Late 160 AC, Sunspear
The Squire
Quentyn quickly fell into step behind Prince Aegon as soon as he walked out of the King's chambers. Quentyn had been shown the Prince's chambers while he had excused himself to go meet with the King. He knew it was his duty to direct the Prince now. And Quentyn took his duties seriously. The Prince had left in quite a hurry too, when he had arrived at Sunspear first, with the rest of the lords in tow. In truth, Quentyn knew it was because Prince Aegon could not bear to stay even a moment longer in Lord Lyonel Tyrell's company.
A jolt of shame passed through Quentyn at Lord Lyonel's conduct. He was the second son of a minor bannerman to Lord Tyrell. It wasn't his place to judge the Lord Paramount of the Reach, Quentyn knew all this. But still, the Lord of Highgarden had not conducted himself in a manner appropriate to his station. While the Prince had tasked him with maintaining the peace from High Hermitage, Lord Lyonel had used that authority to exact revenge.
When they were on the march to Sunspear, Quentyn heard the entire story from another squire. Ser Samwell Rowan had apparently been discovered dead, just after Lord Lannister and the Prince had departed for Sandstone. Ser Samwell and Lord Lyonel were childhood companions, the same squire told Quentyn. Lord Lyonel had blamed the men in High Hermitage for his friend's death. Quentyn could understand his rage, of course. But the Prince had charged Lord Lyonel with a task, and instead of obeying the Prince, Lord Lyonel had nearly provoked a rebellion. Quentyn misliked Lord Lyonel immensely for that act.
The Lord of Highgarden had been very heavy-handed in exacting his justice. Some men-at-arms from the castle had even perished in the dungeons of High Hermitage. Lord Lyonel had tried to make them confess to their crimes by any means, the other squire told Quentyn. It was only the news of the King's victory which had drawn Lord Lyonel away from that castle and Prince Aegon had been very wroth with him when he had found out. And so was Quentyn, but his anger meant nothing to Lord Tyrell.
Quentyn was quickly brought back to the present when he noticed the Prince moving in a direction opposite to where their rooms were located. The Prince seemed to be deep in thought. He was paying no mind to where he was going.
"Ser!" Quentyn called out, embarrassed at being so lost in thought that he forgot his duty to guide the Prince to his rooms.
Prince Aegon stopped and turned around. He looked surprised as if he had just noticed Quentyn standing there. He crossed his arms across his chest and looked down at Quentyn.
"Quentyn? What are you doing here? Were you following me?"
"I was waiting for you outside the King's chambers, Ser. I have been shown to our rooms. They are the other way," Quentyn said, pointing towards the opposite direction down the corridor. The corridor twisted and turned, draperies hung on its walls and windows letting in the light from the Dornish sun. Quentyn wondered if anyone had ever gotten lost in these twisting stone mazes. His father's own holdfast was quite neat and orderly by comparison.
"You must pardon me for not noticing sooner," the Prince said, a smile playing on his lips. Quentyn knew he would not like what came out next. That smile was too crooked to be up to any good. "It is just that you are so short and easy to miss." He laughed.
Quentyn fumed. "I am not short," he retorted. Instead of stopping, Prince Aegon laughed harder.
"You are so easy to anger, Quentyn," he said with a smile, having stopped laughing. "And your face flushes as red as your hair. A little fireball."
Quentyn was aghast. His expression betrayed his thoughts, and Prince Aegon laughed once more. Quentyn ground his teeth. He could feel his face flush despite himself and he clenched his fists.
"Do not be so serious, young Fireball," the Prince said, even as Quentyn sulked. "Lead us to our rooms."
"Certainly, Ser," Quentyn said, his face still scrunched up in his anger. "The rooms are this way."
And Quentyn took off running, hoping that Prince Aegon got lost behind him. That should tell him that Quentyn Ball did not take lightly to being made fun of. He took many twists and turns going through the maze-like keep, not once looking back. Glee filled him as he ran, and laugh escaped his lips without his own volition. He felt a wind in his hair as he passed by windows, some facing the Dornish desert and others facing the opposite, a distant sea visible afar.
Quentyn reached their rooms in a rush and pulled the door open, hoping he had lost the Prince. He hid behind the door and looked through the crack between the door and the hinge. Quentyn groaned when he saw that the Prince had entered the corridor leading up to their rooms. He was even whistling a jaunty tune at that. Quentyn had hoped that he lost the Prince in the labyrinthine passages within the Sandship. He slumped in defeat as he hid behind the door.
