Coryanne
"They came for us in the night. Half our homes were aflame before the alarm was raised!"
Coryanne felt a surge of pity and outrage. She could tell that Aliandra felt much the same.
Before them stood three men and four women. The men were all older than Coryanne, as was one of the women. The youngest of the women was pregnant.
"Did these men show any sigils?"
"None," one of the men answered Aliandra. "They were plainly dressed and claimed no master."
"Brigands," Coryanne observed angrily. "Cowards who prey on the defenceless in time of war."
"Perhaps," Aliandra mused. "And perhaps they are men who do not wish to be known."
"Whomever they may be, Lady," the eldest of the women interjected, "they are wreaking havoc upon us."
Coryanne knew her daughter well. It was clear to her that Aliandra was restraining a frustrated sigh.
This was the sixth raid on Dalt territory in as many days. Aliandra had personally gone out five times now with the few guards that remained to her, carrying spear and bow. But the raiders had never offered battle and had only been seen once, fleeing into the desert on sand steeds.
After the third raid, Aliandra had ordered that all were welcome to the safety of Lemonwood, but many were unwilling to abandon their homes and villages for fear that they would be razed. And so blood continued to be spilled.
Aliandra assured the smallfolk that their losses would be compensated, and she would see to it that justice would be carried out. Thereafter, she retired to her chambers whilst Coryanne saw to it that the refugees were housed and fed.
When she reunited with Aliandra, her daughter was pacing the floor of her solar, changing into riding gear and leather armour. "You are going out again?"
"Aye! And this time I will not stop until I find those intruders!" She had already set aside her usual weapons: several knives of varying length, throwing spears, arrows, and a goldenheart bow which any true Summer Islander knew how to use.
"How long do you mean to chase them?"
"As long as it takes! What more can I do?" Aliandra exclaimed to Coryanne.
"You are doing all that your father would have done," Coryanne answered, wishing that she had a better answer to give.
Aliandra shook her head. "Prince Maron has put us in an intolerable position."
Coryanne did not echo those sentiments, but she agreed wholeheartedly. For all that Maron was determined to put down the rebellion in the Red Mountains, he had left behind a vulnerable region in his wake.
"I will ride out as well," Coryanne declared. "You need not carry this burden alone."
"Nay. I need you here, Mother," Aliandra countered. "Who else will look after Lemonwood better than you? Who else will look after our children?"
"One excursion is not working," Coryanne persisted. "I will lead a second. We can cover more ground and catch these brigands unawares."
"These are no mere brigands," Aliandra countered. "Something else is afoot."
"What makes you so sure of that?"
After buckling on her belt, Aliandra walked over to the ornate table which Garrison's father had commissioned from the Vale. It was made of a black wood which did not grow in Dorne. Upon it was a map of Lemonwood and all the territory which owed allegiance to House Dalt.
"The first village was Tyrus. The second was Gelo." Aliandra's finger jabbed at various spots on the map. "They struck Corzic and the Bay of Marbal on the third day. Do you not see the pattern, Mother?"
"What pattern?" Coryanne followed her daughter's gaze. "They move north and south on a whim."
"But always westwards," Aliandra insisted. "They seem to be making some sort of sweep across our lands. Striking villages and then riding away before we can strike back."
"What of it? This is the nature of all thieves and cutthroats. They seek only to plunder and take what they can."
"But what have they taken?" Aliandra shook her head. "These people have no gold, no jewels. These raiders are not stealing food either. They ransack and burn houses after massacring their inhabitants. That is not what raiders would do."
"Who knows what madness has possessed our people," Coryanne remarked sadly. She was growing tired of this subject. This war never fails to find new ways to torment me and my family.
"If what you are saying is true," Coryanne resumed. "Then you will need me outside Lemonwood more than inside."
"Chayora and Garin need you too, more than me," Aliandra persisted. She stepped forward and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. "And you have no need to fret for me. I sent word to Sunspear for aid."
Coryanne frowned. "The Martells are as depleted as us. What aid can they provide?"
"Who else will help us?" Aliandra was already making for the door.
Coryanne sat down in a chair, looking helplessly around the solar. Garrison had spent many years in this very room, often with her by his side. They had spent many happy days and nights in this room. Aliandra had then made it her own, assuming her father's mantle and making Coryanne proud.
After she wiped the tears from her face, Coryanne arose and went down the winding staircase to bid Aliandra farewell.
She found her daughter embracing the children. Chayora was putting on a brave face, as she always did when her mother went riding. Garin was silent and sullen; he did not even react when Coryanne put a hand on his shoulder.
"I will send word as soon as I can," Aliandra promised. She kissed them all once more before departing with her guards.
Coryanne knew that this was an empty promise; she took no ravens with her, and she was not travelling to any castles. But she was well escorted at least, and well supplied for a hunt.
Worse than Aliandra's absence was the dour mood that she left behind. Lemonwood was crowded with smallfolk from the villages. Although there was no shortage of food, there persisted a sense of gloom and discontent in the air. Sometimes Coryanne reckoned that she could sense unfriendly eyes upon her and the children. But whenever she looked for them, they were nowhere.
