;)

The Water Gardens

294 AC

The razor-sharp tip of the spear had flown directly for his head. Mormont ducked quickly to the side and bashed away the gleaming steel head with Longclaw.

Almost immediately, the steel point had lunged again, this time for his left breast. He managed to speedily step to the side, just missing the piercing tip by inches, and moved into his opponent's guard.

Mormont raised his blade to the throat of Obara Sand. Her whole body stiffened as she realized he had gotten past her spear. Her mannish and somewhat ugly face had twisted into a frustrated snarl. "Yield," she said with distaste.

"That's twenty gold dragons now." He said as he stepped away from the Sand Snake and lowered his blade. "Unless of course, you'd like to try again."

Obara Sand glared indignantly at him, her grip tightening on her spear. "Of course, I want to try again!" She roared into the courtyard.

He was only too happy to oblige.

Starag Mormont had woken in the early morning in perhaps one of the best moods he'd ever had in his life. He couldn't remember a time when he wasn't so relieved of stress like he'd been then or the night before.

Naturally, he had eaten his overly delicious breakfast rather quickly and had got into the training yard with Jon and Garlan once more. They trained for an hour or so until they began to gather up quite the crowd of viewers as they dueled one another with live steel.

Margaery had been watching them up on the overlook above with Nymeria Sand and Arianne Martell. Those big brown eyes had never left Jon.

As for Arianne Martell herself, Mormont had not really spoken much at all with her since his arrival at the Water Gardens. While he had been briefly tempted to spend more time with the sultry and smokey-eyed future Princess of Dorne, especially considering her tanned body had the right curves in the right places, he had found himself far too preoccupied with Oberyn's evening parties and his training sessions with Jon and Garlan.

As the days went on, however, Mormont had noticed Arianne's interest shift to his friend. She was watching Garlan Tyrell with almost predatory smokey-gold eyes.

Mormont was glad for that, at least. If anything came of the match, it might just restore the peace between House Martell and House Tyrell. But he was getting ahead of himself…

"Unfortunately, my dear Obara… I will be taking this one." Another voice had joined them in the courtyard. It was one that he recognized all too well at this point.

Starag glanced around his shoulders and saw Oberyn Martell striding confidently into the training yard, dressed in boiled leather armor and holding a spear. He grinned wickedly at Mormont as he approached. "How about it, Starag? Thirty gold dragons?"

"Why not." He replied with a shrug. Mormont had wished that he'd worn his plate armor today, but he had the distinct feeling that with the Red Viper, armor wouldn't be the most useful. Martell was an experienced combatant, and fighting a spear was much different than fighting a sword.

Obara had moved off to the side to stand with Jon and Garlan while Oberyn began to twirl his spear in his hands with a dizzying speed. Mormont just kept his eyes on the Red Viper's head to keep focus.

Once he was done spinning his spear in his hands, he hooked it underneath his shoulder and slowly walked forward. "You know we hear little rumors down here, too, Starag… Sometimes… We hear about the things going on in the outside world."

"Like what?" Mormont paced his feet in a circle around the Red Viper, holding Longclaw out in front of him. The spear was far longer than his Valyrian Steel sword, and it would be quite easy for Oberyn to keep him at a distance. Once again, Mormont would be forced onto the defense.

"For instance…" The Red Viper began. "About a Knight who had beaten Jamie Lannister with the sword… They say the hulking man had pried Lannister's sword from his hands and snapped in half with his feet."

"You've been hearing a lot of tall tales," Mormont said with a knowing smirk. He raised his sword up in defense and waited for the Red Viper to pounce.

The spear cracked forward like an arrow, and Mormont moved lightly on his feet and knocked the wooden shaft away.

Oberyn followed up with another lunge, this one aimed for his right breast. Starag had quickly diverted the steep tip off towards his right.

"Has anyone told you to choose your witticisms carefully, Starag?" The Red Viper asked as he pulled back his spear. Despite his question, he seemed to be as happy as a pig in shit at Mormont's play on words.

"On occasion." Starag chuckled to himself. "But they haven't let me down just yet."

