Chapter 2
Oberyn could safely say not much caught his eyes these days. He did not like to think he was past his prime but he could admit he was on his way there. He had been fickle in his youth, moving from one pretty thing to the next in the blink of an eye, dancing around with spears and swords in his hands.
Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken. He had been the very definition of the words of his House.
Not to say he still wasn't. But he had calmed down, no small thanks to his lovely Ellaria and his beloved daughters. He no longer ran after every pretty or interesting thing that caught his eyes. And, indeed, not many caught his eyes anymore, for there is not much he has not seen or tasted. It was rare now that he saw something that lit a fire in his belly the likes of which only Ellaria had been able to invoke in the recent past.
Rare. But not impossible.
His eyes flicked towards the sparring ground down below. His brother sometimes liked to look over the youngsters residing in the Water Gardens practice from this veranda. And Oberyn joined him sometimes, on his ever fleeting whims. Today, though, his reason for joining was more than a whim. It was the golden haired young man who was practising clumsily with a spear.
What did he find so interesting about this particular boy, you ask?
Well, too many things to count. The fact that he was an acolyte that an archmaester deigned to bring with him. The fact that he was still an acolyte despite completing his chain in a mere four years. The fact that his chain had not one, not two, but three Valyrian steel chain links. Marwin the Mage must be ecstatic, he mused. Or the fact that he had refused several offers of apprenticeship from renowned archmaesters. Or perhaps it was the fact that he was one of those highly rare acolytes who deigned to train their bodies along with their minds. Most acolytes and maesters he had known looked down their stuck up noses on the few who dared to pick up a sword.
Alphonse Elric - as he introduced himself as - was quite a puzzle.
Oberyn watched as the boy spun the spear and brought it down in an imitation of the movements he had seen from the instructor who taught the children. If Oberyn hadn't known beforehand that the boy had never touched a spear before coming to Dorne, he couldn't have guessed it now. The boy didn't have an experienced hand at the spear, he could tell. But his movements were that of a man who had been learning for several months, not a week and a half. And he was getting better everyday. He was absorbing the lessons like a sponge, adapting quickly to every new technique he saw.
The boy finally brought the spear down in an arch, a move which would usually slash across a man's chest, and pivoted before slamming it to the ground with enough force to disturb the sand on the ground, finishing that particular technique. Not flawless, but far too good for someone who had picked up a spear only ten days ago.
He then straightened, suggesting that this was the end of his practice today. Oberyn smiled and brought his hands up to give a slow, approving clap, partly because he truly was impressed and partly because he wanted to see what the boy's reaction would be. Every occupant of the ground looked up, but Oberyn's eyes were fixated on the boy, a sensuous smirk curving a corner of his lips. Everyone who knew of him or his reputation understood his gesture. Some rolled their eyes, some flushed and others looked at his target with curiosity.
The target himself was looking at him with surprise, before a soft smile appeared on his face and he bowed in acceptance of the praise. No embarrassment… no flirtatious smile either. Huh. He had been expecting one of the two. It was just as if he was accepting the praise from a superior… which was exactly what this was, honestly.
He straightened from his bow, his golden eyes meeting Oberyn's dark ones, his hair shining the same colour under the beating sun and his fringes framing his - quite handsome, Oberyn had to admit - face. The boy's appearance just added to his appeal.
It only lasted a moment. The boy turned around to put the spear in its place before he made his way inside without a glance back. The last thing Oberyn saw of him was him running a tanned hand through his golden locks, loosening them from his ponytail.
"You'd be barking up the wrong tree, Uncle," a mischievous voice spoke up beside him. He finally turned around to see his niece looking at him with amusement and his brother with disapproval. The archmaester tending to his brother looked like he had swallowed a lemon. Chuckling, he ignored them and turned to his Arianne.
"Why do you say so, dear niece?" He asked.
"He does not prefer men," was her answer.
"And how would you know That? Have you already claimed him?"
"Hm… I tried to. He refused."
"Then?" He raised an eyebrow.