He was brought out of his misery by a sharp tug on his ear.
"Who are you boy?" he heard someone ask.
He looked behind him and saw a man with greying red hair and a severe expression on his face. The man had a tight grip on Quentyn's ear and he was twisting it within his fingers. Quentyn tried to slip free, but the man's grip was like iron.
"These are the chambers of the Prince Aegon. Go play your silly little games elsewhere, boy" he said sternly, twisting Questyn's ear.
"Let me go!" Quentyn demanded.
The strange man just twisted Quentyn's ear harder.
"Ser Oscar!" Quentyn heard the Prince say, who must have entered the rooms just then. "I see you've met my squire."
The man laughed and released Quenty's ear. Quentyn scooted away from him and towards the Prince who stood at the threshold into the room. He rubbed at his ear furiously, hoping to take the sting away. Prince Aegon and the man stepped closer and clasped each other's hands, offering greetings.
The man ignored Quentyn just as quickly as he had caught him. Quentyn took that opportunity to observe him properly. He wore fine silks. His doublet was stitched in red and blue and he wore a longsword at his waist. Quentyn looked at the man's sigil, trying to place it. It was three grey fishes on a red and blue background. Quentyn scratched his head but no matter how well he thought, he could place it. It was vaguely familiar but just out of reach.
Ignoring the problem of the man's identity, Quentyn stepped into the rooms. If Prince Aegon had recognised the man, then it would have to be someone noteworthy. He could find out sooner or later. Instead, Quentyn looked around. They were in an entrance chamber of sorts. Quentyn could see that an arched doorway led into the rest of the rooms which had been given to Prince Aegon. It was nowhere as large as the whole wing of the keep which had been assigned to the King, but Quentyn felt it was respectable enough to suit a prince of the blood.
Not that anyone asked for my opinion. Quentyn sulked.
"Your squire?" the man, Ser Oscar apparently, asked. The knight laughed once more, but this was lighter. It irked Quentyn just the same. "You? A squire? When did this happen, lad?"
Quentyn forgot his prior anger at the Prince and jumped to his defence. "What do you mean? Why should Prince Aegon not have a squire? And I'll have you know, I am the best squire in the realm." Quentyn said hotly. "I serve the Prince very dutifully." Ser Oscar and Prince Aegon chuckled.
"I had to honour the Reach, and young Quentyn here was the only one his age present." The Prince reached out and ruffled Quentyn's hair. Quentyn squirmed in place, trying to avoid the hand. The Prince always treated Quentyn as if he were a baby.
"You seemed to have found my rooms before I did," Prince Aegon continued. He smiled, but Quentyn could see it's edges.
"Aye, lad," Ser Oscar began. "I have to speak with you on many matters, but more importantly, someone wanted to meet you." They walked into the entry chamber, but Prince Aegon stopped at this.
"And who is it that wished to meet me?" Prince Aegon asked, his smile now a bit more fixed and no longer free. He looked tired. Quentyn imagined that the Prince wished to rest. He was about to say just as such when Ser Oscar spoke.
"Stop with that expression, lad. The way you look, it's almost as if I've ordered you to charge into certain death," Ser Oscar said.
"You've certainly done worse before," Prince Aegon replied, crossing his arms across his chest. He frowned. Quentyn had to wonder who this man was once more if the Prince spoke with him in such familiar tones.
"This is no one you need to guard your words with," Ser Oscar said. "It's just the son of an old friend." Ser Oscar smiled. He spread his arms wide and open, trying to be inviting.
"You have too many old friends Ser," Prince Aegon replied. But the frown was gone from his face and he sighed.
Quentyn could see clearly that the argument was won by Ser Oscar, and seeing the grin on his face, the knight realized the same.
"Come, I've had him sit down deeper into the rooms. There is even a grand receiving chamber in there," Ser Oscar said and led the way, going inside. Prince Aegon and Quentyn lagged behind. Once Ser Oscar seemed to be distant enough to not hear them whisper, Quentyn tapped Prince Aegon hand.
"Who is this knight, Ser?" he asked.
"I squired under him, boy," the Prince replied. He smiled, perhaps reminiscing. "That is Ser Oscar Tully, the Lord Commander of the Stormbreakers."
"That is Ser Oscar Tully? I've heard of his victory at the Battle of the Kingsroad," Quentyn said in a breathless whisper. "I've heard that he was knighted on the battlefield and-"
Quentyn stopped as he ran into something hard. His ears rang as he tried to straighten himself and not fall down. He looked up to see Ser Oscar looking down at him. He was frowning but did not seem angry.
