Titus

For several days, Titus' world was almost entirely blue.

The sky was almost always clear, but for a few scattered wisps and swirls which passed for clouds. The water on which he said was an even deeper blue, broken by occasional white from the foam of waves crashing against the ship.

Occasionally, the monotony of blue was also broken by land on the horizon. Greens and browns, whites and greys, reds and yellows, all of it passed Titus by as he stood on the deck.

Titus had never grown accustomed to sailing; one of his brothers had drowned in turbulent waters, and he had seen ships fail during a terrible storm off the coast of Myr. The sea had swallowed everything and everyone, only to cough up bloated corpses that were scarcely recognisable, fit only for crabs to eat.

"Ser?"

The single word broke through Titus' trance, and he turned.

A boy was approaching him, struggling to walk in a straight line across the ship's deck. He too had not grown accustomed to being on a ship. "The captain says we should reach Lemonwood within the day."

"Good," Titus answered, nodded his thanks, then gave a small smile. "Try not to get sick until then."

Alyn smirked; he had been the first to vomit during the voyage, much to the amusement of the sailors. He'd been so miserable about it that Titus had made himself retch so that his squire would feel better.

Titus had first become acquainted with Alyn during his time with the Stormbreakers. They were one of several sellsword companies which travelled across Essos, but they were one of the few to have been founded by Westerosi. In this case, the Stormbreakers were formed by a second son of House Tully who had won renown during the Dance of the Dragons. It was a well-known tale amongst those in the company; their banners still held a trout in honour of their founder, and they liked to wrongly claim that it had been Oscar who had slain Lord Borros Baratheon in combat.

If any of the Stormbreakers had been astounded that a marcher from the Stormlands would join their ranks, they said little of it to Titus' face. For his part, he had joined them partly out of rascality, relishing the irony of it, but also partly out of nostalgia. None of the founding members were alive anymore, but many of their sons and grandsons were still lifelong members. Although most of them had more Essosi blood than Westerosi at this point, they retained the house names and even some of the culture of the Seven Kingdoms, such as the worship of either the Seven or the old gods of the First Men.

One reason why Titus had been welcomed was because he was an annointed knight, and there were precious few of those to be found in Essos. Several men had wished to be given a knighthood, even if it was just a symbolic title.

Alyn's grandfather had been born into House Garner, but too distant a relation to inherit anything. He'd survived the Dance of the Dragons, which had devastated huge swathes of the Seven Kingdoms. Rather than eke out a meagre living and risk attack by bands of broken men, he'd crossed the Narrow Sea to become one of the first Stormbreakers, serving under Ser Oscar Tully himself. His son, Ser Pylos, had befriended Titus while fighting alongside him, and Titus had agreed to take his youngest son Alyn as a squire.

Thus he had ridden and fought with the Stormbreakers for the first two years of his exile, but then they had taken a contract offered by the city of Lys. It was Titus' first real experience with the Essosi practice of slavery, and he had been appalled. He'd parted ways with the company rather than accept slavers' money, taking young Alyn with him. Alyn's father had died two months before of an infected wound, so there was nowhere else for the boy to go.

"What's this Lemonwood like, Ser?" Alyn wobbled his way to the rail of the ship and imitated Titus by leaning on it.

"It is a beautiful town," Titus answered, "with a castle at the centre. They have some of the biggest lemon orchards in all of Dorne. That is how they got their name."

Alyn grinned, "I heard the Dornishwomen go around naked."

"And I heard that there are ice spiders north of the Wall," Titus retorted.

"Really?" Alyn gave a start. He was a boy of thirteen, and he had never been to Westeros before. He had only heard stories, true and false, and believed them all.

Alyn's grandmother had been a slave in Pentos, while his mother had been a prostitute from Qohor. As a result, he was duskier than most Andals, with walnut brown waves of hair, and eyes that were hazel with flecks of gold.