His niece, he found, could be quite infuriating when she wanted to be. Instead of answering, she smirked. "You'll find out if you decide to make a move."
She said those words as if she was challenging him, hoping he would make a move. Well… who was he to deny his niece? Besides, he was quite eager to see what face the archmaester would make when he found him bed with his prized acolyte.
It was rare that his niece got one over him. He could safely say that this was one of those rare occasions. Perhaps, he truly had been barking up the wrong tree.
It hadn't been long after that conversation with his niece - after which his brother had decided to almost rip his ear off about going after a respected acolyte and no, Oberyn, you cannot take him to bed just to antagonize the archmaester but when had Oberyn ever listened? - that he had cornered the boy. Fresh out of the bath, a white cotton tunic covering his body and his damp locks stuck to his body, he made quite the sight.
So, of course, Oberyn made his move. It was not hard to corner him against a wall like he did with so many others before him, a cocky smile on his lips and flirtatious words on the tip of his tongue. The surprise from the boy was evident. Too evident. He pushed the thought away as the boy inclined his head with the customary "Prince Oberyn." By the Seven, even his voice was soft.
Oberyn started with his usual lines. Ask him about his day, get him comfortable, praise him, flirt with him and, finally, get him into bed. The steps get shuffled around depending on the person. The boy, however, stopped him just as he was transitioning from 'praise' to 'flirt'. The moment he heard the words, "I am very flattered, Prince Oberyn", he knew it was a refusal. That was quite alright. Many played hard to get with him. He knew how to handle those.
However, as he continued his persuasion, it steadily became clear that the boy was not as receptive as he thought it would be. In fact, he was not receptive at all. There was only adamant refusal. Perhaps, Oberyn should have stopped then. But his pride would not let him. It all came to a head when Oberyn decided to close in on him. Alphonse Elric did something very few dared to do.
He stopped Oberyn. A hand came up to press on his shoulder, not enough to push him away, but the gesture was clearly meant to stop him. And he did, more out of surprise than anything.
"My Prince, I really am flattered. However, I will have to refuse your offer."
He smirked. "And why is that? Are you worried about your honour? Being invited to my bed is an honour itself, you know. Don't tell me you have never taken someone to bed."
And then he finally got the reaction he wanted. A flush rose to his pale cheeks and his eyes flicked away. Oberyn's eyes widened the slightest bit in disbelief.
"You haven't," he breathed out. By the gods, was the boy really that innocent?
"I haven't," he admitted, once again defying the conventions of how young men behave. "But that is not the reason I refuse."
"Then what is?"
"I'm spoken for."
Oberyn's brows rose almost comically. "You are… spoken for?"
"Yes."
"You're an acolyte, though."
"I am."
"You have completed your chain."
"I have."
"But you do not plan on becoming a maester?"
"No."
"Why?"
A pause. "I …. have my reasons."
"I see," he then leaned in, removing a stray strand of hair stuck to his cheek. "Any chance I can persuade you otherwise?"
Alphonse Elric moved away from that hand. That was answer enough. But he still shook his head. "I would never betray her like that," he said, his voice firm. Oberyn could admire that. He could count on one hand the number of men he had encountered who had loyalty like that.
Whatever Oberyn was, he was not a piece of shit who forced himself someone unwilling. No, that was the work of the likes of the Mountain - oh how the thought of him made Oberyn's blood boil. So, he nodded and stepped away. He could see the shift of the boy's shoulder as they lowered from their tense position. Huh. So the boy was not as unaffected as he claimed to be. That was good to know.
The boy gave the customary bow of his head and went on his way. Oberyn watched him disappear around the corner. He seemed to be in a hurry. He sighed softly and turned around. He needed to vent the heat building up in him. Ellaria was spending the day with their daughters and he was not to disrupt her time with them. That only left one option. He wondered if Sierra was available today.
And that was how he found himself witnessing this situation. He had been just walking down the market after three rounds of satisfying fuck at the brothel. Turns out, Sierra had been available. She always knew what he wanted. So today, she brought along a pretty boy who moaned prettily when Oberyn made use of him. As he said, it was quite satisfying.