The tip of the spear came for him once more, though this time, Mormont had gotten Longclaw's smoky black blade underneath the shaft of the spear and brought it upward and over his head in a wide circular motion.

He pressed forward his advantage as the spear was now facing up in the air. Mormont brought his sword down on Oberyn's spear, the wood split apart with little effort.

The Red Viper ducked and dove to the ground with a perfect roll to break his fall. He strode to the edge of the courtyard and picked up another spear.

"We are not finished until I yield, no?" Oberyn grinned cheerily at him.

Mormont snorted. "How many spears do you have?"

Oberyn kept his weapon hooked underneath his shoulder as he approached. It seemed that he wanted them both to have a slight reprieve from the action. Why exactly Mormont couldn't tell. Neither of them seemed to be particularly tired. "I have enough," he said.

Those narrow black eyes then wandered to the veranda on the floor above the courtyard. What-or who was he looking at? Mormont wouldn't dare turn his back on Oberyn, not even in a sparring match.

"But it seems you've gained some admirers," The Red Viper had said with just as much cheer. "I did wish to speak with you about something…"

Mormont raised a curious eyebrow in response. "What exactly?" He had a feeling about what the matter was, but he didn't know for sure.

The narrow tanned face of Oberyn Martell seemed to turn cold. "I heard you were with my daughter last night… You were playing cards with her, no?"

He shouldn't have been surprised at the matter. There was definitely something strange about how guarded Oberyn had seemed over Rhae Sand.

Mostly because the Red Viper hadn't really cared when Mormont had found himself in the company of Nymeria, Tyene, and even Obara. Occasionally, he had also run into little Obella and Elia when he walked pink marble walkways.

Sweet girls, all of them, even the brutish Obara Sand.

"I was." Mormont nodded his head. He wouldn't lie to the Dornishman who he considered to be his friend. "She came to apologize for her uncouth screaming. We settled the matter in typical Northerner fashion."

It was lucky that the courtyard was big enough for their private conversation to not be heard. Still, Oberyn continued. "I see." his feet began moving in a circle, forcing Starag to also do so.

Those black eyes seemed to be thinking and had taken on a thoughtful exterior as they looked at Mormont. What was he going to say? That Mormont ought to stay away from the girl? Why?

Finally, Oberyn clicked his tongue. "I… appreciate what you did for her."

That was not what Mormont had been expecting. Expectantly, he had frowned in confusion, though his instincts refused to let him stop matching the Red Viper's pace. They had almost done a half circle in the courtyard by this point.

The Dornishman saw his bewilderment and elaborated. "You see, Starag… It has been years since I have seen her smile as brightly as she did last night. Not even her sisters can make her beam like that." Oberyn said softly. "She used to be very happy as a child… but as she got older she became quite… melancholic, shall we say?"

Slowly, images and memories from the day prior had flooded into Starag Mormont's mind. The picturesque scene of the young woman sitting by the fire with a massive book in her hands, the beautiful and graceful smile on her face as she shuffled the playing cards, and even the vivid amethyst orbs that gazed back at him.

The nagging question had begun to eat at him. Why was Oberyn so… guarded about this girl? He hadn't been as careful with his other daughters… So why Rhae Sand?

Mormont was now standing where Oberyn had been only a minute ago. The Red Viper stopped his pacing and turned fully to face him. "I want you to know, Starag… That I did not speak with her about your encounter with one another in the library…" He trailed off. "It seems that she sought you out on her own…"

What? Mormont had assumed that Oberyn did speak to her. It made sense considering she didn't seem like she wanted anything to do with pretty much anyone. Yet…

That was when he saw her again.

She was wearing a dark sea green colored dress today which hugged her skin impeccably, though it looked to be made of the same thick and sturdy material. Her brown-auburn hair was let down fully and dangled softly in the light breeze. The platinum strip of silver actually glowed in the light of the sun.

And those violet eyes? They were directly on him.

Rhae Sand stood with Margaery, Nymeria, and Arianne on the veranda up high. Just for a moment, he felt his heart stir just slightly at the mere sight of the young woman. And she seemed to be watching him with active curiosity and… affection.