After parting ways with the Stormbreakers, Titus had travelled to the Free City of Braavos, selling his sword mainly as a bodyguard to courtesans, bankers, and even a cousin of the Sealord. He'd received some rudimentary training in the Braavosi style of swordfighting known as water dancing, but Alyn had taken to it far more easily than Titus. Even as he was learning the Westerosi style of war from Titus, Alyn continued to keep a slender Braavosi blade with which to practice water dancing.

But now, after more than five years, Titus Dondarrion's exile had come to an end.

He had left the Seven Kingdoms with nothing but two bags of belongings, a single bag of coins, his weapons, and a suit of plate armour. The coins had been spent or lost, but replenished with wealth that he'd earned and prudently saved. The armour and sword had long ago been replaced, as had his clothes. The only possessions which had endured his entire exile were his goldenheart bow - a gift from Ser Garrison and Lady Coryanne Dalt, his friends and lovers - and two locks of hair, gifted to him by Garrison and Coryanne's daughter, Aliandra, who had also become his lover.

He had not been able to afford suitable plate armour in Essos, so when his first set had become unusable, Titus had taken to wearing scale armour over chainmail instead. His clothing was mostly acquired in Braavos, and he was sure that his new fashion sense would be turning heads once he returned to Westeros.

His new style had been costly, but Titus had acquired a considerable amount of wealth during his exile. He'd earned a good share of gold with the Stormbreakers, and that was before even mentioning the plunder he'd taken from their enemies. This wealth had mostly been invested with the Iron Bank of Braavos, where it still lay in case Titus ever needed it, but he'd also invested a part of his wealth into some merchant ventures which had paid off considerably.

The most prized of his new possessions, however had been taken during a brutal campaign in the Disputed Lands. The Stormbreakers had clashed with several other mercenary companies. One was led by a renowned fighter from Qohor whom Titus had felled with his goldenheart bow. He had wielded a bastard sword made of Valyrian steel. Such blades had only ever been forged during the days of the Valyrian Freehold, and though a few smiths knew how to reforge Valyrian steel, the secret of their forging had been lost to the Doom. Only a handful of such weapons could be found in Westeros, as ancestral blades of noble families, but in Essos, thousands remained, so that even mercenaries might wield them.

It was a thing of great beauty; he could wield it with one or both hands, it made no matter. One thing which distinguished this sword was its colour; even for Valyrian steel, the sword was dark, and it was pitch black when most others were a mottled dark grey. The battle had still been raging, and the tide had turned against the Stormbreakers. Titus had barely escaped with his life, nearly dying to take that Valyrian steel blade for himself. In a fit of mad fatalism, convinced that he was dying of the wounds he'd taken during the rout, Titus had named the black sword "Doom". Even after he had survived, he resolved that the black sword should keep its new name. His recovery - or so he joked to himself - had proved that he was worthy to be Doom's master.

The vast horizon to the west was soon filled up with land. There were countless rocks, and stretches of sand, occasionally broken with meagre patches of greenery. Dorne was a land unlike any other in Westeros, and Titus recognised it immediately.

Ordinarily, trading ships would go to the Dornish capital of Sunspear, but the coastal town of Lemonwood boasted the best lemon orchards in Dorne, for which the town and castle were named. Both were ruled by the Knight of Lemonwood, a title which had survived for over a thousand years. The Dalts were the latest in a long line of houses to bear that title.

The last Knight of Lemonwood had been Garrison Dalt, but with his death, his eldest child, Aliandra, had become the Lady of Lemonwood.

He had reflected on his relationship with the Dalts many times, and each time he was baffled and doubtful. He had first become acquainted with Ser Garrison and his wife Coryanne as a diplomat trying to bring Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms. Later, he had mourned Ser Garrison's tragic death, and proved his twin sons innocent of murdering their father's killer. Much to his own shame, he had developed an attraction for Aliandra even as he'd continued his affair with her mother. And much to his own surprise - and relief - she had reciprocated, and assured him that he was not the first to enjoy both their favours.

