many years until his education in martial affairs was complete, and both Oberyn and Stannis were masters of the Art of War, though in different ways.
"A few hired knives in the dark could make our jobs easier. If, perhaps, a few dead Lannister bannermen turned up, some might think twice about rallying for Tywin," Oberyn suggested.
"Knives in the dark are unreliable at best, and an expensive waste at worst if you hire a halfway decent assassin," Stannis said dismissively. "Go back to your suggestions for raiding their baggage: that has far more merit."
The conversation went on like that throughout the meal, until Lean tugged at her mother's sleeve and whispered something.
"Now is not the time, child," Queen Selyse snapped. "Keep such matters private until your Lord Father says otherwise."
Before long, Lean was sent away with a maid, and Dust made his own excuses and left, his Uncle and Stannis still deep in conversation. If Dust was right, Oberyn was just learning the weaknesses of Stannis's forces, so when the betrayal happened, it would be easier to destroy him.
Putting that aside, Dust decided it was time for some fun. He hurried back to his chamber, changing out of his doublet and hose, and putting on dark leathers. He took out a rope with a grappling hook on it, a pair of soft leather gloves and boots for climbing, and made his way to his balcony. He eyed the Red Keep, guessing where the Princess had her chambers. Grinning to himself, he spun the grapple, then began his long climb in the dark.
After nearly an hour of scaling red stone, Dust made it to the correct chambers. He'd made a few bad guesses, but avoided detection. Hanging upside down from the window sill, he popped his head into the room, looking around. He grinned when he saw Lean. She appeared to be alone, and was preparing for bed. She turned away from Dust, and-
Dust fell with a cry, barely managing to grab onto the bottom of the window with one hand, he was so startled. He swore angrily as his grapple plummeted, landing with a thump on the roof below him. He felt his grip slipping, and wondered if this was how his legend ended. So stupid. He should have-
"Oh! Who are you? Are you an assassin? I'm warning you, if you try anything, I'll roast you!"
Dust blinked, looking up to see Princess Lean glaring at him, a finger that had a glowing pinprick of red light flickering at its tip pointed at him.
Quickly, he removed his hood. "Um, actually, it's me, Dust. I was, er, going to pay you a midnight visit. We're supposed to get married, but we've never talked so-"
"Oh!" the light vanished, and Lean grabbed Dust's arm. "I've got you!"
"Maybe you should just call someone? I'm kinda heavy so-WOAH!"
With a grunt, Lean hauled Dust into her room, the force of her heave sending him flying up and onto her so that both children toppled to the ground in a heap. Dust righted himself, and found he was looking down at the flustered Lean.
"Er, sorry!" Dust sprang up, then offered Lean a hand. "Thanks for the save."
Gingerly, Lean accepted the hand, slowly standing. She tried desperately to keep her back to Dust, but it was too late.
"So, er, what's with the tail?" Dust blurted before he could stop to think. Something of a problem for him, actually.
"Oh. You saw it." Lean seemed to wilt, and tears sprang into her eyes. Behind her, a long, bushy striped tail drooped to the ground. "You know. You'll never want to marry me now. I'm cursed."
"Huh? How? Man, that tail is so cool!" Dust blurted, shuffling around to peer at the tail. "Can I touch it?"
Lean jerked back, her jaw dropping. "Touch it, but- but the Maesters all say I'm cursed! W-Why would you want to touch it?!"
"Looks fuzzy. Is it fuzzy?" Dust asked, reaching out a finger to poke at the tail. Instead, Lean whipped it out of the way and jerked away from him, clutching her tail tightly to herself.
"D-Don't just touch a girl's tail like that! I-It's sensitive!"
"Oh." Dust frowned, scratching at his head in confusion. "Do all girls have tails?"
It was a stupid question, and Dust knew it. He had seen girls before, and knew the answer perfectly well, though he wasn't clear on the finer points of their anatomy.
"What?! Are you stupid? No! Of course not! Do all boys have tails?" Lean snapped.
Waggling his eyebrows suggestively, Dust said, "Yeah, but ours is in front."
"Huh? That doesn't-" Lean cut off and went bright red, her tail standing up straight and bristling behind her. "YOU PERVERT!"