"You see, Starag…" Oberyn had taken a step closer and brought his voice low. "She does not often leave her library except for food and to clean. I even found her once sleeping among the bookshelves when she was little…" He said with a sweet chuckle. "You understand why I am amazed that she is out here in the sun with her sisters, no?"

Mormont did understand, though he was partly confused as to why the Red Viper was explaining all of this to him. His mind was running at the pace of a thousand horses in one. It felt as if he had all the pieces in front of him, yet he'd been wrong in putting together the puzzle.

Was Rhae Sand simply an introverted girl? Or was there something else? Something he-

Starag, keeping Oberyn in his peripheral vision, had looked right at Jon's face. The high cheekbones, the strong jawline underneath the baby fat, the flashing glint of violet in the dark grey eyes... Valyrian features. Then he looked up at Rhae Sand…

No… She couldn't be…

It was impossible. It had to be impossible. Mormont had seen the bodies with his own eyes.

The whole picture collapsed onto itself in his mind as he replayed the events in the last two days. It was so very obvious… how hadn't he seen it sooner? Rhae Sand. Rhae. Rhae.

Suddenly, it felt as if he was back in the throne room of the Red Keep all over again. All those years ago when he and Ned had marched up to the Iron Throne and saw Jamie Lannister sitting upon it with his vicious smirk.

And when the three corpses shrouded in Lannister cloaks had been brought in… Mormont had watched as Ned carefully pulled them back one by one.

They hadn't looked at Aegon for very long. There was nothing to recognize in the smashed pulp of brain, flesh, and bone. Their eyes forced themselves away from the bloody mess at their feet before Ned had thrown the cloak back over.

Elia Martell had been covered in her own blood, and likely her son's blood as well. Her golden dress was violently torn open, and her tanned face was purple from having been choked to death.

And Rhaenys? A sunburnt head of plain brown hair with a jagged slice across her neck. She was dead. There was no coming back from that. Rhae Sand looked nothing like her in the least.

Yet… Mormont had felt a slight tingle in his gut as he recalled the piercing and searching gazes of Oberyn and Doran as he discussed his adventure into the library. How little either of them seemed to mention her in the first place, why she stayed alone most of the time. He had not actually met Rhaenys before that fateful day, either…

Was it possible that this girl was actually Rhaenys Targaryen? Hiding in Dorne where no Lannister would ever find her? Or would ever dare hope to find her?

His conversation with her had sprung to mind. "I... I grew up on Dragonstone." Had she not wanted to lie to him? Was he simply too intoxicated with her presence to remember that Oberyn had said she was from King's Landing?

And how? How had she survived the Sack? How did she get here in the first place? Who had-

Jamie. Mormont realized. It had to have been Jamie who had saved her in time from the Lannister men-at-arms. No wonder Amory Lorch had died during the raid. He'd been gutted by Jamie Lannister.

No doubt Tywin had wanted to seal his loyalty to Robert by killing the Targaryen children. But he couldn't very well go to the Usurper and tell him that one of Rhaegar's children had escaped… So he did the next best thing. Had one of the castle servants killed and put in her place…

Of course… It all made sense, but it was just a theory in his head. He couldn't go and spout it off to the Martells. Then they'd kill him for sure.

Oberyn seemed to watch him with careful interest as Mormont glanced back and forth between both Rhaenys and Jon. "Something catch your eye, Starag?" He asked innocently. His blacks were dangerously narrow, almost warning him to not look at the girl.

Mormont forced his gaze away from the young woman and let out a steady breath. "Yes. It's that spear of yours." He said with a fixed smile. "Can't help but notice it's gone a little limp. Damn shame, that…"

Of all moments, it was when he was sparring with the Red Viper that he had figured out that Rhaegar Targaryen's firstborn daughter was still alive. He had to force himself to focus on something else, at least for the moment.

The Dornishman had only grinned in delight. "Then I suppose you'd like to take a closer look?"

Mormont raised Longclaw up with both hands sturdily gripping the handle. "As long as you can get it up."

All that could be heard were the echoing footsteps that paced down the hall of pink marble and smooth sandstone. Mormont had been wondering whether or not today was going to be his last.