Summer Islanders do not regard lovemaking as shameful. He had always known that in principle, but the experience of bedding a husband, wife, and their daughter was one which still shook him as incestuous, even though no incest had actually been committed. Would Garrison have approved of my bedding Aliandra? Fathering a child with her? He preferred not to think about that.

He wondered if Aliandra or Coryanne was still waiting for him to return. Aliandra had sworn she would pray for his safety, and also pray that she would bear his child. Well, her gods answered one prayer. Did they answer the other?

As the ship neared Lemonwood, Titus and Alyn gathered their belongings so that they stood ready to disembark when the ship was secured into harbour. They had not brought horses with them, for horses did not take well to ships. Titus could easily buy new ones with the profits he'd made off the merchant ships.

There was no need to ask for directions; the castle of Lemonwood was smaller than Blackhaven, but it rose proudly above the lemon orchards, above the town, and the surrounding wall made of bricks as white as the sand. The sun scorched his skin as he made his way towards the castle, with Alyn in his wake. Both of them were laden with belongings, breathing heavily from the arid heat, already longing for the cool sea spray which they had left behind.

Like Maegor's Holdfast within the Red Keep, Lemonwood's castle was surrounded by a dry moat filled with wickedly sharp spikes. The drawbridge was lowered, and several guards dressed in the livery of House Dalt eyed the newcomers.

"Who are you? What brings you to Lemonwood?" The guards approached, but they did not lower their spears as of yet. It was only two of them, and they were clearly dressed in rich finery from overseas. Titus' belt buckle was silver, his Braavosi clothing was finely dyed, and his scale armour was freshly polished, glinting in the sun.

Titus smiled and gave a respectful nod to the guards. "I am Ser Titus Dondarrion. Is Lemonwood still the abode of Lady Coryanne and Lady Aliandra Dalt?"

"It is, Ser," the guard replied. "If you would wait a moment?"

Why not? I have waited more than five years already. "Of course." Titus motioned for Alyn to follow him beneath the shade of a tree as they watched one of the guards go into the castle.

He felt his stomach twisting and turning, as if he'd never left the ship. He did not know what to expect; he had always imagined that they would be waiting for him, but was that presumptuous of him? He had made no pledge to either of them, and he had certainly had his share of men and women alike while he was away in Essos. Coryanne had always been a woman who took great pleasure in sex, and Aliandra was much the same. But had they moved past him? Perhaps Aliandra had married while he was away and begun a family? I shall pray for a child, and I shall pray for your safe return.

The guard returned over the drawbridge, "If you will come this way, Ser."

Followed by Alyn, Titus walked as fast as he could manage beneath the scorching sun. They followed the guard beyond the castle wall, across the small grounds, and into the keep.

Coryanne and Aliandra Dalt were waiting for him when they stepped into the main hall, dressed in silks which showed off their curvy figures in that way which Titus had always adored. They had not seemed to have aged a day since he'd left. Coryanne was very dark-skinned, thanks to her shared heritage of sandy Dornish and Summer Islander. Aliandra was much the same, with just a slightly lighter tone to her complexion thanks to her father.

"Oh... Titus..." Coryanne exclaimed, raising her hands to her mouth. "I was beginning to think you would never stand beneath our roof again."

"My lady." Titus stepped forward and gave a small bow; he had scarcely straightened himself when both women closed the gap between them.

"I always knew you would come back." Aliandra's smile was as radiant as he remembered; her fingers ran through his dark red beard, which had grown slightly unkempt during his voyage to Dorne.

"How could I not?" Titus's voice was hoarse as he looked from Coryanne to Aliandra. He felt unsure of what to do; he had only ever thought of seeing them both again, but now he was terribly unsure of how to act or what to say. They had never discussed what had transpired between Titus and Aliandra.

They answered the question for him. One by one, they each kissed one of his cheeks.