He hummed happily, wondering if he should buy one of those trinkets Ellaria loved, when he heard an excited squeal, followed by a scream of "Al!" as what seemed like a blur passed him. He turned ever so slightly to look at the source of the commotion, only to find the blur to be a petite young woman who had now leapt with her arms open to tackle ….. was that Alphonse?
He was wearing commoner clothes with a good over his head and his chain was nowhere, but his delighted face as he looked up at the woman revealed his identity. He himself parted his arms and caught the woman with a grunt, stumbling back a bit (she was so tiny. Why was he stumbling?) but managing to keep them upright and balanced. Once he regained his bearings, Oberyn saw the boy wrap his arms tightly around her and bury his face into her hair, uncaring of where they were. Not that Dorne had any qualms about such things.
The boy pulled back and looked her over, reverently cupping her face and kissing her forehead while the woman herself buried face into the crook of his neck. They acted as if they hadn't seen each in years. Perhaps they truly hadn't, if the way they were looking over each other and refusing to let go was any indication.
He perhaps should have gone on his way then, left the lovers to unite. He would have, had the woman not been followed by two men who, in normal circumstances, Oberyn would have thought were trying to corner the woman into a dark alley. Instead, she detached herself from the acolyte to grab them by their wrist and pull them forward only for the golden haired boy to pull them into a hug. It seemed to be some kind of reunion.
They were quite an odd bunch, now that he thought about it. The girl was definitely Yi-Tish … she had the perfect features for those. One of the men looked like he could be from the Summer Islands. And Alphonse…. Well, he had quite some unique features of his own. The last man looked like he could easily blend in with the Westerosi. Like Oberyn said, they were quite an odd bunch.
He should not have, but he could not contain his curiosity. He pulled his cloak over himself and walked after them to a tavern tucked into the corner of an alley. It wasn't one he frequented, but he knew it. Many commoners and foot soldiers preferred this tavern for its comparatively lower prices.
He did not go in immediately. That would be suspicious. He waited for a few moments before going in. Ignoring the looks that came his way, he kept his hair casual as he took a seat not too far yet not too close to the group he was hoping to spy on. He thanked the gods this hood was long enough to cover his face. He sat down with his back to them and just nodded quietly at the tavern wench when she asked if he would like some ale.
As he sipped the ale, he kept one ear towards the group, hoping to hear what they were saying. It soon became clear, however, that his hopes were in vain. Because they were speaking in a tongue he had never heard before, heavy and rough on the ear. The girl had a slight accent but she too spoke the language fluently. He could not understand a word. They spoke in hushed tones and those close enough to hear them sent them strange looks. It was a given… he doubted any of these people ever heard anything other than the Common Tongue. However, that did not explain why Oberyn did not know it. He had travelled far and wide and while he did not claim to know everything, he had thought he had heard enough language to at least distinguish where a speaker belongs. But now… nothing. He had never heard that language, not even a whisper of it.
It only made his curiosity peak. He waited in hopes that they would switch to a more understandable language. But… they did not. The entire time they were there, they spoke in that same language, in those same hushed tones.
The stayed a while, perhaps an hour or so, their tongue unknown to him the entire time, before they stood and made their way out. He turned slightly to look at them and he could have sworn that Alphonse's eyes flicked towards him. But the boy went on his way. It must have been his imagination. The boy had shown no indication at all that he knew Oberyn was there.
There was no use following them. It would be too suspicious. He sighed softly. Well, that had been a fruitless venture. He wondered how the archmaester that had been eyeing this acolyte would take it. A grin graced his lips.
Maybe not entirely fruitless.
"Preposterous!"
Not a fruitless venture, indeed. The archmaester had been examining Doran when Oberyn came. He had taken a seat and waited for the perfect opportunity to casually mention his precious acolyte dallying around with a girl. He smiled with amusement as the archmaester's face turned increasingly red, on the verge of purple. Who knew the human skin could be such a diverse palette without some stimulation? It was quite amusing.
