Durran's POV
Durran was to meet his new personal guards at first lights.
Ser Ilyn stood in front of him, seeming just as intimidating as usual. His skin pale, his cold stare grim and penetrating. However, the man next to him was something else entirely. He was more than one head taller than Ser Ilyn, his torso easily the broadest he's ever seen on a man. That was not the most fearsome feature about him however; it was his face. Half of it was covered by a twisted, gruesome scar - it looked like his skin had, at some point, melted away. There was a hole in his cheek, revealing his lower jaw and teeth. The man was known as the Hound. Durran kept himself from looking at the scar for too long out of courtesy, opting to look at the man's eyes. The man in question seemed to be surprised by this.
"I am sorry for staring, Ser. That looked like it must've hurted." Durran grimaced.
"Don't give me your pity, your grace. And I am no ser." The man grumbled.
"Then what should I call you?"
"You can call me Dog. Like many others do."
Durran gave him a puzzled look. "That's not a nice thing to call somebody. What's your name then?". The man's undamaged eyebrow shot up in surprise, which caused the prince to simply wonder why. Surely it can't be that bad of a question? And calling someone Dog is just downright mean.
"Sandor. Sandor Clegane."
"May I call you Sandor?"
The Hound nodded, the look of bafflement unmistakable on his face. Durran simply smiled happily.
"Then you best call me Durran. Come now, " He glanced at them both. "I have my lessons to attend."
Durran was overjoyed to learn that he no longer had to continue studying with Pycelle. His father sent men to ask if Xaharos Dohryan would like to move to the Red Keep, which he readily agreed. Durran knew that his new teacher would be well paid to sort through the royal archives, which would give him access to tremendous knowledge. The royal library was located in the cellars, just a few corridors away from where his father moved the dragon skulls. The cellar has therefore always been Durran's favorite place - Nobody dwelled there else than a few maesters. The Vault of Scrolls has not been well kept as no particular maester has been assigned to take care of it since the death of the mad king.
He was waiting for his new master to show up as he revised his numbers and finished the assignments the Grandmaester last gave him. He beckoned his two new guards to sit besides him, which they refused. Instead, they loomed behind him, the dim torchlight making their shadow's menacing.
"So, son of an accountant, hm?" The familiar voice resonated through the cold stone walls. Durran looked up, blushing with embarrassment. "I am sorry, Master Dohryan. I did not wish for my titles to give me unwarranted attention."
The hooded man simply chuckled heartily as he sat near the boy. "It was a wise choice child." He then glanced on Durran's papers, verifying his calculations. It was simple mathematics and Durran was starting to master additions, subtractions and multiplications. Pycelle saw his unusual progress and already taught him the basics of geometry. The Master sat back after a while with a satisfied smile; "You did all the exercises correctly - now let us move on to divisions."
Many weeks went on like this, where Durran would spend his time learning from dawn to late afternoon. Master Dohryan taught him many more things that Pycelle ever did; not only about mathematics, literature and politics but also astronomy, geography beyond Westeros. He also taught him basics of herbology and alchemy - such as how to recognize different sort of metals. He would challenge his opinion on many things, forcing the child to come up with means to structure his arguments. Durran did not feel bored any more, not like he did under Maester Pycelle's tutelage.
One day, instead of waiting in the library, Durran was asked to join his master in his apartments. It was on the upper levels, in a well aired area of the keep. Master Dohryan's living quarters consisted of three small rooms; one bedroom, an office and a reception room. Or at least, it used to be a reception room - now filled to the brim with an array of objects Durran has come to associate with his teacher. Satchels of herbs, scrolls, vials of all shapes and sizes; some of them had a large rounded bottom and were set on what the prince understood as a portable firepit. It was a small stone bowl holding burning coals - the opening was small enough to let one of those spheric crystal recipients sit on. Colourful liquids bubbled in some of them, the steam being then transferred to some others via long glass tubes. In front of this set-up stood four bronze cups, filled with wine and presented in a neat row.
The old man beckoned him to approach. "Out of these four, only one is poisoned." He said. "Since you have learned about common dangerous substances and how to recognize them, you need to find out which drink is has poison."
Durran eyed the goblets with misgiving as he picked them up one by one. He smelled them however he could only distinguish the wine's fruity odour - he stared at them to see if there were any unusual specks of colour. He even checked the consistency but to no avail. After a few minutes, the young boy sighed in frustration, glaring at the beverages for not giving away their secrets.
Until he realised that he had yet to look for traces. He swirled the liquids around and noticed that there was a faint black film layering the bottom of the third cup. He glanced up to his teacher who smiled approvingly at him, before asking if he could recognize the poison. Durran remembered from his previous lessons that it was called Yellow Orpiment*; it did not react to air but when it came in contact with moisture, the substance turned coppery and then black. Antidote? A mixture of Iron rust and crushed magnesite.
"In real life you should make it a reflex to verify if your food or drink is spiked with something." His master said. "However you should not spend this much time examining it, unless you wish to offend your hosts."
The prince wondered if this level of paranoia is truly necessary. The old man then went on explaining this new routine he intended to put up; every day, during class, Durran will be served tea. At times it will be poisoned, so it is up to Durran to find out if anything is amiss with his drink. He stared at his teacher as if the man has grown an additional head.
"Some of these substances cannot be detected by any means." Master Dohryan warned him. "Therefore it is of utmost importance that you judge any changes in behaviors and surroundings. When in doubt, do not drink or eat anything offered."
And so this became habitual during their lessons. For the first few weeks Durran inspected his infusions but could not discover anything wrong. After a while, his attention slowly abated until one day, before taking a sip, his teacher stopped him from doing so.