Dust whooped and dodged away as Lean threw pillows, books, and other small objects at him. That didn't last long, as two Baratheon guards burst in, swords at the ready to defend their princess.
"Ah, I must away!" Dust declared, jumping out to the balcony. He bowed deeply to Lean as the guards ran after him. "I shall see you on the nonce, milady. Farwell." Then Dust plucked out a flower from a pot on the balcony, and tossed it over the guards heads. Lean managed to catch it, gaping at him, and Dust salued and jumped.
Why had he been worried before again? He could easily fall a few stories and at worst he might get a few bruises. He forgot about that sometimes. Dust landed on the roof and ran across the red tiles. He made it back to his rooms, and had just enough time to throw on bed clothes and pretend to fall asleep when his own door burst open.
"Huh?" Dust muttered, rubbing at his eyes as though he'd just been awakened. "Oh! Your Grace, what an unexpected-"
"What," the king growled, "were you doing in my daughter's chambers?"
Having the tall, bald man with a sword at his side looming over his bed sort of made Dust forget that he'd killed the Mountain earlier that day. Especially since he did feel a bit guilty.
"Well, since everyone says I'm supposed to marry her, I figured, as a proper Dornishman, I ought to woo the lady," Dust said slowly, leaning away from Stannis and giving him his best winning smile.
Stannis, of course, did not smile. Dust wondered if the king was capable of such a thing. "And sneaking into my daughter's chambers after sundown while making ribald japes is your idea of wooing someone?"
"I learn from the best!" Dust chuckled nervously. "Just ask Uncle Oberyn!"
Stannis leaned away from Dust, still glowering. "Hmph. So. You have seen her...condition."
"What condition?" Dust said, his nose wrinkling in perplexity. "She doesn't have any greyscale that I saw."
"Then you are either blind, a fool, or lying. Surely you noticed Lean's...particularity."
"What, the tail? Yeah, that's pretty cool. Can she turn into an animal or something? I always wished I could turn into a hawk and fly. I've got some cool powers but so far I can just jump really high," Dust babbled, desperate to talk his way out of trouble. He had yet to learn in this life (or most of them, actually) that the more he talked, typically the deeper the hole he dug for himself.
This time, it seemed Eris was on Dust's side, as Stannis stood silently for a long moment, eyeing the boy, who had a dopey grin plastered on his face.
"You find her an acceptable match? You would not mock nor mistreat my daughter?"
"Well, I mean, I'd never mistreat a lady, but people tell me I mock them pretty regularly, so that part I dunno about. Personally, I think I've shown a great deal of restraint not making any of the bald jokes I've thought of since you walked into the room," Dust babbled.
Not even that elicited a smile from Stannis, which made Dust sweat more than a hot day at Sunspear.
"Very well. I shall agree to the match then," Stannis said, then turned about and headed for the door. He paused on the threshold, turning to give Dust a baleful eye. "My daughter is not yet old enough for your Dornish predilections. Prince or not, you will wait until both you and she come of age, or you will face my wrath. Do we have an understanding?"
"Yessir," Dust gasped, hastily saluting and stiffening to an upright sitting position in his bed. He wasn't sure what he was waiting on, but he was absolutely sure he did not want to make Stannis angry. More than he already was, anyway.
Stannis nodded, and stalked away, leaving Dust to breath out a huge sigh of relief. He flopped back onto his bed, grinning to himself. A Princess, and one with a tail at that? That was so awesome! This was going to be great.
And then he remembered he was supposed to betray Lean and Stannis to the Targaryens, and was unable to sleep for the rest of the night. Moral dilemmas had never been Dust's strong point.
Though, rescuing beautiful princesses was certainly up his alley...
Cast of Characters:
Dust as: Inago Montoya.
Lean as: Buttercup, but she actually does something.
Stannis as: Stop that, stop that. Too silly. And a little bit suspect I think.
Gregor Clegane as: And strike another one off The List...
Sandor Clegane as: Wait, does this mean Clegane Bowl is canceled? WORST FIC EVER.
And the Cast of a Song of Ice and Fire as Not Left Handed.