"Oberyn," his brother intoned, a warning underlying his voice. Oberyn's smile widened. He had heard that tone all of his life. It had never been able to stop him. "Are you sure of what you have seen?"
"Quite, brother," he grinned before turning to the archmaester. "He is coming here, is he not? You can ask him yourself."
Indeed. The archmaester had only waited for Doran's permission before calling for the acolyte. He should be coming any moment now…. A knock sounded at the door. Ah! Speak of the Devil.
There was a pause for permission and once Doran granted it, the door opened to reveal Alphonse … not in his acolyte uniform, but in the garbs of a commoner.
The archmaester did not wait. He walked to the boy and grabbed him by his arms. "Alphonse Elric! Tell me this is not true!" His voice was frantic, almost desperate. The archmaester coveted Alphonse more than Oberyn had initially thought. He knew how archmaesters got excited at the thought of having a competent apprentice to whom they can pass on their knowledge and ideas. However, he had never seen an archmaester so frantic.
Before Alphonse could even respond, the archmaester continued his frantic speech. "It could not be! Prince Oberyn must be jesting! You are to be a maester! My apprentice! You cannot be … be planning to bind yourself to a woman!"
Alphonse sighed softly and his eyes flicked towards Oberyn. He did not seem surprised in the least. Oberyn smiled unapologetically. He then turned towards the archmaester and gave an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, archmaester. I was just coming to tell you. And to hand over my chain."
The archmaester looked even more frantic, if that was possible. "No. no, this … this is a mistake, it has to be. You are confused. This …. this woman has led you astray."
"No one," Alphonse started, his voice slightly firmer than before, "has led me astray. I have always known what I want."
"And this … this is what you want? Give up a respectable position as a maester …. an archmaester … for some wench you just…"
"Archmaester!" The word came across sharp enough to cut stone, the warning clear in his voice. "I would thank you not to speak of her like that." His voice was calm, and somehow that was worse. "I knew her well before I even thought of coming to the citadel. I … have loved her well before that as well."
"What? You want me to believe you never intended to become a maester?" Alphonse's face was answer enough. Oberyn could not see his face, but he was sure the archmaester was fighting between anger, disbelief and shock.
"I'm sorry," Alphonse whispered again, sounding genuinely apologetic. "I know you and the other archmaesters expect a lot from me. But being a maester was never my goal. I just… I just wanted the knowledge. The only way to gain the most knowledge in Westeros was the Citadel."
"Just the knowledge," the archmaester mumbled and shook his head. "Then Why? If you want knowledge, being a maester, becoming an archmaester is the most plausible way. Why must you give it up for that woman?"
"That woman," he said, the sharp tone back in his voice, "is my wife." Thay…. Was a surprise. He had gone into the citadel leaving behind a wife. And what was that wife doing away from her husband? He had never seen any man outside of Dorne grant so much independence to their wives.
Alphonse's voice brought Oberyn's attention back to him again. "And I have other reasons as well. Becoming a maester, binding myself to the realm was never an option for me."
There must have been something on his voice. The archmaester slumped. Oberyn never would have thought that the archmaester would give up so easily. Well, that diminished the fun.
Alphonse patted the man, smiling apologetically, before he stepped aside to face Doran, bowing deeply. "I apologise, my Prince. I did not intend to waste your valuable time this way."
Doran waved a hand dismissively. "Think nothing of it. I myself was quite curious as to why such a talented acolyte would want to give up on the title of maester. You must love this woman very much."
Alphonse smiled, his eyes crinkling and his eyes lighting up. "I do." He then cleared his throat, clearly making an effort to compose himself. "I actually came here with a parting gift, my Prince."
"A gift?" Doran asked as Oberyn leaned forward curiously. "For me?"
Alphonse nodded in answer. "May I?" He asked softly, clearly seeking permission to approach. Doran gestured at the table in acceptance and Alphonse walked forward, the archmaester following him curiously. It was then he noticed the small satchel in his hand, big enough for only one - perhaps two - objects.