He couldn't be sure, and perhaps he was even overestimating the Red Viper. Mormont couldn't help but shake the feeling that Oberyn knew that he knew.

It was a far different matter than Jon. The boy had looked like Ned's son. He had the hair and the facial resemblance to that of a Stark. Ashara Dayne could simply take the rest of the credit and say that Jon was her son.

Now, as Mormont strode behind the familiar tanned servant as before, he knew this matter of Rhae Sand- or Rhaenys Targaryen was far different. She clearly had Rhaegar's violet eyes, and the lone strip of platinum-silver hair was unmistakable. If she ever showed herself in the public eye… Soon enough somebody would recognize her.

They stopped at the familiar twin copper doors that housed Prince Doran. The servant pushed them open and bowed his head inside. "Lord Mormont is here, my Prince."

"Send him in." The aging voice had rattled excitedly.

The servant held the doors open while Mormont stepped inside once again. This time, Doran was already seated in his chair, the two letters were flattened carefully on the wooden coffee table.

Next to the Prince of Dorne was his brother. His greeting smile was warm, though his black eyes watched him carefully.

"Lord Mormont," Doran bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Please, sit."

Starag took his seat, though he didn't stop feeling the burning hole that Oberyn's eyes were scorching into his head. "Prince Doran, Oberyn."

Now that the pleasantries were out of the way, they could all talk plainly. Mormont wondered why the Prince had spent a whole bloody week just making his decision. Slow. He heard Arthur's voice echo in his mind.

"I thank you for your patience, Lord Mormont." Doran had begun, leaning back in his seat with his cane in his lap. "As for Lord Stark's proposal, I believe it is within Dorne's best interests to accept. Your King will have our spears."

Starag Mormont stopped himself from breathing out a sigh in relief. It worked… In one fell swoop he had attained his gold and recruited the Tyrells, and now the Martells to his cause. Now, he could go home to Bear Island and get back to work.

It was then that Mormont noticed that the Prince hadn't finished speaking, and had just paused to let the words sink in. "On… certain conditions, of course."

He watched the eyes of both men focus completely on him. Oberyn's black eyes were cautious and careful, while Doran's yellow-gold orbs were determined and even emboldened by the silence that cut in between the three of them.

What did Dorne want? A betrothal? Jon was only eleven years old, and Arianne was seven and ten. Possible, yet Mormont knew that the boy was half in love with Margaery.

He could always take two wives… When he's older, of course. He doubted the Tyrells would like that, but they would just have to deal with it.

Mormont steeled himself for whatever demands the Martells would make of him. He was sure Ned and Arthur could handle the rest. They could see to whatever needs Doran and Oberyn had.

"We would like you to stay in Dorne for another few weeks," Doran said finally.

What? The singular worded question had echoed and rung through Mormont's mind like a bell. Me? I'm just the middleman… What in the Seven Hells could they want me for?

Mormont just wanted to get it all over with and go home. He wanted to rip off the bandage and be done with it. Then he could finally get to work on rebuilding his House from ground zero. There was so much to be done, after all.

Why did they want him of all people to stay? He doubted it was because they enjoyed his company. What could he do for them? Train the men-at-arms?

"Why?" Mormont's voice had grated angrily. Why did they want to stop him from going home for another moon? What did they have to gain?

It was Oberyn who leaned forward in his seat. "Because… of what you did for my daughter."

Mormont was far too angry to be playing that silly game anymore. "Come off it, Oberyn. I know who she is!" He thundered in his seat. "Is that why you want to keep me here? So I don't go about Westeros and rave about how Rhaenys Targaryen is being kept in Dorne? And I thought we had some trust between us." He then thrust an angry finger at Doran. "I showed you my dragon, now you show me yours."

His voice had shaken the air in the room like thunder. Both of the men sitting across from him looked to one another and shared a knowing look. Then, they looked back at him.

Doran sighed heavily. "You are right… She is our niece, Rhaenys." He said as he sunk into his chair. "She is also the reason why we would like you to stay awhile longer."