"Kesar! Dalo! Merrix!" Aliandra called to three servants who stood by. "Have a guest room prepared for Ser Titus and his squire. And bring their belongings up."

Titus and Alyn gratefully handed off their packs and stretched their sore limbs.

"Mama?"

Titus turned.

A young child had entered the hall, accompanied by a maid. Titus could not be sure whether the child was a boy or a girl; their hair was black, and grew long enough to rest on their shoulders. Their skin tone was copper, much like the Dothraki whom Titus had encountered in Essos. They looked at Titus and Aliandra with wide eyes.

"Is that..." Titus' throat went dry. He turned to Aliandra. "Is that our..."

"No," Aliandra answered. A mischievous grin flashed across her face, as if she was reminiscing on a private joke.

"That is our child, Titus," Coryanne answered.

Gods be good! He gaped at Coryanne. "I... I had no idea..."

"Nor did I, until after you were exiled," Coryanne observed. Titus thought he heard a hint of reproach in her voice, but she was still smiling as she spoke.

He did not want to begin this reunion on a bad note, so he suppressed his doubts and worries. He turned back to Aliandra, "Then, it was not to be?"

Aliandra's grin widened, "What makes you say that?" She turned to the maid. "Where is my daughter?"

"Getting dressed, Lady," the maid answered, "She needed a change of clothes again."

"She loves to play in the gardens," Aliandra remarked to Titus, "and she always manages to get herself muddy."

Titus did not know what to say; he turned back to Coryanne, who had walked over to where her child had stood shyly, staring at Titus with wide eyes.

"Don't be afraid, my dear," Coryanne cooed, "this is your father. His exile is over." She took her child by the hand and carried him over to Titus. "Won't you introduce yourself?"

"Garin," came the shy response. Two big hazel eyes stared up at Titus. Flecks of green too. I can see them.

"Hello, son," Titus answered, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes. My son. And a daughter too.

Sure enough, another maid came downstairs, leading a second child by the hand. She was copper-skinned like her half-brother, with thick black hair which was still wet from her bath. She ran over to her mother, who swept her up in her arms in an embrace before urging her to walk towards Titus.

"This is Chayora," Aliandra announced, then looked down at her daughter. "This is your father, Titus Dondarrion."

Like her half-brother, Chayora gave Titus a look of surprise, "Father?"

Titus knelt on one knee so he could look into both his children's faces. It was no easy task, what with the tears clouding his vision. He put an arm around each of them, intending to embrace them together.

Both shied away from his touch, even stepping backwards. Whether it was a reflex or an outright rejection, Titus did not know. He also did not know what to say.

"Children," Coryanne chided them gently, "is that how you wish to meet your father?"

"Nay," Titus intervened quickly. He stood up, "It is a shock. I understand." He hoped that his words sounded sincere.

"We shall have supper soon," Aliandra declared, "so you two get ready." The children needed no second bidding, but hurried out of the hall.

Coryanne put a hand on Titus' shoulder, "It will take time, darling."

"Aye," Titus agreed, cuffing at his eyes. He felt foolish and uncomfortable at this turn of events. Everything which he had expected, everything he had dared to imagine... all of it had come crashing down in his mind, broken by reality.

He looked at Coryanne, "I am sorry that I did not speak with you one last time..."

Coryanne put a finger on his lips, "I do not think that either of us could have endured such a parting." Her past reproach was gone this time. A smile crossed her face again. "I still have your letter, as it happens."

Titus smiled in response, until he remembered that Alyn was there, staring wide-eyed at the reunion. He put an arm around the lad and brought him forward, "This is Alyn Garner. My squire."

"Any squire of Titus's is welcome in our hall," Aliandra answered, "but you have journeyed a long way. Go to your room and prepare for supper. No doubt we have a lot to speak of together." With that, she and her mother turned and went out of the hall.

"Dorne is even better than I thought! Both of them?" Alyn was staring at Titus as if he was a god come to earth. "Was it together or one at a time?"