He opened it to reveal a box and opened the latch of the box, pulling the lid back. Inside, there were nine vials, arranged in rows of three, all filled with a clear liquid. "A medicine, my Prince. To treat the symptoms of your gout."
Oberyn sucked in a sharp breath and he could see the collective tensing up of both Doran and the archmaester. "How…" The archmaester breathed but did not need to finish the sentence for them to understand what he wanted to say. Doran had only been diagnosed by the archmaester a few days ago. And they had not broken the news to anyone. Not even Doran's children. Then how did this acolyte know?
Alphonse seemed to know what they were thinking. He put his hands up in the universal gesture to placate and sighed softly. "My apologies. I know this seems suspicious. But I just followed your symptoms. I was there most of the times that the archmaester examined you. I just followed the most logical path from there, considering your diet ad environment. It also helped that most books and documents the archmaester consulted had gout listed in them."
Oberyn let out a harsh breath. It was a logical train of thought. One that made sensen if Alphonse really was the genius he showed himself as. Then why did he get the feeling that everything he said right now was horseshit?
Doran was still looking at the box suspiciously. Alphonse smiled at him. "I have not tampered with them in any way that would harm you. If you want me to prove that, I can. Please choose any of the vials at your will. And I will drink from that."
Doran's face was unreadable as he looked at the man before he looked down and chose the one on the upper left corner. Alphonse did not hesitate to take the vial and open it. A sharp smell filled his nose and Oberyn saw Alphonse grimace. "I still have to work on the smell," he mumbled before pressing the vials to his lips and tipping it. He couldn't see his throat love as he swallowed it.
When he straightened and removed the vial from his mouth, almost a fourth of it was gone. He looked at Doran. "You will not need to drink this much in one go. Only three drops each after breakfast and dinner. It won't heal your gout completely, but it should treat the symptoms enough to reduce it and keep it from worsening."
The archmaester spoke up then. "We have milk of poppy for that. Why should we take this …. this completely untested solution you made?" It seemed being bested by a mere acolyte hurt his pride.
Alphonse looked back at the archmaester. "Milk of poppy only helps reduce the pain caused by the gout; it does not treat the gout or its causes. While this won't do that either, like I said, it will reduce the symptoms enough to keep it from worsening," he then directed a dry smile at the princes, "Besides, I have proved it's not poison. Then … what's the harm in taking it, right?"
That was not true. It could be a slow acting poison. One that built up over time and ate away from the inside. Yes, it could easily be that. But… Oberyn was an instinctual creature. He had learned to trust his instincts more than anything else and, right now, his instincts were telling him there was no lie in Alphonse's words.
The archmaester sighed. "And to think you refuse to become a maester." He shook his head at Alphonse as if the acolyte was a deranged idiot. " And tomorrow you're going to tell me you already found a way to cure gout."
Alphonse shifted, looking hesitantly between them. "Well…"
"Impossible!" The archmaester sputtered and Oberyn thought he saw a vein appear in his forehead. "You can't tell me you can cure gout!"
"Well… no. I can't," Oberyn let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. And then Alphonse spoke again. "My wife, May… she can."
There was absolute silence for a moment. And then the maester let out a loud chuckle. "Oh! You have always been a good jester. And I was actually starting to think you have managed to do what leagues of archmaesters couldn't."
The look on Alphonse's face said that his words were anything but a jest. And the silence from Alphonse seemed to clue in the archmaester on that. "You…. You're serious?" He asked with an incredulous look on his face. "By the seven, you must really be smitten with that woman. A woman finding the cure for gout? Hah!"
"And why does that sound so impossible?" Alphonse asked sharply. "Women are far more intelligent than you give them credit for." He said it in a voice that made it quite clear that this had always been a point of contention between them. "And May has been studying the human body since she was five or six. She is far more knowledgeable than me in these matters."