Mormont nodded his head for Doran to continue. He banished the anger and resumed his ice-cold mask.

The Prince of Dorne shifted awkwardly in his seat. "Rhaenys has always been an intelligent and willful child… And after our sister and her son were killed… We have not been successful in our attempts to comfort her as a family should. She shut herself away from us in that blasted library…"

Doran continued. "And because of this… We rarely see her. She spends most of her time reading her days away when she should be enjoying her life with her family. We are all she has left. Do you understand what I am saying, Lord Mormont?"

He did see what the Prince was getting at. The girl had directly cut herself off from the world. The only company she found solace in was her own.

Still, Mormont's curiosity desired to be fulfilled. "How did she get out of King's Landing during the Sack?"

"Jamie Lannister," Oberyn answered calmly. For once, he had mentioned the haunting name of the Great House without spitting on the floor.

Starag felt a vast surge of newfound respect for his friend. So Jamie had done his duty after all… He'd have to apologize to Lannister when they next met one another. "How?"

"After killing Aerys, he had gone to Maegor's Holdfast to make sure the children were safe. Lannister found Lorch standing over Rhaenys with a knife and gutted him." The Red Viper answered. This time he did spit on the floor. "Good riddance. His father's soldiers were sweeping through the castle, so Lannister only had enough time to hide her in the kitchens. On the way there…" Oberyn fumed in his seat, the look of pure and absolute rage had told Mormont more than enough.

Starag knew what his friend was trying to say. They saw Clegane raping Elia… He too gripped his seat tight and almost snarled. How he wished he could simply kill Gregor Clegane all over again.

Doran continued the story. "Lannister could not risk his father's men finding him locked in battle with the Mountain, as they would find Rhaenys, too. He took her to the kitchens and hid her in a broom closet with bread and water and told her to be quiet."

That was likely around the time Mormont had ridden with Ned into the capital. The defecation of King's Landing was far from over, though. Lannister men-at-arms had paraded throughout the streets as they raped and pillaged the city for all it was worth. That fire had to be put out.

"She stayed in that closet for three days," Doran said sadly. "Sitting in her own piss and shit while the Usurper got fat and drunk on the deaths of Elia and Aegon, sitting on Rhaenys' rightful throne. Ser Jamie would always find the time to feed her and care for her. There was nothing else he could do."

Mormont thoroughly reminded himself of the almost maddening cackles that came from Robert's mouth when he marched into the throne room. How he had chortled upon seeing the bodies wrapped in crimson shrouds. "I see no babes, only dragonspawn." Mormont had wanted to pick him up and toss him off the White Sword Tower.

"Until?" Starag asked.

Doran smiled grimly. "Until one night, Ser Jamie took her out of the closet and had washed her. I believe his father had gone from the city by then. Lannister clothed her and put her on a ship heading for Sunspear. He even cut her hair so she would look more like a boy." He said. "She arrived nearly a moon later, and we recognized her immediately. After that…"

He hadn't needed to finish the story. Mormont knew more than enough about what might've happened. She had seen her mother being raped by the Mountain…

Starag himself was nearly as tall as Clegane- or at least before he'd removed the Mountain's head from his shoulders. He supposed it wouldn't have been so much of a stretch to assume that Rhaenys had likely been terrified out of her mind when she saw another man just as large as the one who had raped and defiled her own mother.

That's probably why she screamed at me… He thought to himself. She was absolutely horrified that The-Mountain-That-Rides had come to finish her off as well…

For nearly all of his life, Starag Mormont had maintained a relatively simple belief. Women were not meant to handle the harsher aspects of the world. In almost all cases, a woman would not be able to handle trauma as opposed to a man. And even then, there were few men who could move on with their lives afterward and still retain their complete sanity.

No doubt, at the bright age of seven years old, Rhaenys Targaryen had suffered a horrible fate. She would forever hear the gut-wrenching and blood-curdling screams of her mother every single time she went to sleep.

And in order to deal with it… She had shut herself away from the world. It was always safe in her library, with her books and the warm hearth… at least until Mormont had come sniffing around.

"So what do you want me to do about it?" Starag asked.