"Never let your vigilance drop. Had you have drunk this your blood would turn black and you would piss pus - needless to say your death would've been excruciating." He chuckled.
He's crazy. Really crazy.
Having passed this lesson, they moved onto another : this time he will have to recognize a poison everyday, mixed in various edible items. This continued on for months; Durran spent most of his mornings and afternoons studying under Master Dohryan's tutelage, and spent his evenings in the company of Lord Arryn or Uncle Stannis. He asked his teacher if he could produce his own copy of Dragons, Wyrms and Wyverns: Their unnatural history - he knew uncle Tyrion would be back in the capital soon and wanted to gift him with something.
Sandor's POV
"You see, this is one of the many secret passages under the Keep - it would lead us to King's Landing clean water distribution system." The boy prattled on excitedly as he walked through the narrow tunnel, which forced his guards to crawl through. Sandor bit back an insult as he has been on all fours for at least ten minutes now. Durran came to an abrupt stop, before pointing at a uneven cobblestone, that happened to poke out among the others.
"It's a trap, don't step on this one." The child then gestured upwards, smiling brightly. "See these iron spikes? They'd fall on you if you did." The prospect of potentially getting impaled did not seem to stop Durran from being enthusiastic about everything at inappropriate times. He then started trailing on about Maegor The Cruel's reign and the religious uprising that caused the king then to start creating all kinds of escape routes.
Seven fucking buggering hells.
Sandor now shared his quarters with Payne, which had been moved nearby the prince's own. For security measures, the Lord Hand said - which did not bother him one bit. The boy would often just go there and humour them in his own strange way about all sorts of topics - he even started making it a habit to simply resume all the things he'd learn from particular books. It was a small price to pay, the Hound thought, because it got him away from the hordes of cunts that lived down in the barracks. Payne was just silent, only communicative with his eyes and expressions and that suited him just fine.
Still lost in his own thoughts, they finally emerged into a large cistern. Its ceiling was vaulted and supported by large stone columns and archway - the place was dimly lit up by the many wells that led to it, letting the sun penetrate and cast its glow on the shining stream. The light was bouncing off the reflective liquid, shining in waves onto the rock surfaces - the place felt both fresh and appeasing. The man made cavern splitted into wide corridors in multiple directions, water stalong. Bordering the walls was a small stone walk way that was wide enough to let to grown men walk side by side.
"There's a passage that leads right behind the council chamber, and there's even a hole there that allows you to watch the meetings! I also remember this listening post leading right to the library too, as well as another passage near Maester Pycelle's chambers…" The boy detailed about his vast knowledge of the Red Keep. Sandor snorted - trust the boy to find spying on small council meetings fun. He must also certainly know quite a bit of dirt about the people here. The child turned around to face them, grinning conspiratorially: "I even saw Pycelle inviting one of mother's handmaidens to join him in his bedchamber. He asked her to get naked - he said he wanted to examine her before getting naked himself." Durran's face then scrunched up in confusion, before looking at them questioningly. "She didn't look ill though… and why would he get naked?"
Sandor barked out his laughter and even Ilyn had to smile at the child's innocence.
"You'll understand once you grow older. However don't go around telling people what you see. Might get killed for that."
The boy adorably pouted. "He looked gross, I don't like seeing him unclothed."
I wouldn't want that either.
Suddenly, the mute knight clasped the prince's mouth and dragged him into the shadows, hiding behind a pillar. Sandor followed the man immediately, and one glance at him made him understand that they were not longer alone. Having lost his ability to speak, Ilyn learned how to truly hear - the man could detect sounds a lot better than anyone Sandor knew. The prince looked bewildered, but the Hound gestured him to remain silent before looking around.
After while they heard footsteps resonating through the hall and a hooded man came into view. He glanced around warily, including briefly at their direction - the man had unmistakably pale eyes and long, effeminate and spidery hands. Sandor recognised him as Lord Varys, under a very astute disguise. If it wasn't for his trained observation skills he wouldn't have known. Seeing nothing suspicious, the eunuch continued his path before turning right to one of the many watery corridors. They waited until he disappeared from sight and sound before moving out of their spot.
"Who was it?" The prince asked in a hushed tone. "Why did we have to hide?"
"Lord Varys." Sandor answered. "Don't make your awareness of secret passages common knowledge."
"But why?"
"You do not know who is your enemy."
Durran seemed to ponder on his words for a while. He then brightly piped up: "So, our little secret then?"
Sandor chuckled at the child's antics while Ilyn nodded, his usual coldness having melted from his face. "Yes, our secret, little fox."
Durran's POV
The passageway the child showed them through led them to one of the maze of twisting alleys right below the Street of Flour. Durran has asked his guards to wear cloaks in order to remain unrecognized as Durran himself donned his usually lavish clothing for a roughspun tunic.
The smell of fresh baked goods filled the air and the boy quickly ran to one of the bakeries. It was a narrow house made of large, rust colored stones - from it's wall hung a wooden sign on which was written "Arabella's Pastries and Bread."
Behind the counter stood a very familiar plump woman - Arabella. Two of her many sons and daughters were busy rolling dough and baking sweet biscuits. She recognised Durran, referring to him as "Derek" before selling him the usual pastries he liked. Durran smiled from ear to ear as he learned that the woman had honeyed fig tarts.
A few minutes later he went out of the shop, ushering some honeycakes and blueberry pies he bought into his guards' hands; They glanced at each other, bemusedly, before Sandor tried to protest. Durran wouldn't hear any of that however - who would ever refuse sweets?
And so the boy happily wandered the streets, trailed by two gigantic men nibbling on pastries.
A/N: Yellow Orpiment is a name for Arsenic. A known antidote against arsenic poisoning is made of ferric hydroxide and manganese. Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I had fun writing it.