If Oberyn had been drinking anything, he would have choked on it. The man that seemingly made a miracle treatment for gout was calling someone else - a woman, no less - more knowledgeable than himself? Even in Dorne, one would be hard pressed to find any young man of this calibre not drunk on his own power and arrogance.
If Alphonse noticed the disbelieving air around him, he ignored it as he continued to speak. "Of course, she can treat yours because it is only the beginning stage of gout. It would be easy for her to take care of it at the source now. She won't be able to do much if it worsens."
It was then Oberyn, who had been uncharacteristically quiet as this entire drama unfolded, spoke up. "If she can treat my brother so easily, why did you not offer that instead of … this?" He gestured at the vials.
Alphonse glanced at him and let out a soft sigh. "Because… her treatment would require her to be completely alone with the Prince, who would need to be unconscious." And Yes, now Oberyn could understand why Alphonse was so hesitant. There was no way they would allow an unknown woman to be near Doran while he was vulnerable. Even if there were guards outside, there were still too many risks, too many ways Doran could be killed. There were people who could kill without so much a whisper of sound.
"That is impossible." Doran's answer was immediate, prompting a wry, unsurprised smile from the acolyte.
"I thought so." He let out a soft sigh. "I wish you could, however. You would be saving me so much pain." The last part was mumbled but since they were near him, they all heard it and exchanged bewildered looks with each other.
Before they could inquire into it, the boy sighed and gave a deep bow towards both Doran and Oberyn. "With your permission, I would like to take my leave."
Doran tapped on the table for a moment before he sighed and gave a curt nod. "Very well. I thank you for your kind gift," Doran smiled amiably, though Oberyn doubted he would use it at all, even after the man drank it.
Alphonse straightened. "If you do not mind, may I borrow the archmaester for a moment."
Doran was clearly curious but he stamped it down as he waved a hand in permission. Alphonse turned towards the archmaester and gestured for him to go ahead. The archmaester's eyes reflected curiosity as he went ahead with Alphonse following him.
The two brothers were silent for a long moment after the doors closed behind the archmaester and the soon to be former acolyte. It was Doran who broke the silence. "What do you think of him?"
It was the first time Doran asked him about the boy. Though he had been curious about the talented acolyte, it had never been enough for him to ask questions about him bar the first time they met. From the boy's demeanour, he seemed like an exiled noble fallen on hard times, humble yet carrying an air about him that the smallfolk could never hope to imitate. And that was what they assumed he was and questioned no further, considering that he was a trusted acolyte from the Citadel. But now, a range of questions appeared before them with no answer in sight.
"Honestly?" Oberyn asked. "I have no idea."
"They refused, didn't they?"
"Yes."
"..."
"You're going to do it anyway, aren't you?"
"Yes."
Alphonse Elric sighed in exasperation.
Loud and frantic thumping on his door was what woke Oberyn up the next day. He groaned, his head pounding as he tore himself away from the delicious warmth of his paramour, cursing whoever had dared to disturb his sleep. They knew not to wake him up. He wrapped one of the covers around his waist before walking to the door and wrenching it open.
"What…" The word came out as a growl but that was all he could get out before the servant bowed and spoke frantically. "My deepest apologies, Prince Oberyn. Prince Doran summons you. With haste."
His breath caught in his throat. Did something happen? Was Doran alright? Were any of their children hurt? He barely managed to throw his clothes on before he was running through the hallways towards his brother's chambers. And as soon as he reached there, he screeched to a halt. Doran was …. pacing. Furiously. Without pause. No sign of weakness, no grimace of pain on his face, no break to let his limbs rest.
"Brother?" He called out tentatively.
Doran looked up at him and there was a light in his eyes that Oberyn had not seen in a long, long time. It had dulled when they lost their mother, their sister and dulled further when he heard the news of the incurable disease settling in his body. He approached Oeryn with a speed he hadn't been able to achieve in months now and grabbed him by his arms.
"It doesn't hurt, Oberyn," he whispered, "It doesn't hurt."