"Lord Mormont." There was a great urgency in Doran's voice and yellow-gold eyes. Authority, urgency, and appeal. "You have heard Rhaenys' story and you have seen what she has done to herself… I had not seen her smile for so many years until I visited her again last night. She told me that you had requested a simple game of cards and that it was you who had made her so happy and fulfilled. Especially when you told her of your home, Bear Island, and when you talked of Dragonstone. We think it is the beginning of some kind of therapy..."

Doran winced in pain as he leaned forward in his seat and stared at Mormont pleadingly. "Will you help us? Will you help us save our niece, the only reminder of our sister? To give her hope, happiness, and comfort? To give her a reason to live in this world…"

Starag Mormont kept his deep blue eyes set on the coffee table in front of him. He did not want to look up and see the imploring yellow-gold eyes of Doran Martell.

He wasn't a Maester, and he certainly didn't know any kind of healing magic. What could he do for this wonderful girl? This young woman was heir to the Iron Throne- at least as far as Dornish standards went.

He was no good samaritan. Starag Mormont knew that deep down he was a vain, cruel, and heartless creature. A monster who slaughtered men and took their women afterward as trophies, prizes, and accolades of his conquests. A beast who took the loving and caring hearts of women and threw them away into the dirt…

All he wanted was to take his fucking gold and go home. Then he could begin to wage a new kind of war on Westeros, his war of domination and supremacy over others, the war that would set his legacy into stone.

And yet… as he recalled the delightful handful of hours he spent with Rhaenys Targaryen, of her joyous laughter and entrancing thin smile, something inside his chest had stirred alive once again. An invasive fire had scorched its way to his core… The stone casing that wrapped around his cold heart had cracked and punctured, and for once, he could hear it beat.

There was a reason breakfast had tasted so much better that morning. How he could feel every spice roll off his tongue, the salty butter and crunchy garlic bread, and the humming and peaceful sweetness of his honeyed coffee.

If only… No. That private voice had returned. You have a job to do.

"I don't have nearly half the healing powers you think I do, Prince Doran." Mormont returned to his ice-cold mask. "The girl needs to go to the Citadel more like. I'm sure they'll find some way to fix her."

Doran Martell shook his head, and this time it was Oberyn who sat forward. "Do you not think that we have tried that? She was unresponsive to the old men and their precious books and chains. I saw so myself. No, Starag… It is you alone who can help her…"

"Please," The gout-ridden Prince had uttered in his seat. "Just stay for the next few weeks and spend time with her… Get her to laugh and play again in the Water Gardens with her cousins. Teach her how to use a sword if you like… We do not care, Lord Mormont. As long as you stay for another week or two, Jaehaerys Targaryen will have our spears."

Mormont forced himself to maintain his icy visage and not look miserably at the Dornish Prince. Judge the situation dispassionately. He bitterly reminded himself.

"And of course," Doran added. "We will grant you as many ships as you need to sail with your gold from here to White Harbor."

That had gotten Mormont's attention. He sat up in his seat and realized that he was being blackmailed to the highest order. The singular bit of knowledge that if he did not stay behind for another week or two, Jon would not have the support of the Dornish in the wars to come. The fact of the ships being added had only rubbed salt in the wound.

That if he did not somehow heal Rhaenys Targaryen's anxiety and reclusive ways in a few weeks' time, the chances of the Dornish siding with another potential enemy would be absolutely definite.

Mormont watched pleading orbs of black and yellow-gold with a burning rage in his chest. He had already stayed far too long at the Water Gardens than he needed to, and right now, his aunt was pulling out her hair and waiting for him to come home with gold that would pay off their debts, and the Martells wanted him to stay behind and help their niece.

Jon's half-sister. He cooled somewhat as he thought of the boy he had come to love almost as a son in the last four moons. Jon would help her, no matter if he knew she was his sister or not.

Starag Mormont wished he had a strong mug of his beloved Braavosi Firebrand. Instead, he took his pipe out of his coat pocket and lit it with a single match. The smog of thick smoke had fumed out of his mouth like a dragon.

At the end of the world, and here you are nursing a dragon back to health…