"I'm sure you've heard a lot of things, lad," Ser Oscar said, unsmiling, but perhaps not unkind. "It'd be best if you put them out of your head and live in the present."
Despite himself, Quentyn was intimidated. He looked to Prince Aegon who was looking away, seemingly unbothered by this.
"Y-yes, Ser."
Ser Oscar nodded and turned around. A few more steps saw them go through the threshold into the receiving chamber. Quentyn had only gotten a glimpse of the King's rooms here at Sunspear, but these seemed to be just as ostentatious as those. The entrance hall they passed through on their way here was deceptive in its simplicity.
This one wasn't.
It had wide windows from which pleasant sea breeze flowed. Quentyn could see the Narrow Sea from the window at a distance, few leagues away. A huge shield of beaten copper hung on the far wall from where Quentyn stood, cast in the shape of a spear piercing the sun. Comfortable chairs were set around the windows over which had orange and red cushions on them for sitting. The sun from the late afternoon was now on the far side of the Sandship, and for the first time since setting foot in this godsforsaken land, Quentyn did not feel an oppressive heat set upon him.
A man, who had been sitting near the window stood up at their approach. This must be the guest Ser Oscar wanted Prince Aegon to meet. He was very obviously highborn and born very high at that too. For all that his age meant, Quentyn could be observant if he wanted. His only problem, Prince Aegon said many times, was that he did not want to be observant most of the time.
This man had a long face with high cheekbones and a solemn mien. He was clean-shaven and looked to be around Prince Aegon's age. As they neared him, the man sketched a bow with somewhat of a flourish. It seemed too practised to be natural, but then again, Quentyn had no practise of such things himself. Finally, when Quentyn was close enough to look at the man properly, he noticed that the man had stark grey eyes, which stood out against his brown hair.
"Your grace," the man began. "I am Rickon Stark-"
"He's Lord Cregan's son," Ser Oscar butted in. When Prince Aegon looked at him in annoyance, he shrugged. "Thought I'd save you an introduction. He knows who you are, after all."
The man, Rickon Stark, recovered from Ser Oscar's interruption and tried to smile.
"Yes, your grace. I am the heir to Winterfell."
Prince Aegon smiled as well though it was a tired thing. If the other man noticed the Prince's exhaustion, he made no comment of it. Quentyn could see the man was put at ease at the Prince's reception. Quentyn too found himself smiling. If Prince Aegon was at ease with this man, he had no reason to be wary.
"Lord Rickon," Prince Aegon said, nodding his head just low enough to be considered a bow. "It is a surprise to see you here."
"You mean us men of the North do not come South," Lord Rickon said with a smile.
"I was aware that Lord Cregan had men sent south to aid the King, of course," Prince Aegon replied. He took a seat by the window motioned for Lord Rickard to do the same. Then, he turned to Quentyn.
"Go bring a chair for Ser Oscar, Quentyn," he said. Quentyn obeyed.
He went over to another of the windows and dragged one of the heavy, cushioned chairs across the room. It scraped loudly on the stone floor below. Quentyn winced at the sound and looked up to see that the lords had stopped talking and were looking at him in alarm.
His ears burned. Ser Oscar took the heavy chair from his hands and picked it up with a grin. He carried the rest of the way to where Prince Aegon and Lord Rickon were sat both now smiling at him. Quentyn lowered his head and walked the rest of the way quickly before standing behind Prince Aegon. Quentyn slapped his forehead lightly, cringing.
"As I was saying," Lord Rickon continued once Ser Oscar sat down with them, "I chanced upon Ser Oscar during the fighting outside Sunspear, in the Shadow city. He saved my life, your grace, and if it wasn't for him, I would not have been here talking with you."
"The lad exaggerates." Ser Oscar laughed. "We were in a tight spot of fighting. You know how it is, fighting in the city streets, your grace. We just happened to help each other."
"I am curious," Prince Aegon said, "of your presence here in Dorne."
"My father sent his men down south," Lord Rickon said, shrugging. "Stark men must have a Stark commander. Besides, it is perhaps time we involve ourselves with the affairs of the Southrons. My father and I are of a mind on this matter."
"You are very open with this," Prince Aegon observed.
"I see no reason not to be so, your grace. The North is as much a part of the realm as the Vale or the Reach or the Stormlands."
Prince Aegon leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. Quentyn knew he was deep in thought. Perhaps he was considering Lord Rickon's words. Quentyn did know what there was to consider and felt somewhat foolish.