"That's enough," Titus ordered, cowing the excited lad, but Alyn's words aroused other questions and images in his mind. He was grateful that his face was pink enough from the sun to conceal the blush.

He suddenly noticed that Alyn was looking to his right. Titus followed his gaze.

Two identical young men had entered the hall. Uthor and Edgar Dalt had been men grown when Titus had seen them last, but they had still been just seventeen. Now they were much more formidable-looking young men, with full beards on their faces which they had carefully trimmed and oiled. Garrison's sons, to be sure.

Titus smiled at them, raising a hand in greeting.

Edgar approached him with a nod, "Welcome back, Titus." He crossed the distance and offered his hand for Titus to shake.

Titus accepted the gesture and put his other hand on Edgar's shoulder, "It is good to see you again, Edgar. How have you fared?"

"As well as can be expected," Edgar replied, "the past few years have been good to me. And to you as well, it appears." He nodded at Titus' scale armour, his clothes, and gave a particular glance at the black sword at his belt. Then his eyes shifted the large bow which Alyn was holding. "No doubt you made good use of my parents' gift?"

"Aye," Titus replied. "Were it not for that goldenheart, I wouldn't have this." He drew Doom from its sheath, offering it to Edgar.

The younger man's eyes widened as he held the sword, studying it carefully. "Did the king really think he was punishing you?"

Titus laughed, but levity soon left him.

Over Edgar's shoulder, Uthor had not moved from where he stood. His jaw was set firmly, and his eyes were hard. Then he turned his back and walked out of the hall.

Outrage and hurt feelings flared up within Titus at this lack of welcome. I saved your life! What offense have I ever given you?

Edgar noticed his brother's departure as well, and gave a shrug, "He never liked the notion of you leaving your seed in two of our relatives. Perhaps he is confused about whether to call you a goodbrother or goodfather?"

He spoke dryly, as if to skate over heavy subjects with his wit. It was a gesture so alike to his father Garrison that Titus almost felt a tear in his eye at the reminder.

All the same, Edgar could not avoid the truth of it; the Dornish might have a lighter approach to sex and love, but not all of them agreed on the limits. And Dornishmen were not averse to having hot tempers and prickly senses of honour. And anyway, Aliandra and Coryanne were both more like Summer Islanders than Dornish in their own approaches; Titus doubted that many others would agree with them.

"And you? Have you accepted it, then?"

Edgar shrugged, "Far be it from me to judge when I have enjoyed my own pleasures. And besides, you saved our lives in King's Landing. I know Aliandra fancied you for quite some time, and so did my parents. Neither of them thought it wrong or immoral. My father always thought you were a good man, and I doubt he would have been insulted. My brothers disagree with that view, sadly."

"Brothers?" Titus was alarmed. Garrison and Coryanne had had two other sons who were younger than the twins. They would be men grown now, after nearly six years. Are they all against me?

"Indeed," Edgar admitted reluctantly. "To be frank, I suspect that my younger brothers might also resent the fact that you are a marcher. They have grown up hearing bitter words regarding Dorne joining the Seven Kingdoms."

This again? How many years must it take before the people accept peace for what it is?

"What would they have me do?" Titus shook his head, "Will nobody cease their stupid lament for the old ways? This is a new era. I cannot regret my part in that any more than I can regret my children being born." A sudden thought entered his head. "Have your brothers mistreated them? Spoken ill of me to them?"

Edgar frowned. "You think my mother and sister would tolerate anything like that? You think I would?"

"No," Titus replied swiftly, feeling stupid. "Forgive me, I was... it is a great deal to take in..."

Edgar paused, then gave a nod, "That's true enough. Rest yourself. There is time still before supper."

A month ago, he would have been thrilled to sit at a table with the Dalts. Now, however, between two children who saw him as a stranger, and three young men who saw him as an interloper, Titus simply felt turbulent and anxious at what was awaiting him.