As much as Oberyn wanted to celebrate, he knew he had to be rational here. Ha! Oberyn being rational. Who would have thought? He put a hand on Doran's shoulder. "Brother, calm down. What happened?"
It was then Doran seemed to notice how he was behaving. He stepped back, composing himself and clearing his throat. "I… do not know. I woke up to none of the pain I have been feeling the past few months. I felt no pain when I walked either. And… well, you know the rest." He said, his calm, rigid mask back in place.
Oberyn's eyes scanned the room and fell on two pieces of paper on the nightstand. He walked over and grabbed one of them, unfolding it and running his eyes over the contents.
Prince Doran,
I know you said you did not want my help healing. However, I decided to ignore that because I do not feel comfortable leaving someone to suffer just because they are too stubborn for their own good when I can do something about it. So, yes, I have healed your gout. You are welcome.
However, I cannot guarantee it won't come back. I would recommend you still take Alphonse's medicine, just to be sure. And on the other paper, I have written a list of things you should and shouldn't eat. Even if you do not take the medicine, please follow the diet. It will significantly reduce any further risk.
This will find you well.
Sincerely,
May Chang,
Alphonse Elric's wife.
P.S.: Sorry about the guards! I could not have them disrupting my process.
Oberyn frowned and grabbed the other paper. Sure enough, there were two separate lists, one of things not to eat and the other of things to eat.
Do Not Eat
Fishes like tuna, codfish, salmon, trout, anchovy, sardine. Avoid most fish if you can,
Limit meat as much as you can. Again avoid altogether if you can.
Stop drinking alcohol, especially your stupid spiced wine.
Do Eat
Vegetables and fruits
Lots of water (a pitcher a day at least)
Fruit juice (as much as you can)
Wheat and bran
Note: Some fishes are alright. But avoid the ones I have named and limit others as much as you can. Similarly, eat wheat and bran in moderation. I cannot mention everything in this small note so follow the above instructions as much as you can, please.
"What do they say?" Doran's voice made Oberyn tear his eyes from the paper in his hand. Oberyn quietly handed over the slips to him and watched quietly as his brother read, his expression betraying nothing at all.
A moment later, Oberyn asked the question niggling in his mind. "What's that about the guards?" He raised an eyebrow, turning to said guards, who were shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably.
"They were unconscious when I came in," it was the servant who answered.
"You mean to say," he started lowly, "that someone managed to knock out guards put in place to protect my brother in the middle of the night and no one knew about it until the morning?"
He could practically see the shivers running down their spines at his words. They were afraid. Good. They should be. He was going to put the entirety of the guards through the ringer. They were clearly getting far too complacent.
"Oberyn," his brother's voice was solemn and Oberyn turned around to look at him in the eyes. "Do you think we can trust this?"
"Honestly?" He asked as his mind ran through his observations of Alphonse Elric and his brief glance at his group. "Yes."
He stood against the railing of the boat, his ponytail swaying in the soft breeze. A deep voice resounded behind him.
"So? Where to now?"
He looked at his companion, taking her delicate yet strong hand in his own. They smiled at each other before turning to the sea spread out before them.
"North."
Author's Note: I AM ALIIIIVVVVEEEE. AND SO FREAKING SORRY. Life hit me with a bulldozer, burned the remains and danced on the ashes. Okay, I may be exaggerating a bit but it has been a hard year. I lost someone very close. Life just... went to shit. I am trying to come back now. Hopefully this attempt will be more successful than the last.
A few things.
1. It is canon that alkahestry can be used for medical purposes. I think May can heal gout at its beginning stage and only reduce it if it worsens.
2. This about 6-7 years after the Greyjoy rebellion, 3-4 years before the start of Game of Thrones. Many things have changed in the last few years, which will be shown in later chapters.
3. I am not satisfied with this chapter. I may come back and rewrite it later or completely delete it and write a new one.
4. Up until now, I have had no beta. So you may find mistakes here. I am talking with someone about being my beta. I'll let you know if it works out!
5. Reviews are life. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Flames are not.