A few moments of silence passed before Prince Aegon spoke. Quentyn could see the change in the Prince's face for he knew how to read the Prince's moods. He had to.
"They say that the North remembers," Prince Aegon began. Lord Rickon nodded while Ser Oscar looked to have distanced himself from the conversation and was now pouring himself a goblet of wine.
"They say the North remembers, Lord Rickon, but we haven't forgotten," Prince Aegon said, repeating himself. "Your lord father did a great service for us. Quite a lot was promised in return as well."
Lord Rickon had been looking at the Prince in slight trepidation over the course of his speaking, Quentyn observed, but this had evaporated like water under the Dornish sun as the Prince finished speaking. Lord Rickon now smiled in embarrassment.
"You misunderstand me, your grace," the lord said. "You speak of the pact of Ice and Fire, I presume?"
Prince Aegon nodded. Quentyn scratched his head. What was this pact of Ice and Fire? He pouted. Everyone knew everything except him.
"I apologise for this misunderstanding, your grace," Lord Rickon said smiling. "I had simply wanted to meet you because Ser Oscar said so much of your exploits and I wished to see the man in person."
Lord Rickon then seemed to have realised something. He winced a little before continuing, his words a bit more cautions in coming out.
"I see you are still in your armour, your grace. I must have caught you at a misopportune moment. Perhaps it would be better if we meet at a later time."
Quentyn was confused. Didn't the man come because he wanted to meet the Prince? And now he was leaving?
"Yes, that would be for the best," Prince Aegon said. Quentyn noticed how tired the Prince sounded just then.
Lord Rickon stood up and sketched a bow, ready to leave. Quentyn saw that he looked disappointed.
"Before I go, there is one thing I wish to say, your grace," Lord Rickon said. Prince Aegon looked up at him as did Quentyn and Ser Oscar. "I came south because I am a leal subject of his grace, the King. Not because I wished to remind him of oaths and duties."
He gathered his cloak around him. "By your leave, my prince"
Prince Aegon waved an absent hand and the lord was gone.
"Pour us some wine, Quentyn," the Prince said.
The Prince must truly be tired because he did not notice Quentyn pouring a third goblet for himself. He was slouched in his seat and looked out of the window his eye fixed on some far point and lost in thought.
"So what do you make of him?" Ser Oscar asked.
Prince Aegon picked up his goblet, wrought in gold with the Martell Sun and Spear inlaid in silver. He swirled it around, looking to be lost in the swirling drink.
"Have our men form a guard around my rooms, Ser," Prince Aegon said without looking up. "I find it disturbing that you were able to reach my rooms before I did."
Ser Oscar nodded. "How long do you suppose we would be staying here?"
"That is a… difficult question," Prince Aegon began. "I would have to stay here indefinitely, depending on how things play out."
Quentyn goggled. They had to stay here forever! He already missed his home. Quentyn wanted to see his father and brother once more. He wanted to play in the castle grounds and listen to his mother tell him stories of the Dance of the Dragons. He shook his head, banishing these thoughts. He was the squire to the Prince now, and he had to follow him.
"What do you mean? Stay here indefinitely?" Ser Oscar did not seem receptive to that idea.
"The King means to have me govern Dorne in his name," Prince Aegon replied.
Quentyn felt a surge of excitement. He took a sip from the goblet he held, a secret toast to his good fortune. He could make a name for himself and become a renowned knight just like the Prince. He vowed not to let this chance pass him by. He would make his father proud and become a better knight than his brother ever could be. Let his brother have his father's keep. Quentyn knew was destined for greater things. This was his chance to prove it, serving under the Prince in Dorne.
Ser Oscar let out a low whistle. "I suppose we will have to stay here as well." He sipped at his wine. "Did you speak with the King about our men?"
Prince Aegon smiled for some reason. "Yes. He left redistribution of lands up to me." Prince Aegon replied. "Did our men happen to… clear out any keeps during the fighting?"
Ser Oscar let out a dark chuckle which sent a shiver down Quentyn's spine. "Oakenfist did not want us to cause too much damage to the smallfolk and their villages. They would grow to hate us, he said."
"So, we have no lands to gift our knights?" Prince Aegon asked with a frown. Quentyn frowned as well. Proper service must be rewarded, Quentyn's father had always told him.
"I did not say that," Ser Oscar replied, a wolfish grin on his face. "The Allyrions and the Vaiths have landed many knights of their own along the Greenblood. Most, if not all, tragically died in the fighting."
"Good," Prince Aegon said, looking out of the window once more.