There was plenty amiss before her, however. Since their return from the Water Gardens, the children were growing withdrawn once again. By the time Aliandra began her expeditions, they almost never left the castle, despite the abundance of children. Coryanne was greatly distressed by this behaviour, but she was unwilling to force any interaction. She even found herself relieved that Garin and Chayora kept to themselves, until the second evening after Aliandra's departure.
It was after supper when Coryanne sought out the children, and she soon began to regret this decision. She had refilled her wine goblet three times, and the effect left her shaky on her feet. They should not see me like this.
Despite her doubts, Coryanne could not bring herself to stay alone that night. She sat down on one of the couches facing Garin and Chayora. "Shall I tell you of Chayora the Wise?"
"We know what happened to her," Garin answered. He spoke quietly, without malice, but his rejection felt as if he had struck her.
"Well then, perhaps you would like to know about Prince Bomilzar?"
Chayora and Garin shook their heads.
"Come now, is there nothing you wish to know?"
Chayora looked up at Coryanne with a defiant look. "When is Mama coming back?"
"I do not know," Coryanne replied, a sinking pit in her stomach. "She has been called away by duty, but she will return."
"Uncle Edgar said that too," Chayora retorted. "Will he ever come back?"
"I pray to the god and goddess that he does," Coryanne murmured. She felt tears forming in her eyes.
"Children, look at me. I have a story that you will want to hear."
Slowly, Garin and Chayora faced her once more. Doubt was on their faces, so Coryanne did not leave them waiting.
"There was a family, once. They lived deep in the desert, beside a yellow river. The father was a lord of the desert, and the mother was a princess from a far away green land. She was like a beautiful dark flower, cut from a branch in the jungle, and forced to grow in desert sand."
Garin and Chayora were staring at her now, but she could not be sure whether it was due to the story or the tears which slid down her face.
"The desert lord's family had come there many years ago from far away lands. The sun had burned their skins brown, and the yellow water turned them mad. This lord was no different."
"If the desert lord was mad," Chayora asked, "then why was the princess married to him?"
"It was not her choice," Coryanne replied. "Her father had arranged the marriage with the desert lord. She had not chosen him, but she tried desperately to love him. They started a family and had three daughters. When the youngest daughter was your age, there was a terrible catastrophe.'
'Three armies attacked the desert people from the north and south. They were led by a boy king who craved war and conquest. He was even said to drink blood instead of water. He wanted to take the desert for himself, and the desert people wanted nothing to do with him."
"Who won?" Garin had always been impatient for a story's conclusion.
"The boy king won," Coryanne replied. "It took him a whole year of fighting, but he finally defeated the desert lord and all his neighbours. They surrendered, and bowed to the boy king. In return, he demanded hostages."
Chayora raised her hand as she interrupted. "What is a 'hostages'?"
"Hostage, my sweet. And a hostage is someone who is kept away from their home, forced to stay with their enemies," Coryanne explained, "the hostage is a promise that their family will not fight, and if they do, the enemies will kill the hostage."
"So the boy king wanted people to kill? Did he kill them?"
"Wait, Garin," Coryanne urged, then she resumed. "The boy king demanded fourteen hostages of noble birth. He believed that the nobles would keep their subjects obedient to save their kin. The desert lord was one man who was forced to give a hostage."
Garin gasped. "He gave his daughters to the boy king?"
"No," Coryanne replied. "It was his wife. The princess from far away."
"Why?" Chayora was astounded.
"The boy king hated the desert lord," Coryanne answered bitterly. "Many years before, the desert lord's people had fought against the boy king's ancestors. They had slain the boy king's great grandmother when she attacked their castle. The boy king did not forget such things, and he wanted to punish the desert lord. So he demanded a hostage from Hellholt."
"Hellholt?" Chayora frowned. "Was that the desert lord's name?"
"Nay," Coryanne replied, feeling foolish. "That was the castle."
Thankfully, the children did not question it further. "So what happened to the princess?"
"The princess joined the other thirteen hostages, and they were taken out of the desert. They were made to live far away in the boy king's castle. So long as the desert people did not fight, the hostages would live peacefully.
And for some time, the desert people obeyed their new king. The boy king placed a fat lord in charge of them. He rode amongst them and ate their food, drank their water, and took whatever he wanted. He stayed with the desert lord, and slept in his bed. He also insisted on the desert lord's eldest daughter to serve him. One night, he insisted that she share his bed too."
Chayora and Garin exchanged a look of innocent disgust. They did not wish to share a bedroom with each other, let alone a bed.
"But one day," Coryanne resumed, "the fat lord travelled to a neighbour of the desert lord. He went to bed as usual, and wished for someone to sleep in the bed with him. He pulled a sash to summon her, but instead, the bed's canopy opened up, and a hundred scorpions fell upon him."
Garin and Chayora gasped. They had both been warned many times to stay away from scorpions.
"It was the signal for all the desert people to fight again. And so they did. The boy king returned with his armies, and the fighting began again. Until one day, the boy king was told that the desert prince wished to speak with him. He agreed, and he rode to meet with them."
As she spoke, she wondered if Garin and Chayora were able to put together what she was saying. Whether they recognised or not, they were giving her their full attention.
"The boy king came to a quiet place where several lords had gathered to meet him. But the desert prince was not there. Instead, there was the desert lord. He had planned a terrible revenge for the man who had broken up his family. When the king was close, he raised his weapons and led an attack upon the boy king and his escort."
"But they wanted to talk…" Chayora mused. "They told him they wanted to talk."
"It was a lie," Coryanne explained, grateful that Chayora was not questioning what happened to the boy king. "They lied because they wished to make an end of the war."
It was Garin's turn to interject. "What about the hostages?"
Coryanne sighed. "The desert lord thought that his princess was surely dead or suffering, and he wanted to avenge her. That is what he said. Truthfully, it was because he did not love her. He was not a kind man. He cared about the desert, and about his place in it. When it was threatened, he was the first man to fight, and he was ready to abandon his princess to her fate."
"The desert people thought that they would surely die," Coryanne admitted, feeling tears on her face.
"The princess's daughters cried every day and every night. The desert lord told them that the princess was dead, and he had avenged her with the death of the boy king. But it was a lie, for the princess came home.'
'The boy king's brother was not a warrior. He was gentle, and he was holy. He said he would forgive the desert people, for the war had been unjust and cruel. He showed that he wanted peace by releasing the fourteen hostages. They all rode back to the desert, escorted by the holy king while he walked on his bare feet. And peace was soon made between the desert prince and holy king."
Garin frowned. "What happened to the family?"
The desert princess renounced her husband and went back to her home. She fled in the night and only managed to take her eldest daughter with her. She took the little girl back to the Summer Isles, where she learned a better life. She did not think of Dorne again until she met an adventurous young knight who had travelled to the Temple of Love. The girl never spoke to her sisters again, nor did she attend the desert lord when he died. She began her own family and swore that she would never feel unhappiness again.
"The family lived happily ever after," Coryanne promised Garin, running a hand through his hair.
Just then, another voice called for Coryanne. It was Merrix, one of the servants.
"My lady!" he paused to catch his breath before continuing. "You are needed!"
Such was his agitation and sense of urgency that Coryanne did not question him. A terror seized her as she followed him down towards the hall. Is it Aliandra? What has become of her?
It was not Aliandra which awaited her in the hall, but a small group of ragged-looking women and children. All of them wore plain-looking cloaks, but Coryanne could see a diversity of colour beneath them.
The woman who stood foremost was utterly disheveled. Most of her face was burnt almost red from the sun, her clothing was well worn, and her grey hair was unkempt and uncombed. As Coryanne approached her, she realised with a jolt that the hair was not truly grey, but a muddled silver.
"Princess?" Coryanne stared at the disheveled woman. "What has happened to you?"
"I have been forced to flee," Daenerys exclaimed, though her voice was little better than a dry croak. "My kinsman has seized control of Sunspear."
Coryanne wanted to sit down, but she forced herself to stay calm. She shouted for the servants as she helped the youngest children enter the hall. They looked so weary that they were ready to collapse.
"Arrange for baths and food! Give our guests water!" She recognised Daenerys' three youngest children, as well as her ladies-in-waiting, from her time in Sunspear and the Water Gardens.
She paced the floor whilst waiting for the fugitives to rejoin her. She thought of Hiram Martell, how he had looked whilst taking charge of Aliandra, how he had insulted the Seven Kingdoms and the Blackfyre rebels. Why would he join the Blackfyre cause? Has he become utterly crazed?
When Daenerys and her company returned to the hall, washed and changed into new clothing, they ate with such vigour that they soon abandoned their pretense at manners. Even Daenerys, who was normally so poised, did not touch her utensils as she ate with both hands.
Between bites, she explained what had happened.
"Hiram mounted a coup against me. I had no inkling of what he was planning, but he has spent the last several months building up support. When Maron took Thero and Melkar to war, he made Hiram the castellan of Sunspear. He tried to have me killed!"
It took her a moment to recover her wits, but she could not stop herself from weeping as she continued.
"I was barely able to escape with the children. Servants and guardsmen fought back against Hiram's followers, all so we could flee. But now Hiram has secured the castle. He has been pursuing us wherever we flee, for we could scarcely stay ahead of his raiders!"
Coryanne held the younger woman's hand. "You are safe now, Princess. Hiram will not have the strength to take Lemonwood."
It was a diplomatic answer, for Coryanne had only a handful of fighters left, while most of the guards that Aliandra had left behind were either old men or green boys. Several of the women would serve as archers, but Coryanne wondered if her forces would be enough to keep Hiram out if he did attack.
But something else was gnawing at her, a sense of terror which only grew as the truth of Hiram Martell's takeover sunk in. Where is Aliandra?