Quentyn took another sip of his wine. It was sour but had an undercurrent of sweetness to it. He liked the way it slid down his throat.
"I hope none of the keeps were put to the torch?" Prince Aegon asked. He turned away from the window and faced Ser Oscar.
Ser Oscar snorted. "Calling them keeps would be an exaggeration. Most of them were a form of watchtowers, not unlike the ones we have back in the Riverlands." Ser Oscar looked at Quentyn and motioned for him to fill up his goblet. Quentyn hid his own behind him and carefully poured some Dornish Red into Ser Oscar's goblet. "But they were made of good, solid stone."
"Very well. We will offer those keeps to our knights and settle our men-at-arms in those villages then around these towers," Prince Aegon said. The Prince drummed his fingers on the hand rests.
"I suppose that's one matter settled and many more still to be tackled," Ser Oscar said, running a palm over his face. "Tell me, lad, do you have any idea of how long the King would be staying in Dorne?"
Prince Aegon gazed outside the window again. Quentyn set his half-full goblet gently down on the window sill and leaned forwards from where he was standing behind the Prince. He was curious about this matter as well.
"I have not asked him directly about it, but common sense dictates that he would stay here for a few moons at the least and hold court." Prince Aegon stood up and walked the short distance to the window. He leaned on the railing and a gentle breeze ruffled his hair. "He will most likely leave once he feels that the Dornish have been sufficiently pacified. Why do you ask?"
"Go home, lad. Back to King's Landing. Stay with your wife for a moon's turn and come back once you are free of your worries." Ser Oscar held up a hand when Prince Aegon looked ready to protest. "I can see that you look as if you have been balancing on a knives edge. This would do you some good."
Quentyn grinned. It would be fun to go and see King's Landing. He hoped that the Prince would accept Ser Oscar's suggestion. He wanted to see the seat of power from where the Dragonlords ruled the realm. It was bound to be a magnificent sight. Quentyn licked his lips tasting the last dregs of wine. He leaned forward to add his one thoughts to the matter when the Prince spoke.
"It is because of that damned Tyrell," the Prince spat. His face was twisted into a scowl, an angry and ugly thing. "It is bad enough that the Daynes hold no love for me. That is to be expected, I killed one of their own. But the shit this Tyrell has raised will cause a stink for quite some while."
Quentyn shied away from the Prince then. He knew that the Prince only cursed when he was truly angry. Quentyn did not wish to risk that wrath being turned upon him. He had to wait for the Prince to calm down which would happen just as quick as the anger came. The Prince was swift in getting rid of his anger, even if he was just as swift in being angered.
Ser Oscar, on the other hand, did not seem to fear the Prince's wroth as much. He pushed forward and spoke.
"It is for this same reason I ask you to leave for King's Landing," Ser Oscar explained. "Some things are out of your hands, lad. You let this matter be. Once you come back, we can decide on a plan of action."
"If I do leave for King's Landing, you must not ask the King to settle our men in those Keeps," Prince Aegon said, a note of caution in his words. He had turned from anger to weariness in an instant. "I will speak with him to ensure that the Dornish do not send their own knights back to those towers, but wait until I return. And do not tell our men that they will be granted keeps and lands. We do not want them causing problems by getting big heads."
Ser Oscar nodded. "So, you will be leaving then? For King's Landing? You have decided?"
The Prince looked hesitant still. Quentyn chose this moment to jump in.
"It will be fun, your grace," Quentyn said. He came forward from behind the Prince and stood between him and Ser Oscar. "We can see all of the wondrous things in King's Landing! Visit the Dragonpit and the Red Keep and the-"
"I grew up there Quentyn," the Prince said but he had a grin on his face. The battle was won. The Prince continued. "I will have to ask the King for a few moons of absence. Perhaps going by sea would be beneficial. It would take the least time as well."
"And you could tell the King that you would be accompanying the wards and pages to ensure they reach King's Landing," Ser Oscar chimed in. "So that they do not get lost at sea."
But Quentyn did not care to hear any of that. He was rocking on the balls of his feet, a wide grin on his face. Prince Aegon noticed and reached over to ruffle his hair. They were going to King's Landing!
A/N:Hello! This is yet another chapter finished. It was a bit weird to write because Quentyn is a squire and as such does not have much agency. I hoped to show him being a child here. Let me know if it worked out. A new character introduction as well. Pay attention to him because he is going to play a not insignificant role as well.
Anyways, thank you for reading! Did you like it? Hate it? Want to complain? Do let me know. I thrive off of feedback and any little you give helps!